Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first thing he feels is the cold. 

It’s not the normal kind – not something that’s just there. This is deeper, heavier. Like fear. It reminds him of the fall of ‘84, when his mind was not his own, when his nightmares were real   and there was this feeling of wrongness in him that just wouldn’t go away. An otherness that both did not belong to this world, and simultaneously did. 

The next thing he registers is the silence. 

Will has always hated silence. It reminds him of Lonnie when he was drunk and would come back to find that dinner was not finished. Silence is when bad things happen. His thoughts are too loud, and he can hear his heart beating away in his ribcage, but if he concentrates enough, he can sometimes hear voices in his head that don’t really sound like him. 

And these voices say mean things. Terrible things that the Will of the past would have dismissed. Now, he’s not so sure they’re wrong.  

But there’s something else, he knows. Something that doesn’t seem quite right. There’s something slimy circling his wrists, it feels like bugs when they’re squished – slimy and disgusting and wrong. 

It also feels familiar. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. Not since - 

He opens his eyes to dark vines and stale air scattered with floating spores. There’s a tightening pressure around his chest and legs, and he looks down in fear. 

There’s vines coiled around him, and he’s seen them enough times to know that he did not make it out of Vecna’s sick, twisted mind. He’s still trapped and still useless. 

God, he never should have done this. He’s only putting the others in more danger. 

There’s the faint sound of footsteps and he focuses through the bleariness to make out the glint of glasses floating towards him. Soon, his vision clears enough for him to make out the limping man. 

Tall, blond hair, glasses, with a face set into a perpetual scowl, head tilted to the side, blue eyes narrowed to thin slits behind the lens. He shouldn’t look intimidating, but he does. 

“Do you remember this place?” he asks, voice deceptively soft, “William?” 

And Will remembers him all too well – vines that held him in a tight grip, a monster that looked more like a walking tree, an enemy he underestimated. A lesson that was taught to him. 

“No no no…” 

His heart beats erratically in his chest, rattling away like it could save him through sheer willpower. God, he wishes that were true. 

“Does it…bring back..”

Although it seems impossible, Will trembles in his place, vocal chords tightening with something more than just fear. 

“No..” he repeats, like it will somehow drive him off, like if he says it enough times, he’ll wake up from this nightmare. 

“...memories?” Vecna finishes, and suddenly, it’s not the man anymore, but the twisted, broken, terrifying version of him again. A face that haunts his nightmares, that hovers around the edges of his memories – always looming, always close.

Even now, as he approaches, Will can’t help the fear that grips his mind. Images that won’t leave his brain – a recurring nightmare that he cannot escape. 

But even in like this – trapped and pinned to the wall – he cannot help but goad him. Rub his failure into his face.

“Max, Holly..” he grits out, “they got away, didn’t they?” 

Vecna’s eyes darken with rage, and Will knows he should stop, but he can’t. He needs to keep talking, needs to fill the silence, because the alternative is too scary. 

“Did the leg slow you down?” Vecna’s face gives the impression of a deadly scowl, and he leans forward into Will’s space. 

“You think you are clever, don’t you?” he breathes out, his voice seems to shift the air. It feels ten times colder, and a hundred times scarier. “But remember, I am the one. The one who invited you in.” 

Will remembers.

He remembers the Mind-Flayer and the months he spent thinking he was going insane and the absolute disgust he felt on the day he stood up for himself – something cold like smoke choking and choking and choking. Entering till it was all inside him. Till it turned him into something else. 

He remembers sleepless nights and too real visions and the bullying and the scorn and he likes it cold. 

He chokes back a sob. 

“You were my vessel.” says Vecna, and Will shakes his head, tries to deny.

 “My spy. My builder.” 

And this? This confuses him. He had been his vessel, maybe even his spy, but Will knows, he most definitely knows that he was never Vecna’s builder. 

He couldn’t have been. 

(Because what would it mean then, if he was his builder? If he was the architect of their defeat. The reason for so much destruction, death. Carnage.)

“Builder?” he asks, because he needs to clarify. Needs to know. 

And Vecna smiles. A sick, twisted thing that freezes his insides with dawning guilt. 

“How do you think the tunnels came to be, William?” 

There’s a rushing in his ears, a prickling feeling all across his face that spreads deep, deep down to his bones. Guilt that eats away at the only safety he has left. It had always been him.

For years, he had convinced himself that he was a victim. He couldn’t have done anything, he was taken. 

(The demogorgon. It got me.) 

He had convinced himself that he wasn’t really in control of it all. He didn’t know what was happening – he couldn’t have, his mind was taken, invaded, violated. 

So what did the question mean then? 

“You,” spits out Vecna, “built them. Each and every night you slept.” 

It’s funny how he remembers now. All the endless darkness, all the chaos in his head, all the rot, the destruction, the wrongness. 

All the death. 

His fault. 

Hisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfault-

Vecna’s hand reaches up to caress the side of his face. His nails drag softly against his skin, and Will angles his head away. He can’t let him touch him. He can’t bear it anymore. 

He can’t do this again. 

“There is so much power within you.” He says, and then his voice sharpens, his white eyes harden, and his claws rake against Will’s cheek. 

“But make no mistake, boy. They are my powers, and they are stronger than ever before. Much stronger.” 

And Will sees. Jagged red lines that spread across the surface of the Upside-Down like little cracks – spreading outward like rifts. Like they’ll crack the world in many, many different pieces. 

Vecna tilts his head, “Now, at last, it is time.” 

(Children trapped like he once was. Cold, alone, helpless.) 

“Time for my vessels to lead us to a new world. A better world.” 

Will feels the tears pool at the base of his lashes – dripping with grief and pain. Collecting till he can’t hold them in, and then falling. Always falling, burning tracks down his face. A prickling pain in his chest that feels like failure. 

But even through this, he has to stay focused. He cannot lose himself. Not now. Not after how far they’ve come. 

“Too bad your world will never exist, now that Max has one of your vessels” he spits out, but nothing seems to faze Vecna anymore. He doesn’t look uncertain, not even in the slightest. 

“There are ways to smoke a fox from its den William. And you are going to help me. You are going to be my spy one last time.” 

Will shakes his head, the threat to his friends strengthening his resolve. 

“No.” He says with conviction, “Never.”

Vecna’s claws extend, growing outward into something resembling talons, and something tells Will that pain will come soon. 

“The more you resist…the more this will hurt.” 

The world blacks out. He thinks he may have screamed. 

(Rejection. 

Rejection.

Rejection. 

Red skies, yellow skies, blue skies – they all bleed into the same terrifying picture. 

First blood. Then death.

Vecna shows him Mike, and Will breaks.) 

He doesn’t know how long it has been. It could have been days or it could have been seconds, but eventually he hears it. 

A voice, calling out. A gentle touch at his forearm, a prodding at his broken mind. It should scare him, should make him fight back, but there is a softness to it that Vecna could never replicate. 

His sister is here. He lets her in. 

A touch. Something(one?) cupping his face. There is a voice too, he realises dimly. An insistent voice that he knows he can identify but his brain is sluggish, and his eyelids feel heavy. He wants to sleep. 

The touch leaves, and Will wants to call out. To beg them not to leave him. Not in this hellhole. Not now. 

He can’t, but then it turns out he doesn’t have to. 

The pressure at his throat leaves like a snap, and his head lolls forward. 

(El is here. El is saving him.) 

The vines encircling his wrists break away, and then the pressure around his chest that had felt so much like suffocation gives way. He knows he should wake up now. 

He falls. 

(You are going to be my spy. One last time. 

Voices in his head. Screaming. 

Pain 

Pain 

Pain

White halls. Room no. 412 

Bed. 

Max. 

Found you. 

Danger. Max.) 

He wakes up with a gasp. The cold hits him all at once, weighing down on him in a mirror to his guilt, he wants to tear his hair out and scream himself into oblivion. 

There are hands on his shoulders – pulling him in, steadying. Soft pressure, like something too afraid to hurt him. 

If it’s not Mike, then it must be El. 

His vision clears, and she’s speaking he realises, but he’s been so alone for so long and what took you so long and I was so scared. 

He throws himself into her arms, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head. 

“El..” he chokes out, and her arms tighten around him in that fierce, protective way of hers. 

“I’m here.” she says it like a reassurance, but it feels like a promise. 

But he doesn’t deserve that, does he? That reassurance, that protective anger? All he has ever done is put people in danger. 

William Byers. The bearer of bad news. 

Always the problem. The weak link. The chink in their armour. 

God, why did he ever think he could face Vecna, when he couldn’t even face himself?

“I tried to stop him,” he tells her, voice hitching with repressed sobs, “but I couldn’t.” 

El’s eyes are pooling with concern, looking at his face in horror. He doesn’t know what he has done to deserve her care. 

He failed. He has to tell her. 

“He saw.” he sobs out, and El shifts closer, hands moving to hold the back of his head in a tight grip. 

“He saw what?” she asks, “What did he see?”

And he knows that this concern is perhaps not for him. It can’t be. 

“Max.” 

And just like that, her face changes. Fear – dark and heavy clouds her eyes. Her entire demeanor shifts. 

El is getting ready for battle. 

A battle he started. 

“He knows where she is now.” his voice breaks and splinters and scatters all over the place, but he pushes through. Because Max is in more danger than he will ever be. 

(Max is not like him. She doesn’t deserve death.) 

“He sent them after her.” Tears fall from his eyes, his lips wobble. There is so much burning in his chest. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants it all to be over.  

(Please) 

“They’re coming for her. In Hawkins.” 

He hopes he has given her enough information, because all of a sudden, his consciousness is slipping. 

First there is darkness. Then there is light. 

(His mother. Hawkins. Cabin. Back to his own body.) 

His mother pulls him up into her arms with a choked sob, and he buries his face into the crook of her neck. For just a moment, it feels like the old times. 

It feels like safety.  

After that, it feels almost like a blur. El takes the reins, gathers them around and makes plans, all while he sits on the edge of the bed and tries not to break down. 

There couldn’t be a bigger fool than him. 

Eventually, his mom walks into the room – uncertain but happy. 

“Hopper just radioed.” she says as she takes a seat next to him on the bed. “Max is safe. She got out.” 

And there’s a smile on her face, she’s happy for the first time in many years, but he can’t bring himself to share that sentiment. 

How can he, when he is the very reason that Max’s life was in danger? He doesn’t think she’d ever forgive him, if she knew the full truth – how weak Will was, how easy it had been to break him. 

His throat closes up, and he looks down in an effort to hide the tears that are rapidly filling his eyes. He hopes his mother will leave and let him be. He’s too much to put up with, and she doesn’t have to deal with more than she already has. 

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft in the way it goes when she’s trying to make him smile, “this is good news. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.” 

He shakes his head, because she’s so right and so wrong at the same time. It’s true that none of this would have happened if it weren’t for him. 

If he wasn’t so weak, so breakable. 

So wrong. 

She rubs his back, and smiles at him. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

She says it with so much conviction, he’d be hard pressed not to believe her. But somewhere deep down he knows. 

It’s not going to be okay. 

‘Okay’ meant safety. It meant that the gates remained closed, and they could all go on with their lives. ‘Okay’ meant they were happy. It meant they spent their evenings playing D&D in Mike’s basement, and made fun of movies and had sleepovers for no particular reason. 

Nothing about their current situation was ‘okay’. Not in the slightest. 

He nods and doesn’t say anything. Maybe he would’ve, if this situation wasn’t so fucked up. Maybe he would have told her what happened, what Vecna showed him, what lay ahead for them. 

Maybe in another world, he would have told her the truth. 

Will is out of the car before it has even stopped. He rushes to Max – pale, weak, wheelchair ridden Max, but one of his best friends nonetheless. 

He does his best to curb his excitement as he hugs her, squeezing her arms and tucking his face down into the crook of her neck. She laughs happily, and god, he had missed that so much. 

“So I leave you alone for a second, and you turn into a sorcerer?” 

Something painful twinges in his heart, but it is soon drowned out by the immense happiness flowing through him at seeing her again. 

“It was a little more than a second,” he says, face still split into a wide grin, “and I’m not really a sorcerer.” 

“Well,” she says, jerking her head backward, “Mike sure seems to think so.” 

Will groans and Lucas laughs from where he’s standing in front of them. “Yeah,” he says, “he’s been doing that a lot.” 

Max and Lucas grin at each other, and he kind of feels like he’s missing something here. The moment is broken soon when they have to head back inside for a ‘tour’ as Lucas put it. 

As they walk, Lucas fills her in on all the stuff that she has missed since she was in her coma. Will can’t put into words how much he had missed this. Their silly banter, testing laughs, and lovesick glances. Somehow, it’s Lucas who got back his girlfriend, and yet it’s Will who feels like the world has been set right once again. 

Soon, they’re all ushered into the living room for ‘a revelation so mind-blowing, you’ll shit your pants’. 

Dustin’s words, not his. 

Mike stands beside him, shoulders brushing, and something about the constant warmth puts Will at ease despite the knowledge that he should be doing everything in his power to get away. 

Dustin takes a marker and draws an oval on the glass. He calls it ‘Hawkins’. He proceeds to draw another oval on top of it, and then a pair of curved lines connecting them. 

Will’s blood goes cold. He thinks he knows where this is going, and he doesn’t like it. Not one bit. 

“..an interdimensional bridge that rips through space-time.” he says and beside him, Mike perks up. 

“Einstein-Rosen.” he says, excitement seeping into his voice, and Will can’t help the flutter in his chest. 

Mike has always been very smart. Always the first to figure out things, always the first to connect the dots, the first to identify patterns. 

He’s always the first to believe in people, and always the last to give up. 

(You’re the heart.) 

Everyone in the room turns to look at him, and Mike flushes under the sudden spotlight. He looks so beautiful like that. Lips twitching with the effort to hold back a full smile, colour high on his cheekbones, and dark hair falling around his ears in soft curls. 

Will knows he shouldn’t, but he looks. Mike is already looking at him side-ways, a soft smile on his lips. His eyes sparkle, overflowing with a single question. 

Was that cool? Did I sound very smart?

Will grins at him, Totally. You sounded very smart, like you always do. 

“Precisely.” says Dustin, and the moment is broken. They look back to the front where he’s busy writing something else. 

“..wildly unstable, but held together by exotic matter,” he turns back around, and draws a circle in between the curved lines. “Which we found dead-center right above the lab.” 

“Now, according to theoretical physics, Einstein-Rosen bridges, as Mike said, are, in a very basic sense-”

“Wormholes.” Erica and Mr.Clarke seem to be the only ones who’re understanding anything, because all of this is just going over his head. 

It also doesn’t help that the drawing is very..unimaginative. 

Dustin points at them to acknowledge their point and then turns back to the glass. 

“And this wormhole,” he says, “connects Hawkins to here-” he draws a line from the bottom oval to the top one, “which I have coined the Abyss.” 

Oh. Now he gets it. 

Mr.Clarke nods, looking pleased. “A realm of pure chaos and evil.”  Beside him Mike nods. The rest of them just look confused. 

Robin leans forward, her brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry?” 

“D&D” they chorus, and Mike turns to him with a smile. There are groans from everybody, and Will kind of wants to laugh. 

A pity, they don’t understand. But then again, what did he expect? They were all going to die anyway. 

Wait. 

Where did that come from? 

A shiver runs down his spine, and fear grips his heart. His blood feels like ice. There’s a roaring in his ears, he can almost hear his pulse. His head feels too quiet, and the lights seem too bright, and there’s something that he should grasp – something that he’s supposed to be careful about. 

Something he should have avoided. 

(You will be my spy. One last time.) 

His breath hitches in his throat, it feels like the walls of the room are closing in. The lights seem to spin and dim, the white walls of the room are growing darker, there are white spores in the air. 

There is no roof, only red skies and screaming. So much screaming. He looks around, but there’s no one there. No one beside him. 

Voices. He can hear voices. Scared, trembling voices that beg him to save them. He looks down, and then takes a step back in fear. On the ground, laid out in a pile of twisted, broken limbs, blood running down their faces, mouths open in a silent scream, eyes hollow and empty and so devoid of life are people. 

His mom. El. Dustin. Lucas. Max. NancyJonathanSteveRobinHollyMurrayVickieskidschildrendeaddeaddead- 

“Will…” he spins around, and kneeling in front of him, chest torn open, is Mike. There’s so much blood, and it’s drip dripping into the ground. Seeping into the poisoned soil of this twisted world, staining Mike’s clothes black. 

Will falls to his knees in front of him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks, holding him close like he could save him through sheer willpower.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, his voice breaking, cracking, shattering into a million glass pieces. Mike smiles at him – white teeth now stained red with blood. 

“You.” he says, and Will shakes his head. He can’t breathe. The air just won’t go into his lungs.

 Nonononono. 

“No.” he says, because it cannot be. There is no way in hell that Will hurt Mike. Not when just the mere thought of him in danger has his heart slamming against his ribs. Has him itching for a gun. Makes him want to shove Mike behind him, and keep him safe. Out of harm’s way. Out of Vecna’s reach. 

Mike smiles at him, a soft, wan thing. A poor imitation of what it once was. 

“I loved you, Will.” he says, “I loved you, and this is how you loved me back.” 

Will shakes his head, tears burning tracks down his cheeks. 

“Look at your hands, Will.” 

Will looks, and Will screams. 

Pale hands covered in dark, red blood. It spreads all over his palms till it’s spilling down along the sides – falling to the ground like a waterfall. He looks up again, and Mike is not in front of him anymore. 

No one is. 

He is kneeling on the ground, hands shaking, body trembling, breath stuck in his throat, and right in front of him – looming tall and dark, illuminated against a bolt of lightning – is the terrifying outline of the Mind-Flayer. 

“Will.” 

A distant whisper. His name, spoken in a hushed tone – careful, considerate. 

Mike. 

The room snaps back so fast, Will almost gets whiplash. He blinks a few times to orient himself to his surroundings, and finds that he is still standing, and they’re still talking. Mike is looking at him with a furrow in his brows – dark eyes filled with so much concern, mouth set in a worried line. He’s leaning forward slightly, and Will notices that he has angled his body to cover him. 

His heart flutters in his chest. He forces a breath into his lungs. 

“You okay?” he asks, and Will nods. He hopes Mike will drop it. 

“You sure? Do you need to sit down? I can ask them to wait for a while.” 

Will closes his eyes, and digs his nails into the soft flesh of his palm, willing his eyes to settle anywhere but Mike’s face. 

He nods again, and Mike doesn’t look satisfied, but he drops it and Will is thankful for that small mercy. 

“..Vecna’s been hiding up in the sky?” 

He doesn’t know how much he has missed, but he has a vague idea of where this is going.

The others agree on how absurd it seems, but to Will it just seems reasonable. 

Of course Vecna has another base of operations. Somewhere they can’t see, or trace him back to. It’s almost the same as what they did with the Hive Mind. 

A secret place. Somewhere secluded, so none of them recognise it. A small hope flares in his chest. Will hasn’t been able to recognise where Vecna kept the children because he doesn’t know the place. He sees it now, but he doesn’t know where it is, and if his deductions are correct, it’s somewhere above them in an alternate dimension that Dustin just coined ‘The Abyss’. 

To the side, Hopper grunts. “Yeah, but why is he taking kids up there?” 

The pieces slot together in his mind – a half-formed part of a bigger picture, but a clue nonetheless. 

“For the same reason he took me.” 

Every eye in the room turns to him. “The minds of children are weaker, right? More easily molded and controlled. And he used that weakness to channel his thoughts and powers through me.” He looks at Mike, “To spy.” 

Mike looks haunted, Will doesn’t understand, but he can’t dwell on that now. He’s gaining momentum, the pieces are fitting together in his mind.

“But, he also used me to do his bidding. He channeled his powers through me to do his work. And that is what he is going to do with these children. He is going to use them as a…as an extension to enhance his powers, if you will, to-” 

“Bring the worlds together” Max finishes, a thoughtful look in her eyes. All heads swivel back to her, and she sits up straighter. Lucas looks distinctly proud, but then again, he looks proud every time she speaks. “Holly, she said Henry told the kids that they would help him draw the worlds together. And-and I-I didn’t understand what that meant at the time, but-” 

“He wants to move the Abyss.” says Mike, arms crossed across his chest, a strange light in his eyes. He looks determined. “Crash it into Hawkins.” 

(Jagged red lines. Spreading spreading spreading. Cracks. Rifts.)

“No.” he says, shaking his head, “not crash. Merge.” He turns to Mike, realisation dawning on him, washing over him like a cold drift that he can’t escape. He jumps over the table and goes to the glass. It all seems so much clearer to him now. He can’t believe he missed it. 

“Vecna wasn’t licking his wounds in the Abyss, he was making rifts.” He takes the marker and draws squiggly lines at the bottom of the top oval – a poor imitation of his artistic skill, but it would have to suffice. “He was weakening the Abyss. Just like he weakened Hawkins. So when the Abyss and Hawkins collide-” 

“They become one.” Dustin looks horrified. The others seem to be in varying degrees of bewilderment and horror. 

“He’s remaking the world.” says El, her tone resigned. Like she had known, or at least suspected that this would happen. It’s all very horrifying, he’s sure. But what they need right now, is not how it's going to happen, but how they’re going to use it to their advantage. 

They need, as Hopper states, a plan. 

“At the base, in the Upside Down, there’s a chopper ready for the taking.” says Hopper, drawing it out on the glass. His expression is grave, serious. 

He looks how Will feels. 

“We fly up to the Abyss, kill the freak, rescue the kids, fly back down.” 

Dustin looks confused, “Who do-”

“It’s all fine in theory, but how do you expect to fly 2,000 feet up into the air without Vecna noticing?” Mike cuts him off, brows furrowed, and mouth set in a firm line. “And how do you plan on rescuing the kids? It’ll take at least three people to engage him, and we’ll need five more to get them out. Also, how are we supposed to make a return journey with all of the children in tow? It seems very impractical.” 

Hopper looks pissed, but then again, that seems to be his default expression whenever Mike speaks. Dustin nods along, “Yeah, and even if we’re gonna follow your plan, which,” he says, “is a pretty big if, who’s gonna fly that thing? None of us here are exactly trained.” 

“It’s a helicopter.” says Hopper, exasperation seeping into his voice, “They’ve got pilots. We kidnap one and force him to fly.” 

Mike raises his eyebrows, it gives the distinct impression that he’s the one in charge. 

Well, if you ask Will, he kind of is. 

“That’s stupid.” he says, gesturing vaguely at the plan. “You’re relying on too many factors. The plan’s only going to work if they’ll align, and that’s an unlikely scenario.” 

Hopper huffs, “What’re you saying, kid? The plan’s bad?” 

Beside him, Mike bristles at being called a kid, and stands up straighter. Even after all these years, Will finds it amusing that Mike still refuses to bend to authority. It should be annoying, but Will finds it endearing. 

Also helpful. Who knows how many times they were able to save the world on time, all because Mike hated adults. 

“What I am saying,” he said slowly, “is that the plan is not gonna work out. It’s got too many flaws. It’s got loopholes the size of the galaxy. Vecna’ll blow a hole through it before you make it to the chopper.” 

Hopper raises an eyebrow, “You got a better plan?” 

Mike nods. “I do, actually.” He walks to the front of the room, and takes the marker from Hopper. “Alright, so we know for a fact that Vecna is keeping the kids up there in the Abyss. We can’t handle Vecna and save the kids at the same time. It’s gotta happen in two different locations.” 

Lucas looks intrigued, “So what you’re saying, is we lure Vecna somewhere else. Engage him, keep him from going back, while another team goes up to rescue the kids?” 

Mike nods, looking pleased that someone else gets his point. Will is kind of proud. 

He turns back to the glass. “We’re gonna divide ourselves into teams. Team One: Offence and Team Two: Rescue. But, we’re also gonna want eyes on the ground, at the base of operations.” he pauses, uncertain. His eyes flick to Will, and he smiles. 

It’s a good plan. You’re on track. We’re listening. 

Mike nods as though he understood what he was trying to convey. When he speaks, it comes out a bit more confident. 

“We’re gonna have Joyce and Max down here at the Radio Shack. You’re gonna run interference and alert us to any real-world changes. I want you both armed and locked in the basement.” 

Max looks like she wants to argue, but doesn’t. He thinks she gets it. His mom nods along, there is a glint in her eyes, something that comes dangerously close to pride. 

“Steve, Dustin, Robin and Erica are gonna fly up and rescue the kids. The rest of us are gonna engage. Any questions?” 

Robin raises her hand, then looks uncertain when she realises that she’s the only one. Mike nods at her to let her know she can continue. 

“How are you gonna bait him? Like, there’s gotta be some reason Henry-Vecna-One’s gonna drop down from his lair, and I have a strange, very bad feeling that it’s not ‘cause he has a death wish.” 

Mike smiles. “Good question! My answer is,” he breaks off as he riffles through the tiny pouch attached at his hip containing all the dnd figurines. “Him.” he says, slamming down a figurine version of Mike the Brave. 

Robin looks concerned. 

“Why’s he gonna come for you?” 

Mike grins – a terrible, wolfish thing that makes Will go weak at the knees. 

“Because, and forgive me for making this assumption, but I heard you’re great with illusions?” he’s looking at Kali, and okay, Will gets it. Mike is a genius. 

Kali nods, uncertain. 

“Good.” says Mike, “‘Cause I want you to make him think that one of the kids is missing. Can you do that?” 

“It’s a very long distance.” she says, her voice wary, “But I can try.” 

Mike nods, pleased. “A trial’s all we want. The moment he’s in the Upside Down, I want Team One to engage. I want Team Two at a remote location, far from the attack point, and on standby. The moment you get clearance, I want you shooting off into the upper world like your life depends on it.” he pauses. “It kind of does.” 

El nods. “It’s a nice plan. But how do we engage him? Direct attack, or do I enter his mind first?” 

“Simultaenous.” says Mike. “I want you to rip his mind apart at the same time as Nancy starts the physical assault. But just in case, I want you to be prepared with a bottle of your battery and a bomb. If you get ambushed, at least you’ll have ammunition.” 

Nancy sits back, “How many people do you want on the front line?” 

“Oh.” says Mike, looking like he was just considering it, “Normally, three people would be ideal, but you and Hopper are the only ones who can properly use a gun, so-” 

“I can.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even stop them, and he flushes pink as they turn to look at him. 

Mike’s jaw is hanging open in the slightest, splotches of red high on his cheeks. Will fidgets. 

“Um..I-I know..how to use a …gun. Like–like I can load and aim and..stuff..” he trails off when Nancy stands, dusting her hands on her pants. She smiles at him – surprised but pleased. 

“It’s settled then. It’s gonna be you and me, Byers.” 

Hopper grunts. 

“And Hopper.” she adds as an afterthought. 

“Alright Mike, the front line’s settled, what about the rest of you?” 

Mike jumps slightly, and turns to look at Nancy a few seconds too late. “Huh?” he says.

“What about the rest of you?” she asks, amused.

“Oh-oh me and Lucas are gonna bring up the rear, obviously. And-and El and Kali will attack from behind. We shoot at long range, and then drop bombs once we’re closer. I don’t want anyone in close-quarter shooting. Anyone.” he says, and Will has the uncomfortable feeling that Mike is talking about him. 

He hopes for Mike’s sake that he isn’t.  

Because Will isn’t planning on letting Vecna get close to any of them. Least of them, Mike. 

Dustin grabs a clock from the side table. “One final thing,” he says, coming to stand next to Mike. “On the way out, we drop a bomb near the exotic matter. Set a timer, escape the Upside Down. The bridge collapses, and with it, The Abyss, the demos, the Mind-Flayer, all of that, gone.” 

There are nods of approval around the room. Dustin looks distinctly pleased. 

“It’s settled then.” Says Nancy, turning back to them with a tired grin. “Let’s smoke that bastard into oblivion.” 

They cheer, and somehow, to Will, it feels like the sound of doom. 

The others are outside, preparing for battle, and Will is still stuck in his mind – sitting in front of the glass, but not really looking at it. It feels so strange now. After all these years, it’s finally going to be over. They’ll finally be free. 

Safe. 

He wishes he could get that too. 

Safety. 

That promise of coming back and living a full, happy life. But beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes. Vecna can’t die, not until Will does. And Will won’t let him live, even if it means he won’t make it out of there. 

It’s for the better, he thinks. It’s safer this way. He will lure Vecna away, hijack his mind, and if it comes to that, throw El out of there because if he’s going down, he might as well make sure that his sister-slash-Mike’s-maybe-girlfriend stays safe. 

He’s not going to live, he’s made peace with that. 

So why does it still hurt so much? 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by the squeak of the wheel-chair on the floor. Vickie rounds the corner, pushing Max – who looks very determined to talk. Will gulps. This can’t be good. 

“I just wish I wasn’t stuck here.” she says, her voice soft. And Will sees it for what it really is. She’s putting out her feelers, testing the waters. 

She’s caught on to him. 

“Then, maybe I could accompany you guys on Team One. Maybe help out from the sidelines, or..I don’t know,” she shrugs, “keep an eye on you while simultaneously holding Vecna back or something.” 

Will nods. Here he was, thinking he had this great master plan to save them all as covertly as possible, and Max had figured out his game plan in less than ten minutes. 

Some sorcerer he is. 

“You’re still going to be helping us.” he says, voice quivering. He clears his throat, “You know, from the Radio Shack. It’s gonna be a huge help, it is.” 

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Will. I am not stupid.” 

He looks down, tears gathering in his eyes. Max is not stupid. Far from that. She’s smart, and she’s resourceful. 

She survived for over two years in Vecna’s sick, twisted mind all on her own. She’s a powerful girl. Not someone he’d want to mess with. 

But she’s also his friend. And he’s been the cause for her problems one time too many times. 

“Vickie, can you like…go get me a glass of…uh water, maybe?” 

There’s a second of tense silence, before Vickie rushes off – her steps echoing off the empty halls. 

“Will,” she says, inching forward, “look at me.” 

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. His lips tug down as if being pulled by an invisible force, and his throat clogs up. He presses a shaking hand to his mouth in an effort to hold in the sobs that threaten to spill. 

There’s another squeak, and Will looks up through the blur of tears, to see Max struggling to push herself forward. Her arms are shaking with the effort to apply force, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. 

“Hey, wait!” He moves to help her, but she pins him in place with a withering glare. 

She manages to get herself an inch closer through sheer stubbornness. No wonder Lucas calls her ‘Mike’s long lost twin’. 

“I know you’re stubborn, and I know you’re probably not going to listen to me, and go give yourself up like a fucking ritual sacrifice, or something, but just hear me out, okay?” 

Will nods. There’s nothing much he can do with the way Max is looking at him. One wrong move, and he’s convinced she’ll bite his head off. 

“You don’t have to - like- keep it to yourself or some shit, okay? And-and you don’t have to give yourself up, or whatever crap you’re planning. Just tell the others what’s going on and we’ll figure something out, yeah?” 

Will sighs. She doesn’t get it. It’s not that simple.

“I am the weak link, Max. I am the reason Vecna was able to find you in the hospital. I couldn’t fight back, and it almost got you killed. I-I can’t..I can’t bear that again.” He hates how his voice breaks towards the end. Hates how vulnerable he’s being. 

Because he shouldn’t get this. This protectiveness or this friendship. He doesn’t deserve it. They think he’s some kind of saviour, but really, he’s just leading them to their death. 

Herding them like goats for slaughter. 

“That wasn’t you.” says Max, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “That was Vecna and his stupid mind games, okay? You saved my life, Will. You bought us time. You’re the reason I’m here. You’re the reason I got out of that hellhole, and I am not letting you go back if you don’t promise me that you’ll walk out of there on your own two legs.” 

Silence. 

“I’ll tell Mike if you don’t say anything in the next five seconds.” 

His head snaps up. 

“Max!” 

“Five.” 

“Max- you don’t-you don’t understand, okay? It’s-”

“Four.”

“-not that simple, an-”

“Three. 

“-d it has to happen-”

“Two. You’re running out of time, Byers.” 

“-this way. And you’re not list-”

“One. And you’re done.” 

“-ening. Fuck this. Fine! I promise!” he says, at the same time as she turns around, fully prepared to holler for Mike. 

She turns back to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t believe you.” 

He sighs. Good point. 

“You shouldn’t. I was lying.” 

Max shifts forward, clear blue eyes clouded with confusion. “I don’t understand, Will. What are you running away from?” 

He shrugs. That’s a loaded question. What’s he running away from? 

The Upside Down. The pain, and the memories, and the violation. Vecna, or even the Mind-Flayer, maybe. He is scared, so scared to just stand and breath for a while, because his entire life he has survived purely because he ran. 

Away from his problems, away from his father, away from pain. 

But at the end of the day, Will supposes, he is running away from himself. 

A core truth of his that he only recently learnt how to share. A shame he has been carrying around for years – the whispers in the hallways, and the jeerings of Lonnie always on his mind like poison. 

He had felt so wrong for so long, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over that. And he wants to tell someone. Someone who’ll understand. Who’ll look at him and say I am proud of you.

Maybe, somewhere deep inside him, he just wants to be accepted. Not for being a sorcerer. Not for being a boy who likes other boys. And certainly not for being the boy who came back to life. 

He wants to be seen as just him. 

William Byers.

“There are things, Max,” he starts out, surprising even himself. “There are things that Vecna showed me. Terrible things that I know will never happen. But-but I…I can’t…it’s so-” he cuts himself off with a choked sob, one hand pressed against his lips. 

The tears fall anyway – down his cheeks and over his palms. He tries to blink them away, and it only makes it worse. There’s movement in the corner of his eye, and he turns to see Max raise a shaking hand and place it gently over his knee. 

She’s out of breath with the effort, and there’s sweat gathering in beads near her hairline, but she doesn’t seem to care. Her eyes are fixed on Will, unwavering in their intensity – so blue, so loyal. 

“If it helps,” she begins, “I can tell you something. In Vecna’s mind, I survived mostly due to luck, but there was this cave.” He looks up at her through the blurry haze, and places his other hand over her cold, shaking one. 

“It was a memory of his. Something he was afraid of. He was so terrified of it, he wouldn’t even come near it, wouldn’t confront it, wouldn’t try to fight. He’d just stand outside and shake with fear. Sometimes, it made me feel sorry for him” 

Will listens as she talks –transfixed. He had never heard anything like this. Max barks out a short laugh. 

“Because what did it mean then, that the villain, this cruel, twisted skinless, noseless creep was actually a human after all?” 

She leans forward, pressing her hand into his knee – grounding him. 

“What I am trying to say, Will, is that even for his perfect prison, there was a key. A way I could save myself. A way in which I could outwit him. And that key was his own fear. Because what Vecna’s mind really is is that it’s an illusion of power. He plays on your deepest, darkest secrets. He takes one truth that scares you the most, and he plays on that. Now, I don’t know what he said to you, but I want you to know that it’s always easier to share.” 

“What if I can’t?” he asks quietly, “What if it's too shameful?”

Max gives him a soft smile – something she doesn’t do very often. “When he first took me, he played on that too. I couldn’t tell anyone the truth because I thought they’d judge me. But after his first real attack, I talked to Lucas and BAM!” she exclaims, emphasizing with a weak thump on his knee. 

“I could suddenly fight back much better the second time around. So if there’s something that’s bothering you, then I want you to know that talking about it with a trusted person is always better.” 

She makes it sound so easy. Just open up, what’s the worst that could go wrong, right? He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. He supposes he could start small. Baby steps and all that, right? 

“He showed me Mike.” he confesses, too quiet, too brittle. The words sound like they’ll break if he says them any louder. 

“He showed me Billy.” Max confesses, and he looks up at her, confusion clouding his mind. She shrugs. “You shouldn’t be the only one spilling secrets. If you’re gonna do it, we might as well do it together.” 

God, he wants to hug her tight and never let her go. Trust Max to always make the situation better. He nods. 

“He said I was the reason he was hurt.” 

“Billy told me I wanted him dead.” 

“I think…I think if we go through with the plan, I might actually hurt Mike.” 

“I wasn’t really upset when Billy died.” 

Silence. This was the hardest part. His nose prickles with heat, and his eyes sting with fresh tears. They build and fall, and this time, he lets them. 

“He- he means so much to me. Just the thought of him in danger makes me want to throw up. And it’s so wrong, Max. It’s so wrong to feel this way, but I do and now…now I-I don’t know how I am supposed to-to just…just-” 

A sob tears itself past his lips. Max’s hand tightens on his knee, and just that – that touch, that reassurance that she is there is enough to make him lose it. 

He hunches in on himself, hands in his hair, tears flowing from his eyes, body trembling with deep sobs. 

“I was glad Billy died.” Max confesses, and he looks up through his tears. She is still sitting there, most certainly not repulsed by his implication. Still waiting. Still trying to understand. 

He supposes he can tell her everything. Be truthful all the way.

“What Vecna showed me,” he begins, voice wavering and breaking. “It came from me. He sees everything, Max.  He sees my thoughts, my memories…” His voice breaks, and he can’t go on. He swallows past the lump in his throat and forces a breath into his lungs. This is hard, but this is necessary. “And..and my-my secrets. Things I keep hidden, shameful, shameful secrets, Max, that I barely admit to myself. And he used these..secrets to break me. To infiltrate my mind, and-and see into me. It felt like a violation, Max, and I don’t-I don’t understand-” his voice snags, then shatters. His shoulders shake as the tears fall down his cheeks and onto their entwined hands. Deep sobs that sound like they’re coming from his very soul. 

He supposes they are. He hasn’t cried like this, hasn’t allowed himself to cry like this for a long, long time. 

Max exhales – long and heavy. The tips of her nose and ears are red. It looks like she’s holding back tears. 

They jump as the door opens, and then all too soon there are footsteps in the hallway, and Mike rounds the corner. He stops dead at the front of the room – face rapidly draining of blood. His fists clench, and his brows furrow. His lips thin into a tight line, and his eyes flick to Max. 

“What’re you doing?” 

Will is sure he means to be friendly, but his question lands between them like an accusation. He quickly wipes at his face, hoping against hope that Mike did not see the tears. 

Max scowls, but it lacks the usual bite. 

“We’re having a conversation, Wheeler. I’ll send him out in a minute.” 

Mike’s eyes narrow, and his posture shifts. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? You’re having a ‘conversation’? Is that why Will’s crying?” He takes a step forward. Closer to Will, one step away from putting himself between him and Max. 

Max rolls her eyes. “It’s a heart-to-heart though I’m not surprised you can’t deduce. There’s nothing in that huge skull of yours, but one brain cell, and we all know what it’s always thinking, don’t we?” 

Mike’s cheeks colour – a beautiful, beautiful red, that, for a second, makes Will forget about his entire situation. He turns to Will instead, gaze searching, lips downturned and brows furrowed. “Are you okay?” he asks, and Will only now notices the stark difference in his tone. This is more friendly. More warm, open. This one says I’m here for you. You can tell me anything. 

And for once in his fucked up life, Will allows himself to believe that. 

“I need to tell you something. All of you. The entire Party.” 

Mike looks surprised, but he nods, “I’ll get them.” 

“Mike.” he calls, and Mike turns so fast, he almost slips.

“Call Robin too.” 

Robin walks into the room, takes one look at his face and goes to stand behind him – a silent show of support. She can’t know what he’s going to tell them, Will thinks, but she’s here for him anyway, and somehow that gives him enough strength to get the first words out. 

“I need to tell you something.” 

He fidgets with his sleeve and looks around the room. Mike is sitting right next to him, body turned toward him – expression open and concerned. Lucas sits next to him, elbows on his knees, bent forward and looking straight at Will. He seems to understand that this is serious. 

Max is still where she was before Mike walked in – right next to him in her wheelchair, her hand still on his knee. Dustin sits next to her, eyes on Will, brows drawn together in a way that shows his concern and anticipation without being mean. 

Will takes a deep breath. They look calm. Here. Present. 

His brain is anything but. 

His thoughts are a mess inside his head. Raging and tumbling and snagging onto each other. Half-formed words that melt away before he can grasp them, thoughts that are too fast or too slow or never there. He fidgets with the sleeve of his pullover, picking at the fraying threads, pulling it over his shaking fingers then pushing it back up again. 

“It’s-it’s not…not really…uh..” 

And even through his stuttering, they wait. They are patient. They recognise that he’s having trouble putting his thoughts in order, and they are giving him time to gather himself. It’s silent in the room, but it’s not thick or tense. It feels more lived-in. Like it knows the shape of his insecurities and is stretching to accommodate. 

He swallows. 

“Uh..I..Vecna.” 

Very cohesive, Will. Peak of articulation, that. Have you considered a degree in English to go with your extensive vocabulary? 

Shut up. He tells himself.

Mike shifts forward, one hand outstretched. Will shifts back and tries not to flinch at the absolute devastation on his face. It’s for the best, he thinks. There are only so many risks he can take. 

And putting Mike Wheeler in danger is not one of them. 

“Vecna showed me something.” 

Silence. 

There’s a rustle and a small ‘oof’ where Dustin shifts on the couch to lean towards him. “Dude, you know he lies, right? Like, he manipulates, man. He twists your memory and-” 

“Dustin.” Max cuts him off, gaze harsh. “Let him speak.” 

“Sorry, uh…it’s-it’s a bit…hard. Um.” He pulls at the sleeves, wishing, for once in his life, that they would speak for him. Speak into this silence that’s starting to feel suffocating. It feels like a noose around his throat – tightening and tightening till it cuts off air. And then he’s just choking, trying desperately to get air into his lungs. To think past the mental fog in his brain. 

He closes his eyes. 

Once, not so very long ago, he remembers a pizza van. Him and Mike and a painting between them. He’d ripped off the band-aid, and he’d hurt himself in the process, but at least he had done it. Had taken the first step. 

He just had to do that again. 

Rip off the band-aid. 

“I am different.” he restarts. “I am different, because no matter how ridiculous it sounds, I am not like you.” 

He takes a deep breath, forces air into his lungs and keeps speaking because if he stops, the fear will catch up to him. He has to keep going, keep running. 

And lucky for Will, he’s really good at that. 

“I…I don’t like girls.” 

There’s a sharp inhale, and Lucas’s eyes drift to Max, his brows drawn together in confusion. Mike straightens up and shifts imperceptibly closer to him. Dustin just looks lost. 

“So like, you…hate them?” 

He blinks, then mentally slaps himself for his word choice. “No!” he says, “I meant like…like not in the way you guys do. I-I don’t like like girls. I-uh..like like…uh..” he pressed his lips together and pleaded with the ground to just open up and swallow him whole.

Robin places a hand on his shoulder, and squeezes. A silent show of support. 

“I like like boys.” 

Nothing happens. 

Not that Will was expecting something to happen, okay? He kinda thought that maybe there would be a reaction or something. They just sit there like statues before Dustin sniffles and he gives Will this insanely proud look. 

“Man. Will. This changes nothing, okay? Like-you’re still our friend okay? Best friend, alright?” 

Lucas joins him. “Dude. That was very brave, man. I-I can’t imagine how you felt keeping that a secret for so long. God, you must have been so scared. Jesus, man. You’re very brave, dude.” 

And, okay. Maybe the silence was better. Now his friends are teary-eyed and looking at him with proud smiles. His eyes flick to Mike, and his heart stops in his chest. 

Mike has tears in his eyes, two shaking hands pressed to his mouth. He’s laughing, but he’s also crying and he’s looking right at him with so much affection, and yeah. Will can’t take it. The silence was better. 

Max smiles at him – the biggest grin she’s ever given him. “Just imagine I am hugging you really, really tight, yeah? That was very brave.” 

“Dude.” says Dusting, taking him by the shoulders. “You know how much you mean to us, right? I don’t know what Vecna showed you, but it’s total bullshit, okay? Like-we don’t care, alright? Like you could wake up as a worm tomorrow, and I’d take you and keep you in my tank and feed you every day, and you’ll be very loved, alright?” 

“Dude.” says Lucas, half-laughing. “That’s so creepy. Why would you keep him in a tank all alone and isolated from the world, man? That’s sad.” 

Dustin looks horrified. “Shit.” he says, and then turns back to Will, his hands flailing around as he tries to explain himself. 

Max lets out an exasperated sigh. “What they mean,” she says loudly to catch their attention, “is that they love you a lot, and you liking boys doesn’t, and will never, change that.” 

Will can’t help it. He laughs, but his brain takes it as permission to start up the water-works and then Mike is out of his seat and enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. 

He holds him close, ear pressed against his heart, Mike’s hands around his shoulders and one splayed out at the back of his head. He rests his chin over his head, and ever so gently whispers into his hair.

“I am so proud of you.” 

Will nods, because this time, he believes him. Really believes him. 

But this doesn’t mean that his work is done. 

Once, not so very long ago, for the first time since he was 5-years old, Will had lied to Mike. He had sworn it would be the first and the last time he’d ever do that. 

(Friends don’t lie.) 

Today, he’s going to break that promise. 

“I- uh..I have something else to tell you too.” 

Mike pulls back, tear-tracks on his cheeks and a proud, beaming smile on his face. 

“I also liked this boy.” 

Lucas’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline and he and Max exchange another look. He doesn’t think it’s malevolent. They’re just, couple-communicating or whatever. 

“I liked him for a long time, but then…” he pauses, unsure on how to continue, when Mike steps closer to him. 

“Did he hurt you?” 

Lucas looks surprised and then angry. “You tell us his name, and I’ll go beat him up so bad, he’ll never be able to walk again.” 

“You should also castrate him-” starts Dustin, and wow. He loves this protective side of them, but this is seriously not the time. 

“No! Guys. He didn’t hurt me.” 

They pause. Not doubting him, but not quite believing him either. 

“I..had this talk with someone. And I realised…”

Robin squeezes his shoulder urgently. He knows what she’s thinking. He closes his eyes. 

Rip off the band-aid.

“But then I realised that he’s just my Tammy.” 

And that’s it. No explanation. They look confused, all of them, but they don’t push. They understand what he means. 

I don’t like him anymore. He doesn’t mean as much to me now. 

Lies. But they don’t know that. 

Vecna won’t know that. 

Will hefts the gun and straps it to his back just like Nancy showed him a few minutes ago. Half of his face is covered with a yellow kerchief, and he has on a ridiculous vest that someone thought would be a nice idea. 

Yes, that someone is Mike. 

Yes, he is absolutely wrong. 

The vest makes it difficult to walk and lift his hands and sit down and just about anything in general. But then again, Lucas runs ahead of them – bandana tied around his head, vest on and a walkie in his hand. 

Will thinks he might be the only one facing this problem. 

He does an awkward penguin waddle for what feels like five minutes and he still hasn’t managed to cover even half the distance. He wants to rip off the vest and throw it to the ground. 

There’s a crunch of a twig behind him, and he spins around, or at least tries to anyway. His foot slips and then five long, thin, pale fingers wrap around his forearm and stop his descent. 

Mike smiles at him, and Will grins back. “Thanks.” He says, hoping his voice does not betray just how thankful he really is. 

Mike swooping in to stop him from falling? Yeah, that was the stuff of his fantasies. 

Although, his fantasies included an arm around the waist. 

“You look nervous.” Mike lets go of his arm once he’s stable on his feet. 

Will sighs. So much for being discreet. “That obvious?” he asks, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite his best efforts. 

Mike shrugs. “Well not to everyone else, but I’ve known you for ten years, so…” 

“So you know how to tell when I’m nervous?”

“So I know how to tell when you’re scared out of your goddamn mind, and you’re going to make some horrible decision that’s going to get you in so much trouble and you’re trying extra hard to cover that up.” 

Ouch. Remind Will to never try and lie to Mike again. 

It used to be easy, he remembers. It was so easy back then, sitting in the back of a pizza van and lying to his face. Mike had not even noticed. 

Will doesn’t know what happened after they came back to Hawkins. It’s like a switch clicked in Mike’s head and he was suddenly following him around. Helping out, staying close, complimenting his paintings, taking him on aimless drives through the neighbourhood at 1 in the morning all because Will had a nightmare. 

He’s also gotten better at reading his tells. Or more accurate would be that he’s gotten better at remembering his tells. 

“Hey.” says Mike, stepping closer to him. “If there’s anything bothering you, you can talk to me, alright? I am always here for you.” 

Will’s heartbeat soars, and he curses himself. 

Stupid, stupid heart. Mike would be running for the hills if he ever knew that Will had been talking about him back there. 

“Yeah.” He nods. Mike looks as if he’s expecting him to follow up with whatever’s haunting him, but the moment is broken by Lucas shouting for them. 

“Guys! We gotta go. You’ll have enough time to gaze into his eyes and write poetry about him later, Mike.” 

Mike goes red in the face and turns around to shout after Lucas. 

“Shut up, Lucas! No one likes your commentary!” 

He turns back to Will with a shy smile, somehow looking up at him despite being the taller one. He makes a jerky motion with his hands towards the van and they both set off together. 

The ride into the Upside Down is a blur of red lights and gunfire. Eleven stands to one side of the van, Mike beside her. They’re talking about something, looking into each other’s eyes and Will tries not to feel the sad twinge of his heart. 

The ride to the base is bumpy, but they get there. Hopper and Eleven get off along with Team Two, promising to come back once they get them a helicopter and convince a pilot. 

By get them a helicopter, they mean kill more people. And convince a pilot sounded a lot like kidnap someone. But well, desperate times call for desperate measures, he supposes.

They are back in ten minutes flat, and just as he suspected, Hopper is fresh out of bullets, and Eleven has blood dripping from her nose. He gives his sister an unimpressed look and she only smirks in response. 

They ride off again, straight into the thick, ever-present fog that permeates the Upside Down.  

It’s decided that they’ll split.

All eight of them into separate groups of two, taking point from four separate locations. It’s only by Will’s extreme bad(good?) luck that he gets paired with Mike. 

Or, more accurately, Mike pairs himself with Will. Because it’s Mike who’s their leader now, much to Hopper’s chagrin. 

Nancy and Jonathan opt to stay in the truck that stands abandoned in the middle of the cracked road. Hopper and Lucas are assigned the bushes, and Mike and Will take the room above the garage of the Upside Down version of the Wheeler household. 

Will crouches down by the window, gun held up in steady hands, as Mike undoes the latch and opens the window by two centimeters. He settles down next to Will, walkie in his hand, and a grenade in the other. 

He shrugs at Will’s questioning look. “Just in case the vines start being creepy.” 

They watch as Nancy drops down into the truck through the hole, and El and Kali take their position in front of it. 

Kali breathes in, then out.

It takes more than a few minutes, but a perfect replica of Holly comes running through the trees. Her clothes are torn and muddy. Her hair is streaked with red, and a wound on her cheek is bleeding sluggishly. 

Mike shifts uncomfortably, and it occurs to him how tough it must be. How tough all of this must have been for him. Not knowing where Holly was, if she was okay, or safe, or in danger. 

“I promised.” 

Will quirks an eyebrow. “What?” 

Mike turns to look at him – his eyes soft, but filled with so much melancholy. He looks somehow younger, and far too burdened at the same time. There’s sadness lurking at the edges of his smile, and guilt in the way he carries himself. 

It hurts to look at him. 

“When you came back from the Upside Down, I promised to myself that I would never let you go back here again.” 

Silence. Will doesn’t really know what to say, so Mike continues. 

“I don’t think I said this before, but I think I kind of knew that night.” His voice is quiet, somber. Threaded through with guilt that doesn’t leave. Something in the way he says those words is different. Like he’s confessing to a crime. 

Like he’s afraid to face the weight of the past alone. 

Will shifts closer to him – just enough so their shoulders are touching. It’s a simple comfort, but it’s enough. Mike presses in closer, chasing the warmth. 

“When you left my garage, I had this-this weird feeling in my stomach. I wanted to call you back. Ask you to sleepover or something.” He takes a shaky breath, and Will notices the wet glaze to his eyes. 

Mike sniffles, and rubs under them with the back of his hand. “But I didn’t. I thought…I thought I was just being dramatic. That maybe it was just the ten hours that we had spent on the campaign. But then-” his voice snags, and he pauses to clear his throat. “But then the next day, I received the worst news of my life, and I-I didn’t…I felt so…guilty. I felt like I had failed you, somehow. So I swore to find you.” 

He turns to look at him now. His eyes shine with unshed tears and the tip of his nose is red. His hands twitch at his sides and he sets down the walkie and the grenade to clench them at his side. 

Will kind of wants to hug him. 

“And we did.” He continues. “We did find you, but then I-I lost you again. You were possessed and I didn’t know what to do, but I-I didn’t want to repeat my mistakes again so I stuck with you. I..stuck with you, and it still wasn’t enough.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he presses a trembling hand to his mouth and shuts his eyes, shaking against the vine covered floor of the room. 

Will’s heart breaks. 

People can’t see, because Mike doesn’t let them, but Will knows. He knows that out of their entire Party, Mike is the emotional one. The first to feel. He has so much love in his heart, it’s hard to keep it away. 

Mike loves too much and too fast and despite it being his greatest strength, it is also his greatest flaw. 

His emotions are always on an all time high. He’s all or nothing. He’s either really interested or he’s really not. He’s either best friends or he’s not friends at all. He either cares too much, or doesn’t give a single shit. 

And sometimes, people misinterpret that. Because despite having so much love in him, Mike is absolutely shit at putting it into words. 

And Will understands. With Will, Mike doesn’t have to say anything. It’s just how it is. They  understand each other, no words needed. 

But most people are not Will. 

And so Mike pulled back. Built walls. Kept his heart safe – away from the hurt.

So now that he is telling him all this, his heart breaks. 

Will sets the gun down and pulls Mike into his arms. 

They haven’t hugged properly, not since a few years, but his weight is familiar against Will. Hugging Mike feels like the most natural thing in the world. It feels so real, so right.

He can’t believe he allowed himself to let go of this. 

Mike chokes out a sob, and Will tightens his arms around him. 

“Hey,” he says, voice soft and half-muffles against his black curls. “You don’t have to say anything, okay? It’s not your fault. I am here now, yeah? And I’ll always be.” 

He trembles and shakes his head. “I lost you.” he insists, “I lost you, and I don’t think I ever got you back. I just kept losing and losing and-losing you. It hurts so much, Will.” He pulls back to look up at him. “And now, you’re here again. So close to him, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you forever.” 

“Mike.” He’s sure his voice wavered. There are tears stinging at the back of his eyes and clogging up his throat. 

“Mike. I am not leaving, okay? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” It’s so low, so innocent. Mike looks at him with so much hope. Will swallows.

He can’t do this. 

But one last lie. 

One more won’t hurt. 

“Promise.” 

They jump and pull apart as the walkie crackles to life. 

“This is Base Alpha to Base Beta. We have eyes on the target. I repeat, we have eyes on the target. Do you copy?” 

Will has his gun aimed in the moment it takes for Mike to answer. 

“Yes, I copy. Also, I thought Nancy was Base Alpha?”

“Dude. We talked about this. I-we are Base Alpha and Nancy’s Sniper One and-”

“Nancy’s not a sniper, Jeez. Would it kill you to come up with role appropriate code names?”

“Well if you think they’re so bad, why don’t you come up with them next-”

“I already did! But you didn’t-”

“Boys!”

He allows himself a secretive smile at how fast that shuts them up. Nancy really is a force to be reckoned with. 

He peers out through the slit, trying to spot Vecna. 

El and Kali are still standing in front of the truck, but other than that, there seem to be no signs of life-

Wait. 

He fires off three shots in rapid succession, and soon enough, a demodog howls in pain and crashes to the ground – inches from the truck. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Will doesn’t turn to look at him. “I don’t know, I think Vecna’s cloaking them somehow.”

“And you’re able to see them?” His voice is higher than normal. It sounds almost like he’s hyperventilating. Will gives him a concerned once-over from the corner of his eye, but he seems okay. Just a little red in the face. 

“Not really. I am able to sense them.” He answers. Mike looks confused before his expression clears. 

“Oh.” he says, tapping the side of his head. “You mean in here?” 

He nods. 

“Sorcerer.” 

Will gives him an unimpressed stare and a scoff. 

“Guys. What’s going on?” 

Mike answers. “We’re not really sure, but our working theory is that Vecna’s cloaking them somehow and that’s why we’re not able to spot them.” 

“But Will can?”

“Will is a sorcerer. Of course he’s able to spot them.” 

Will glares at him. Mike glares right back. 

There’s a screech and a crash and garbled static through the walkie that sounds an awful lot like Watch out!

Before he can even react, a vine crashes through the ceiling, and goes straight for Mike. Will jumps up and fires twice just as Mike rolls underneath it and comes up behind him. He pumps the shotgun as Mike attempts communication through the walkie. 

He can hear gunfire, but it’s muffled – like he’s listening to it underwater. He fires again but it doesn’t seem to affect the vine at all. It keeps advancing forward, pushing them back into a corner. There’s another crash and a distant boom that he knows he should be worried about, but suddenly, there are voices in his head and they just won’t stop-

(-please

Go go go-

..run..

Where are-

Come bac-

Please please please-

Holy-

Pain pain painpainpainpain-)

He comes to just as the vine wraps around his calf and pulls. He doesn’t think he’s ever screamed this loud. 

Mike jumps into action almost immediately. He grabs an axe from who knows where, and brings it down in a surprisingly strong blow. 

The vine breaks almost instantly – no resistance. It crumbles away like paper and falls to the ground in papery bits of black – like ash. 

Will falls to the ground with it. His vision is dizzy, and the voices haven’t really gone away and there’s so much pain in his leg. Mike’s face swims into view above him – brows drawn together in worry. He’s speaking, Will realises dimly. Mike’s speaking, but Will can’t hear him over the rush of blood in his ears and the incessant chattering of frail human voices in his head and-

Oh shit. 

He shuts his eyes , and concentrates on the feeling of Mike’s hands on his leg, and the pleasant rumble of Mike’s voice in his ears. 

(Mike.Mike.Mike.)

Slowly, the voices quiet down, and the heavy rush recedes. He can feel the shape of the wood against his head. He can feel it digging into his back, and most importantly, he can hear Mike now. 

He’s blabbering frantically into the radio, one hand pressed under Will’s calf and another holding the walkie up. The grenade is forgotten on the side. 

So it’s only fair then, when it starts to float into the air. 

He knows what comes next. Has seen it happen at the Mac-Z. 

Sure enough, the pin starts to pull out and even before Will can react, Mike has grabbed it out of the air. 

The grenade. Not the pin. 

He takes a running jump straight out of the window, and it registers in Will’s brain a second too late. 

“Mike!”

He pulls himself up in a frenzy and half-drags half-limps his way to the window. His heart is racing in his chest – thumping against his ribcage. His hands are shaking and his breath is coming out too short and Mike-

Mike is still running like his life depends on it. 

Well. It sort of does, but that’s not the point because Mike is running straight at Vecna, and surely, surely the five-second time frame must be done. This cannot be happening. 

But it feels like it is. 

Time seems to move sluggishly. Every second feels like a thousand years. Mike throws the grenade straight out at Vecna and Will swears he can see it turn and fall through the air before it hits him. 

Time snaps back just as the grenade detonates. 

Mike is thrown back with the force of it, and El and Kali jump out of the way just in time as Vecna goes up in flames. 

Nancy, bless her soul, doesn’t waste a single second. She pops up from the hole in the roof – gun at the ready – and keeps firing till the fire dies down and there’s a smoking, black, charred mass in the middle of the road. 

Will pushes away from the window and stumbles down the stairs, his thoughts in an unbroken loop of Mikemikemikemikemike-

Mike is lying on his back in the middle of the garage. Will drags himself to him and drops down next to him just as Nancy and the others come rushing in. 

His eyes are open, and he is breathing.

Will is so relieved, he could cry.

“It’s okay.” says Nancy, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’re okay, Mike.” 

Jonathan shifts forward, slipping a hand beneath his head and propping him up against his chest. “Hey, that was very brave, bud. You did really well, okay? We’re very proud, but you gotta breathe now, yeah? Just breathe.” 

Mike looks around frantically till his eyes settle on Will. “Did he-is he-”

Will shakes his head, but it’s El who answers. 

“No. He is still alive.” She confesses, her voice grave. “I can feel him. He is hurt, but he is alive.” 

Nancy looks pale. “Do you think he-”

Kali shakes her head. “We can sense him, so no. He has not crossed worlds. At least, not yet. He is angry, he will come back for revenge.” She looks at each of them in turn, “And he will strike fast. We must be prepared.” 

Nancy nods, already helping Mike up onto his feet. Jonathan and Lucas take each of Will’s arms, and he’s confused for a second before he remembers the giant fucking wound on his leg. Together, they drag him to the truck and help him inside and soon enough, Hopper hops into the driver’s seat. 

“Team Two has taken off and is steadily increasing altitude. We just gotta keep this bastard busy for long enough.” He says, his voice gruff. Nancy hefts her gun. 

“Oh we sure plan on it, Hop.” 

Mike settles down beside him with a first aid kit just as Hop hits the gas. He tears off a wad of cotton and pressed it over the bleeding wound. Will hisses in pain and squirms away from the touch. 

“Hey.” says Mike, and wraps a hand around his wrist to hold him in place. “You’re gonna be thankful for this later on, okay?” 

“Yes, mom.” 

Mike gives him an unimpressed stare and presses the cotton against his wound a little harsher than necessary. 

“That was reckless.” Will tells him, because he can’t help himself. It’s also because he keeps seeing the image of Mike illuminated against the burst of flames, being thrown backward due to the blast. 

It makes his stomach turn – knowing that were he even a little closer to Vecna, he would not have survived. 

Mike hums nonchalantly, wrapping the gauze over the wad and securing it tightly.

“Hey.” says Will, not liking the way Mike ignores him. “I’m serious, okay? That was very reckless.” 

Mike shrugs. “I wasn’t gonna die.” 

Will swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. “‘I wasn’t gonna die, my ass. Like you didn’t jump out of that window fully expecting to never come back.” 

Mike winces and clears his throat. “Dude. It’s like- chill or whatever. The grenade was just there, and it’s better me than the both of us, right?” 

Will frowns. “Hey, look at me.” 

Mike fidgets with the lid of the kit and doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“Mike.” 

There’s a heavy exhale from him and then he gets up to put the kit back in its place. When he comes back, his shoulders are tense and his eyes are jumpy. 

Mike-talk for ‘drop it’.  

Will supposes they all have their secrets. He’ll let Mike keep his. 

For now. 

Five minutes into their ride, the plan goes to shit. 

The walkie crackles to life and at first, he can only hear distorted shouting and muffled gunfire before his mom’s voice cuts through – and god, she sounds pissed off. 

“-he bastards found us! We’re shifting locations but Steve radioed in. They’re in trouble. Vecna’s back in that place. Where the fuck are you, Hop?!” 

They look at each other for a moment before they all lunge for the walkie at the same time. It’s a good few minutes of chaos before Lucas gets it. 

“Mrs. Byers? I don’t understand. Who got you?” 

There’s a muffled bang and a curse before his mom speaks again. “The goddamn military, Lucas! We have the entire goddamn military on our tails. It sounds like some of them have followed you into the Upside Down, and Steve radioed in to tell-” 

“Yeah- no- we got that…wait. Vecna’s with them?” 

He looks up at Kali and El, both of whom look shocked. El closes her eyes and shakes her head. 

“I can feel him. He is here. He has not retreated.” 

Lucas nods. “Joyce. El can sense him. He’s here in the UD with us. Can you confirm with Steve?” 

There’s some more cursing on the other end before a different voice comes through – threaded through with exasperation. 

“Listen up, stalker.” Max says, her voice garbled. She sounds like she’s running. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, and frankly, I don’t care. The entire fucking military is after us, and if you don’t find Vecna and defeat him in the next five minutes, Team Two’s gonna be toast.” 

Nancy snatches the walkie from him, and they’re all shouting something, but Will can’t concentrate. 

There’s no way Vecna could have willingly gone back to his memories. Not hurt as he was. And El and Kali can sense him, so he has to be near. Near enough for them to sense him. Near enough that they have to act fast.

There’s a cold, sinking feeling in his gut. 

“El!” he calls frantically. “El! How close do you think he is?” 

She looks at him in confusion before she closes her eyes and concentrates. 

“Near. Very near.” 

He shifts forward and places a shaking hand on her upper arm. 

“This near?” His voice is a whisper, but everyone stops in their arguments. El’s eyes fly open in alarm. 

“How did you-” 

But he’s already standing up. He pounds his fist against the metal separating the back from the driver in the front and yells for Hopper to stop right now!

He doesn’t know how this could have happened, but he needs to fix this. 

The truck stops with a jolt and there’s a tense few seconds before the back doors open and Hopper strides in – gun at the ready. 

“What is it, kid?” 

Mike stands up and comes to stand next to him, but Will is not paying attention. He looks beyond him, beyond Hopper to the vast blue-ness of the Upside Down and he wants to cry at his own stupidity. 

There’s a red tinge to everything. An extra distance that shouldn’t be there. His hands shake as he presses them against his mouth.

He needs to get out of here. 

He marches past Hopper and hops down from the truck. There’s alarmed shouts behind him, but he won’t look back. 

He can’t. For their own safety. 

“You need to get out of here.” He says, because of course he still has control of his voice. 

Mike makes an aborted step forward. “Will. What’s going on? You need to tell us.” 

Will shakes his head and prays that the tears in his eyes will go away. “He knows ... .Vecna knows. I-” he presses his lips together and takes a deep breath. 

In. Out.

“I’m the spy. You have to leave me behind.” 

El’s brows furrow. “Let me into your mind.” she says. “Let me in and I’ll kick him out.” 

She sounds so sure of herself. He wishes he could be like that. Strong and brave and courageous. 

But he isn’t. He’s compromised. 

He will fall, but he won’t let the others fall with him. 

He turns away. “Don’t tell me where you’re going. Just close the doors and drive away.” 

A beat of silence. Then muffled voices.

Whispered arguments and slightly raised tones. Someone sounds agitated. He wants to turn around and find out what they’re talking about. 

Will clenches his hands and reorients the thought. 

He wants to turn around and find out what they’re talking about. 

Will won’t let him.  

There’s a thud and the unmistakable roar of the engine. Will listens as the truck pulls away, and keeps listening till he can’t hear the engine anymore. His shoulders drop, and he lets out a deep exhale. 

He’s done this once. He can keep Vecna at bay and watch out for the military. It’s not that hard. 

There’s an unmistakable crunch of gravel behind him, and he whirls around to meet a pair of dark brown eyes that he knows too well. 

Mike puts his hands on Will’s shoulders, and turns him away again. Will can feel Mike’s breath ghosting over his bare neck as he bends down to whisper in his ear. 

“Don’t look, okay? Don’t look. Just do what I say. Do you trust me?” 

The nod that he gives is more out of habit than anything else. Behind him Mike nods. Will knows that because he knows Mike. 

“Just keep walking, okay? Keep walking till I tell you to stop.” 

Will nods again and does as he’s told. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been walking or how much distance they’ve covered. But all he knows is that Mike is right behind him every step of the way.

His pace is slow, and his boots are loud against the ground. His footsteps seem to echo and Will resists the urge to turn around and tell him to stop walking like that. 

He doesn’t realise that he’s stopped till Mike’s hands are on his shoulders – holding tight, keeping him grounded. 

“Hey, what is it?” he asks. “Is something wrong? Can you see Vecna?” 

Will shakes his head.

Punch him

He closes his eyes and clenches his fists. He supposes he should have taken this into account. Vecna is getting desperate. 

“If you want, I’ll keep talking, and you can just listen to my voice.” 

Silence. 

“I mean- only if you think it’ll help or- or something…just-” 

“Yes.” 

There’s silence again before Mike nods. His hands leave Will’s shoulders and he pushes him forward – a silent command to keep walking.

“Remember that time when we first met Lucas? Back in second grade? Some kid was bullying him, and you were such a bleeding heart, you tried to stop him. But then the bully started calling you names.” His voice cracks, like he’s doing more than just talking. “He- he called you a fag, and it reminded you of your father. I was so angry, but I was so useless. You started tearing up and the bully thought he won, but then-” Mike gives a wet chuckle. “But then Lucas whacked him on the head with a chair. He just- just picked up a wooden chair and wham! Just slammed it on the douchebag’s head. We got into so much trouble with the principal. He kept asking us who did it and that asshole kept insisting that it was Lucas, but then you kept saying it was you, and I didn’t want you to get in trouble so I insisted that it was me and in the end, it was such a mess we all got detention.” 

Despite himself Will laughs, and the pressure at the back of his head eases a little. 

Mike has always known how to cheer him up.  

“And remember fourth grade?” he continues, voice cracking. “Dustin was new, and we just got Mr. Clarke. We were so excited to be his favorite student, we couldn’t stop talking about it. Anyway, Dustin corrected me in class and I got super embarrassed. I wanted to talk to you, but you were on leave ‘cause you got sick and I was so mad the rest of the day, I didn’t even bike over to your house. You were so concerned about me, you came to school the next day even though you weren’t well, and then you fainted mid-way through Math.” Mike stops, and presses his palms against Will’s. 

The angle is awkward, but the sentiment is there. 

“I was so scared.” Mike confesses. “‘Cause you didn’t tell me it was that bad, and the last time I saw someone faint, it was my grandad and he died after he was taken to the hospital. My hands were shaking, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe ‘cause I couldn’t lose you, Will.” he pauses. “You meant- mean so much to me.” 

Mike sounds so sincere, Will wants to turn back and hug him tight. It feels nice, he thinks, to be wanted so much. 

To be loved so well. 

“Anyway,” Mike clears his throat. “Dustin just appeared beside me, and then he was pulling off your jacket and slapping your face, and then miraculously, you woke up. He gave you chocolate and some water. You thanked him, but he didn’t think it was such a big deal. No biggie, he had said, but that wasn’t true. 

I decided, right then and there, that Dustin Henderson was a part of our Party, that he was now my friend. Because to me, it was a big deal. To me, he saved your life, Will. And I couldn’t not repay that.”   

Will closes his eyes and just breathes for a second. For the first time in what feels like years, he allows himself to feel everything that he ever held back. 

All the things that Mike has said and done. All the things he’s doing. 

The protection. The promise. The unwavering loyalty. 

Will doesn’t think he has done enough to deserve it, but here is Mike – walking him through what is perhaps the worst time of his life. Being his anchor. Guiding him. 

Step by step. Memory by memory. 

Heartbeat by heartbeat. 

Here, with Mike half-a-step behind him, Will feels brave. Light. Unburdened. He wants to turn around, throw his arms around Mike and kiss him. 

God, he’s losing his mind. 

Mike bumps his shoulder against Wills. “Are you smiling? I feel like you’re smiling.” he says, laughter in his voice. “You’re smiling because I am such a good friend. I am such a good friend and I am awesome. That’s why you’re smiling.” 

Will laughs because he can’t help it. “Mike.” he huffs out, stopping to catch his breath. “Mike no. I am not smiling-” 

“Yes, you are.” Mike teases, cutting in. 

Will only laughs more. 

The moment however is broken by the crackle of the walkie. 

“She’s in. He should be okay.”  

Will tenses. 

Who’s in? 

Vecna’s not out. 

Mike’s hands are grabbing him and turning him around before he can warn him. 

Mike. Lucas. Nancy. Jonathan. 

Four people. 

Eleven. Eight. Hopper. 

Not here.

Eleven, then.

Will’s breaths come in short bursts. “What are all of you doing here? How are- how are you here? Why didn’t I hear you?” His voice builds till he’s shouting and lunging. 

For who, he cannot tell, but he’s glad when Lucas delivers a stinging punch to his jaw. He falls to the ground in a daze, stars exploding behind his eyes. Before he has time to react, Lucas is on top of him – one knee pinning him down, both hands held locked over his head in a death grip. 

“Mike.” Lucas grits out, “Vecna’s not out.” 

Will can’t see, but he can hear him clearly. 

“Hopper. Nothing’s happening. Vecna still has him.” His voice wobbles dangerously, like he’s at the cusp of hysteria. There’s tense silence before Hopper’s voice comes through again. 

“What do you mean? She’s in. So’s Kali and they’re going to find Max and-”

The walkie cuts off abruptly. Mike must have shut down the antenna. 

“Open it!” Will shouts, thrashing against Lucas. “Open it! Open it!” 

Nothing happens. 

“OPEN IT!”

Lucas looks pained, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t try to switch on the walkie. Hopper was saying something. Something important and He wants to know what it is.

“OPEN IT! OPEN IT! OPEN IT! OPEN-”

One second he’s fighting off Lucas’s hold, and another he’s facing down the barrel of a gun. Nancy stands beside Lucas, angry tears in her eyes – mouth set into a determined line. 

“Listen up, asshole. Leave Will alone, or I’ll blow your brains out.” 

Will grins. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers that this is not how he should be reacting. Hell, he shouldn’t even be in this situation. 

This is wrong. This is not him. 

Please help me. He wants to say. 

“No, you won’t.” He says instead – his voice going honey-smooth, saccharine. All wrong and false. 

To her credit, Nancy doesn’t waver. She pushes the barrel down harder, making him wince at the sharp pressure against his throat. 

“I. Am. Not. Joking.” she warns, her voice like steel. “Leave him. Now.” 

(Blue. Red. 

Brown eyes. 

It’s over, Henry. 

Pain painpainpainpain-)

Will gasps. The red tinge clears and he feels ten times lighter. He is so relieved, he thinks he can cry. Lucas watches him warily, but Mike hauls him off of Will only to tackle him in a strong hug. 

His arms wrap around Will’s shoulders and he pulls him closer. Impossibly closer. His breath is hot against his neck and his hair tickles his face, but he’s there. 

Mike is here. He’s okay. 

It’s going to be fine. 

But ‘fine’ is not a word that’s ever in their dictionary. 

This time, Vecna’s attack is not slow, not deliberate. 

It’s a tear in his mind – a breach that he can’t control. Nancy’s helping him stand up, when the ground shakes and then splits apart. Around them, black dust falls, spores rise, and it feels like the sky is falling. 

It takes him about one second to figure out what’s going on, and then three more to voice it. 

“We’re going up!” 

Mike falls flat on his stomach, which, in hindsight is probably a genius move to keep his balance and all that, but Will can’t concentrate on that. All he can feel is a sharp pain in the back of his skull and it hurts. His brain feels like mush, he can’t form a straight thought, it feels like something has caught hold of his skull and just pulled. 

Distantly, he realises that he’s on the ground on his knees and he’s screaming. There are voices around him, and hands holding him up. Faces. Faces that he can’t see beyond a vague blur of pale and brown and dark and pain. 

There are hands too. 

Hands. Pinning him down. Wetness in his throat, spilling down his shirt. Water, he realises. Someone is trying to make him drink water. He tries to speak, but his brain doesn’t respond to him, and by extension, his mouth doesn’t either. His tongue feels like lead and his blood is too hot and there’s a pressure at the base of his skull that spreads outward – consuming him. Pain that makes him want to rip himself inside-out. 

The darkness in the sky grows red, and then there’s a wet, tearing sound and all of a sudden, the sky is not black anymore. 

It’s yellow, he thinks. But not really yellow. It looks more like something between sulphur-yellow and murky-brown. He wishes he had a canvas. He could have known then. 

Something about the air seems wrong. Twisted, stale – dry. There’s a bang and the heat of fire on his face. He hopes his friends are not trying to kill him. That would be very inconvenient for Will. 

He tries to push himself up, but he can’t even tell up from down, so all he manages to do is look pathetic. And helpless. 

At least, he thinks he looks pathetic and helpless, because there are hands hooked under his arms, holding him up. Dragging him to safety. 

There’s a loud bang and a shout from somewhere behind him. There’s something in the air – a controlled sort of chaos. A wrongness he cannot name. 

Something hits the side of his head, and it’s like he’s just been dunked under cold water because all his senses come rushing back to him. 

There’s a residual ringing in his ears, and his vision clears enough for him to take in the absolute carnage in front of him. 

There’s a huge shadow of something in the heavy dust, and Nancy keeps shooting at it. There’s roaring – heavy, dangerous, ancient. Mike stands behind him, hands hooked under Will’s arms, walkie strapped to his belt. Lucas stands to his left, and Jonathan is to his right. They both have their guns loaded and pointed at the shadow in the distance. 

There’s a lot of yelling, and then there are figures rushing out from the dust-fog. He recognises Dustin’s gait and Steve’s figure and then there’s Robin and Erica and between them- 

He can’t believe his eyes. 

Between them, running at top speed, faces slack with fear and something fierce like determination, are the children. 

Holly reaches them first – hugging Nancy around the waist before rushing forward and throwing herself into Mike’s arms. Will stumbles at the sudden loss of support, but he catches himself fast. 

Derek, surprisingly, is next. He forgoes Nancy completely, and goes straight for Mike. He hugs him so hard, Mike stumbles back for a second before he returns the hug with just as much force. 

“I knew you’d come to save us.” He says, voice full of devotion. Will wonders if he sounds like that too sometimes. 

Mike only nods, but Will can see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He’s touched. Will feels proud. Mike has found his purpose. 

The children, however, cannot linger long. Steve gathers them all into the helicopter off to the side, and hurries them all inside. Will half-expects him to go around to the front and hop into the driver’s seat when he spots Murray in it. 

Buckled up and ready. Will is kind of confused. 

“When did Murray get here?” he asks, and Mike turns to squint at the helicopter. 

“Oh.” he says, “Yeah. There’s a lot you don’t know.” 

Will nods. 

There’s a crash off to the side, and he sees that the others have already opened fire on the thing that is just now emerging from the dust. 

And oh. 

Okay. 

The Mind-Flayer is even more terrifying in real life. 

Not that there’s much to see anyway. Jonathan has let loose his flamethrower (when did he get one?) and its entire face is on fire. There’s a horrible, screeching sound that echoes across the planes. Nancy falls back, reloads her gun, and then shoots again. Her aim is steady and clear. She doesn’t hesitate. Steve and Dusting rush below it, their make-shift spears at the ready. 

Will can’t really see what they’re doing, but he’s sure it helps. 

Lucas, Robin and Erica join the foray, and even though they’re only armed with flare guns, they seem to be doing a lot of damage. 

Beside him, Mike shifts, and then he’s pulling something out from the pocket in his vest. It’s small and green and as Mike twists the pin off the grenade and lets it loose into the air, Will can’t help but grin. 

The grenade explodes as it makes contact with the creature and there’s a deafening screech as it rears up onto its back legs in an attempt to save itself, before it rolls over on the ground with a loud crash. 

The dust hasn’t settled yet. But Will knows, sure as day, that the Mind-Flayer is dead. 

He only wishes their problems ended here. 

But again, why would things ever be that easy for them. 

There’s a moment of silence – a lull in the storm. And then, there’s chaos. 

Vines erupt from the ground – thick and menacing. Will thinks for a moment, back to his time in Vecna’s mind. 

My powers are stronger than ever.

Well, shit. Turns out, Vecna wasn’t kidding. 

It happens all too fast. The vines grab at them before any of them can react, and soon they’re pinned to the ground. 

By ‘they’ and ‘them’, Will means everybody but him and Mike. 

He has about one second to figure out why before his vision whites-out and then refocuses back in. 

Everything he sees is tinged in red. 

He turns to Mike, and there is so much repressed anger in him. So much hatred for this foolish child that destroyed his plans. For this stupid thorn in his side. 

His victory will start with Mike’s death. 

His hand shoots out before he can stop himself. Mike floats into the air – gasping, tense, strung tight. He struggles against his invisible hold, and in some distant part of his head, he recognises the gasping sound he makes. 

Will.

He looks so pathetic. Poor Mike who loved too much and too fast. Who gave with all his heart and never asked for anything in return. Poor him – for having loved Will and not realising the danger to his own life. 

Well, his mistake for not realising sooner. 

Will flexes his fingers, and Mike floats closer – face rapidly draining of blood. He hangs in the air before him, suspended like a marionette. He tries to say something, but Will doesn’t let him. He squeezes and relishes in the way Mike’s heart pounds hard in his chest. Each heartbeat echoes in his head like drumbeats. 

Loud. Ominous. 

Danger. 

(Mike.) 

He curls his fist, but meets resistance. His hand doesn’t obey him, and his brows furrow in confusion before he realises. 

No point in fighting, William.

His head feels loud. There’s a distant echo to his thoughts – the touch of someone else. Someone purer. Better. Younger. 

Will. 

His vision flickers back and forth. 

Red. Yellow. Red. Yellow. 

Vecna. Will. Vecna. Will. 

His grip on Mike’s throat loosens and the sounds come rushing back in. Nancy is screaming for Mike. The helicopter already left. Dustin and Lucas are shouting, begging. Robin and Steve are still fighting their confines – still trying, holding on to a foolish hope. 

But it’s Mike who catches his attention. 

Mike is saying something, but it’s not loud. His voice is low, soft. Gentle. 

His expression is smooth, and the previous tension in his shoulders has dropped. His voice is steady – an anchor to a past he remembers in fragments. 

He looks at peace. Like he’s not really afraid. 

But most of all, he looks brave. 

(Mike the Brave.) 

Will fights past the horrible ringing in his ears, and the heaviness in his thoughts. He fights to hear Mike’s voice. Fights to understand him. 

“-I remember,” Mike is saying, “the first few years of our friendship, you never spoke. I asked you questions and you either shook your head or nodded your assent, but you didn’t speak. And every time I came to your house, your mother would give me this weird look. Like she was apologising for something. But I didn’t understand. I didn’t know why they wanted you to be verbal, because I understood you well enough. Even without the words.” 

(I asked. I asked and you said yes.) 

“When you were excited about something and you wanted me to know, you’d just shove it in my direction, and I could just tell. I could tell how much it meant to you, or how much it didn’t mean. I could tell if you were sad, or angry, or happy or ecstatic.” His voice peters out, and he coughs once. Twice. 

“What I’m trying to remind you, Will, is that between us, we never needed words. We always understood each other. Back then, when you wouldn’t speak, it didn’t bother me, because in my head, you always spoke. And even after you started to talk, I never forgot to listen for you in my head. Because in there, you were safe. Your voice, and your thoughts were safe.

And that’s how I found you, back on that halloween night in ‘84. I heard you calling. In my head, because even without the real words, I always heard you.” 

(Oh, I didn’t say that. 

You didn’t have to.) 

Will’s eyes fall to the incessant twitching of Mike’s fingers. His index finger is tapping out an unsteady rhythm against the pad of his thumb. 

At first, it’s unfamiliar. Then, he concentrates. 

Two rapid taps.

One tap. Hold. Two taps. 

Hold. Hold. Hold. 

Three rapid taps. Hold. 

One tap. 

Hold. One tap. Hold. Hold. 

Hold. Hold. Hold.

Two rapid taps. Hold. 

Eventually, it’s the absurd discontinuity in the tapping that breaks through Vecna’s hold. He doesn’t really know how, but the message bypasses Vecna’s scrutiny, slips between his hold and finds its home in the twin beats of Will’s heart. 

. . . 

I 

. _ .. / _ _ _ / . . . _ / . 

L        O        V        E

_ . _ _ / _ _ _ / . . _ 

Y          O        U 

I Love You. 

I love you. 

Will closes his eyes. Only one word in his head, and a lifetime of belief in his heart. 

Get. Out.

Vecna’s hold breaks just as fast and just as painfully, but Will doesn’t have the time to process any of it, because Mike is falling. He lands on his knees with a pained gasp and Will rushes to him – arms outstretched, words on the tip of his tongue and heart beating wildly against his ribs. 

There is one suspended moment, where Will is just centimeters away from him. His fingers are almost touching Mike’s face, and Mike is looking up at him, smiling like he hung the stars in the sky. 

And then there’s a vine tearing a hole through Mike’s chest. There’s screaming, and blood and so much screaming. 

Will thinks it might be him. 

Mike’s mouth falls open in a silent ‘O’, and he slumps forward as the vine retreats. Will catches him in his arms, and holds him up, blabbering incoherently. 

(You’re okay. I got you. 

You’re okay.)

Mike is looking up at him with something close to terror on his face, and it occurs to Will that he thinks he’s going to die. Will pulls him closer, and wraps his arms around him. Mike’s head rests against Will’s chest. Ear to his heartbeat. 

(This is how you loved me back.) 

Through the dust, Vecna emerges – a cruel smile on his lip-less face. Gnarly and looming and real. 

(You’re the heart.) 

Will should be afraid. Should cower in fear at the embodiment of his nightmares. But all he can feel is anger. With every laboured breath that Mike takes, Will feels the fury burn in his bones, spreading outward, reaching and reaching and reaching. 

It’s hot and cold and nothing at the same time. 

(It was the best decision of my life.) 

Will lowers Mike to the ground, and stands. He walks forward, ignoring the alarmed cries surrounding him. His chest heaves and his blood boils. He wants to wipe the smug grin right off the bastard’s face. 

(You’re a sorcerer. You’re my best friend. 

I love you. 

I love you.)

His fists clench at his side, and boulders shake loose from their places. The burning in his chest intensifies and this time, the red in his vision is not Vecna. 

He flicks his wrist, and the heavy rocks go flying straight at the monster, hitting him hard across his bloody face. 

There’s a snap of a tentacle and an irritated snarl, but there is nothing in this world that can stop him now. 

The rushing in his ears, the burning in his chest, the song in his blood. 

Will is beyond anger, beyond fury. This is something more ancient. An anger of the heart for the heart. 

This is rage. 

Distantly, he can hear the others screaming. Shouting, yelling. There are gunshots, lots of them. There is a loud bang off to the side, and then more shouting. Throughout it all, Will walks. 

He walks straight toward Vecna – shoulders rigid, head held high, fire in his eyes. There is something insistent at the back of his mind, thrumming beneath his skin. He feels hot and cold at the same time. His blood is boiling, but it’s also calm. The wind is loud, but it's also silent. 

Will Byers will kill Vecna, but he also won’t. 

A prickling at the nape of his neck is all the warning he gets, before the hulking shape of the Mind-Flayer is lifting off the ground – its mouth open in an angry roar, tentacles shooting up into the air, dangling menacingly. 

Of course it’s not dead. 

God forbid it should be that easy.

It thunders forward, and the rest of the team falls back. They don’t have enough ammunition, or strength left to fight Vecna, let alone the Mind-Flayer. 

The odds are stacked against them. They are weak, defenseless, and small.  Nothing they do can make a difference, it’s all hopeless. 

It feels like the Mac-Z all over again. 

(Forced into a corner, children screaming. Vecna. The demogorgons. Bullets. Shooting. Dead soldiers. 

Mike. Robin. Lucas. 

Danger. 

Protect.) 

Will closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. His fingers flex at his sides. Somehow, he is their first line of defence now. He’s the only one that can hold off Vecna. 

He hopes he’s strong enough to hold off the Mind-Flayer too. 

The insistent pounding at the back of his mind intensifies, and this time, he does not fight it. He breathes out and welcomes it back in. 

In all his life, he’ll never forget this. 

The instant rush of fear and evil and otherness that makes him want to drop to his knees and scream himself hoarse. There is nothing more he wants than to let go, to give in. They’re losing anyway, and Will is just one boy. 

Just a scared, lonely boy whose one desperate wish is for everybody to be safe. 

But he can’t do that. Can’t give in, that is. Will may be just a boy, but he’s a boy with a purpose. Hatred that boils low in his stomach, anger that burns bright in his chest and fury that glows hot behind his eyes. 

If this is a battle his friends can’t fight, then Will will fight it for them. 

He cries out as his hands spasm with the effort to contain the evil. He grits his teeth and plants his legs. Stance wide. Shoulders set. Breathing steady. 

He raises one hand to the Mind-Flayer and another at Vecna, and he pushes. 

The Mind-Flayer stops mid-step – its tentacles hover in the air, just inches from Steve and Dustin. It trembles with the effort to fight against his hold, pushing back with an intensity that Will is sure will break him. In front of him, Vecna’s eyes narrow. His lips curl into an ugly snarl and his eyes shutter close. 

Pain explodes behind Will’s eyes. 

It travels down his spine in a white hot blur and pools into his skull. It’s pulling him apart and pushing him together. There’s a pressure against his ribs, and his breaths are coming in gasps. It feels like there isn’t enough air for him to breathe. His knees tremble and his entire body shakes, but he holds on. Putting all his strength, all his desperation into holding them back. 

With great effort, he glances back. 

“Run.” He grits out, “Please. Run.” 

They fumble for just a second, before Nancy pumps her gun and charges into battle. She shoots at the Mind-Flayer, never pausing, never hesitating. Lucas and Jonathan follow with their flare guns. Steve and Dustin look at each other – an entire conversation held in a few seconds – before they yell a war cry and charge straight in, their spears held at the ready. 

Will twists his head more, in a desperate attempt to spot Mike. 

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be-

A sharp pain in his chest has him falling to his knees, and he redirects his attention to holding them at bay. Vecna and the Mind-Flayer are fighting his hold on them, and he doesn’t know how long he can keep it up, but he has to give his friends a fighting chance. 

They have one chance to get this right. He can’t fuck it up. 

His breathing is too loud, and his chest heaves with the exertion. The pain in his head intensifies to a single point. It feels like he’s being cracked open. Torn up, chopped up. Blown apart. His hands tremble and his vision swims. 

Everything blurs together into an ugly mix of colours till all he can see is a murky shade of brown-black. His arms feel numb, his body aches and he can’t think straight. He can feel himself get weaker. He’s losing control. 

The thin thread of power stretches and stretches- and breaks. 

He falls to the ground, hands scrambling for purchase. Somewhere in front of him, the Mind-Flayer bellows again – finding joy in its renewed strength. Through blurry vision, Will can make out the mangled feet in front of him, and then slowly he’s being lifted into the air. 

Soon enough, he’s face-to-ugly-face with Vecna. He snarls before tightening his grip around Will’s throat and suddenly the air is not reaching his lungs anymore. His legs kick out beneath him, and he chokes on nothing. His hands claw at Vecna’s, but he’s too weak. Too drained. He watches in horror as Vecna lifts his other hand – nails extending into crooked claws – and brings it over Will’s face. 

“You,” says Vecna, voice low and menacing. “Will no longer be a problem. Because you will no longer be alive-” 

Even before he has finished the sentence, there’s a rock the size of Will’s head slamming into his side. Vecna’s hold breaks as he is flung sideways by the impact, hitting the ground with a thud and a pained groan. 

Will falls to his knees again, panting. There’s a hand extended towards him, and he looks up to see El. 

“There are some battles you need not fight alone, Will.” She says, voice steely and determined. “We are here now. And we are a team.” 

He looks to her side, and sure enough, Kali and Hopper are joining the fray. Hopper has his gun pointed and a grenade sails through the air towards the Mind-Flayer, hitting one of its many legs. 

Will breathes in even though it hurts, and he takes El’s hand. 

Together they stand as Vecna rises from the ground, teeth bared in a snarl, and vines shooting up from the ground. 

“There is nothing you can do, that will stop my victory, Eleven.” He spits out. “Be prepared to die in vain.” 

El juts out her chin, looking Vecna dead in the eye. “You don’t scare me, Henry.” 

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say, because Vecna laughs – a mirthless, soulless, absolutely dead laugh – and lunges forward. They jump away at once, Kali to the right, Will to the left, and El-

El jumps right over him. As she lands, she spins, thrusting her arm out. Vecna staggers backwards, but doesn’t fall. Soon enough, the vines are shooting for them – wrapping around their ankles, and twisting themselves around their wrists – binding them. El grunts, jerking her head downward, and the vines break, but it’s not enough, because more vines take their place. 

Throughout it all, Vecna stands there, looking smug. Like this is just a game. Like he’s killing them for fun. Like their lives are a joke to him. 

Like Mike’s life is a joke to him. 

And suddenly, something in Will shifts again. Something in his brain just clicks into place, like an old memory relearnt, and soon enough, the vines that are holding them together are ablaze. 

There is a dull shrieking in the dark recesses of Will’s mind. In a part that is still connected to the Hive. That still feels everything. That is still under the Mind-Flayer’s control. 

The vines recoil, twisting away and out of reach, but the fire spreads. It spreads till they’re enclosed in a tight ring of fire – like a boundary they cannot cross.

Vecna’s teeth are bared, and he charges forward, arm thrust outward, nails extending into claws , but he doesn’t make it more than five steps before the ground before them is changing. 

Yellow and brown become vivid red. Open skies become cave walls. The circle of fire becomes a narrow passage. He looks to his side, and sure enough, Kali stands at the center of it all, nose bleeding, her hair a halo around her head – illuminated by the blaze of the fire. 

He doesn’t know what this is, but it stops Vecna dead in his tracks. He shakes where he stands, blank eyes filled with terror. 

“Your tricks do not affect me, Eight.” 

Kali cocks her head to the side, her lips ticking upward into a sinister smile. “No? Then why don’t you fight back?” 

Vecna drags his foot forward, but it feels like he’s frozen. Rooted to the ground. 

Whatever this illusion means, it’s scaring Vecna. 

Unbidden, Max’s words come back to him. 

(I survived mostly due to luck, but there was this cave.

 It was a memory of his. Something he was afraid of.)

Something Vecna was afraid of. A cave. A traumatic memory. 

Will thinks they might have a chance afterall. 

It happens almost at once. The Mind-Flayer screeches in the distance, Vecna straightens, El thrusts her arms out, and Will breathes in. 

Kali stumbles, the illusion breaks, and Will breathes out. 

The next few seconds are pure chaos. 

Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every word spoken here and everywhere and nowhere. Will hears it all. His senses heighten. His blood sings. He finds the Hive Mind and he hijacks it. 

Somewhere in the blankness of his mind, he envisions a fire – glowing red, hot flames that lick upward and upward, always hungry for more – and imprints it onto the beast in the distance. 

There is a bone-chilling shriek and a chorus of shouts before a thud. The sound echoes and reverberates. Will feels it down to his bones. And this time, he knows it for certain. 

The Mind-Flayer is dead. 

Somewhere in his chest, he registers the growing pain. His heart doesn’t seem to get the memo – beating away in his chest, determined to keep him alive. In front of him, El and Kali are going toe-to-toe with Vecna, matching every blow of his with a hit ten times worse. 

In his mind, Will feels it. Vecna is growing weaker. The Hive Mind is dying, and by extension, so is he. 

So is Will. 

But he doesn’t have time for this. Will is the only one who can kill Vecna, he knows. He knows, because they share the same mind, the same life-force. 

Will closes his eyes and searches. 

The connection to Vecna never really left. It was always there, lying dormant in his head until Vecna had need of him again. Like a door. 

But the thing about doors, is that they can be opened from both sides. 

Will sees it, and Will pulls. 

Immediately, the sensations rush into him. The weakened stature, the stilted heartbeat. The laboured breaths that Vecna hides, and the love Will has only recently learnt is safe. Together, they rise into the air, but this time, Will is in control. 

This time, Vecna doesn’t have Will. Will has Vecna. 

He imagines the vines from earlier wrapping around their thread of life. Snug. Tight. Then he imagines them on fire. 

The pain is instantaneous. It consumes him – burning him inside out, choking his lungs with smoke, racing down his spine and curling around his heart. 

The thread gets weaker with every second that passes, but so does Will. With the last of his strength, he imagines the vines getting tighter. Pressing into the thread. He imagines them coiling tight into the thread, and then, with all his might, Will pulls. 

There is a flash of light, and then nothing. 

The first thing he feels is the cold. Slowly, he blinks his eyes open and waits for the bleariness to dissipate. He can feel the hard surface beneath him, and he pushes himself up. He takes a moment to just sit and observe. The room – or not-room, he’s not very sure – is black. The darkness seems to stretch for miles and miles. It looks like El’s mind, but there is no water on the floor. In fact, there is nothing. 

Nothing but a white marble bench. 

And oh wait. There’s a person. Sitting. On the white marble bench. 

Long brown(ish) hair, black and white shirt, rings on his fingers. He’s looking right at him, an unreadable expression in his face. His eyes are carefully blank, but there’s a manic energy surrounding him. 

Something that says this guy is crazy. 

“Hello.” Says Will, because it feels weird not to. “Where is this place?” 

The man quirks an eyebrow and stands, fully facing him. And now Will can see letters on his t-shirt. 

Hellfire Club. 

His eyes widen with realization. The man – Eddie – smirks, and suddenly all the blankness in his face is gone. His eyes have a glint to them – something that makes him look like he’s just on this side of psychopathic. Or crazy. Whatever. They’re the same thing. 

“What the shit?” breathes Will.

“What the shit.” Agrees Eddie. 

Will stumbles up, “What- how are- where am-”

“Where are you?” Eddie cuts in, already striding towards him. “This is the in-between. Void. Darkness.” He pauses, as if considering something, “Or, you could say, this is your last chance.” 

Will flounders. “My last chance to what-? Why am I here?” 

Eddie blinks at him, confused, before his eyes widen almost comically. “Oh.” he says, “Oh, dear. You don’t know.” 

“I don’t know what?” His voice climbs up by an octave. He’s very confused and very disoriented. He’d just like to lie down and sleep forever, thank you very much. 

“You’re dead.” 

In some rational part of his mind, he supposes this makes sense. He killed Vecna, and he died too. It was inevitable. 

But right now, that rational part of his brain is on vacation, and the only thing he registers is the absolute panic that takes over his body. 

“I’m dead.” he repeats, voice flat. “How am I here then? Shouldn’t it be like a- like-”

“Heaven?” asks Eddie, a manic grin on his face. “Well see, that’s the thing, Byers. You’re not really dead.” 

“I’m not really dead.” he repeats, like a broken radio. Eddie nods aggressively before slinging an arm around his shoulder. 

“I mean, you are dead. In the literal sense. But you’re still alive. In the spiritual sense or whatever.” He throws up his hands, “I don’t know, man! I am still learning how this works. But,” he says, wagging a finger in front of Will’s face, “somehow, I have been chosen to talk to you, and talk I will.” 

He guides them to the bench he was sitting on. “Byers, listen. Just don’t freak out, okay?” 

Will gulps. It’s never anything good when people tell him not to freak out. Eddie exhales and puts his hands on Will’s shoulders. “Listen, man. I just need you to look under the bench, yeah? Just peep under it.” 

Will eyes him apprehensively, and then bends slightly to look under the bench. 

He is met with the most revolting sight ever. 

It’s Vecna – or at least, a weird, ugly, fleshless, bloody part of him. He is curled up under the bench, breathing ragged, shaking with something more than just pain. The sight makes his stomach turn, and Will straightens back up. 

Eddie gives him an apologetic grimace. 

“That had to happen, okay? You had to kill him. And I suppose the good news is, you did. But, since you were connected to the Hive Mind or whatever, it killed you too.” 

Will eyes him sceptically, “But I’m not really dead.” he says, but it sounds more like a question. Eddie nods at him. 

“When you killed Vecna, you also killed the part of you that was attached to the Hive Mind. But since you are a real person with real brains and a real heart, you, as Will Byers, survived.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hands, “Hence the void. In-between. Whatever.”   

Will blinks at him. 

“Anyway,” he continues, “my point is that you have a choice. You can go back.” 

Will pauses to consider. 

He can go back. Back to all the hurt and the pain. To the jeering and bullying and the feeling of wrongness in his heart. He can go back to being who he was. 

Will Byers. Weirdo kid. Zombie Boy. 

But- El. Mom. Jonathan. Dustin. Lucas. Max. 

Mike. 

Oh god, Mike. 

“Is Mike-” he starts, but Eddie cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

“He’s alive.” He says. He tilts his head as if listening closely for something. A shadow passes over his face. “He’s very close to the gate, but they will save him. He won’t die. He’s got a long, long time for that.” His voice softens as he looks at Will, “You all do.” 

Will nods. He can feel the prickling heat behind his eyes, and the sudden tightness of his throat. He’s so tired of all this. It would be so nice to just let go. To rest. 

But he can’t. 

Or he won’t, would be more accurate. 

He won’t let go, because his friends need him. They’ve already lost so much. Seen so many loved ones die. They don’t deserve that. None of them do. So maybe, just maybe, he’ll allow himself one more chance at happiness. 

One more chance to get this right. 

For Mike. 

He nods again, and the tears spill down his cheeks. A sob tears itself past his lips, and suddenly he’s being engulfed in a hug. Despite the crazy aura that surrounds him, there is a certain kind of warmth to Eddie. The hug feels secure. Safe. 

Like something an older brother would give. 

Like something Jonathan would give. 

“I want to go back,” he says. Then again, this time with more resolve. “I want to go back.” 

Eddie pulls away, nodding vigorously. “Yeah. I wasn’t gonna let you stay. And Will? Wheeler’s a good kid, yeah? You are too. You’ll both be okay.” 

Will sniffles and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, willing the tears to go away. 

Eddie drops his hand from Will’s shoulder to press it against his chest – right over his heart. 

“This fucker right here has kept you alive for so long. Trust it now and then, yeah? It’s not always wrong.” 

The tears fall again, but Will nods, a wobbly grin breaking out. For the first time in a lot of time, he feels seen. It’s a good feeling. 

“And…tell them I miss them, okay? Tell them I’m so damn proud of them.” His voice breaks, and he pauses for a while to collect himself. “They did so well. Tell them Eddie is proud.” 

He sniffles and then slaps Will hard on the back. “God, don’t tell them I got sappy, ‘kay? They’ll never let me live it down. They’ll harass my ghost, and I’ll never rest in peace and then I’ll have to haunt you to tell you to tell them to leave me the fuck alone and I don’t think you really want that to happen, so-” 

Will can’t help it. He laughs, and for the first time, his chest feels light. He feels light – unburdened, carefree. Joyful. He nods again and they regard each other for a few moments before Eddie clears his throat. 

“Okay. Go back home, right? Yeah, okay. Just- just close your eyes, okay? Close your eyes and think of something that connects you back. Think of home, yeah?” 

Will closes his eyes, and thinks of home. 

Laughter. The sound of footsteps. 

Do you wanna be my friend?

A woman. Beautiful smile, beautiful voice. She’s very fierce and protective. 

A boy. A little older, but still caring. He’s warmth and safety. 

It was the best thing I’ve ever done.

Another boy. Dark hair, dark eyes. A grin that can light up the entire sky. He’s very smart and very talented. Brave till the end. Loyal. 

A girl. She’s hesitant. Very pretty. She has dark soulful eyes and a gentle smile. She calls him Will, but it sounds like brother. 

Two more boys. Bright grins and snarky comments. They’ll fight the entire world bare-handed if it means their friends would be safe. 

Another girl. Flaming red hair and bright blue eyes. She’s got a scowl on her face and an attitude to rival his best friend’s, but she’s protective too. She gives him good advice and stays by his side. 

Sometimes it helps to share.

The boy again, but he’s older now. Mature. Beautiful. He’s got a pretty smile and a soft voice. When he cries, it rains. It feels like the world is mourning with him. 

Will knows this boy like the back of his hand. Every smile, every truth and every lie. Friends tell each other things that parents don’t know, but they tell each other things that friends don’t know. They’re best friends. 

I love you. 

He wakes up with a gasp. 

His head is on someone’s lap, and there are gentle fingers threading through his hair. There are voices above him, and he strains to hear them. 

“-an you hear me? Are you okay?” The voice is gentle, measured. Jonathan. 

Will groans and attempts to sit up, but the person behind him catches him by the shoulders. 

“No.” They say and he recognises the voice. El. “You are too weak. You need to rest.” 

He shakes his head and looks around. Mom and Hopper are standing right by his side. There are tears in Mom’s eyes and her hands are clasped in front of her. She gives him a wobbly smile and he returns it to the best of his ability. 

His skin feels like plastic and his body feels like lead. He looks to the side where Max and Steve are sitting. They smile at him. 

Steve’s got a nasty cut on his cheek and his right shoulder is bandaged. Max looks relatively fine, and for the first time he registers that she’s not in her wheelchair. 

“Max.” He breathes out, “Max, you’re out of the wheelchair.” He pauses, then, “Are you okay?”

She huffs out a fond laugh, her eyes glistening with tears. “You’re asking if I’m okay? You’re the one who nearly died, Byers.” 

Will gives her a broad grin and his eyes stray to the only other occupant of the room. Kali nods at him, and the corners of her lips twitch up into a semblance of a smile. He nods back at her. It feels like a connection, now. 

Shared trauma, he supposes. 

His eyes drift around the room and he sits up a little straighter at the familiar sight of Lucas’s jacket. He looks around eagerly, hoping they’ll show up, but no one does. 

“Where are the others?” 

The shift in the mood is instantaneous. Mom’s smile tightens around the edges, and she shares a worried glance with Hopper. Jonathan’s face falls and his eyes become glassy. El stiffens beneath him, and Steve and Max look at each other. Despite being a few feet away, their silent conversation is clear. 

Who’s gonna tell him? 

Panic bubbles up inside him. He looks around frantically, begging someone to meet his eyes. Praying with all his might that the others will just walk in through the door. Eventually, it’s Kali who breaks the silence. 

“It’s your friend.” She says, and her next words send a chill down his spine. “Michael.” 

His blood runs cold, and there’s a ringing in his ears. Somewhere, he thinks he can hear glass shatter. 

It sounds like his heart. 

His breathing picks up as he looks at Jonathan. Implores him with his eyes, begs him to tell Will that this is all a joke, Mike’s in the next room. He’s just resting. 

It’s all going to be okay. 

But Jonathan says nothing. He stares at him with rapidly filling eyes and takes Will’s hands in his. “Will…” he begins, and Will shakes his head. He won’t hear it. He just won’t. Not now. Right now, in his mind, everything’s fine. It’s all okay. Mike’s just a bit banged up, but he’s safe. He’s okay. 

Eddie promised he was. 

“Will, Mike’s in the hospital. He’s undergoing surgery.” 

His world shatters. Tears prickle his eyes and ugly sobs tear out of his chest. Mike is in the hospital. Undergoing surgery. 

Will’s not a kid. He knows how this ends. 

His hands shake as he rakes them through his hair and scrubs at his face. The tears feel like failure. Every breath he takes feels like borrowed time. But somewhere deep inside him, he knows. Will is alive, but Mike may not be. 

“How bad?” He asks, voice cracking with the weight of grief. He doesn’t know how to keep it together anymore. He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to do, or who he’s trying to be. All he knows is that he wants Mike to be safe. 

Will has suffered silently. Has taken everything that was thrown his way in stride. But he doesn’t play games when it comes to the people he loves. 

He refuses to sit idle when Mike is involved. 

The room is quiet, and everybody’s glancing at each other again. As if deciding what is the best course of action. 

Do we tell him? But he’s so weak now. So fragile. He needs rest. 

With every second that passes, the anger simmers in his chest – growing, flaming up. His lungs won’t work and his brain can’t form a coherent thought and his heart is shattered like glass and Mike is in the hospital. 

Dead or Alive? 

Every second of silence grates on his nerves. Hacking away at his patience, till he snaps. 

“How bad, Jonathan?!” he shouts, and there’s only a slight twinge of regret when everyone flinches. His mom comes forward, her hand outstretched a little. “Baby..” she begins, but Will has had enough. 

“How bad? Why won’t someone tell me? He’s my fucking best friend. I deserve to know, goddamit! Tell me!” His voice inches higher and higher, until he’s shouting at the top of his lungs. He ignores the burning in his throat and the insistent hands on his shoulders. He just wants them to stop their silly game of maybe-we-shouldn’t-tell-him-because-he’s-too-sensitive and get it fucking over with. 

“How bad?” he asks again, and this time it comes out as a broken whisper. A plea. He’s begging now. He has to know. His mom presses her hands against her quivering lips, shaking all over. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. There’s a sniffle off to his right and he sees Max sobbing into her palms. Steve is looking away, not meeting his eyes and El won’t let go of his shoulder. 

“They don’t know,” starts Jonathan. “They don’t know if- they don’t know if he’ll make it.” 

Will stands. 

Or tries to, at least. His legs buckle beneath him, and if El hadn’t tightened her grip on his shoulders, he would’ve hit the floor. His mom rushes forward. 

“Baby-” 

“I need to go.” 

No explanation. He doesn’t have to specify anything. They already know what he’s talking about. Regardless, the room erupts into chaos – voices overlapping, too many hands trying to hold him up. They are panicked, but it only sharpens his resolve. 

He needs to see Mike. Simple as that. 

He looks at them, eyes burning and chest heaving with the effort to stand up straight. 

“You said Mike’s at the hospital. So I am going.” 

Jonathan shakes his head – already anticipating an argument. “Will, you can’t. You just woke up. You can’t even stand properly.” 

Will rounds on him – something feral loosening in his chest. “Then help me, or for the love of god, get out of my way.” 

His mom shakes her head and reaches for his face. “Baby, listen. We’ll take you there, I promise. But you need to rest first-”

“Mom, Mike is in surgery. He might not make it out alive. I am not going to sit here doing absolutely fucking nothing while he fights for his life on an operation table.” He looks at them all. “I am not.” 

“So please,” he says, and his voice is low, but it sounds dangerous all the same. “Please, just take me to the hospital.” 

“I need to know he’s okay.” he adds, voice soft, trembling. His mom looks seconds away from breaking down, and there’s nothing more he wants than to put a smile on her face, but he just can’t. 

Just once in his life, he wants to be selfish. 

Max wipes at her face and stands up. “I’ll take you.” 

The room erupts into chaos again. Voices shout over each other, people are arguing, his mom is looking imploringly at Hopper as if begging him to just talk sense into everybody. 

“Everybody, shut up!” 

They turn to look at Steve, who’s already half-way to the door. “I’ll drive Byers to the hospital. Robin must be waiting for me anyway. And we’ll probably get a visit early, ‘cause Vickie’s assigned as his nurse. He’ll be fine with me.” 

“Besides,” he adds as an afterthought. “Nancy’s gonna be there. It’ll be okay.” 

Max bristles where she stands. “Yeah, no. You’re either taking both of us, or you’re not taking anybody.” 

“I will come too.” El says, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“If you must. Come on, chop chop. We haven’t got time.” 

The car ride to the hospital is nerve-wracking to say the least. Will’s brain keeps bringing up high-definition movies of how this could end. 

Mike in a hospital bed. Dead. 

Mike bleeding out on the operation table. Flatlining, but no one can help him. 

Mike screaming, flailing around. Begging Will to save him, while he stands off to the side, silent. Like a coward. 

Steve drives like a mad-man. His turns are too sharp, and he’s definitely crossing the speed limit, but no one seems to care. The military is lining the roads – guns in hand – and it suddenly occurs to Will that the military is still hunting for El.

El who is sitting right next to him. 

He turns to her in vague panic, but she shushes him. The corners of her lips tick up into a mischievous smirk. “Kali is cloaking me.” 

The panic recedes, temporarily sated. 

They stop with an almighty screech right in front of the hospital doors, and Will doesn’t wait till the car stops to jump out of it. 

In hindsight, that might not have been a very good decision considering the way the ground seems to tilt beneath him, but he braves through. 

He rushes through the front door, startling nurses. His footsteps echo down the hallway, and all he sees is room after room after room. He makes a sharp turn at the corner and collides with someone. 

Before he can apologise, however, the someone – Vickie – grabs him by the wrist and pulls him into an empty storage room. Her hands are flying all over him – grabbing his face, peering into his pupils, fingers pressing into his wrist. All the while she keeps murmuring stuff to herself. He wriggles uncomfortably under her stringent scrutiny and eyes the door longingly. 

Every second she spends fussing over him is a second wasted. 

“You’re not too fine, but I won’t keep you here. He’s still in surgery, the waiting room is down the hallway, third left. Also, drink some coffee as soon as you can, your adrenaline’s gonna wear off soon and we don’t want you fainting again.” 

Will doesn’t know how Vickie knows he’s here for Mike, but he’s glad that she does. He gives her a brilliant grin and a thumbs up, and then he’s out of the door. 

He rushes down the hallway and skids past the corner, chest heaving and legs aching in a way they haven’t since ‘82. 

Nancy jumps up as soon as she spots him, and she stands there for a moment in stunned silence before she’s rushing forward to envelope him in a hug.

And- okay. He’s not used to this. Nancy Wheeler, Mike’s older, very intimidating, gun wielding, badass sister doesn’t just give out hugs. But apparently, she’s in the mood today, so he’ll allow this small delay to his countless questions. 

She pulls back and glares at him fiercely. “You scared us. You almost died, Will.” Her eyes widen as if she just registered her words, and Will winces. “Holy shit, you almost died, Will. What the fuck are you doing, standing here? Sit down!” 

He obeys her, if only in hopes that she’ll calm down enough to answer his questions. 

“Mike.” Says Will, an urgency to his tone that he hopes Nancy understands. She sits down on the chair beside him, and lets out a deep sigh. 

“He’s…in surgery.” She says, then glances sideways at him. “But you already knew that. That’s why you’re here.” 

Will waits and tries not to fidget with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“He was- he was in a bad shape, by the time you defeated Vecna. It all happened so fast. One second, Mike is okay. He’s breathing. And the next, he just…he just sort of stopped? I don’t know.” she shakes her head, “You were fighting Vecna, and Dustin was with Mike, and then he was screaming. We- we didn’t know what to do. Mike was dying, but you guys needed all the help you could get, and the Mind-Flayer was still trying to kill us.” She meets his eyes, something haunted in her gaze. 

“It all felt so hopeless, Will. But then- then the Mind-Flayer just caught fire. It just- it just sort of burned to death…it was horrifying. We knew that Vecna was still alive, we just couldn’t see anything past the cave that was just suddenly there, so we split. Me, Lucas and Dustin took Mike through the gap between the worlds, the same way Vecna used to pull us up, and we rushed back as soon as we could.” 

Her hands are shaking in her lap, and it occurs to Will what a horrifying experience that might have been for Nancy. Her younger brother, bleeding out in her arms, so close to death. A shudder skitters down his spine at the image of them in the Upside Down, desperately trying to get Mike back to the real world and into a hospital. 

They must have been so terrified. 

“We left Jonathan and the others with you guys. We figured you’d need help. And, uh…we made it back just in time.” And then she sits up straighter, as if a thought had just occurred to her. “The military helped. Your mom and Murray kind of, uh…strong-armed them. She’s a force to be reckoned with, your mom.” Nancy gives him a soft smile, “You and Jonathan are so much like her.”

Will gives her a watery smile and blinks away the sudden tears. It’s not hard to believe. He can almost see it. His mom, her finger pointed at the military commander – fire in her eyes and conviction in her heart. Mouthing off at them so much, they’re forced to give in. 

That’s Joyce Byers for you, he thinks. That’s my mom.

“Vickie killed Kay. Shot her dead right through the head. Three times.” 

His eyes widen in surprise. “Vickie?!” 

Sweet Vickie who has the warmest laugh and the brightest smile. Vickie, who makes Robin smile like there’s nothing wrong in the world. Vickie who checked him for injuries, who frets over all of them any chance she gets. 

Vickie, who also killed a psychopathic woman trying to hunt down her girlfriend. 

Well, not only her girlfriend, but she’s hunting down El who was in the Upside Down with Robin. So. 

By extension or whatever. 

He supposes it makes sense. Vickie looks like a badass. 

Nancy gives a soft chuckle beside him. “Robin won’t shut up about how badass that was. Anyway, we got Mike here on time, and he’s been in surgery ever since.” 

Will hesitates for a second. “Where are the others? Lucas, Dustin and-” 

“They went out to get some fresh air. I’m surprised you didn’t see them outside.” She pauses, “Actually wait. I’m more surprised they didn’t see you. They’ve been very worried. We’ve been very worried.” 

Will tilts his head, “What do you mean?” 

Nancy gives him a look. “Will. Robin came in crying okay? She was babbling stupid about you dying. Or dead. We were so scared. I called Jonathan right away, and he explained the situation to me. You- you weren’t breathing, Will. Your heart wasn’t beating. You actually died.” 

There is an intensity to her gaze that he has often seen on Mike. The same ferocious protectiveness. The concern and care for another person. Someone dear to them. 

Must be a Wheeler family trait. 

Then again, he can’t really imagine Ted Wheeler looking at someone like that. 

Will nods. “I kind of…kind of…was-” His speech is getting slurred he realises. There’s a heavy fog settling over his eyes. He wants to close them and kind of sleep. Just for a while. 

He’s jolted awake rudely by a frantic Nancy. “Will? Are you okay?” 

He hums and then it hits him all of a sudden. “Uh- coffee. Vickie said I should take coffee. For the- you know- the uh..” 

“Adrenaline drop.” Nancy finishes. “Right okay. Do you think you can walk? The coffee machine is just down the hall.” 

Will nods and wobbles to his feet. Nancy stays just a step behind him – not close enough to crowd him, but not far enough that she can’t catch him should he fall. 

They get to the coffee machine and Will watches as Nancy pours him two cups. Under the stark fluorescent lights of the hallway, Will can see the dark circles under her eyes and the slight tremor in her fingers. She’s scared. She’s just as scared for Mike as Will is, and it occurs to him how stupid he must have sounded. 

Coming here to see Mike. He’s not even family. What right does he have? 

“I’m sorry.” He tells her, accepting the cup. She quirks an eyebrow. 

“What for?” 

He sweeps his arm out as if to say all this. “You’re his family, and obviously you’re very worried. I must have looked like an idiot – coming in here and asking after him. I mean, I’m not related to him or anything. I’m just-” 

“If you say ‘just his friend’ I will personally throw you out of the window.” Nancy cuts in. Will promptly shuts up. Nancy guides them back to the chairs and helps him sit down. She sighs. 

“Listen, Will. You’re not just anything, okay? You’re his best friend. You have every right to be scared for him. You deserve to care for him just as much as any of us do, okay? I mean, all things considered, you’re practically family.” 

Will looks at her, and there must be some sort of pathetic expression on his face, because Nancy softens. 

“I’ve known you and Mike since you were five, Will. If you both want to keep something private, that’s fine with me, but I want you to know that I love you both, okay? Maybe I don’t say it enough, but I do love you both. And nothing, absolutely nothing will ever change that.” 

Will stares at her, tears welling up in his eyes. “Nancy.” He chokes out, and she shakes her head – a soft, understanding smile on her lips. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Will. I’ve known you for long enough. You don’t have to justify anything. Not to me. Never to me.” 

He takes a deep breath and he nods. 

Maybe he made the right choice after all. 

Lucas, Dustin and the others arrive a good few minutes after Will has calmed down, and reoriented his brain towards more rational thinking. Their voices are loud and their hugs are big and warm. It feels like coming home, but Will can’t shake the lingering feeling of unease. 

Robin slumps into the seat beside him just as Nancy and Dustin wander off to look for a nurse. Lucas fidgets around for a while, before him and Max disappear down the hallway for coffee. 

Steve and El settle into the seats a few feet from them, and Robin makes a strange coughing sound at the back of her throat. Steve looks over – eyebrows raised – and tilts his head at her. Robin widens her eyes, clearly intending to convey some secret message, and Steve’s brow furrows in confusion. 

They must know how to navigate these silent conversations, however, because Steve stands suddenly and pulls El along to go look for Vickie. El shoots him a confused glance, and he shrugs. 

Him and Robin sit in companionable silence for all of two seconds before she turns in her chair to face him. 

“So.” She starts, “Is he?” 

Will feels like he’s missing something here. He’s not sure they’re on the same wavelength, really, because the question makes no sense to him. 

“Is who?” He asks, twisting around so they’re both facing each other. 

Robin grimaces. “Mike.” She corrects. “Is he? Just your Tammy?” 

Oh. 

Will doesn’t know what makes him pause. He should probably lie, right? It would be the better – the easier – thing to do. 

Because the truth is too much. It’s too much to admit to himself, let alone someone else. The truth is ugly, but it is sweet. It’s an anchor, but it’s a wound. How can Will tell her the true depth of what he feels? 

How can he tell her that to him, Mike is not just a beautiful person – he is a beautiful soul. Mike is loyalty, bravery and friendship. He’s snarky, bitchy and rude. He’s their leader, their saviour and their paladin. 

Mike is the heart. 

Will’s heart. 

How does he explain to her that when he looks at Mike, time doesn’t just slow down – it rewinds and forwards and stops. One second feels like a lifetime, and a day feels like the time between one breath and the next. Things either move too fast or too slow, or they don’t move at all. 

How does he tell her that when Mike laughs, Will laughs with him. When Mike smiles, Will smiles with him. When Mike is sad, Will is sad with him. 

If Mike dies, Will will die with him. 

The simple concept of who they are has always been such a puzzle to other people. No one gets that they’re best friends. Two boys who will choose each other no matter what. Just them. 

Mike and Will. Will and Mike. 

How does he convey all of this and still lie? 

So for once, he decides that the lies must stop. Here and now, he will be honest about himself. 

No matter how cosmic these feelings seem, he will not lie to Robin. She may get his words, but she will get the meaning. And for Will, that first step is enough. 

“No.” He says at last, and it’s like a dam broke free in his chest. “No, he’s not my Tammy, but he’s not my Vickie either.” 

Robin stays silent, looking at him with pride shining in her eyes. Her smile is wobbly at the corners. She looks like she’s trying not to cry and hug him tight before he finishes. He gives her a wobbly one of his own in return, and speaks through the emotions building in his throat. 

“He’s just Mike.” He tells her, and her smile grows impossibly wider. “My Mike.” 

She pulls him into a tight hug, and they both sit like that for a while – comfortable in each other’s presence. This is perhaps the first time that he has felt so free, so open. This is nice, he decides. Opening up to a friend. Someone who understands. 

The truth feels better when it is spoken out loud. 

Robin pulls back with a sniffle and dramatically dabs at her eyes. 

“God, Will. Y’all are so cute, I just want to put both of you in a blender and puree you both into a single person.” 

Will laughs in delight and then scrunches up his nose in mock disgust. “Ugh. Can you imagine that? It would be such a nightmare.” 

He’s sure their resulting cackles can be heard even by a deaf patient on the highest floor. 

Steve and El come back just as Nancy and the others do. Lucas drops into the chair to Will’s right and Dustin makes a beeline for Steve. There is a hushed discussion between Max and El that makes them giggle every now and then, and Will would really like to know what they’re talking about, but he doesn’t think he has the strength to move. Nancy stands off to the side, leaning against the wall and Robin gets up to go stand by her. 

Will doesn’t really know what to make of Nancy and Robin’s new-found friendship, but he’s glad that Robin being Steve’s friend doesn’t make Nancy uncomfortable. Steve is great (probably), but Robin deserves some good female friendship in her life, and it’s better Nancy than anyone else. 

It’s a good few minutes of idle chatter, before there are hurried footsteps on the tile, and Vickie rounds the corner – a frantic expression on her face. Will leaps to his feet, his heart beating so fast, he’s scared it’ll beat out of his chest. Robin takes half a step forward. 

“Vic-?” 

Vickie breaks into the widest grin and her eyes are glassy with tears, but they don’t seem like the bad ones. “He pulled through. He’s okay.” 

Vickie’s words hang in the air for half a second before the room explodes.

Robin lets out a sound that is somewhere between a sob and a laugh and barrels forward, wrapping Vickie in a hug so tight it looks like it might snap her in half. Dustin whoops loud enough that a nurse down the hall yells at him to keep it down. Steve exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours and scrubs a hand over his face, muttering a shaky, “Jesus Christ.”

Will doesn’t realize he’s crying until El’s fingers brush against his wrist and squeeze gently.

“He’s okay,” El says again, quieter this time, like she’s anchoring the words into reality.

Will nods, even though his legs feel like they might give out beneath him. His chest aches in a way that’s almost painful—not from fear anymore, but from the sudden, overwhelming relief of it all. Mike is alive. Mike is breathing. Mike is still here.

Vickie wipes at her eyes and clears her throat. “They’re moving him to recovery now. He’s still out, but you’ll be able to see him soon. One at a time,” she adds pointedly, already anticipating the chaos.

Nancy straightens immediately. “I’ll go first,” she says, but then she hesitates. Her gaze flicks to Will, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.

Robin notices. Of course she does.

“Well,” she says brightly, clapping her hands together, “I suddenly remember that hospitals are, like, deeply triggering and fluorescent lights make me nauseous. Steve? Dustin? You guys wanna—uh—go exist somewhere else for a bit?”

Steve opens his mouth to argue, then looks at Nancy. Looks at Will. Something clicks.

“Yeah,” he says easily. “We can grab snacks or something. Dustin, come on.”

Dustin squints suspiciously but lets himself be dragged away. Max and Lucas follow after them, already whispering to each other. El squeezes Will’s hand once more before trailing after Steve, casting him a small, reassuring smile over her shoulder.

Robin gives him a two-fingered salute before rushing after the group and Will can’t help the soft huff of amusement that leaves him. 

Vickie rocks on her heels, glancing between him and Nancy. “Well…” She sweeps her arm out, “should I take you guys to him now?” 

Nancy purses her lips. “I thought it was one at a time?” She asks, but the glint in her eyes tells him that she’s only joking. Trying to diffuse the tension, remove the spotlight from Will. 

Not for the first time, he’s glad Nancy’s got his back. He can’t think of anyone better. 

Vickie gives them a cheeky grin. “I suppose, “ she says slowly, “that the end of the world might call for some exceptions.” 

Nancy laughs, and shakes her head. “No. I’ll go check on mom and Holly. Take Will first.” 

Will whips around to look at her – wide-eyed in alarm. “Nancy. What-” 

“Oh go on, Will. You’re his best friend. I think he’d want to see you first. Besides,” she adds, looking away, and her eyes turn misty. “I- I don’t think I can see him yet. I can’t see him in a hospital bed.” 

Oh. Will understands. 

Nancy has known Mike her entire life – the annoying younger brother who won’t shut up. And now, knowing he’s injured and possibly in pain? Will tries to imagine Jonathan in Mike’s place, and okay-

No. 

He wouldn’t even make it past the hospital doors. 

Will gives her a small thankful smile and follows Vickie down the hallway. 

The lights overhead flicker in and out, creating an eerie distorted effect and he begins to wonder if what Robin said earlier had a kernel of truth to it. 

Maybe hospital lights make you queasy. 

Vickie draws to a stop outside a metal door. Her fingers still around the doorknob, and she turns to look at him. “Hey, seeing him for the first time might be a shock, but remember he’s alright, okay? He’s out of danger.” 

Her warning feels strangely ominous – like she knows something he doesn’t. Will takes a deep breath and gives her a firm nod. It’s okay. He can do this. 

She gives him a small smile, opens the door and motions for him to step inside.

He smiles back at her – weak and wobbly – and steps into the room. 

He most definitely cannot fucking do this. 

The walls are stark white, and blank. There’s not a speck of life in the room except for the thin, pale figure on the cot in the middle of the room. 

Mike looks so small in the hospital bed – so young. His chest is covered in thick bandages and there’s a tube going into his arm, connected to a bottle hung on the stand beside his bed. 

God, they connected him to the IV. Will definitely underestimated the situation. 

His face is pale and stark. There’s a small cut on his cheek, and a few smaller ones littered across his collarbones. And on his neck – like an ugly violet brand – are a ring of bruises from when Will nearly choked him to death. 

From when Vecna forced Will to nearly choke Mike to death. 

There’s a monitor beeping steadily at Mike’s bedside – the monitor displaying his heartbeat like it’s the most mundane thing in the world. As if the 72 bpm display on the screen isn’t the only thing keeping Will from falling apart. 

There’s a soft click behind him, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that Vickie shut the door to give him some privacy. 

The room feels strange – wrong. Everything about this situation feels wrong. Mike shouldn’t have had to undergo surgery. He shouldn’t have had to fight for his life on a cold, metal table. 

He shouldn’t have had to save Will. Or anybody. 

Mike deserved to live a happy life – they all did. None of them should have ever been caught up in this mess. 

Will exhales shakily and crosses the room. He sinks into the chair placed at Mike’s bedside, and, for a few long seconds, he allows himself to just look. 

Look at Mike breathing – the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

Mike looks…different, somehow. More peaceful. He looks like he’s just resting – taking a nap. Nothing more. 

Before he can stop himself, his hand moves to hover over Mike’s. There’s half a beat of hesitation before he curls his fingers loosely around Mike’s wrist. 

His pulse thunders away beneath the pads of his fingers – singing a song of life – and for the first time in a while, Will allows himself to just breathe. Exist. 

Mike is alive. 

God, Mike is alive. 

The tears come fast – springing to his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. His shoulders hitch in a terrified sob, and he hunches over Mike’s hand, sobbing. The past few hours, he had been so terrified. So unsure of what would happen. 

Every scenario, every detail. Every time he did something wrong, and every time he didn’t apologize for it. 

He thinks now, as he clutches Mike’s hand in his, that if something had truly happened to Mike, he wouldn’t survive. 

The mere thought of moving on – continuing with his life, having fun, hitting milestones – without Mike by his side seems pointless. Dull. Unworthy. 

A world without Mike, he imagines, would be a world without colours. Without love and happiness and friendship. 

It was the best thing I’ve ever done. 

He sobs till there are no more tears left, and then he continues clinging to Mike’s hand like a lifeline. 

Later, once the sobs have quieted down to occasional sniffles, and Nancy hasn’t come barging in to kick him out yet, Will starts talking. 

He doesn’t know why he does it, but something about the place – the unnatural stillness, the silence of the room – makes him want to fill the space with words. 

So he talks. 

He tells Mike about the first time they met – by the swings, they were both five. He talks about their first D&D campaigns, their first trip to the ice cream store. The first time they got bullied and the first time Mike defended him. 

He recounts all of their shared experiences from before. When the Upside Down didn’t exist, and they were just two boys who were best friends. Soon enough, he finds himself in a spiral. Talking and talking and talking – never really knowing when to shut up. 

That had been Mike’s job – filling the silence. Making the stillness more manageable, keeping the dark thoughts away. 

But that feels like a lifetime ago. 

“Remember?” Will asks an unconscious Mike, his lips stretching into a pale imitation of a smile. “When I first told you about Lonnie? You walked in on me in the washroom while I was trying to cover the bruises. You asked me in that weirdly soft voice of yours, ‘who did that to you, Will?’ and I knew- I knew I shouldn’t tell anyone, but my heart decided you were trustworthy before my brain could catch up. And I told you. And- I had never seen you that angry. You were shaking with rage, spitting insults. You swore you’d kill Lonnie, and you asked me why I didn’t tell you sooner.” Will pauses, and wipes furiously at his eyes. That had been a bad day, and yet, in that strange Mike-way of his, Mike had turned it into one of the best memories Will had ever had. “I said- I said ‘I didn’t think you’d wanna hear’ and you cried, Mike. I was the one that got hurt, and you were the one who cried. Like you could feel my pain. You hugged me tight and didn’t let me go home that night. You fought with your parents to let me stay over, but you didn’t once slip your tongue and tell them the real reason all because I asked you to not tell anyone. And then you called mom, but it was Lonnie who picked up, and you informed him – like a goddamn government agent – that I would be staying over.” 

Will gives a watery laugh and smoothes his thumb over the back of Mike’s hand. 

“You didn’t let him say a single word, before you cut the call. That night was supposed to be cold. It was supposed to hurt, but you made it warm. That was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere. It was the first time I realized that someone other than Mom and Jonathan cared.” 

He sighs deeply and shuffles closer to the bed. “But I learnt along the way, Mike, that you care so much about other people, you forget to care for yourself. You keep trying to protect others first, you put yourself last. And it’s selfless and endearing, but it also hurts. Knowing you won’t choose yourself.” 

Will closes his eyes and all he can see is red. Mike on the ground – chest torn open by a vine – bleeding out in Will’s arms. All because he chose Will. Because he followed him. 

“So please,” he begs, “for once, choose yourself. Your happiness.” 

He flattens his palm against the thin fabric of the hospital gown – right over Mike’s heart. He feels the heat seep through the fabric – warm against his frigid palm. When did it get so cold here? 

“Please.” He begs. “Choose your heart.”  

He inhales shakily and tilts his head up at the ceiling, willing the tears to go away. They don’t. 

They slip through the cracks of his heart, and bleed down his cheeks – it hurts so much, he can’t put into words. 

He doesn’t think he can put it on a canvas, even. His brain isn’t really thinking. His thoughts are foggy – stained with guilt. Every aspect of this situation feels wrong to him. Mike shouldn’t be on a hospital bed, hell he shouldn’t even be in a hospital. This is all Will’s fault. If only he hadn’t been such a coward, if he had tried harder all those years ago when he first got taken. If only he had- 

“It’s not your fault, you know?” 

Will’s neck snaps back to the bed so fast, it should have cracked. Mike is looking at him with half-open eyes – so perceptive even when he just woke up. Will’s brain short-circuits for a solid five seconds, before he’s half-jumping half-falling out of his seat to get closer to Mike. 

“Mike!” 

He gives him a weak smile, and gives Will’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey…” 

His voice is croaky and barely audible – cracking at every syllable even though Mike has spoken like - six words or something. Will squeezes back, and smiles at him. 

Well, it’s more of a thousand watt grin that splits his face in two and brings tears to his eyes, and makes his throat close up, but who cares, right? Mike is awake, and that’s all that matters. 

Speaking of which, Mike’s brow furrows in concern as his eyes flit over Will’s face – probably cataloguing all the evidence of his recent meltdown. “Are you- okay?” He asks haltingly, and Will winces. 

“Sorry.” He tells him, “You’re the one who’s in a hospital bed, and you’re asking me if I am fine?” 

This feels like a distant memory. When he first woke up in the hospital bed, and his first instinct was to ask after Jonathan’s wound. 

He supposes he and Mike are similar in more ways than they know. 

Mike’s lips stretch into a poor imitation of a grin and he grips his hand tighter. “You’d do…the same.” 

Will stays silent. He can’t argue with that. 

“What…wr’you think..ing…bout?” 

“Mike…” He says, because he can’t bear the weakness in his voice. The fragility with which he speaks. Mike’s voice has always been firm. Clear. Confident. 

To hear him struggle to speak is breaking Will’s heart in a thousand new ways. “Don’t speak. It’ll hurt you.” 

Mike shakes his head, “Wha…t wr’you…thin- think…in..g ‘bout?” 

“How’d you know I was thinking?” And even as Will asks that question, he knows it’s a dumb one. Mike always knows when he’s thinking. 

Mike gives him a look and a huff of laughter that turns into quiet coughs. Will grabs the glass of water and gets up to help Mike drink it. 

Mike exhales heavily as he wipes at his mouth and Will hovers by the bedside in case he needs something else. “Y’r thou…ght..s ‘re lo…ud.” 

Will huffs out a small laugh and shifts forward so he can hold Mike’s hand better. “Try to get some rest, Mike. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Liar.” Mike croaks out, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Y’re go..nna cry….’gai..n.” 

Oh okay, now Will really wants to cry. 

He squeezes his hand once, and gives him a soft smile. “No Mike.” he tells him, shaking his head at the worried crease between Mike’s eyebrows. “I won’t cry.” And then, through some miracle, he decides to be brave. 

“I won’t cry again, because I know you’re safe now.” 

Mike frowns at him, “Were you..cryi…ng ‘cau…se of…me?” 

Will’s eyes sting. “No.” he says, “I was crying because you were hurt. I was crying for you, not because of you.” 

Mike nods vaguely, and then he looks away for a moment. “Were you…why were you cryi…ng?” 

Mike is looking right at him – his face open and honest, his dark eyes filled with something that Will cannot name, but has seen too many times in the mirror. It’s a wary gaze. Like he’s waiting for Will to voice something he cannot. 

(I love you.) 

Do you love me too?

Time seems to stretch infinitely. The moment feels suspended, like they are in their own bubble. The air feels thick – charged with something much older than attraction. The longer they hold the gaze, the more it starts to feel like a desperate game of tug of war – waiting for someone to break. 

Mike has been brave enough for a lifetime. Will can be brave too. 

“Because seeing you in pain causes pain to me.” 

Where? Mike’s eyes seem to ask, desperately scanning his face. Where does it cause pain to you? 

Will brings Mike’s hand up to his chest and rests it against his heart. 

“Here. It hurts me here.” 

“Why?” 

The question is soft, loaded with twelve years of friendship, four years of guilt and a lifetime of yearning. That question marks the point of no return. If Will crosses it, he will irrevocably change everything. 

Realistically, Will knows he should stop. Turn back. Run away. 

But Mike is pressing his palm against Will’s chest a little harder – a little more desperately. And Will- 

Will is tired of running. 

“I love you.” 

The words are soft – barely above a whisper. In the silence of the room, they sound like a prayer. A promise of something more. An anchor to something they’ve been carrying around for who knows how long. 

For a single, terrifying moment, Will feels as though he has read the situation wrong. But then Mike’s eyes brighten and something seems to shift. He presses his hand against the incessant beating of his heart, and colour rises high on his cheekbones. Mike’s gaze drops to somewhere lower on Will’s face, and his face heats up with the knowledge of exactly what Mike is looking at. 

“I…I love you too.” Mike tells him, and Will knows that, but he cannot help the rush of relief that washes over him. “I love you so much.” Mike continues, fighting to push through his cracking voice and waning strength. 

“I didn’t reali..realise at firs…t, but I- I think…think I loved you forever.” 

Will closes his eyes against the fresh tears. 

I think I loved you forever.

God, Mike really knows how to make a guy emotional. 

“I know Mike,” he replies, because in his heart, he always did. “I think I’ve always known, but I couldn’t see it.” 

Mike nods, his lips stretching into a blinding grin, and there are tears in his eyes. They slip out from the corner of his eyes and fall onto the coarse fabric of the pillow. Will squeezes Mike’s hand. 

“I promise we’ll talk about this. And we won’t lie to each other any more. But first, you really need to rest.” 

Mike frowns – clearly ready to argue – but Will cuts him off. 

“I’m not leaving, Mike. I promise.”

There’s a soft knock on the door – hesitant. Like it’s giving them space to gather themselves before intrusion. Mike swallows roughly. 

“Promise. Never…break…ing-” 

A promise is something you never break. 

“I love you,” Will tells him, his voice low and soothing, “I promise I’m not leaving you now.” 

Mike smiles at him, and the door opens. 

Their friends come pouring in – shouting and laughing and falling over each other to get to Mike. Through it all, Mike holds Will’s gaze. 

Promise, Mike mouths at him before he’s engulfed in a giant hug. Will is yanked into their impromptu massive group hug, but he doesn’t let go of Mike’s hand. 

Someday, they’ll have to figure out how to tell the others about them. Someday, later in the future, they’ll worry over their reactions and be relieved at their acceptance. Someday, they’ll have to face the world. 

But for now, they’re both alive, and that’s enough. 

They are safe. That’s enough for now. 

The hug breaks and everybody is talking over each other, but Will stays by Mike’s side. When Mike looks over at him, Will gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

I love you, I promise.