Archive of Our Own ^beta

Halloween has always been a complicated day for Will Byers. 

When he was a kid, he could argue it used to be his favorite out of all the holidays, (not counting Christmas, obviously). Because it was the one day a year he didn’t feel like he had to hide, the one day he didn’t have to conform to the eyes of the general population, he could just be himself and no one would think twice. Then, he’d have his friends who’d plan out costumes months in advance, map out the perfect routes, trade all their candy fairly. It was almost always the best day of the year. 

At least until Halloween of 84. God, he’d never forget the way everyone looked at him. He was still a freak, people tossing around the name ‘Zombie Boy’ like he was even different from the literal zombies walking around.

That wasn’t even the worst of the night. 

The first time he saw the mind flayer, his blood went cold and he froze up. Then on Halloween, it chased him. His legs couldn’t move for what felt like an eternity, until every cell in his body was screaming at him to RUN RUN RUN— it got closer. The next few visions, it got closer, closer and closer. Until it got him.

Halloween would never be the same. 

It could never bring him the same comfort it used to as a kid, not after all his fears and shames were exposed, laid out raw, it saw right through him. 

The nightmares haven’t stopped since. He's constantly reminded of that week, the way it violated Will's soul, plucking him bare, stripping him of all the things he used to cover up who he truly was. It comes back, Vecna, the shadow monster, the upside down, every night, to remind him how weak he is, how easily he broke. 

Will tries not to think of it when possible, it’s not always easy since everything is almost always about Henry, and finding him. Will can still feel him, watching him, waiting for the right moment to come and snatch him again. Sometimes he wishes to never have to be a part of it — the missions. It’s selfish, he knows. He knows what’s important is finding him so the world can stop ending and everything would go back to normal. But he can’t help wishing it wasn’t always on him.. it’s okay to want that, right?

It doesn’t matter anyway, he’s not particularly close. They haven’t found anything during crawls and Will hasn’t felt that sickly familiar chill down his neck since the first time the snowflakes, if that’s what you can call them, started bleeding into the real Hawkins. 

Other than the nightmares, and Vecna still lurking somewhere in the dark, things have been good, he could even argue great if it weren’t for the circumstances. When they returned to Hawkins in March last year, Mike had the idea that Will, his mom, and Jonathan could stay with them until they found a good place and Joyce had kept a decent job. What Will remembers the most about that conversation is Mike offering Will to sleep in his room, of course he didn’t mind that at all, he was so happy about the idea that he forgot how much that would be to ask. 

His mom was hesitant at first, never wanting to put other people in an uncomfortable situation, but she eased up. The offer that didn’t stay was sharing Mike's room, not that Mike took it back exactly, but Will and Jonathan had decided to sleep in the basement while Joyce took the guest room on the 2nd floor. 

So now it's kind-of like a really long sleepover. Most of the time when there’s nothing to do, or they have to stay inside because it decided to snow in July — and god-knows what breathing that stuff in could do to you — he often finds himself with Mike, hanging out in the kitchen, reading comics in his room, watching movies in the basement, or sometimes even teaching Holly how to play D&D. 

He’s had a lot of alone time with his best friend these past 18 months and he’s started to pick up on a few things, the way Mike always gravitates towards Will, lingering touches, staring just a little too long to be casual. Will has been trying, really trying not to get his hopes up, because there’s no way his feelings are reciprocated, right? Everything Mike has been doing lately is utterly and completely platonic and Will is definitely reading into it. 

He should really stop thinking about that, especially today, since Holly had come up to Will this morning with a request that really shouldn't have made his heart pound as fast as it did. 

“Hey, Will!” She had said, rubbing her eyes and stiffing a yawn. 

“Oh, hey Holls’.” He smiled at her. “Good morning.” 

“Morning.” She replied, cheerful as ever. “I sort of.. have.. a favor to ask you, if it’s okay.”

He closed his sketchbook and turned his attention towards the girl in front of him, adopting an understanding look. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

“Tonight after trick-or-treating,” She started tentatively. “Me and my friend wanted to watch a movie and have a sleepover in the basement…” 

Will nodded, a countable second had passed before realization had struck and his face dropped slightly. “Oh—“

“I already asked Jonathan, and he agreed to sleep on the couch up here… so, then I asked Mike if it was okay to share his room and he said it was.”

“Oh.” Will said again, not having fully processed the situation. But it was Holly asking and he couldn’t say no to her. “Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Of course.”

Not that he really wanted to say no in the first place, how often is it offered to sleep in the same room as his best friend (slash love of his life) that probably, most definitely, does not know of or reciprocates his feelings in the slightest? A lot more often than you’d think. 

But tonight it’ll actually happen.

So Will is normal about this. He can be normal about it. It’s not like Mike has gradually gotten more attractive over these 2 years anyway — like that was somehow possible. How hard could it really be to keep his eyes off the way Mike’s hair is shorter, but still curls like it used to when he was a kid, or the way his freckles manage to stay visible as the sun shies away from the earth, or the way his dark eyes sparkle even when there’s no light, or the way his—

It could go on. Jesus. Get a grip, you can do this. It’s one night. One night with his best friend. It’s not even like this is new, either. They used to have sleepovers in Mike's room all the time when they were younger. The little boy-ish giggles from hiding under a fort with snacks and a flashlight, still ringing sweetly in his ears. 

There’s so many fond memories of him and Mike like that… before everything happened. It used to be so simple. He didn’t understand how much he could possibly love someone. Hell—he doesn’t even know if he gets it now, it’s hard to grasp the concept of something when it appears to go on infinitely. 

So yeah, okay. Sue him if he’s a little nervous to spend the night in Mike Wheeler's room. To echo the earlier fact, Halloween has always been a complicated day.

Speaking of which, his friends didn’t really have plans for them this year, they all felt too old to go knock on strangers' doors begging for candy, but they're not exactly popular enough to be invited to high school costume parties that reek of alcohol and hormones (wouldn't that be fun?). So Will decided maybe he’d just stay in the basement and sketch a little bit to let the time pass. 

“Will!” A rather excited voice followed by rushed footsteps jumped Will out of his thoughts and drawings for a brief moment. 

“Hey, Mike.” Will watched as the boy approached and noticed Will sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa, so he — very quickly — made way to mirror his position and there’s just enough space that if one of them shifted too quickly their shoulders would brush. 

“Hey,” He said, sounding way too casual to actually be so. “What’cha doin’?” His eyes scanned over Will and landed on the sketchbook with a distinct lack of delay. 

“Nothing, I was just—“ He was cut off and caught very off guard by Mike suddenly peering his head over Will's shoulder, chin almost close enough to rest on it. His face is most definitely not going red.

“Can I see?”

Oh, yeah. Um. That’s all he wanted to do, just see what Will had been drawing. Will swallowed in an attempt to mend his very dry throat and reluctantly handed it to Mike. 

“It’s um.. it’s not finished— I don’t even know if it’s good, I just started drawing what was in front of me—“

“No, wow. This is really good, Will.” He whispered while refusing to take his eyes off the page in his hands. He shifted slightly, just to sit up a little better and his shoulder touched Wills and as a jolt of electricity shot down his spine he made no effort to shy away from it.

“Uh, thanks.” God, he was trying so hard to blush. He was certain his tone was giving him away. “I guess I’ve been wanting to do more observational drawings lately…”

“Yeah, yeah. This is cool. You’re so talented.” He looked back up to Will, a smile plastered on his lips. Lips that definitely do not say ‘kiss me, kiss me, kiss me—‘

“Tha—“ Will cleared his throat, forcing that train of thought, way, way down. “Thanks.. it’s uh, nice to hear you say it.”

Mike nodded, and handed the sketchbook back to him. His hand lands on the floor, just an inch away from Wills. 

“I’ve always thought that. I’m serious, Will. You’re amazing.” 

Will's face went red. He obviously meant his art, obviously. Come on, this is so stupid. QUIT BLUSHING OVER YOUR BEST FRIEND BEING FRIENDLY. 

Mike seemed to have realized what he said so he added: “Uh, you’re art, that is— I mean not that you’re not that yourself, y’know… I just, um. Never mind… sorry.” He shaked his head and squeezed his shut tight as if that would take away his embarrassment. 

Will laughed and turned his head away, because he wasn’t going to convince himself that Mike's face was flushing too. “It’s okay, Mike. I know what you meant.”

Mike nodded and laughed a little before his gaze found Will's face again. Will looked back and they were kind-of just staring at each other for a moment. He desperately needed to say something to stop – or at least distract himself from the heat creeping up his neck. 

“So, did you want anything?” Will asked, soft as he can so it didn’t sound rude. 

Mike blinked, then snapped himself out of thoughts. “Oh yeah, right. I um— I actually wanted to ask you if you maybe wanted to come with me tonight, since y’know, I have to take Holly trick-or-treating.” He fumbled out. “I think I’d be kinda bored by myself.” 

Will adamantly choose to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at this question. He definitely wanted to go, but he can’t seem too eager, right? Would that be weird? Would that give him away? No, no. It’s normal to want to spend time with your best friend, plus, Mike is the one asking—

“You don’t have too,“ Mike added hastily. “If don’t want to, I mean, you probably have something better to do anyway—“

“No.” Will shook his head and Mike was probably taken back by the suddenness. “No, no. I don’t um, have anything better to do. I’d lo- I’d like that. That sounds nice.”

Okay, maybe nice was a bit weird of a word choice because Mike started staring again. 

“Okay, cool.” A faint smile tugged at his lips that could help but spread to Wills. 

“Cool.” 

So, Will’s Halloween has been a little less complicated, and more so confusing. There isn’t much to be confused about, however. In theory it all seems pretty simple. All he had to do was keep Mike company while walking his sister and her friend around the neighborhood, and then return to sleep in his room. Will doesn't know why the latter makes him so nervous, it's not like they’ll be sleeping in the same bed. No, he’ll be on the floor, in his sleeping bag, listening to Mike's breathing even out while he drifts off–

Nope, that’s creepy. He can't do that, definitely cannot do that.  

This'll be just like old times, just like when they were kids. Back when they used to read and write comics together, and build forts out of blankets and pillows, and giggle the entire time while pretending to fight each other, and hold hands under their shared blanket, and– Jesus. They’re obviously not going to do any of that. Why does all of it seem so much more romantic than it used to? Maybe because he's only seeing through the lens of being in love with Mike Wheeler. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. They were kids, playing around, he didn't think romantic feelings even crossed his mind back then. (Not that they weren’t there, however).

Besides, they're older now, they still find ways to hang out that feels like them. Of course they do. Tonight won’t be weird, it has nothing to do with Will having feelings for Mike, or even with the fact that they’re best friends sharing a room again, just 6 years older. No. This is entirely because Holly's friend needs a place to sleep and both Mike and Will are kind enough to offer their spaces up to somebody else. 

Will doesn't know how long Mike had been talking for, or really what he's even complaining about. But he still listens. 

“—and I tried confronting her the other day, but she’s Nancy— so she had to be all like, ‘mind your own business, Mike!’” And he does a pretty good impression of her, Will has to bite back a laugh. “It’s just so annoying how they’re always together. Doesn’t it bother you?” 

Will thinks for a moment, letting his feet drag him forward, stopping at a mailbox while Holly and Mary, (Will had learned her name was) run up to the next house. 

It’s true, Jonathan and Nancy are always around each other. Does it bother him? Well, they’re pretty much always happy when together, so it’s good that Jonathan’s happy. But if he were to be honest, it gets annoying having to sleep in the basement alone whenever he sneaks up to Nancy’s room. 

No one else seems to notice it either, which is funny considering how obvious it is to him and Mike. And maybe it’s a little ironic making a fuss over their siblings' proximity when he and Mike can be the same way, but he’d never say that out loud. 

“Uh.. I don’t know.” He says, dragging the words as they follow the girls turning round the corner. “I guess so, sometimes.” He looks up to Mike, whose footsteps are syncing up with his own, and shoulders bumping every few steps. “But.. They work well, and they’re happy. That’s what matters, right?” 

Mike seems to think for a moment, eyes still locked on Will while his face does some weird twitchy thing.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Mike sighs. “But that doesn’t justify the fact that they’re literally the reason I’m failing History—“ Mike rambles on. 

Will listens for a bit, taking notice of the way his hands flail in exasperation and the way his face scrunches when he’s annoyed. All small traits Will really loved about Mike, they way he’s always unapologeticly himself. It’s incredibly endearing. He then looks over to the girls, presumably talking about something similarly annoying to Holly with the way her hands do the same thing. 

Will lets out a small laugh at the thought, trailing his eyes back over to Mike, who’s wearing a bemused expression… probably because he heard him. 

Before Mike can ask, or before Will can explain himself, something blows past in between him, pushing Will out of the way and he stumbles forward. 

“Will!” Mike tries to call out, grabbing onto his arm to catch him, but he falls anyway. “Hey! You can’t just push people, you piece of shit!”

Mike sounds far away now, for some reason. And it felt like forever until his body finally collided with the ground and it knocked all the air out his lungs. It takes a while before the dizziness clears and he can finally extend and arm out to push himself up. 

Looking around, Mike is gone. And so is everyone else. The houses look familiar is the next thing Will notices, but they always used to trick-or-treat in this neighborhood so why does something about it feel so off. 

A red flash. 

Oh. 

Oh shit. 

This is the street, this is the place. This is exactly where he was when he saw the mind flayer. 

Another flash. With a roar that shakes the ground. 

Will catches his breath and suddenly everything around him is dark, and blue and cold, and the ground is covered in slimy vines that make Will sick to acknowledge. 

He’s here. He’s back. He’s back in the Upside Down. But he can’t be back. No, they severed his connection with the mind flayer years ago. He can’t be back here— he can’t. 

No, no, no, no, NO— 

“Will!”

Another flash and he opens his eyes.

A heavy gasp rattles his lungs, as if it’s the first time he’s actually breathed. He realizes he's still on the ground, eyes darting around frantically, registering the missing vines and clear sky. Each breath is quick and labored and shaky while blinking back whatever is making his eyes burn. 

“Will— Will. Breathe okay? Take deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re okay.” The voice is steady and soft and exactly what Will needed so he listens, his shoulders trembling a little less now that he realizes whose hands are on them, grounding him, squeezing slightly but not painfully. As if to let him know ‘I’m here.’

“You’re okay.” Mike whispers again, sounding more like he tries to convince himself than Will. 

Once his breathing steadies he presses his palms to his face, fully trying to bring himself back. He’s here. Mike's here. Will’s safe. 

“What happened?” Mike is asking, keeping his voice warm and comforting, clearly trying not to let his worry seep through. He stands up and extends arm out to Will, another one hovering as if to make sure he doesn’t fall as he pulls him up. “Are you hurt—? Was it… was it him?”

Will immediately knows the answer to that is no. Will was there, or at least he thought he was. It all looked like the same evil place he’s knows since he was 12, but it wasn’t Henry. He didn’t feel him, or the mind flayer. It was a flashback, his nightmare. 

So he shakes his head. 

“Are you sure?” Mike keeps his hand on Will's arm and his eyebrows are scrunched in a frown that the corners of his lips mirror. His eyes scan over Will, checking for injuries since Will didn’t answer his former question, and if he wasn’t so out of it he’d flush at the gesture. 

“Yeah..” He replies a little breathlessly. “Yeah. I’m sure. I think I just blacked out for a minute.” 

Okay, blacked out is a bit of stretch. But he doesn’t think he needs to tell his best friend about how this street triggered a traumatic flashback. He seems worried enough. 

Mike looks around the area as well and nods as if he heard Will's thoughts somehow. “Okay, we’re gonna.. we’re gonna take Holly somewhere else.” 

Mike finally straightens up and removes his hand, Will tries to ignore how the area felt so cold all of sudden. 

“Hey, Holly!” Mike rushes over to grab her. 

Shit. Will’s nightmares. He spends every moment he’s awake, not giving them the time of day (ironically), not facing them… only for them to come back, forcing him to live in that moment again. The moment that makes chest ache and his lungs tighten and stomach drop, all with a terrible sense of dread and discomfort. He still feels it. It might not be here right now, watching him physically but in the depths of his mind, in dark corners that will never be open in the public, it's still there. And it’s taunting him. 

Being here on this street must have subconsciously reminded him of the exposure he felt; when he fell, he felt it all over again. He has to push it down, focus on something light, he can’t think about it. It’s nauseating. 

He looks around, maybe he can find a costume he likes or something— something to tether him, he needs something. Anything—

“Will?” 

He flinches up and flips around to the voice behind him, the tightness in his chest loosens ever so slightly when he sees Holly. It’s enough for him to breathe.

“Are you okay..?” She asks hesitantly, but the concern is evident on her face, just like her brother she can’t mask her expressions. 

“Yeah.. yeah I’m alright. Thanks. I’m just…” he trails off, noticing Mike or Mary isn’t with her. “Where’s—“ 

“Oh.” Will says upon seeing them walk back over. Mike stands next to Will, way too close for his liking and Holly is with her friend again. 

“Okay, Holly we’re gonna go to another street.” Mike says.

“What?” Her voice cracks on the word, sounding truly devastated by this heartbreaking information. “But this is the rich people! We didn’t even get the good candy bars yet!” She complains, throwing her hand up. 

“So what?” Mike shoots back and crosses his arms. Wow, he looks so much like Nancy right now. “I don’t trust the people here, okay? And I’m in charge of you right now, so you’re gonna listen to me. Okay? Let’s go.” He walks off very quickly, grabbing Will's wrist to urge him to follow. 

Holly groans, rolling her eyes incredibly far back. “This is so unfair.”

“You coming or not?” He calls and doesn’t stop to look back. 

They keep walking forward, the girls reluctantly following behind but just enough to catch up, it isn’t until they pass them that Will realizes Mike's hand is still on his wrist, and his face heats up almost instantly, despite the fact his breath is almost visible. He wants to say something, but what would he even say? ‘You gonna let go of my wrist anytime soon?’ God no, that’s.. not casual. Wow. Okay just keep it cool, platonic. That’s all this is. 

Luckily, Holly beats him in the race of speaking up first — if that’s what was going on, Will isn’t entirely sure anymore. 

“Oh, Will.” She says, stopping in her tracks and reaching something out of her candy bag. “This is for you.” She pulls something out and gestures it towards him, then Mike seems to finally realize where his hand has been and drops Will's arm. 

“Oh.” Will started, a little caught off guard, taking the candy bar slowly. “Thanks, Holly. You didn’t—“ He looks back up to her and notices her earnest expression and soft smile. God this kid is adorable. “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.”

“What about me?” 

Holly flicks her head towards her brother, an innocent expression like she really has no clue what he’s talking about.

“What about you?” She replies teasingly. Her friend covers her mouth, holding back a laugh.

“I’m your brother. Don’t I get one too?” He waggles his eyebrows, like he very much should get one. 

“Hmm..” she faux considers for a moment. “Nope! Just for Will.” She starts to take off again but is pulled back by Mike. 

“Come on, that’s unfair. I’m the one who agreed to take you. Please?” 

Holly sighs, looking at her brother in what must be pure irritation. She grabs something and tosses it at his face, he catches it before it could leave a mark. 

“Thank you.” He replies rather flatly and Holly keeps walking. 

Will and Mike follow. Will is very much failing at biting back a grin, as Mike takes a small bite of what Holly gave him, then he notices Will's expression. 

“What?” He asks, very innocently while unraveling his candy bar all the way and taking another bite. “Do I have something on my face?”

Oh god. That tone, Will doesn’t like it— nope. It’s way, way too flirty for his liking (and there’s no way Mike is doing that on purpose, he’s just Mike). But Will laughs like that’ll hide the pink on his cheeks.. if Mike notices it’s just cold. Yeah. 

“No, no. You uh — you just reminded me of Nancy a little bit back there.” 

“Wait—what?” He stops for a second, then keeps walking when Will doesn’t stop with him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the way you talked to Holly. You had that sort-of bossy tone you both get whenever you guys have to take control of something like that… y’know?”  Will grins. “I don’t know, you just sounded like her.” 

“Wait a second—“ Mike says. “I’m not bossy?” 

“You can be a little bossy, Mike. It’s okay to admit it.” Will responds smugly, then nudges Mike's shoulder with his own. 

He half-scoffs, half laughs to this. “Oh my god, Will. I can’t believe you think I’m bossy!” 

“Okay— it was only towards Holly.” Will defends, and Mike shoves him back, a little harder, yet playful and somehow still soft. “Wow. Rude.” 

They’re smiling like idiots right now. 

“You pushed me first?!” 

“I didn’t push you, Mike! It was a playful nudge.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Sure it was.” He raises his eyebrows up teasingly, drastically failing at pretending like he’s actually annoyed with that wide and bright smile on his face. 

“You’re unbelievable.” Will rolls his eyes, taking a drastic step away from him, creating space just for the annoyance of it. 

“You can believe it.” Mike quips back, catching back up.

Will scoffs forcing down a laugh. 

“What?” Mike asks again, eyes widening when Will gives him back a knowing look. “Okay, sure, me and Nancy have — similarities,” He grimaces. “But I'm definitely not as bossy as she is.”

“So,” Will crosses his arms, a small sense of victory washing over him. “You can admit you are a little bit.”

Mike rolls his eyes, not even trying to bite back the amusement in his tone. “You— I, whatever.” He shoves the last bit of the candy in his mouth after adding: “You’re so annoying.” 

Will can’t help but find all of this incredibly enjoyable. 

The entire night has been a little dark and cold when his entire body isn’t heating up because of something dumb that slipped out of Mike Wheeler's mouth. He keeps saying things, and doing things could be seen as romantic or even a little flirty — but Will isn’t an idiot. He knows he and Mike are best friends and that’s all Mike will ever see him as. He knows Mike isn’t intentionally doing this, because he does this with all his friends, caring a little too much, being a little too close, (though he hasn’t seen the latter in action with anyone but him) he knows it’s just the way Mike is. 

So Will doesn’t delude himself by misinterpreting things. Really, he doesn’t. But sometimes he’ll still let himself wonder, it’s harmless because he knows it’ll never truly happen, he’ll never truly have Mike in the way he wants. He does still have Mike, however — at least as a friend and he doesn’t think he’ll lose that anytime soon. So sometimes Will will say things that could be taken in a ‘friend’ way but there’s much more intent hidden beneath. 

So without even thinking—

Will shrugs. “You love me anyway.”

Mike's breath seems to have caught in his throat and—

Oh. He’s in a coughing fit… and he must be really really cold too since his face is really, really pink.

Will stops and quickly turns to his best friend, eyebrows furrowed in worry. Once again, before thinking, his hand shoots up to Mike's shoulder but he decides against touching it, letting it awkwardly hover there.

“Woah, Mike—Mike.” Will says slightly panicked, and definitely ignoring what just came out of his mouth because it would be really weird if he acknowledged it. “You okay?”

Mike covers his mouth with his hands, slightly hunched over and face away from Will, coughing like crazy. “Yeah—“ the word comes out 2 octaves higher than his usual voice as he chokes out more air. He clears his throat and rests his hands on his knees. “Yeah, I’m fine just—“ he's cut off by his continuous hackling. 

“Jesus, Mike.” Will breathes out, firming his hand on the other boy's back. “Take it easy. Do you need water? Or something? That gas station isn’t too far from here — I’m sure it’s still open.”

Mike simply nods, unable to look directly at Will for obvious reasons. 

“Mike? What the hell happened?” A girlish voice appears in front of them, that distinct Wheeler attitude hidden beneath her question. 

“Something,“ he gasps in response. “—went down the wrong way.” He strangles out, still hunched over.

Holly's brows furrow with a hint of exasperation. “This is why I didn’t want to share with you!” 

Mike waves her off, wheezing, finally catching his breath. 

Will hesitantly looks to Holly and Mary and then back to Mike, helping him stand up straight. “We’re gonna head over to the gas station around the corner,” he says, turning to the girls. “get Mike some water or something.”

They nod, reluctantly agreeing. 

Okay, so Will is not an idiot. 

Will knows that what he had said earlier has nothing to do with Mike’s subsequent near death experience due to a Milky Way bar. It also had nothing to do with Mike’s face being flushed until they got to the gas station — Holly had pointed it out and he used the cold and lack of proper breathing to his defense. 

It would be stupid to think that his very casual and friendly and platonic remark— actually made Mike nervous. It’s a stupid thought, a foolish thought, really. And Will isn’t stupid. 

In all honesty, he keeps cringing at his words. 

“You love me anyway.”

He didn’t mean anything by it, he really didn’t. It was just something he threw out there, obviously Mike has to know he didn’t mean anything weird. Right? If he did he would’ve said something instead of actively avoiding looking at Will after that. He would’ve mentioned that it’s not a casual or friendly or platonic thing to say, and that he was caught off-guard, and Will would’ve apologized and they would’ve moved past it. 

But Mike didn’t say anything, they just walked here in a bit of an awkward silence and Mike headed inside, stating he had to ‘take a wizz’ so it’d be better if he went in by himself, and left Will out here with Holly. Mary dropped by her house which is conveniently on the same road to grab a few things until they were done and ready to take everyone back home; since it is past how long trick-or-treaters stay out.

A nervous feeling is starting to grow in Will's stomach the longer they wait, he’s not necessarily worried about Mike taking a while, maybe he’s dreading when he comes back and his throat will be back to normal enough for him to actually talk and tell Will how uncomfortable that comment made him and that it’s probably a bad idea to share a room and—

“You make him nervous.”

Will’s neck moves so fast there’s a vague whiplash when he stares down at Holly, where they’re both leaning against the wall. 

“What?” He asks, barely audible over the breeze swaying past them. 

“You make Mike nervous — like really nervous.”

“I— what?” Will shakes his head and feels a faint strain on his forehead with how knitted together his brows become. “I don’t understand, what do you mean nervous?”

The younger girl grins up at him, stealing a glance in the window for a second. “Whatever you said back there made him go beet red!”

No. No, no, no, no, no, no— that can’t be right. She is definitely misreading this.

“What? No. He’s just cold—"

“Will,” she crosses her arms, her tone dripping with exasperation. “We both know you’re not this clueless.”

Will stares at her, mouth agape. He wants to protest but the words are stuck in his throat and his face is getting warm again at the implication of Holly's words. 

“Come on,” She throws her hand up. “Everyone knows you’re his favorite person! You’ve been his favorite person since — like—ever.” 

Will opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out besides a few jumbled up words so he decides to stay quiet, trying to process what Holly means. All of it a lot to comprehend—a lot. 

She can’t be right, why would Will make Mike nervous? Sure he’s somewhat of a jittery person most of the time, talking fast, stumbling over his words — sometimes his eyes will even dart all over the room if he’s asking something. But that’s.. that’s not— that doesn’t mean anything. That’s just Mike. That’s the way that he is. 

It could be true that what he said earlier, maybe, took Mike by surprise, at the very least. But Will says things like that, albeit not as straight forward as ‘You love me anyway.’ But he says things regardless, and Mike definitely never questioned it before or got uncomfortable with it, so why would it be any different now? 

There’s no way in hell it made him nervous.

'Everyone knows you’re his favorite person!' Holly's words echo in Will's mind. 

Favorite person? Well, yeah, he and Mike are best friends. That is a fact. But he never thought he was Mike's favorite person. It was always El, even after the two of them broke up, it seemed like Mike still thought she was the most incredible person in the world. He still talked about how cool she is — and Will couldn’t help but agree. It’s El. She’s awesome. So how could he be Mike's favorite person instead of her?

Will can’t seem to make sense of it. 

Holly is smart. Observant. She picks up on things from the smallest details, like how she clocked Will's crush on Mike not even a week after he started living with them. She came up to him, very subtly letting him know she knew, and that was terrifying — given that a nine year old picked up on the feelings he had been harboring and doing his best to not make it obvious. 

Luckily, she seemed to be the only one who noticed.

So yes, she is observant, but, she more than likely misinterpreted Mike's completely casual, and friendly, and platonic feelings towards his best friend of 10 years, and saw it as something more because of Will’s completely not casual, and not friendly, and not platonic feelings.

So she was confused. Yep. She got it mixed up. 

Will still can’t help but wonder why exactly she thinks that. 

Unfortunately, just as he’s about to ask, the door flies open with the familiar ringing of bells accompanying it. They both turn their heads toward the sound and Mike is walking out, seeming more calmed down now and his face isn’t as red. 

(So that answers that, he was definitely just cold) 

Mike takes a swig of his water and Will averts his eyes from the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, instead turning towards Holly who’s already giving him a knowing look. Will wishes Vecna would come out hiding and take him right now. 

“Hey,” Mike says breathlessly, wiping a bit of water that dripped from his mouth as his eyes flick between the both of them. “You ready?” 

“Yep!” The younger girl says and kicks herself off the wall, attempting to grab at the unopened water bottle in Mike's other hand. 

“Hey!” He pulls his arm away, lifting it above his head so his sister can’t snatch. “This is not for you.”

“What?” Her girlish voice cracks as she whines. “That is so unfair! I shared my candy with you!”

“Yeah, and I almost died. Remember?”

“That’s just because you’re an idiot, Mike.” She tries again. 

“Whatever. This isn’t yours, you can drink water at home.” Mike swipes it away, stumbling backwards towards Will and tossing it to him. Holly groans in response. 

Will catches it and looks back up at Mike in surprise who's just smiling at him. And, okay Will is blushing again, great. He’s just being a good friend. 

“Thanks, Mike. You didn’t have to—“

“It’s whatever,” he shrugs. “I could tell you needed it.” 

Wait what? Will didn’t even realize until now how very dry his throat has become—

Mike turns back to Holly and the previous softness crumbles. “Let’s go, it’s getting really late. Mom’s gonna kill me if I get you home after nine.” 

“Yeah, I hope she does.” She rolls her eyes as Mike walks off, motioning for them to follow. “I told you so.” She whispers to Will before running after the older boy. 

Will is frozen for a minute, despite the heat he feels along his cheeks and neck. 

'Everyone knows you’re his favorite person!'

'I could tell you needed it.'

'I told you so.' 

Oh no. 

No, no, no, no. This isn’t good. This is not good. He can’t get his hopes up.

Not tonight. Not when they’re going to be sharing a room. Not when Mike is going to be a few feet away from him as they fall asleep. Not when there’s a chance he could say something very stupid and mess it all up and Mike sends him out of his room and then the whole friendship is ruined and they’ll never speak to each other again, just like last year. 

No. He won’t do it. He will not let it get to his head. Instead, he is going to treat Mike and see him as he always has, his best friend, who he’s in love with who does not return his feelings. He is not going to read into anything, either. He will view everything else that happens or what Mike does the rest of the night as friendly, and as casual, and as platonic, like he always has, and it’ll be fine. 

It’ll be great. Everything will be fine and back to normal tomorrow. It’s fine. 

“Will!”

He blinks, realizing the boy standing in front of him and he hasn’t moved. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and frowning. “Did you get another…” he trails off but the word flashback sits on his tongue and hangs in the air.

Oh. Oh that’s right. He has almost forgotten what he saw earlier. Okay, maybe if he thinks about that he won’t have to think about the way Mike’s fingers are digging into his shoulder and his face is plastered in worry. 

Shit. He can’t do that either. 

“Oh..” he breathes, then quickly shakes his head. “Uh, no, no. I just.. I guess I spaced out. Sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Mike nods, looking behind him to check Holly and Mary are still there. “Don’t apologize. My house is the other way anyway. I just…” he pauses, eyes flicking across Will's face and he seems to notice how close he is to it so he stands back, releasing Will's shoulder. 

The previous words get stuck in Mike's throat and Will stares. 

“It’s nothing,” he says finally, then replacing his worry with a small grin. “But I wasn’t kidding, my mom will kill the both of us if we don’t get going.”

Will stifles a laugh as he follows him, putting himself back in place on Mike's side while Holly and Mary lead in front. But it feels different from earlier, as if there’s a tension between them that lingers over. Something to do with words unspoken, Will can’t place it and a knot forms in his gut. He gulps down some water in an attempt to drown it. 

It doesn’t go away. 

When they get back, the soft orange glow that leaks through the windows of the house feels warm and inviting compared to the contrast of the night. Will steps inside and hangs his jacket up, letting his skin toast up while Mike closes the door, yelling something at Holly while her and Mary shuffle past him and run downstairs. 

He and Mike haven’t said a word to each other since earlier and that heavy feeling is still growing, like there’s this strange distance between them again, even though Mike is right here.

Maybe Will screwed things up. Maybe he’s finally done it. He’s finally said something that revealed a little too much and now Mike feels awkward around him, or maybe even disgusted. Maybe he noticed that Will has always meant something more than friendly or casual or platonic when he said those things. Or Mike has just been waiting for an excuse to end this friendship that must’ve been holding on by a thin string this whole time, and Will was too engrossed in his own aspirations to notice that all Mike has been wanting to pull away. Maybe he should’ve noticed the signs last spring and actually let go instead of holding on to something that’s been dead for years. 

Will tries not to think about it. He decides to take a shower, going downstairs, quickly passing by Holly and Mary to grab his clothes, then turning on the shower in the second floor bathroom. He tries to drown out his thoughts. He lets the water burn against his skin, as if to incinerate any last bits of hope that was still blooming inside him. He scrubs the soap harshly against his body, as if it’ll somehow clean the rot that’s been festering in his soul. He itches his scalp with his hands, as if it could chase out the thoughts he’s always shamed himself for. Lastly, he roughly rubs the towel against his face, as if to let himself know no matter what he does, he’ll always be an error. 

As Will slips into his pajamas, he thinks of what could happen in Mike's room tonight. Will he tell him that he knows what he is? That he finally figured out how Will sees him and can’t be friends with somebody like that. Will he kick him out the room before he can slip past the door? Or will he continue to refuse looking him in the eyes and fall asleep without a word? 

Will doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to find out. He doesn’t have a choice. So he swallows down his current self-loathing, trying to think of the good things between him and Mike. This past year and a half, they’ve gotten closer than they’ve ever been before and Will can’t help but think that maybe all of it was pity or something akin to it. 

‘Everyone knows you’re his favorite person!’

She’s wrong. Will loves Holly to death, but she’s wrong. He could never be anyone’s favorite person, let alone Mike’s. Especially not Mike’s. 

Will could be getting ahead of himself, thinking too much, thinking too negatively. It’s hard not to think that way when almost nothing has ever gone the way he wanted them too. If he thinks about it, (and he’s been only thinking about it) there could be some middle ground. He knows that Mike would never reciprocate his feelings, but if did figure them out, there would be a chance he doesn’t fully hate him. Mike could even accept Will for who he is, they’d stay friends but they’d never be as close as they used to. Never sit in his room and read comic books together, or sneak to the basement to watch movies, or hang out in the kitchen at one a.m. because neither of them could sleep. 

Whatever it is, Will is certain that there’s a last time for everything, after tonight, something is going to change. 

He takes a shaky breath in front of Mike's door, gently knocking once… twice, followed by a soft “Come in.”

The handle clicks open under Will’s palm and he peers his head inside, finding Mike laying on his bed, an open comic in front of him as he looks back up at him. 

“Hey Will,” He greets him softly and Will is surprised if not the least bit confused by how nothing seems to have changed. 

He was so certain things were weird, now. 

“Hey..” Will takes an awkward step in, not fully inside the room as if to back out if Mike changes his mind all of sudden. He looks around the room when Mike doesn’t protest. “Do you still have that sleeping bag?”

“What? Yeah.. but. Oh!” His eyebrows shoot up like how they do when he figures out a very complicated math problem. “That’s right, sorry. I forgot you were supposed to be sleeping in here tonight.” He leaps off his bed and springs over to his closet. 

“It’s okay…” Will reassures quietly. “If you changed your mind or something I don’t mind sleeping somewhere else—“

“No! No! Not that, I just…” the words get caught in his throat once again as he continues to shuffle through his closet. 

Will decides not to pay attention to it, because if Mike doesn’t want to say anything he doesn’t have to. So instead he looks around, looking at Mike's bed with a blue plaid blanket that isn’t quite tidy, to his floor that a few clothes are pushed up against a basket near his door, to his wooden wardrobe with a few scratches on it, to his desk with a bunch of paper sprawled out on it. Then he looks at the wall, and his breath catches in his throat when the first thing his eyes find is a painting. 

His painting. Mike still has it. Mike still thinks it’s from El. 

Mike stands up with an old sleeping bag, crossing the room and handing it to Will. “I— Sorry if it’s a little dirty or something, I haven’t used it in a while.” His head turns to follow Will's gaze and seems to catch his breath as well. 

“Oh.” He says simply. “I— um. I still really like your painting, Will.”

‘Your painting’

Does he know? He can’t know. He wouldn’t still have it.

“I know it’s not from El…” He continues and Will turns to look at Mike who continues to stare at it, his jaw clenched and eyes unreadable. 

“You… do?” Will asks, voice incredibly small as he swallows a lump on his throat. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “But… I don’t— I’m not upset that you lied to me. I understand, I mean. I was being an idiot and whining the entire trip. So, I get why you said it was, just to shut me up or something.”

“Mike, that’s not why—“

“It’s okay, Will.” His gaze drifts back towards Will, something soft in it. 

Does he know?

Something swells up in Will's eyes, and his lungs, but before he can apologize or utter out a single word, Mike continues. 

“I appreciate that you were trying to help us.”

Oh. 

He doesn’t. 

“Help me— be a better person, treat her better, understand her better… but I guess it didn’t really work in the end anyway.” He pauses and Will doesn’t know where he can breathe. “But, thanks. For the painting, anyway. It’s really nice.” 

Mike extends the sleeping bag out to Will and refuses to meet his eyes again. His jaw set tight and eyebrows furrowed and Will doesn’t know what to make of any of what just happened. 

“Sorry,” Mike says. “It might be a little small, or—“

“It’s fine, it’ll work. Thanks.” Will looks down and the rolled up bed in his hand, and sees Mike nod out the corner of his eye, staring at Will. 

“I’m gonna—“ he motions to his bed, and Will, likewise to the floor. 

“Yeah, I’ll just—“ 

Mike hops back onto his bed while Will unrolls the makeshift bed. Choosing to think about how it’s not particularly big, so he doesn’t have to think about Mike or the painting. He can’t. He’ll sob again, just like that day in the van. He’ll completely break, he doesn’t have the strength to deal with that right now. 

So.

The sleeping bag, it was made for very short young adults, it seems. That used to not be a problem for Will, he used to be so small and fit into it with so much room to spare when he was a kid. Now as he slips his body into it, it feels like it must have shrunk. He finds it hard to believe just how much he’s grown these past few years, how many things have changed. 

He can’t help but wonder how many more things are going to change. How much more is yet to happen. It’s terrifying to think about, knowing they’re just waiting for the next disaster to hit, for Hawkins to completely crumble, for more people he loves to lose their lives or get hurt in ways he never thought were possible. The way Max got her limbs and maybe even her sight taken from her, or her life. The way Lucas and El haven’t quite been the same since then. The way Dustin never got his spark back since watching the light in his best friend's eye fade in front of him. The way so many more people have gotten everything taken from them in an instant. 

How many more lives are going to be destroyed before this is all over? How long until Henry finally comes out of hiding and dares to threaten someone new? Someone like his friends. Like his mom or brother. Or El. Someone like Mike. Or even like Holly. 

He just wants Henry to finally show himself, stop hiding in the shadows, stop hiding in the back of his mind and come out and fight him. He wants to kill him. He wants all this to be over. He wants Hawkins, and his friends and himself to be free again. 

But it won’t be that easy. It never is. 

Will decides to shift his train of thought, though it’s somehow easier than the alternative. Instead he focuses on the wall in front of him as he lays on his side. He looks at the posters that Mike has accumulated over the years, the drawings he’s kept up since Will has been gifting them to him. It’s bittersweet to see how much of Mike's entire life is plastered on these, on display, like anyone can walk in and see exactly who Mike is without ever speaking a word to him. 

He’s a nerd, that’d be the first thing you notice. The movie posters and comic books and action figures give him away. He’s a teenager, the street sign on his wall and deep blue all over tell you he’s still rebellious and free-spirited. He’s a friend, the Polaroid pictures pinned to his bulletin board and the art scattered everywhere say he cares about his friends more than anything. Most of all, he’s unapologetically himself, the way things are placed without an order or a sense of true rhythm is exactly who Mike is. 

He doesn’t try to be who others want him to be, he’ll bite off peoples heads if they try to tell him or his friends otherwise. He’s seen it when Mike used to stand up to bullies like Troy and any other mouthbreather who gave Will shit for being different. He was always protective and always made sure that Will never felt alone, or like he had to be anyone other than he truly was. It’s one of the many reasons Will fell for him, and each time he’s not afraid to be himself, Will falls a little harder. He’s okay with that, because Mike is important to him, and he’ll always need Mike, even if he didn’t ask to be.

Will is okay with it. He's okay with staying in love with his best friend, or just ‘friend’ if he ever finds out. He’ll always have this resentment towards himself, always feel like he doesn’t belong, always have a part of himself telling him that he’s nothing more than a sin, or a burden. But if he can accept his feelings, maybe one day he’ll accept himself no matter what people think. He could be unapologetically himself, just like Mike and not worry about what people say behind his back. Not today, but one day. Maybe after all this is over. 

With Will's new found sense of resolve, he closes his eyes. 

He doesn’t fully get to sleep when he hears a ruffling of sheets above him. He opens his eyes slowly, only to remember that he’s on the floor of his best friend’s room. It takes a minute for that fuzzy feeling to clear up upon hearing whispers above him. 

“Will?” Mike says, voice hushed and almost broken. “Will, are you asleep?”

Will thinks for a moment, about everything that happened between them today, about the words Mike left unsaid, about that strange distance that came back after Will had let a little too much slip out — and about the painting, how Mike thinks Will was trying to help and didn’t mean any of what he said in the Van. 

Will's heart clenches at the possibility. Mike might think no one sees him that way anymore, if not El, than no one. That must be his thought process… but Will needs him, and he wants to tell him but he can’t seem to get the words out. So instead, he keeps his breathing even, pretending to be asleep, pretending like it’ll all blow over in the morning and things could go back. 

He knows it’s not true, but it doesn’t hurt to imagine. 

“I…” Mike starts quietly. “I’m sorry if I was acting a little weird today, you know after, um…” 

He doesn’t say it, but Will thinks he knows what he means.

‘You love me anyway’

That stupid phrase echoes through his mind and now he’s just embarrassed by it. 

“I know you didn’t mean anything by it—“ He mumbles. “We were joking around, ‘in the moment' type of thing, it’s stupid…I just—“ he lets out a frustrated sigh, like he can’t find the words. “That doesn’t really matter. I guess, for a while, ever since you moved, I’ve just… I’ve felt differently around you, and—“ he lets out a quiet groan before rustling around his bed once more. “You’re still my best friend and everything, I still— I still…”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m scared.” In the pause, the uneasy silence of the room is broken by Will's heart pounding in his chest, he’s sure Mike can hear it too. 

“Scared of losing you one day because of my— my own idiocy.” His voice is small, his words are heavy yet guarded. “I always feel like you're maybe hiding something from me… something important.” He sighs. “Something that matters.” 

“I..I just— I don’t—“ he stammers. “I don’t want to lose you because of it. I can’t lose you. Will. You— you’re too…”

A long lapse of silence follows, Will focuses on keeping his breathing leveled despite the pounding in his chest.

“This is stupid,” Mike mutters, a quiet frustration bleeding through his tone. “Never mind.”

With that the room goes quiet. 

Will dares to turn his head, catch a glimpse of his face, maybe understand what he’s trying to say, but his back is turned towards Will and his hair is curling against the pillow. 

Will's brain starts running a thousand miles an hour trying to piece this together, trying to make sense of all of it. 

‘I’ve felt differently around you’

Those are the words that continue to echo; the words that hold so much honesty yet restraint. He keeps circling back to the possibility of Mike knowing — or having some sort of idea what Will is and what his feelings are, and that he finally understood it tonight. At the very least, he knows Will isn't being completely honest. 

That terrifies him. 

It solidifies the idea that things between them might change, that everything between him and Mike the past 2 years is going to come crumbling down in one night because Will decided to wear his heart on his sleeve. Except that’s exactly what Mike had said he’s scared of.

If Will continues to hide things, will Mike push him away again? 

Will can’t make sense of it. If Mike is so scared of losing him like he claims, what does the rest of it mean? He said everything and nothing at the same time, it was too incredibly vague. 

What does Mike mean? 

The anticipation might kill him before he gets the chance to find out. 

Art has always brought a serenity to Will's mind. He's always found comfort in how he can make fantasies come to life, images of the Party marching into battle and declaring victory. It’s beautiful how many stories can be told on a singular canvas, how many emotions Will can spill onto the pages of his sketchbook without feeling exposed. Painting, drawing, even sculpting — whatever Will is doing, as long as he’s entangled in the process of creation, the negativity that bites at his neck each day feels faded, like a TV or a radio that’s channeled to static. 

Will loves everything about it, ever since he could pick up a pencil. Mike has always loved writing, so when they were kids, they used to brainstorm ideas of new campaigns, new character designs. They would always do it together, hidden away in Mike's basement until the sun went down, still talking about it over dinner. That warm feeling always comes back whenever working on a new piece, even if it didn’t have anything to do with Mike. The simple memories are enough to make Will's chest flutter.

So, at this moment, he feels at peace. The only thing on his mind is making sure the colors don’t mix on his pallet, continuing to dip his brush into the dollops of paint, then stroking bristles carefully down the canvas. Each line grazed with intention as he sits in front of the easel, letting the rays of the sun bathe him through the window. The light comes as harsh streaks and they prickle his skin with how warm and inviting it is. This moment could last forever.

Will decides to pause for a second to sneak a glance through the glass. The sky is so perfectly blue and spotted with clouds, if you look too hard it might look like wallpaper… weird. A distinct line separates the lime green grass and a wholly paved road. Will narrows his eyes, taking in the sight, the lack of flaws. 

Something feels… off. 

He turns back to the easel. 

What? 

Will blinks once. Then again. 

It’s an empty canvas, but he was certain he was painting something… something? What was he painting? How did he get here? 

Unfortunately Will doesn’t get the chance to think of an answer, not when the window shatters, glass scattering everywhere. The sound is deafening. Will barely has time to bring his arms up and shield his face. 

He doesn’t remember standing up, or crouching. He was sitting on a stool before it vanished. Hesitantly, he looks out the window again — and everything in his body drops. 

He’s here again. 

Fear lingers on Will's neck, pressing harder, the signal coming in ten times stronger than before, strong enough to make his ears bleed. He spins on his heels towards the door, panic written all over his face. The doors jammed shut, Will uses all his strength prying it open, when it finally does he stumbles forward onto red sand. 

Taking in his surroundings, the door he went through is gone leaving nothing but a harsh rock in its place. Something roars in the distance and it takes Will a minute to realize there’s a storm above his head, red, ominous, and evil. 

His blood runs cold in response to laughter echoing in the back of his head. His hand flies up to his neck as he turns around, looking for the source. 

“Where are you, Henry?” He spits, voice trembling. 

“I think you know exactly where I am, William.” A low guttural voice stretches across the wasteland, simultaneously never escaping Will's head. 

“Y-your not real. You’re not really here.” Will says as his body starts to freeze. He can’t let the cold get to him, so he runs, knowing there’s no escape.

Vecna stays quiet, but his presence lingers. Will hold back a shiver feeling his eyes on him in the distance, vile and mocking. He can barely feel his legs, he just keeps moving. 

In the corner of his eye he sees a shadow move behind a rock, so he slows down and follows it. His legs pull him forwards, as if under a spell. His peaks out from the rock… that’s more of a pillar made of an ashy stone. 

When he makes his way around, he falls back onto his back, breathing heavily with fear as he sees Mike's lifeless body, broken limbs, jaw cracked, eyes gone. 

“No..” he whispers. “No no no no no— MIKE!” His vision starts to blur and his body is shaking while also being completely paralyzed. 

No.. how could he… how could he let this happen? Mike can’t be... he can’t be… No. No, Will was supposed to protect him, it was supposed to be him instead not Mike. It was never supposed to be Mike. 

“What did you do?!” Will cries out once he finally finds his voice again. “Why would you do this?” Tears spill down his face, unable to take his eyes off Mike's pale skin and the blood dripping down his corpse. Everything in his body tightens, his lungs squeezing painfully and heart pounding inside his head. 

“I didn’t do anything. This was all you, William.”

“No—!”

“You know the truth.”

“No— no! No— I would never let this happen!”

He shakes his head, spitting out useless protests, as he lies on the floor, fingers gripping in the sand. He squeezes eyes shut and just screams, no words, just a pained sound escaping his lips. 

He wakes up with a gasp. 

When he opens his eyes he realizes it’s still night, and he’s sobbing, unable to catch his breath. There’s someone whispering reassurance next to him and shushing, but Will can’t hear it over the pounding in his chest so with blurred vision he looks over. Mike is here, one hand on Will’s shoulder while the other rubs his arm, up and down, up and down. 

“Shhhh.. shh. It’s okay.” He whispers, and Will realizes the light was turned on when he can make out Mike’s eyebrows knitted together while his eyes are wide and gentle. “I’ve got you, Will. You're okay now.”

“Mike..?” Will says, hating how much his voice shook.

Mike's here. He’s alive. Henry didn’t get him. Will tells himself this over and over, sobs continuing to pour out of him. 

The self-assurance isn’t enough. 

He didn’t even realize until the way Mike froze that he brought his hand to his face, checking to make sure he’s alive. Will pulls away instantly. “Shit, sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ 

Mike catches Will's wrist, stopping it from falling. Instead he brings back up to press it against his check, slow and comforting. “No, no. It’s okay, don’t apologize. I’m here, okay? I’m here.” His voice is so quiet and so soft. Will doesn’t deserve it, yet he lets himself trace his thumb under Mike's eye, and he leans into it. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Slowly, Will's breathing evens out and the tears stop falling, and Mike stays there the entire time. Will sighs and sits up fully, extracting himself from Mike's arms. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.” His voice is small and trembling and he feels weak. Mike shouldn’t have to deal with this. 

He starts to stand and wrap the sleeping bag up. “I’m gonna sleep somewhere else so I don’t bother you—“

“What?” Mike follows Will's position. “No. I already told you, don’t apologize. Please. Don’t apologize.” 

Will stares at him.

“And don’t leave. Just—“

There’s a lapse of silence before Mike is taking the half crumpled up sleeping back from Will’s hands, bunching it up even more and tossing it at the edge of his bed before he gets into it himself, leaving enough room for another person. 

“C’mere.” Mike says, voice impossibly quiet and Will’s feels a fluttering in his heart so strong it hurts. 

Will stands for a second, trying to take in what’s going on, watching as Mike unfolds half of his blanket for Will to crawl under. The previous cold he felt is completely gone. 

He’s too tired to say no. 

So, he carefully climbs in laying the spot that’s still warm and dips down from where Mike's body had been, avoiding all or any touch as if it would give home away, as if Mike would back out and realize how strange this is. Will swallows thickly as he watches the shadows dance around on the ceiling, very aware of his best friend's persistent stare. 

Slowly while also happening in a second, everything starts to come back to him. 

'You love me anyway.'

'Everyone knows you’re his favorite person!'

'I could tell you needed it.'

'I’ve felt differently around you.'

Oh god. 

Will doesn’t think he can stay sane about any of this much longer. Everything, the touches, the words, the tone— the way he leaned into his hand on his face. It’s all too much. It’s all not enough. 

But he has to think about this, if he doesn’t then he’ll think about the nightmare and he’d break again and he can’t do that in Mike's bed. Oh god. He’s in Mike’s bed—

“Are you okay?” Mike mutters, snapping Will out of his thoughts. 

“What?” Will replies, small, fragile. 

“Are you okay? I mean, you woke up screaming and you were crying and— sorry, just. I’m here,” He pauses, and Will's breath catches in his throat when he feels Mike fingers under his own, gently intertwining their hands together. “if you want to talk about it, or about something else to… I don’t know, distract you.” Silence. “I’m here.”

“You said that.” 

“I know.”

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Mike starts to trace his thumb over Will’s knuckles and Will is feeling like a moth to a flame right now. He’s aware of the flame, too aware, so his hand stiffs and Mike stops for a second. 

“Is this.. okay? Tell me if it’s not and I’ll stop.”

Will is quiet for a moment, scared of his own voice so he swallows and takes a deep breath. “It’s.. it’s okay.”

“Okay.” 

He squeezes Will’s hand, somewhat hesitant, as if he’s still doing something wrong, and starts again. Will shuts his eyes firmly, trying not to melt at the touch, trying to not give into it. Alas, he always will, because something like this, so small means too much to Will Byers. This moment, right here, it’s worth all the pain that comes from loving Mike Wheeler. He would  live through any amount of torture even if it only meant keeping Mike like this. 

So maybe Will is a masochist, but this touch burns and if given the choice, he knows he’d never let it go. 

He squeezes Mike's hand back. 

“Mike?” Will asks, voice low.

“Yeah?” Mike mimics his tone.

“…what did you mean earlier?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Earlier when you were talking… You said you felt differently around me. I don’t understand what that means.”

Mike thumbs stops for a second as he takes a shaky breath, then says, a little louder: “Wait, so you were awake?”

Will stifles a laugh. “Kinda…”

“Kinda?” Mike repeats, incredulous. “Asshole.”

This time, Will does laugh, but freezes when Mike shuffles closer, close enough for the sleeves of their shoulders to meet, far enough to be an accident. 

Neither of them move. 

“Sorry,” Mike says. “You weren’t really supposed to hear me.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just— wish I knew what you were trying to say.” 

There’s a long silence, and it’s clear that Mike is thinking, maybe. Unless he fell asleep, which isn’t entirely impossible. Whenever they had sleepovers as kids, Mike was always the first to fall asleep. He would do it so quickly that Will always stayed up alone for an extra hour or two. Sometimes he would draw Mike sleeping, using it as a time to memorize his features. Now without even looking, Will could tell you where each freckle lies on his face, where nose stops and forehead begins, where his eyes open and close. Sure, he’s older now, he’s grown into his face more, sharper jaw, prominent cheekbones, but he manages to stay the same as the Mike he met on the swings, the soft, caring, and protective boy he fell in love with. In a way at least. 

Will is proven wrong when Mike finally speaks again. 

“I guess… What I was trying to say is that you mean a lot to me… and I didn’t even realize how much until I watched you leave Hawkins. Leave me.”

“Mike…”

“Wait—“ He squeezes Will's hand again, like he didn’t even realize he’s doing it. “Let me say this.” He sighs and Will nods, unsure if Mike can even see the movement. 

“The truth, Will.. it hurt when we were apart, when we were fighting— I know, that’s completely my fault. I was a total asshole to you, back then. I was an idiot. Honestly… I don’t think I even deserve to still be your friend after the way I treated you.”

“Mike. That’s not—“

“Because, I wrote.”

A pause. 

“What?”

“When you were living in Lenora, I wrote to you.”

“I— I don’t…” Will sighs, he’s not getting it. It feels like Mike is talking in code. “What are you saying?”

“You were upset because I couldn’t keep in touch, and I tried to, Will. I called but the stupid line was always busy and—“ he sighs, thoroughly deciding each word yet somehow none of them make sense. “…And I wrote letters, but I was scared to send them because what if I was saying too much, and then I’d lose you forever.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” Mike adds, but his voice is trembling. What the fuck is he saying?

“You don’t… think you could lose me?” Will asks carefully. 

“No.” Mike says, a finality in his voice. 

“I still don’t… I'm sorry, Mike. I’m not following any of this.”

Mike sighs, taking a moment to pick out his words. “You know the painting…?”

“Yeah.” Of course I know the painting. “What does that—“

“I wanted it to be from you.”

Will breath catches in his throat and he goes completely still. Unsure, uncertain of anything. This isn’t real. No way is this real. Mike has to be saying something else, he has to mean something other than what Will’s thinking because the thought is hopeful. 

And hope is the most dangerous thing in this world. 

Finally he turns to look at Mike, finding he’s already watching. His eyes have such a pull to them, dark and mysterious and Will tries not to fall into it. Instead focusing on searching Mike’s expression that tells him he’s reading it wrong. He doesn’t find it. All he sees is the look of a boy who laid his heart out and is praying it doesn’t ruin everything between them. Will knows the fear too well. 

Will sits up, fully looking, eyes locked on Mike’s when he whispers, “Are you sure?”

Mike does the same and makes an effort to not release Will's hand. “Positive.”

Positive. Will repeats in his head, barely registering how close they are. 

“I— it was from me.” He says, breathless at the distance.

“Huh?”

“The painting. It was from me.”

“Will, what do you—“

Before Mike can finish his words get stuck in his throat… or caught in Will’s mouth because he grabbed Mike by the collar and pulled him in, crashing his lips against his own. 

Then slowly the realization sets in and he backs up while fear floods through his entire body, ripping his hand away. “Shit— shit. I’m sorry. That’s probably not what you meant at all and now I— sorry. I’m so sorry. Mike.. you probably hate me now.“ Will starts to get up, pulling the blanket off his legs as tears well in his eyes. 

Before he can stand up he’s pulled back, a hand on his neck, the other on his arm, pulling him back into the bed and his head hits the pillow before he can register a Mike is hovering over him. 

“No…” He whispers, staring into his eyes, then down to Will's lips. 

“…no?”

“No… I— that is what I meant.”

Will eyes widen, any previous tears completely dried up along with his mouth. His eyes dart down to Mike's mouth as he speaks. 

“Um. Again… do that again.”

Will feels his face going very red. He has to be sure before impulsively kissing someone again. 

“Do.. what again?” His voice stayed very low.

Mike smiles but his face flushes. “Kiss me again.” Each word is so gentle.

Will doesn’t have to be told twice… or a third a time. He grabs Mike by the neck and pulls him in, Mike's chest falls on top of Will’s and it forces a breath out their lungs, breathing into each other's mouths. Mike’s hands very quickly find a spot on Will’s waist and his neck. 

Each touch feels electric and soft at the same time, sending a pleasant feeling down Will's spine. Will never imagined how amazing this could be, he still can barely believe it’s real. The fact that Mike, his Mike, is kissing him, tender and sweet and his lips taste like home, and his hair feels like it was made for Will's hand, and his clothes smell like a sweet familiarity that Will can’t place. This used to feel like an alien concept billions of light years away and now it’s happening, and he’s very in the moment and very out of his own body.

He’s imagined it dozens of times, wondering what each of his senses would discover. Every thought that used to be a fantasy is incomparable to the real thing. He never thought it could be this sweet. The way Mike is gentle in finding a rhythm but daring. Will wishes he could have the same restraint. 

He opens his mouth a little wider inside Mike’s, experimenting. Letting his tongue graze his bottom lip and he responds with a heavy breath that crawls right back into Will’s throat. He didn’t know how much he needed it, now he’s considering what he would give up to stop time just for this moment. Just for Mike in his arms. Slowly, Mike lets his hand travel down Will's side, finding his hip, tracing his thumb over a sliver of skin where his shirt rides up an inch or so. 

Will can’t find it in himself to care about the rain outside or prickle on his neck telling him Henry is close — but Will is selfish and greedy because he would let the world burn to ashes before giving this up. That chill on his neck is occupied by something much warmer, Mike Wheeler's hand that’s now coming up to cup his jaw.  

Will starts to sit up again, mouth attached to Mike's as he follows Will up. Will keeps his hand on the collar of Mike shirts, gripping, then releasing and settling on his collar bone, the other sliding down his back. Mike licks the inside of Will’s mouth one last time, tender yet venturous that Will responds to with a hitch from the back of his throat before both of them are pulling away. 

They press foreheads together to catch their breath, Will feels embarrassed by how damp his hair feels from the sweat he woke up in but he’s too breathless to care. It’s everything Will has ever wanted and he still wants— needs so much more of it. 

Will starts to feel a rush of giddiness surge through his chest and he gets the extremely overwhelming urge to pepper kisses all over Mike's freckles from his nose to his jaw, he shifts his weight a bit, bringing one hand to Mike's neck and the other to his face. Before the latter can reach it’s stopped by a set of fingers wrapping around it. 

“Will…” Mike whispers his name like it’s a secret. 

He swallows, eyes darting between Mikes. “Yeah?”

“Um.” He says, like he hasn’t been planning to get this far. “I don’t think you get how long I’ve been wanting to do that for.”

“Yeah?” Will says again. “Yeah. So—so have I.”

Mike continues to stare at him. 

“Is there…” Will starts, looking down at their joined hands, gaze slowly moving up to land on Mike’s lips, red and wet and his heart skips a beat knowing he did that. “Anything else you wanted?” 

“You.”

Will's breath catches. 

“Always you. It’s always been you.” Mike's hands find Will's waist again. 

“Yeah?” Will asks, barely hearing his own voice over the rain. “God… it feels like I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear that.”

“I’m so—“

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry. It was worth it.” Will says. “You were worth it.”

“No, no. You shouldn't have had to deal with that. Okay?”

Will nods, opening his mouth to respond but he’s met with lips instead. 

Everything is perfect. 

Will doesn’t know how long they’re kissing for, but it was long enough for him to end up lying on the other side of the bed, head now resting on top of Mike's chest as he absentmindedly runs his hand through Will’s hair. Will, would be completely melting at the touch if he wasn’t so exhausted from,

well, the entire day. 

Said day consists of freaking out a normal amount due to sharing a room with his best friend whom he was trying to convince himself didn’t return his feelings because he was being so weird and soft and then randomly distant for no apparent reason other than being called out unknowingly on the feelings Will only found out were there about a half hour ago. Then there’s Holly being way too knowing for a nine year old, Will doesn’t even want to think about that. There’s also the fact that Vecna feels a little closer than he did a few hours ago— but that’s fine. He can deal with it tomorrow, maybe not tonight. He doubts he’d have another nightmare after the one from earlier, especially now that he’s falling asleep in Mike's protective and gentle hold. 

So yeah, it was a complicated Halloween. 

Will could argue that was the best sleep of his entire life — or, it was until there was this really loud banging at the door. He stirred, moved around in an attempt to stretch his arm but Mike has a very firm grip around his waist right now and there’s too much going on because he can hardly blink the sleep out of his eyes.

Will thinks it would be best to stay here and go back to sleep since Mike tugs a little too hard whenever Will is trying to sit up. It would be nice to lay in Mike's arms for a little longer anyway, soak it in. He rests his eyes. He, unfortunately, is unable to do any of that given that the banging continues and this time there’s a voice. 

“Mike! Get up…mom’s gonna….breakfast…” 

It’s really every other word that he can make out because his brain is kind of buffering at the moment. On one hand it would be so easy to fall back asleep and pretend like he doesn’t hear anything just like Mike but on the other the banging is somehow getting louder so the first option is getting further away. 

“Come on, guys!”

Will groans, bringing one hand up to rub his eye and the other is well.. stuck under Mike’s body weight, he wouldn’t be surprised if the arm was completely numb by now. “Mike.” 

Mike doesn’t move and the door is starting to shake with the force. Will rolls his eyes. 

“Mike,” he’s shaking him now and he makes a small noise of protest. “Mike, wake up.”

“Wha..?”

Will groans again and rolls his eyes again while attempting to prop himself up on one arm. “C’mon. Wake up, I think someone is trying to kick your door down.”

“What?”

“Mike.”

“Jeez! Okay, mom.” 

“Oh my god.” Will sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and Mike finally lets go of Will and sits up. (And if he misses the touch instantly no one has to know.)

“Guys! Hurry up!” The voice that’s definitely Holly seems to be growing angrier, which Will can’t even blame her. 

“Coming!” Mike and Will shout at the same time, while Mike pushes the covers off the bed. 

“Wait,” Will says, voice still a little rough. “She’s gonna see I was sleeping on your bed—“

“Shit— uh. Here.” Mike reaches out to grab the sleeping bag and throws it over on the space on the floor where Will was supposed to be. Will tries to grab it, but in doing so, his foot gets caught on something and he literally falls out of the bed. 

“Ow!”

At the same time that happened Mike is climbing out of the bed and stumbling towards the door. He gives Will a look when he falls.

“Fuck, Will! You alright?”

Will feels like he’s rubbing his until he scrapes them out his head, but he gives Mike a thumbs up. 

Mike nods the looks back to the door. “Jesus, Holly! Calm down.” He swings the door open and the banging finally stops. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs. “Just wanted to let you know breakfast is ready.”

Mike looks unimpressed. “Was all that really necessary?” 

Holly ignores him and peers over Mike’s shoulder. “Hey, Will.”

“Hey.”

Holly smirks and looks between Mike and Will who both give her a confused look. 

“What?” Mike says.

“Nothing. I just… have a feeling Will is gonna sleep in here a lot more often.”

“Okay?” Mike replies trying to sound casual but his face is going red, Will would be lying if he said he wasn’t either. 

With that Holly leaves and Mike closes the door and drops his head on the door. 

“Oh my god…”

Will laughs, standing up and walking over to him. 

“God, she’s so—“

“Nosy!” Mike spins around, head still on the door. 

Will has to bite back a grin because Mike is smiling at him so softly even though he’s the most agitated person alive when he has to wake up and is probably even more annoyed because of Holly but his eyes are so gentle that Will swears he’s imagining it. “Yeah.” He breathes out. “Nosy.” Will is feeling very brave despite the wave of butterflies in stomach, so he takes a step closer. “She’s probably not wrong.”

“Yeah?” Mike follows suit, taking a step closer and puts a hand on Will's jaw. Oh god. Oh, okay. So this is real, he really didn’t dream what happened last night. He actually kissed Mike Wheeler— HOLY FUCK. HE KISSED MIKE WHEELER— 

Will nods, suddenly feeling very breathless. 

“Good.”

“Good, yeah. Great.”

And then Mike is kissing him again and smiling into it and his hand is very warm on his face and his other is clutching at Will’s waist, and Will is actually going to melt this time because Mike's mouth feels so soft, and tastes so sweet with the sunlight hitting their faces meaning it's real. 

Every thought Will has ever had is completely replaced only by MikeMikeMike and he’d never ever want anything more.

“Will! Mike! COME ON!!!” 

They break apart at this, and Will's head falls on Mike's shoulder and they laugh, taking in that warm fuzzy feeling that might only come from a love like this. 

Halloween might earn its spot back.