Chapter Text
If Will has been finding it more and more difficult to understand Mike ever since meeting him in the airport at Lenora in spring, then right now he quite literally cannot understand what Mike is saying.
‘What?’ he asks, as if having misheard. Pretty sure he didn’t, though.
‘Aekhel,’ Mike repeats helpfully, and due to his slight grin Will suddenly realises that he isn’t probably supposed to get it. He doesn’t, but that’s intriguing — sort of.
Holly looks up from the drawing she’s been working on for the last half an hour. It’s a unicorn, the third one in the last two days. Will noticed that every now and again she fixates on a specific character or creature and draws them until she feels like she’s got the hang of them. He understands the feeling because he’s also had phases before. The Party’s characters. Dragons. Later, portraits.
‘Who are you talking to?’ she asks curiously, her little face open and eyes hazy, as if Mike distracted her from some kind of daydream. ‘You found an imaginary friend, too?’
Mike is still grinning slightly, but huffs at the assumption. Briefly glances at Will, but he doesn’t understand what kind of reaction he’s hoping for.
‘No, Holly, that one’s all yours,’ Mike says after a beat, realizing that he, apparently, got tough crowd and getting a bit frustrated. Will can’t help but feel like Mike expected more from his reaction. But what’s there to react to?
Before he can dwell upon this thought any longer, Mike gestures towards a half-full glass of water on the counter and announces, ‘Water. That means ‘water’.’
Holly looks at the glass, then at Mike’s hand, then at Will, her eyes widen, and Will snorts at how comical she looks. Like an agitated cat. Then he turns to Mike, whose eyes are already on him — expecting some sort of reaction, again. Practically vibrating from how badly he wants to be questioned on what the hell he means by all of this.
‘Okay,’ Will says finally, ‘That means ‘water’ in…?’
There it is. He sensed his mood right and said the correct thing. Mike finally breaks into a full smile, all toothy, the kind which makes his nose scrunch up a bit. Looking very content.
‘Well aren’t you glad you asked,’ he says in a voice, similar to the one he used to put on while DMing. Will abruptly thinks that he can’t remember the last time Mike actually DMed, and they all played together, the core four — two years ago? Two and a half? ‘It means ‘water’ in Eolenese, the tongue of Eolens, the language of an ancient race who meddled in dark unfathomable magic and spawned a powerful clan of evil magicians who once held power over the world of Varnekir and held its people in the illusion of freedom.’
While speaking, Mike leans on the kitchen table with an overly excited conspiratorial look and brings his hands up in a master of puppets manner. Will notices that there was something slightly unfamiliar in his intonations and inflections, as if he picked them up from someone else. Eddie? They told him he was the best DM they’d ever had. It was the only time Dustin cried in front of everyone.
Holly is absent-mindedly scribbling something in the corner, listening to Mike, the tip of one of her braids in her mouth.
‘Unfathom- unfathomable?’ she repeats incredulously, fumbling with the syllables — a cat tossing the toy around.
‘Oh, ineffable,’ Mike says solemnly, a grave expression on his face. Will purses his lips so as not to laugh and gently pulls the tip of the braid out and away from Holly’s mouth. For some truly unfathomable reason, she never yells at him for that and lets it slide, every time.
‘Ineffable? Where did the f’s go?’
Will chuckles. Looks at Mike, who is — again — looking back with a sly little squint, checking for the reaction.
‘Methinks, you shall learn a great deal, oh sweet child.’
This time, Mike puts on a decidedly whimsical old-wizard voice, and Will has to admit that it is the most endearing thing that happened this week. Holly frowns, stuck her tongue out and said, ‘Okay grandpa, wake me up when you’re done teaching.’
‘Uh, rude,’ Mike deadpans in his normal voice and gives a dramatic sigh for the effect. Holly smiles, just like her brother — toothy and eyes in half-moons. Goes back to drawing, still listening.
‘So,’ Will returns to the topic because that sounded kind of interesting, ‘are you working on a campaign or something?’
‘Sort of,’ Mike says and immediately snaps his full attention to Will, ‘I just have this idea for a one-shot, maybe, or a short series. And uh, it’s all in very early stages but I was working on the backstory for the main mage from that ancient race and thought it would be fun to create my own incantations, and then I had this idea of creating a whole new language for them, too. Kinda fun, though, I’ve never done that before.’
Mike is that level of excited when he seems to be telling the story with his whole body, hands in motion, face going through a hundred expressions in a second, eyes glinting and very intense. The side of his face is lit by the 7 pm light from the window, that part of his hair a sunny fuzz. Then, two facts dawn on Will at once: 1) that might be his favorite version of Mike, and 2) this version hasn’t appeared in so long it feels like being hit and smothered by something really soft and warm.
‘Sounds cool,’ he says and Mike nods, and smiles, and rubs his hands, ‘so how’s ‘water’ again?’
‘Aekhel.’
‘And ‘fire’?’
‘Shangr.’
‘Shangr,’ Will repeats slowly, listening closely to the hissing sound. ‘Does sound like fire to me.’
That makes Mike smile even more, and the tips of his ears get a little pink. Eyes fixed and dark, but then he inhales, sharply.
‘Cool.’
‘Cool,’ Will echoes, and looks at Holly’s drawing.
Her new unicorn is much better than the previous one. He respects the dedication.
***
Will tries to remember the last time they spoke like that.
Thinks back to spring and returning to Hawkins, thinking that now it looks more like him, or, perhaps, vice versa. Mike seemed to have thrown himself into the loop of being useful and disappeared into the volunteering job at their school, which functioned as a shelter for the rest of spring. Still does, actually, it’s just that many people have left since then, and those who remained got used to the danger on their doorstep. Will doesn’t flinch at the sound of siren anymore. Or the military and their base.
Mike has been involved in planning the first Crawl. Involved, as in, he clicked into the mode of a brainstorming machine and a helping hand wherever and whenever he could. All in, with a determined expression and a slouchy, a bit tired posture. Will wondered if anyone else had noticed the slouch and if yes, did they say anything? Did El notice it? At the beginning of summer, Mike chopped off his hair. Dustin started to grow his out. Nobody commented on either change, just exchanged the looks.
Will didn’t feel like he could say much, so he limited himself to asking if Mike’s okay every once in a while. Which usually earned him a half-hearted ‘yeah, sure, why?’ So Will resorted to just making sure he asks but never demands any details. It felt safer that way. Keeping his observations to himself, although being unable not to notice or catalogue with the precision of someone who is used to watching the subject of a drawing.
Mike was one of the first people to suggest that the Byers live at the Wheelers’, back in March. He helped Will unpack and lingered in the basement afterwards, under Jonathan’s eye, who every so often glanced at them quietly from the cot. Irrationally, Will felt as if being caught red-handed.
And yet, despite all this and the months that came after, they didn’t once speak like this. Not until that day. The excitement was familiar but new.
Now, Will wonders what kind of campaign Mike is working on. Why is he working on it? Does he think Lucas and Dustin would agree to play? Lucas, who spent the first two weeks nearly living at the hospital with Max and playing the entirety of ‘Hounds of Love’ on loop. They’re pretty sure he slept there a few times until the nurses finally noticed and made a point of reminding him to leave and making sure he actually did. Dustin, whose quips have started to have more and more bite, as if he doesn’t want anyone to notice anything but the sting. He’s got even deeper into science as well. And none of them have spoken of DnD since Will got back. He can feel the space where Eddie used to be, unoccupied, gaping. He cannot touch it.
Which made the excitement that radiated off Mike even stranger. He hasn’t been smiling that much or talking about anything reminiscent of ‘before’, of ‘childhood’ in the past few months. Seemed so much like himself. Looked for a reaction. And then disappeared again behind a one-way mirror for a few days. At first, Will wanted to tell Jonathan about it and then resolved not to. Seemed minuscule enough. Is it even going to happen again? Why pay so much attention anyway?
It happens again.
It’s midsummer, but nothing feels light, and at this point, Will has to put effort to remember what a carefree summer feels like. What ‘carefree’ feels like. Not with Max in a coma and Hawkins looking nearly vacant, with many fields and lawns still covered in an icy grey after the anti-snow of Upside Down. It snowed for three days, then stopped. Not a single flower has bloomed there since.
Still, Robin found an abandoned WSQK radio station, and now they all have to clean it up a bit on Saturday and relocate their headquarters there over the next week. And her joy is actually infectious.
‘I can’t believe I didn’t think about it before! It’s, like, a freaking music goldmine? And it’s on the edge of town? And it’s free? Steve, what do you think you’re doing?’
Harrington freezes on his way to the back with a giant stack of board games, vinyls and a lamp balancing on top of everything. All of it looks precarious and when he stops, it wobbles. Robin and Jonathan scream in unison. Will squeaks from the couch.
‘Steve!!’
‘I swear to God, Harrington, have you put the lamp on ‘The Wall’?!’
‘Jesus, man, I put it on top of the stack!’ Steve rolls his eyes, a loose strand of hair falling across his forehead. If Jonathan is a ticking time bomb, it takes him three seconds to explode.
‘Not the wall, man, the album!’
Steve blinks. The stack teeters some more, Robin half-gasps and half-snorts, then both her and Jonathan rush to Steve and try to stop half of the stack from falling.
‘Okay, Steve, I beg you to never, ever carry any vinyls like this. I will literally fire you if you do this, you don’t treat a lady like that, ever,’ Robin says, eyes wide and a bit manic, hair sticking everywhere. Steve giggles and waggles his brows like he’s in on a joke only two of them understand. Will glances curiously between them from another side of the room, forgetting to sort through the box of papers he was given. Jonathan huffs. ‘I say, fire away, honestly.’
‘God, Byers, I’m so very flattered. Glad you’re not my boss,’ Steve mutters and follows Robin, who grabbed all the vinyls and clutched them to her chest.
‘What the hell is happening over here?’
Will turns around to Mike, standing at the door, gangly and pale, in a very worn-out shirt of at least six years and a broom. He looks awkward in the space, as if it is too big and too small for him all at once. Awkward in all the ways he looks normal at home, in the basement or riding a bike.
‘Steve was treating vinyls like a pile of towels,’ Jonathan grunts, then stares at the space between Will and Mike. Will decides to ignore that.
‘Almost caused another apocalypse,’ he says, and Mike smiles immediately. Relaxes almost instantly and stands a bit taller, shoulders not hunched over anymore.
‘I hope he is being tortured right now for his crimes,’ he quips in response, comes a bit closer and leans on the bookcase. Will feels Jonathan’s eyes and doesn’t move.
‘Robin was just evacuating him from Jon’s wrath,’ he says and allows himself a smile. Probing. Mike’s eyebrows go up, and he shoots Will’s brother a look, seemingly oblivious of the fact they’re being watched. Jonathan clears his throat and says,
‘I was actually going to see the torture through. And then help Nancy in the basement. Please do get to work at some point, okay?’
He’s looking at Will, giving him a small smile, which he can’t help but read as a sort of signal. A nod, maybe, ‘I got you’. What’s there to get even, at this point? Nevertheless, Will rolls his eyes slightly and grins back. Turns back to Mike to the sound of Jon’s footsteps.
‘How’s sweeping?’
‘Uh, how’s sorting?’ Mike retorts.
‘So boring that I was about to snooze until Steve barged in.’
‘Same here.’
They pause for a moment, and Will lets his gaze drift around the now quiet room, taking it in. The station probably looks the same as on the day it was abandoned by the previous crew, just covered in a thick layer of dust. Will thinks of the Upside Down rooms and dust motes over everything, vines over walls and floors. For a split second, he has a sharp pang of fear that the view before his eyes is going to break down again and reveal the sickly blue beneath. Ever since the possession, he gets the feeling that whatever he’s looking at is a prop or a shiny wrapping paper, waiting to be torn in half.
To distract himself from following the thought any further, Will turns to Mike and looks at his profile. A bit like a pale bird, nice contrast against the darker shade of the furniture. Wheeler seems to be eyeing something out the window, then across the room, then says,
‘Lissemin.’
He has the same challenging smile, corners and tips of eyebrows up. At first, Will doesn’t get it, just like in the kitchen the other day. Then shifts on the couch and puts the box of papers aside, looks around and tries to guess what that word could be. And, surely enough, gives up quite fast because Mike really wants to tell him, he could as well be jumping up and down with anticipation.
‘Okay, and this should be…?’
‘Summer, it means summer,’ he blurts instantly, and Will repeats the word, thinking of a verdict.
‘Sounds… warm.’
Mike huffs. ‘Well, duh, but you’re onto something.’
Oh right, so it’s ping pong now.
‘Really?’ Will asks. ‘How so?’
‘Lisse means ‘warm’ or ‘hot’. Or no, I haven’t thought about ‘hot’ or ‘lukewarm’ yet.’
‘And min?’
‘Huh? Oh, like, part of the word? Yes, it also has a meaning, ‘a current’.’
‘So, summer is ‘a warm current’?’ Will smiles. He can feel the wind blow through the half-open window, a summery smell of earth and scorched pavement. ‘What about ‘winter’?’
‘Trokkimin,’ Mike is rolling his r’s, grinning from ear to ear. Ditches the broom and gets down on the floor, his back against the bookcase and knees drawn up.
‘Trokkimin. Trokki is cold? So what, ‘a cold current’?’ Will leans on the puts the chin on his hand. Mike nods and snorts.
‘Yeah, I’m very original with this one.’
‘Well, it’s nice. Sounds magical to me.’
There is a small moment of silence, which lets Will catch up with the thoughts for a bit. The situation feels weirdly familiar — déjà vu, a weirdly comforting twinge of nostalgia, as if he’s ten and this is a sleepover. It’s a game, but it’s not.
‘Yeah, I feel like Tolkien or something,’ Mike pops his knuckles, glances at Will and then away. Your turn.
‘But Tolkien had a degree and everything. Grammar and stuff.’
‘And I have a degree in nerd shit, so.’
‘Would never take that away from you,’ Will throws back and resists the urge to scratch the back of his head. Almost like he’s embarrassed by how easy it all is.
‘You cracked it fast,’ Mike says after a beat, cheekbones just slightly pink — it’s hard to say if it’s not just July sunburn. He has never tanned well. ‘Spotting the word pattern, I mean.’
Byers mulls this over for a second. It’s as if he’s been given a good grade. Is the praise coming from comparison?
‘Guess I’m a natural,’ he jokes, Mike gives him a fake scowl, and Will’s urge to do something with his hands gets very strong. If the kitchen conversation was short, this one’s getting longer, and there’s no Holly to get distracted by. ‘So, are you going to get deep into grammar? Make up consistent rules?’
‘I don’t know yet, maybe. Wanna have my own spells and passwords, so might as well go big on actual rules.’
‘What kind of passwords?’
‘Oh, you know. For a secret library. Or an ancient dungeon. Or some sort of gates, you can enter only if you know a password in Eolenese. I like that one.’
Will kind of wants to memorize the name of the language better. Since he cracked the other stuff so fast.
‘Any ideas?’
‘How about ‘friend’?’ Now, Mike’s mood has shifted in a way Will can’t fully understand. If he didn’t know him better, he’d say he’s a bit flustered. But Will did know him better — at least, he hopes — so, maybe he just wants him to keep up with the bit, which he does.
‘I’ve heard that somewhere already.’
Will scoffs a bit, but Mike’s expression is getting harder to read with each passing second. It’s like part of him is retreating further and further again, which Will doesn’t want to think about too much.
‘Yeah, well. I have a word for this, too. Clarden. Friend.’
‘Oh.’
For a second, Mike seems a tad more serious than strictly necessary for this conversation, and Will nods, feeling lost again. A more familiar footing with Mike nowadays.
‘Clarden kem — ‘my friend’.’
‘And ‘your’ friend?’ Will’s shoulders tense up, Mike’s smile is small and tight-lipped.
‘Clarden nem.’
There is a noise outside, voices — Hopper’s low grunt, Will’s mom’s slightly scandalized tone. If they are here, then —
‘That’s El,’ Mike leaps to his feet, turns to Will. ‘They’ve been setting up this training ground for her this week.’
Will knows. He’s been missing her a lot, since they have barely spoken this past week, and he wonders if she and Mike have been in touch, maybe radioing through a walkie.
‘She hasn’t barely talked to me in, like, three weeks or something,’ Mike says, a crease between his brows, then shakes his head. So much like a bird, the curls bristle a bit like feathers. And then he heads for the door, abandoning the broom and not glancing back, with the sense of urgency.
Will stands still. Here’s that embarrassment from earlier, swirling in his stomach and creeping up the neck. Why does it always have to feel so stupid?
As he follows Mike, a memory crosses his mind, a word.
Shangr, fire.