Work Text:
A/N:
Okay, I'll be honest with y'all. I was planning to post a longer wip that I had in the drafts tomorrow, but then I wrote this all last night while avoiding my responsibilities, so you get this instead.
Anyway... enjoy!!
Will was trying to ignore the pressure building in his head. It felt like a headache, only worse—maybe a migraine?
Everyone seemed happy for once. Exhausted but hopeful. They finally had a plan to defeat Vecna, a good plan, one that might actually work.
They were all at the WSQK. They’d just finished going over the details of the plan one last time, and now everyone was either sleeping, eating, or speaking quietly to each other. It seemed that no one wanted to disturb the unusually peaceful atmosphere. Will didn’t want to either, hence why he was keeping his headache to himself.
“Hey.”
Will turned his head as Dustin walked up and sat on the couch beside him, a can of Pringles held out invitingly. He shook it, the chips inside rattling against the tin, like Will was some kind of stray cat he was trying befriend.
Will rolled his eyes, already fighting back a smile.
“You hungry?”
“Not really,” Will said, though he stuck his hand inside and pulled out a Pringle anyway, “Thanks.”
“Sure, Man. You look like you could use the extra calories. You look like you could pass out any second.”
Will looked Dustin up and down. “You don’t look any better, Dustin.”
In Will’s opinion, Dustin actually looked a lot worse. He had visible injuries on his face and arms and large bags under his eyes that Will was pretty sure had been there since he’d come back from California.
“Yeah, well, I like to call it Apocalypse Chique.”
Will snorted. “And what does Suzie say about that?”
Dustin averted his eyes, laughing a little as he said, “Dude, we broke up, like, ages ago.”
“Oh.”
Will felt like an idiot. That made sense. Maintaining a long-distance relationship was hard enough without everything that Dustin had been through. Will hadn’t even really been thinking when he’d said it. It just felt like he and Dustin had barely talked since those couple months in between him coming back from camp and Will moving away, and back then, Suzie had been all Dustin could talk about.
That’d been so long ago now. What did it say about their friendship that they hadn’t really connected since then?
“I’m sorry,” Will said after an awkward pause.
“Don’t be. High school relationships rarely last anyway.”
“I, uh, didn’t mean about you and Suzie,” Will said, looking down at his shoes, “I meant about us. I should have reached out more. I know you’ve been going through a lot—we all have—but I should have been there for you more. I think I just got so caught up in everything else that I forgot to check in and make sure we were still good.”
Will felt something nudge his shoulder and looked up to see Dustin grinning at him. It wasn’t as wide and carefree as Will remembered, but it was still something.
“Hey, we are good, Man,” Dustin reassured, “I don’t share my snacks with just anyone, you know.”
Will chuckled.
“And I could have reached out too. So we both kind of suck.”
“Well, I guess if I have to be a crappy friend with a shitty wardrobe, at least I get to be one with you, right?”
This time, Dustin’s grin was brighter, almost like his old self. “Exactly.” Then, he held out the Pringles’ can again and said, “Here. Take another one.”
“What, are you rewarding me for good behavior?” Will joked as he took another chip.
“I’m trying to keep you from dying on us, Byers, which, if you didn’t know, is unacceptable. So maybe start taking better care of yourself, okay?”
“I will if you will,” Will shot back.
Dustin blanched a little before his expression eased and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
The two sat in comfortable silence on the couch.
Will wished he could start up another conversation with Dustin, maybe try and extract more information about what he’d been up to for the last two years, but his headache was growing worse, and he could barely stifle the pained groans behind his lips, let alone form full sentences.
It was definitely a migraine. Maybe he should move to one of the makeshift bedrooms and find a cot to lie down on.
Before he could move though, Will’s eyes drifted across the room, locking onto Mike who was standing in the corner, talking in a low voice with Nancy and Hopper. He looked angry about something, his jaw tense and his arms folded tightly over his chest as he argued back and forth with them. Nancy looked frustrated while Hopper just looked annoyed, like there was no place he’d like less to be at that moment. Will didn’t doubt that Mike was currently advocating to have a bigger role in their plan, probably one that put him in mortal danger in order to protect everyone else—the self-sacrificing idiot.
Eventually though, Nancy threw up her hands and walked away, leaving Hopper to exchange one last word with Mike before he disappeared, probably to get himself another cup of coffee.
Mike, now left alone and fuming, turned his glare on the room at large, accidentally locking eyes with Will. He startled, the anger momentarily sliding off of his face as his eyes widened in surprise. Will felt his own lips curve in amusement before Mike hastily turned away, walking over to a different part of the room, and throwing himself down into one of the chairs, his back to Will as he began to fiddle uselessly with a pocket knife sitting on the table next to him.
Will’s smile dropped. His chest ached to go to Mike, to talk to him, to find out what was going on inside his head. While they’d been good, close even, this last year and a half since he and Jonathan had moved into the Wheeler’s house, it still wasn’t how they used to be. When they were kids, they used to be best friends. Now, they still called each other best friends, but Will wasn’t sure if the title fit them as well as it used to.
They did everything best friends did. They laughed and they joked. They bumped shoulders. They rode their bikes around town and holed up in Mike’s basement reading comics and watching movies. They were, to an outside observer, very close.
But Will couldn’t deny that they used to be closer.
It seemed that ever since El had come into their lives, Mike’s affection for him had shifted, his attention split between Will, his best friend, and El, his first love. Will didn’t blame El for it. She was wonderful and she deserved love more than anyone he knew. But it didn’t change the fact that, when the two of them were in a room together, Mike always hesitated, his eyes flicking between the two of them like he didn’t know which direction to go in.
Will wanted to say he wished Mike would just pick a direction already, but that would be a lie. He already knew which direction Mike would choose, and it would only take him farther away from Will.
Suddenly, Will was hit by such a sharp and unexpected pain that a groan slipped past his lips without his permission.
Dustin’s hand was on his shoulder immediately. “Will? Are you okay? What is it?”
“N-Nothing. I’m fine—”
“Bullshit. You tell the goddamn truth right now, Will. Is it Vecna? The Mind Flayer?”
“I… my head. It hurts.” Will winced, doubling over and shoving his head into his hands, trying to block out the overhead lights which were starting to pierce into his retina like needles.
“Okay. Okay, um, GUYS!” Dustin shouted, “Guys, I think something’s wrong with Will!”
“No,” Will groaned, “No, m’okay.”
“Will?”
“Will, what’s wrong?”
“Talk to us, Will?”
Will was panting now, the pain getting worse and worse. It felt like someone was lobotomizing him without anesthetic. He cried out, his self-control fully leaving him as he dug his hands into his hair, clenching hard on the tangled strands.
Someone yanked his shoulder, trying to pull him up so that they could see his face.
Will gasped as the light hit his eyes again and he screwed his eyes shut, murmuring, “Please, no, it hurts. It hurts so much.”
There were a lot of voices all around him, but Will couldn’t discern one from the other, not until he heard someone say, “Will, it’s me. Please, open your eyes.”
Despite the agonizing pain he was in, Will’s eyes flew open immediately, locking onto Mike’s face just inches away from him. There were other people crowded around him. He was pretty sure Steve was the one gripping his shoulder, but Will only had eyes for Mike.
“Hey. Good,” Mike said, his voice soft—soft like it used to be, “Just tell us what’s wrong, Will. How can we help?”
“... Mike.”
“Yeah, it’s Mike. You’re okay, Will. You’re safe. Just tell me where it hurts.”
“No, Mike, you don’t… you need to go,” Will said urgently, between gasps.
Mike frowned. “I’m not going anywhere, Will. Just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s…” The thumping in his head. It wasn’t just his heartbeat he could hear. It was like someone was pounding on a door inside his mind, trying to break in.
“It’s…” Will felt like an idiot for not seeing the signs sooner, but he supposed that had been the plan—be subtle enough not to get caught until it was too late. And it was too late. The intruder had almost done it, almost invaded Will’s mind. He had seconds left, maybe, before his control slipped.
Will looked into Mike’s eyes with a mix of terror and dread. “It’s him. I can’t—I can’t hold him back for much longer.”
“What?” Mike gasped, looking shocked.
The others shifted around them nervously.
“Don’t trust anything I say. Tie me down, kill me if you have to.”
“Will, no, we’re not—”
“He’s coming. I’m sorry. I’m so sor—”
It was like being shoved off a cliff into a cold, pitch-black pool.
One moment, Will was in pain, breathing heavily, his whole body warm and pulsating with energy. The next moment, everything was gone. No pain. No breathing. No body.
Will was in a void, dark and endless. He tried to look down at his hands, but he couldn’t see them. He tried to feel his body with them, but he wasn’t sure they were even there to begin with. He certainly didn’t feel anything. And when he tried to scream for help, it was like there was no voicebox, no air particles for soundwaves to travel on.
He was nothing. He was nowhere.
Then, before the panic could completely set in, Will saw a small light, far away like a speck of dust but growing larger.
He moved towards it, if it could even be called moving, gliding forward with the power of his mind, with the desperate desire to escape the void.
The closer Will got, the more his senses returned to him. He still didn’t have a body, but he was seeing things, sort of like how he was able to see a demo’s eyes during an attack. He was present and absent at the same time, seeing but not experiencing.
For a moment, Will’s mind couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. It looked like the scene he’d just left. It looked like he was still in his body.
“Will? WILL!” Mike shouted, shaking his shoulders, “No, no, no, no, come on, Will, please! Snap out of it! You can fight him! I know you can!”
“Yeah, come on, Will!”
“You can do it, Man!”
“Hang in there, Buddy! Just stay strong!”
Will heard all of his friends shouting for him to stay strong, to fight, and he felt an immense shame wash over him, knowing their pleas were useless. He had already lost.
He was a prisoner of his own mind.
Will heard an eerie chuckle, and it took him a moment to realize that it was in his voice, the sound was coming from his body.
“Your friend is no longer in control, I’m afraid.”
Will felt the urge to shudder. That was his voice, but it wasn’t him speaking. It was Henry Creel.
Everyone reeled back, horrified.
“Don’t worry,” Henry cooed, “We can still have some fun, can’t we?”
Suddenly, Will’s hand shot out, wrapping around Mike’s throat. Will wanted to cry as he watched the hand squeeze. Mike struggled to pull the fingers off from around his neck, making horrible, wheezing sounds that tore Will apart.
“Mike!”
“Somebody stop him!”
Will’s other hand reached out, halting Steve’s bat before it could connect with his shoulder. Steve, who had been mid-attack, suddenly flew backwards, hitting the wall several feet away.
“Steve!”
Will’s hand let go of Mike, letting him slump to the ground with a choked out gasp. He stood, surveying the room and the collection of terrified faces.
“It would be satisfying to kill you all with his hands—poetic even—but I think I’d rather have you watch first as I use him, as I wear his body to reshape the world.” Suddenly, Will found himself looking down at his own hands as the voice said reverently, “He’s magnificent, you know—my little artist.”
Will felt sick. He didn’t think he’d ever forget this moment. It would surely haunt him for the rest of his life, however long that ended up being. But even if he lived another century, he wouldn’t be able to erase the memory of Henry using his voice, his body, calling him his, like Will was a tool made purely to carry out his desires.
“You sick bastard!” Mike shouted. His voice was still raw, but that didn’t stop him from screaming at the top of his lungs, paying no heed to the way his voice cracked and rubbed. “Let him go! LET HIM GO!”
Both Dustin and a newly re-emerged Hopper, had to hold Mike back as he tried to lunge at Will.
Henry didn’t seem bothered by this, probably knowing that, no matter how much Mike hated him, he couldn’t hurt him while he possessed Will’s body. He stepped closer to Mike, and Will’s vision tilted, giving him the impression that Henry was leering at Mike.
“Ooh, I knew you’d be angry, Michael. You were his favorite, you know,” Henry said in a sing-song voice, and Mike’s whole body spasmed, his face contorting in pain, “But this is unexpected. Who knew you were so… devoted.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Mike seethed, his voice low and his eyes so dark they almost looked black, “I don’t care what else happens. It’s going to be me. I’ll take your head off. I’ll rip you to shreds. I’ll cut you up into so many pieces they won’t be able to tell you apart from the dust floating in the Upside Down.”
“Empty, empty promises, Michael,” Henry tutted, “You know you can’t hurt me now, not unless you want to hurt him too.”
Mike lurched forward again, this time breaking free of Dustin’s hold. His arm reeled back, intending to punch Will in the face, but it halted halfway through its swing, his expression of rage faltering as his brain caught up with his body.
Henry laughed meanly, Mike having just proven his point.
Mike’s face fell into utter despair, his body slumping into Hopper’s side as Henry took a step back from the group.
Henry raised his hands, making a wide arc, the ceiling tearing apart at the motion with a deafening squeal of peeling metal until there was a large hole opening up into the night sky. Then, Will watched the ground disappear beneath his feet as he rose into the air and ascended.
After that, much of what he witnessed was a blur.
Henry took his body to the center of Hawkins. He encountered people—soldiers—and slaughtered them all with a thoughtless wave of his hands.
Then, he found himself floating above Town Hall, his hands outstretched and the town spread out before him. Then, he started to build.
Will wasn’t quite sure what he was building. All he knew was that the city was changing, shaping into something else beneath his fingers. He could hear the sound of buildings collapsing and rebuilding themselves, people screaming, sirens wailing.
Henry hadn’t just claimed his body. He was trying to claim the entire town.
Though Will had no body—no eyes, no tears—he cried. He wept internally for what he was doing, for what Henry was using him for.
He wished that he was dead. That would be a much kinder fate.
No, a voice purred, echoing all around him, and for the first time since his possession, Will felt something, like a whisper of air against his ears, You are mine, Will Byers. You don’t get to die until I say you do.
Will hoped his friends and family found him soon. He hoped Nancy loaded her shotgun and blew his brains out. Despite how strong Henry was in his own body, Will’s was still fragile. He would probably die from a fatal injury. He just hoped that someone was brave enough to take the shot.
What seemed like a lifetime later, Will found himself in the midst of a battle.
There were little fires everywhere and blood running through the streets. The bodies kept piling up—soldiers and innocents, monsters and men—but Will hadn’t seen any familiar faces yet. That was about the only thing keeping him tethered to his sanity.
“Will!” He heard the shout before his head turned to look at the culprit.
It was Mike.
Will wanted to scream. He shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t be. He was going to kill him. If Will had to watch as his own hands snapped Mike’s neck, he’d go out of his damn mind. There would be no recovery.
Mike didn’t seem to care though. He looked past the point of caring about anything. Will couldn’t remember ever seeing Mike look so undone. His clothes were ripped, his navy green cap long since abandoned, leaving his dark curls wild and in disarray. There was something wet and maroon blooming on his torso. Blood, Will realized belatedly. It was blood.
Mike was breathing heavily, his eyes wide as they flitted all over Will’s body, taking him in.
Will had no idea what he looked like right now, but he’d caught his reflection earlier and it’d terrified him. His eyes had been pure white and his face had been pulled into a menacing smile, blood coating much of his body, though none of it was his own.
Will didn’t want Mike to see him like this. He would never look at him the same way again. Not that it mattered, Will was going to die soon anyway.
Maybe Mike would do it. Maybe Mike had come here to kill him. Will thought it wouldn’t be so bad to die at Mike’s hands. He was sure he’d prefer it to anyone else. Although, he knew it would ruin Mike. The guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life, even if he knew it was what Will wanted.
Will’s eyes trailed down, catching on the gun in Mike’s hands. It was trembling, and Will could feel the way his mouth pulled into a smirk, amused, a little disbelieving.
Mike approached cautiously, like he was trying to practice restraint, but it was a losing battle. He still moved in fast, practically speed walking until he stopped just in front of Will, his whole body shaking with emotion.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Mike said softly, and Will knew he was talking to him—not Henry, but Will—like he knew Will was still in there, like he knew Will could hear him.
Before Henry could make a reply though, shots rang out in the street, a bullet just barely grazing Will’s arm. He cried out—or Henry did—his body curling inward from the sudden shock of pain.
Then, Mike was right next to him, grabbing him roughly by the other arm and yanking him behind a nearby building for shelter.
Henry winced as his back hit the wall, jarring the injury on Will’s arm. This was the first time he’d been hurt while inside Will’s body. Will didn’t know the last time he’d felt this mortal, but it probably wasn’t a good feeling.
“What? Are you going to protect me now, Michael?”
“Shut the hell up,” Mike snarled. A bullet ricocheted close to where they were hiding and Mike peaked his gun around the corner, firing off a couple of shots without looking at where he was shooting.
“You know, you could kill someone with that thing.”
Mike fired off another couple shots for cover before grabbing Will’s shirt and tugging him down the alley, away from the soldiers. “I said shut up.”
For some reason, Henry seemed content to follow Mike through the series of turns down streets and avenues, never making any move to pull out of his grip. Will was pretty sure Henry was getting a sick sense of amusement from all of this—from Mike protecting him even after all of the vitriol he’d spat about being the one to kill him.
It must be killing Mike to do it.
Will wondered why he was. It was clearly a mistake. He should have let Will die back there. He definitely shouldn’t be leading him away to safety. And yet he was.
Will watched his friend’s determined squint as he checked the path ahead of them, how he gripped his gun with one hand, clearly inexperienced but not afraid to use it.
Mike slipped out from between two buildings, pulling Will along with him. They were halfway across the street, heading towards the public library, when a pair of headlights cut off their path, a car swerving out of nowhere and skirting to a stop.
Mike immediately pulled Will behind him, his gun raised and ready to shoot.
“Mike, what the hell!” That was Dustin’s voice.
Mike tensed, his grip on Will tightening.
Four bodies piled out of the car—Dustin, Nancy, Steve, and Robin. They all looked gobsmacked by the sight of Mike standing there, trigger-happy and covered in sweat and blood, ready to fight them in order to protect the enemy.
It was a depressing sight.
Will didn’t know if he wanted to kill Mike or kiss him.
“Nancy, I think your brother went off the deep end,” Robin muttered before saying, a little louder, “Mike, buddy, I don’t think you’re thinking clearly. That’s not Will. That’s Henry.”
“So?” Mike spat, “It’s still Will’s body. He’s still in there. I know he is.”
“And if he isn’t,” Nancy said, her voice full of compassion.
Mike still flinched as if Nancy had shouted. He held the gun up between him and his sister, his expression manic. “Don’t—Just don’t, alright? I know I might look like a total psychopath right now, but I—I can’t let you hurt him. He’s my best friend. You can’t shoot him, Nance. You just can’t.”
Mike’s voice cracked at the end, and everyone’s faces broke open with clear grief.
“Mike,” Nancy said, “We might not have any other choice. He’s killed a lot of people. He’s going to kill more.”
Mike’s body shook. He looked back over his shoulder at Will, meeting his pale, unseeing eyes. He looked like he was about to cry, his lip trembling with the rest of him.
“You could,” Henry said, through Will’s voice, “He wants her to do it too.”
Mike’s face contorted into a pained grimace, his eyes screwing shut and one tear escaping down his cheek. He shook his head rapidly, like he was trying to banish the thought.
“No,” he rasped, turning to look back at Nancy and the others, “No, I can’t let you do that.”
“Mike—”
“I’d rather die!” Mike spat.
Dustin was openly crying now, his eyes trained on Mike and Will as thick tears rolled down his face. It killed Will to see. He’d been sitting on the couch sharing Pringles with Dustin only a couple of hours ago—now look at them.
Steve, on the other hand, just looked horrified.
Robin was staring at Mike like she’d never seen him before. He must have looked frightening to her, but Will didn’t see it that way.
Nancy looked like she understood though—devestated but understanding.
“Nancy, please,” Mike whispered.
“Okay,” she said finally, “Okay, we’ll find another way.”
Henry let out a loud and high cackle that caused everyone to whip around and look at him. Henry felt smug under the attention, his mouth pulling into a toothy grin.
“What a brilliant show. I think that deserves a treat. Hmm,” Henry purred, “What do you say? Any last words for your friends, William?”
Suddenly, Will felt himself being shoved. He gasped loudly as the world came screaming back into clarity. Instead of just watching everything on a 2D plane, he was back inside his body, the world around him falling apart. Will realized that the bullet wound on his arm really, really hurt.
He winced, stumbling forward into Mike’s awaiting arms.
Panting heavily, Will looked up and met the surprised gazes of his friends. His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to find the words, or any at all.
“Will?” Mike’s wrecked voice snagged his attention, bringing Will’s eyes back to his face. Mike’s face was split wide open, his expression warring between grief and hope.
Will’s fingers flexed instinctively on Mike’s biceps.
“Mi—AH!” Will collapsed to the ground as pain tore through his leg like fire, the echoes of a single gunshot fading into the night.
Will felt himself being slammed into the void again as Henry took over his body once more. He watched as his head turned, locking onto the glint of a sniper’s rifle sitting of one of the rooftops nearby.
Henry lifted his hand and twisted, and Will knew the gunman was dead, just another in the long line of casualties at his hands.
This was the first person his friends had seen him kill with their own eyes though. When Henry turned back to look at them, Will was scared by what he’d find.
They didn’t disappoint. They all look horrified. Even Mike, who had found reason to defend him up until now, was looking at him like he’d just destroyed something precious, like he’d reached into his chest and ripped out his heart.
Henry reached up, wiping the blood from under Will’s nose and licking the excess blood off his lips.
Nancy reached for her gun.
Just as she clicked off the safety though, Mike was there, pushing her arms down and away from Will.
The gun went off, the bullet pinging off a nearby lamp post.
“Mike!” Nancy cried in outrage.
Steve grabbed Mike by the shoulders, trying to pull him off of Nancy. “Mike, buddy, you gotta let go!”
“Fuck! Get off me!” Mike said, kicking and screaming as Steve tore him off his sister.
Their voices were getting smaller though as Will’s body rose into the air soaring farther and farther away from them.
“He’s getting away!” Robin cried, “What do we do? What do we do?”
Nancy fired off a couple of more shots, this time unencumbered, but they missed—the target disappearing from sight.
Sometime later, Will found himself standing in front of El.
She looked angry. Words were exchanged between her and Henry, then, suddenly, her hand shot out towards him and Will felt pain shoot through him. His body fell to the ground, writhing uncontrollably. There was an agonizingly long moment where he felt like he was being ripped in half.
Then, Will’s vision blacked out, and he lost consciousness.
The next time Will felt any coherency again, he was standing in a field. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there or what he was doing.
It didn’t quite feel like the real world. It felt more like a dream, but when he looked down, he had a body and hands. He felt in control as he raised a hand up, touching his face.
Suddenly, he heard what sounded like a female’s voice calling out to him.
“Will, can you hear me?”
Will whirled around but he didn’t see anyone, just rows and rows of rolling yellow hills—wheat fields—and a dark, starry sky.
“Will, you have to concentrate! Walk towards the sound of my voice!”
Will did as he was told, stumbling over uneven ground as he tried to get to the voice that sounded so familiar, so safe. He knew that if he could just find her then everything would be okay.
“That’s it, Will! Keep going! Just follow the sound of my voice.”
The voice was getting louder now. Then, suddenly, something flickered in front of Will—a vision or a face.
Will gasped. “El! El, is that you?”
“Yes!” El said, “Yes, it’s me, Will! Can you see me?”
“I can! El—”
Before he could say anything else though, the vision spluttered out, El disappearing, leaving Will alone and breathing heavily in an empty field.
“Shit,” Will breathed, looking around him, “El? El, where are you?”
Will scoured the surrounding area, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign that El was back, but eventually, he gave up, sitting down in the dirt, staring at the bright moon above.
Will sat there for what felt like hours, waiting, just waiting.
Finally, Will couldn’t take it anymore. He stood, pacing back and forth, cutting through the short stalks of wheat.
Where was he? He didn’t remember any place in the real world that looked like this. It was possible he’d seen something like it before and simply forgotten, but the same thought came to him as before.
This didn’t feel like a real place. It felt like a dream. Actually, it felt more like a painting—a thin image drawn on over something else.
What if he was trapped inside his mind? What if he was stuck and El had been trying to guide him back into his body?
It was the best theory Will had at the moment so he decided to run with it. He thought about what he knew about El’s powers, how she moved through people’s minds through their memories. Maybe he just had to find a memory. Maybe he just had to remember who he was.
Will closed his eyes and concentrated.
Who was he?
He was Will Byers. He had a mom and an older brother and he guessed he had a sister now too.
He had three best friends, but Mike was his favorite.
Mike was amazing. No one had ever understood him better or done more for him than Mike. Even when Will was mad at him, he couldn’t help but love him. Will was pretty sure Mike was the love of his life. It would suck if he never got to see him again.
Suddenly, he heard the sounds of children giggling.
Will’s eyes snapped open and he saw that he was no longer in the dark field. Instead, he was in a basement, sunlight streaming in through the high window as two little boys came racing down the stairs, throwing themselves onto the nearby couch.
“I win! I win!” the boy with dark, curly hair crowed, taking a seat on top of the couch’s armrest, his feet perched on the couch cushion.
Next to him, seated on said cushion, the other boy laughed. “No, you didn’t! I’m way faster than you!”
“Nu uh!”
“Yes, I am!”
“I think it was a tie.”
The boy leaned forward, shoving his friend in the chest with a wide grin, “Come on, Mike.”
“I’m serious, Will! I think it was a tie!”
The boy shook his head. “You’re so stupid.”
“Say it was a tie. Come on, Will. If it was a tie, then we both win!”
“Alright. It was a tie.”
The two boys shared a smile, and Will felt his heart melt. Life had seemed so much easier when they were younger. They’d been invincible then—happy and free.
A part of Will wished he could stay here forever. He watched as the younger versions of him and Mike moved to a different part of the room, pulling out a game board and giggling between themselves as they set up the board.
Maybe he could just stay here, reliving these memories until his body finally gave out. It seemed like a better fate than facing whatever waited for him in the real world.
Here, in his memories, Will was still innocent. If he went back out there and rejoined his family and friends, he didn’t know if they would forgive him for everything he’d done, if they would still love him.
The next time Will heard El’s voice, he shied away from it, drifting away into a different memory to escape her.
Him and Jonathan at the ice cream shop.
Him and Dustin geeking out over new AV Club equipment.
Beating a difficult level at the arcade.
Apple picking with his mom.
Drawing in the park.
Mike’s voice, calling out his name.
Wait. That wasn’t a new memory. Will was still in the park, sitting in the grass, watching his younger self draw in peaceful silence while his mom stood just a ways away, talking with another mom.
Mike wasn’t a part of this memory, and yet, that was definitely his voice.
“Will.”
Will turned his head, surprised to find that, unlike with El, Mike wasn’t just a hazy vision, cutting through the fog. He was there—like standing there, right in the middle of the park, looking at Will with wide eyes.
“Mike?” Will said with a confused frown. He pushed himself up to his feet, brushing his hands on his pants as he said, “What are you—oof!”
Mike went barrelling straight into him, sweeping Will up into a bone-crushing hug.
“Oh my god,” Mike said shakily, “Oh my god, Will. It’s you.”
He sounded choked up, his face burrowing into the side of Will’s neck.
Will hugged him back tentatively. “Are you… real?”
Mike pulled back, his hands curling around his shoulders, his dark eyes shining as he nodded feverishly. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. It’s a little hard to explain, but I’m kind of piggybacking off El’s mind right now? But—that’s not important. Will, I found you! I can help you get back! We just have to—”
Will stepped back out of Mike’s grip.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Mike,” Will said quietly, “I… I don’t think I can go back.”
“It’s okay. I’ll help you. El said if we—”
“No,” Will said, firmer this time, “I mean, I don’t think I… want to go back.”
Mike’s face dropped. “What?”
Will took another step back, tears beginning to collect in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t face them. I can’t face what I did, what he made me do.”
“Hey, no, that wasn’t you, Will. Okay? None of that was your fault.”
“But the memories are mine,” Will whispered, “I was there, Mike—the whole time. I saw everything I did. And it wasn’t through a demogorgon’s eyes or through Henry’s. They were mine. They were my hands. It doesn’t matter how much I tell myself it wasn’t me. Every time I close my eyes, I see myself killing dozens of people. I see myself destroying Hawkins. I see the others looking at me like they’re terrified of me. I see you looking at me like that too.”
“No,” Mike said emphatically, “No, Will, never. I’m not afraid of you, okay? It doesn’t matter what you do.”
“But what if your life is better without me in it?”
Mike surged forward, cupping Will’s face with strong hands. “My life is better because of you,” he said fiercely, “Do you understand? You’re so amazing, Will. And you’re the best friend I could ever ask for. You laugh at my jokes, even the ones no one else finds funny. You pull my head out of my ass whenever I’m being an idiot. You make me happy. So happy. And sometimes… sometimes I feel like we’re soulmates,” he breathed, “Like I’m never going to find anyone else who gets me like you do.”
Will sucked in a sharp breath.
“Mike,” he said softly, his hands twitching at his sides, “Do you even know what you’re saying right now?”
Mike’s face twisted in frustration. “I’m saying I love you, Will! I love you and you—you just want to leave me?”
Will’s heart broke.
“It’s like you don’t even need me,” Mike whispered.
“Mike,” Will said softly. He reached up, cupping the hands that were still cradling his face. “I more than need you; I want you. I always want you.”
Mike’s eyes widen, his mouth dropping open into a perfect little ‘o’. He looked so adorably confused, like Will had said something he’d never even considered before.
Finally, he managed a quiet, “What?”
Will smiled. “I want you around. I want you in my life. Even when you make me mad or sad, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. I love you too. I always have.”
“You…” Mike’s brow furrowed, “You want me?”
“Come on, Mike,” Will said exasperatedly, when Mike’s earnest expression did fade, however, he sobered and said, “Of course I do. It’s you.”
Mike looked like he’d just been punched in the gut. His eyes flicked down to Will’s lips, then up, then down again.
Will’s mouth pulled into a smile, and Mike’s eyes snapped back up to his eyes, permanently this time. His eyes widened even more, like he was trying to play innocent. God, he was such a dork.
“Hey,” Will said softly.
“Hey,” Mike breathed.
“Do you want to go home now?”
Mike nodded immediately. “Yes. Yeah. Let’s do that.”
He pulled back from Will, his hands dropping from his face, but before Will could fully mourn the loss, Mike’s hand was slipping into his own, tugging him along.
“There’s a path over here. This is the way I came. I think if we go back that way, I can pull us out,” Mike explained as they walked, casting quick glances back over his shoulder at Will, like he was making sure he was still there, as if he wasn’t still holding Will’s hand in a vice-like grip.
As they continued to walk, Will’s body became heavier and heavier, like he was walking through a thick fog. His senses started to blur, everything becoming fuzzy except for the feeling of Mike’s hand in his own.
Finally, Will’s vision went completely dark.
Then, he blinked, and he was somewhere else entirely. He was back in the WSQK, laying on the couch.
El’s face stared back at him, grinning widely.
“You’re back!” She exclaimed.
Will chuckled as she threw her arms around him. He raised one arm up, wrapping it around her, feeling something keeping his other hand held down.
When El finally pulled back, Will looked over, finding the familiar face of Mike Wheeler staring at him. Will looked down, seeing the way their hands were still intertwined. He looked up at Mike and smiled.
Mike smiled too, a warmth in his eyes, so fond and affectionate it nearly set Will on fire.
Then, Mike squeezed his hand, deliberate and sure, a message that said, ‘I’m not going anywhere’.
Will didn’t know what came next, if there was still a fight to be won or if everything was finally over now. He was still afraid of how the others would react when they saw him again. He still felt a little jagged around the edges, the remnants of anxiety and exhaustion clinging to him like old dirt.
But when he looked at Mike, Will was sure of one thing.
There was at least one person in the world who loved him unconditionally, one person that would never leave, their intertwined hands proof of that. They were Mike and Will, a boxed set, do not separate.
Will smirked.
After the last day they’d had? Yeah. He didn’t think the universe would be trying that again.