Chapter Text
Hawkins, Indiana. It’s July, 1989. Summer break is almost over, and the party is gathered in the Wheeler basement, just like so many times before.
The past twenty months have been rough on everyone. After the events at the MAC-Z, they’ve had to rebuild their lives slowly, piece by piece. The world is quieter now that the danger is gone.
But as they try to return to something resembling normal, they’re forced to realize that some things have already changed too much to ever go back to how they were before.
This is true for the two boys sitting across from each other at the D&D table as well.
This summer, things happened that cannot be undone. Words were said that cannot be taken back. The bond that has held them together since the day they met in kindergarten is being tested in a way that could either tear it apart completely… or turn it into something even stronger.
The problem is, one of them might not be ready to face that just yet.
And he doesn’t know that tonight will be the last night of the life he’s always known.
The dice tumble across the table.
The sound of it clattering across the table cuts through the quiet of the basement. It bounces over the map, until it comes to rest near the edge of the board.
Everyone leans forward automatically, their eyes drawn to the small piece of plastic like it holds the fate of the entire campaign. And, in a way, it does.
Mike glances down at the number and slowly leans back in his chair, letting out a sigh.
“Well,” he says, spreading his hands slightly as he looks at the battlefield laid out between them. “That’s it.”
Lucas frowns immediately. “What do you mean, that’s it?”
Mike gestures toward the map, his grin already starting to appear. “You fail the mission.”
For half a second the basement is silent.
Then Dustin lunges for the nearest rulebook. “No way. Hold on. There’s gotta be something left to do.” He flips through the pages frantically, so fast, he can’t possibly be reading anything. “There’s always something, maybe a reroll, or…”
Lucas is also reaching for another book beside him, leaning over the table as he starts scanning through the index. “Yeah, wait. There’s that rule about critical recovery, remember?”
Across from them, Max groans loudly and throws her arms up in the air.
“This is such bullshit, Mike.”
Mike just grins wider, resting his elbows on the table as he watches the chaos in front of him unfold.
Max points accusingly at the board. “You made that impossible on purpose.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
While Lucas and Dustin bury themselves deeper in the rulebooks, muttering and arguing over page numbers, Max keeps complaining loudly about how Mike is a terrible Dungeon Master. Mike lets them go on, clearly entertained by the whole thing. Watching them scramble for a loophole has always been half the fun.
But across the table, one person isn’t searching for a way out anymore.
Will has already leaned back in his chair, his arms folded loosely in front of his chest. His eyes linger on the board.
There’s something resigned in the way he looks at it. Not angry like Max, not determined like Dustin and Lucas. He seems to have simply accepted their fate.
After a moment his gaze lifts.
When his eyes meet Mike’s across the table, something in Mike’s chest tightens before he even realizes what’s happening.
For a second neither of them looks away.
Then Mike is the one to drop his gaze first, reaching for the dice again just to give his hands something to do. He focuses on the numbers on it instead, turning it between his fingers while the noise around the table continues.
Dustin eventually snaps the rulebook shut.
“I got it,” he announces, and it makes the others shut up instantly.
Everyone looks at him, expectantly. Even Will looks interested now.
“…Actually, I don’t.” Dustin adds, a frustrated sigh following suit.
Lucas drops his own book onto the table with a dull thud. Max groans again.
“This is the worst campaign ever.”
Mike lets the moment stretch just a little longer before finally sitting up straighter in his chair.
“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up a hand.
The others immediately look at him. He’s got their undivided attention again.
Mike shrugs casually. “You guys get a second chance in the next campaign.”
For a moment the words don’t seem to register, as if they think they must've misheard.
Then Dustin’s eyes light up. “Wait, seriously?”
“Same characters?” Lucas asks quickly, already leaning forward again.
Mike nods. “Same characters.”
The reaction is immediate. Dustin reaches for the miniatures again, already talking excitedly about how they could approach the mission differently next time. Lucas starts suggesting strategies before the next campaign has even begun, and Max pumps a fist in the air like she personally defeated the villain.
The basement fills with noise again, the disappointment of the failed mission dissolves instantly.
Only one person doesn’t join in.
Will is still leaning back in his chair.
But now he isn’t looking at the board anymore.
He’s still looking at Mike.
And Mike looks away just as quickly as before.
Around them, the conversation slowly drifts somewhere else. No one seems in a hurry to leave yet. It isn’t that late yet, since the campaign ended much faster than everyone expected.
Eventually they linger on one specific topic: college.
There are only two weeks left before everything starts to change for real, for all of them.
Dustin will be the first one to leave, heading out early for preparatory courses at MIT. He talks about it the way he talks about everything he’s excited about - fast and loud and with far too many details.
The others will follow not long after. Lucas is currently talking about training schedules at Indiana University, explaining for the hundredth time how the athletics program works. Max rolls her eyes and reminds everyone she’s only going because the film department there is “actually decent.”
It feels strange hearing it all said out loud. For so long their future has been something abstract. After everything they’d been through over the years, it sometimes felt impossible they would ever get to this point at all.
Now it’s suddenly close enough that everyone can almost touch it.
Max groans as Lucas starts talking about the apartment they’ll be sharing near campus.
“I’m telling you right now,” she says, pointing a warning finger at him, “I am not helping decorate that place. If you want posters or plants or whatever, that’s your problem.”
Lucas rolls his eyes. “You’re the one who said you wanted it to look nice.”
“I said I wanted it to not look like a garbage dump,” Max shoots back.
Dustin laughs, shaking his head as the argument continues. Mike watches them for a moment.
Then Lucas looks across the table, his eyes drifting between Mike and Will.
“I’ve been wondering… why aren’t you two sharing a place?”
The question lands so casually that for a second Mike doesn’t even realize it’s meant for them.
Lucas gestures between them. “I mean, you’re both gonna be in New York anyway, right? Columbia and NYU aren’t that far apart.”
The room goes quiet for a moment.
Mike glances up, and finds that Will is once again looking at him already. Mike can almost see the thought forming behind Will’s expression.
Before Will can open his mouth, Mike speaks, the words coming a little too fast though.
“I’m gonna stay in a dorm,” he says quickly. “It’s just easier. You know, being close to campus and everything.”
He shrugs, trying to sound casual.
“And college is supposed to be about meeting new people and stuff.”
The words hang in the air for a second.
Mike can’t help but look at Will again, and the change in his expression is almost immediate. It’s only a small flicker, but it’s enough. Something inside Will’s eyes dims slightly, as if someone has turn down a light.
Will nods once.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It makes sense, I guess.”
The conversation moves on after that, Dustin jumping in with another story about MIT and Lucas making some joke about how Max will have to teach him how to cook.. Soon everyone is talking again, the noise filling the basement like nothing happened at all.
But Mike can’t quite shake the image of that brief look on Will’s face.
Eventually the conversation begins to thin out.
It happens gradually, and then Dustin is the first to stand up, stretching his arms over his head and announcing that he needs to get his beauty rest. Lucas and Max follow not long after, still half arguing about furniture and whether posters count as decoration.
One by one they start gathering their things. They pull on their jackets and the familiar routine of goodnights echoes through the basement.
Mike stays where he is, stacking a few of the loose papers from the campaign together while the others head upstairs. Their voices drift down for a moment longer, muffled by distance and the creak of the stairs.
The basement door upstairs opens, then closes.
Mike isn’t alone, though, Will is still there.
At first Mike thinks he’s just grabbing something he forgot, but Will doesn’t move toward the stairs. Instead he lingers near the bookshelf by the wall, pulling one of the rulebooks out and sliding it back into place again. Then he adjusts another one, straightening it slightly even though it already looks perfectly aligned.
Mike watches him for a moment. The books obviously don’t need rearranging, it’s just Will’s way to give his hands something to do. To have a reason to stay a little longer.
Mike leans back slightly in his chair, the quiet stretching between them.
After a few moments, Will finally stops moving and turns slowly back to Mike.
The expression on his face is hard to read. Not angry exactly, but not calm either. There’s something careful in the way he looks at Mike now that the others are gone.
For a moment neither of them says anything. The basement suddenly feels smaller than it did before.
Will is the one who eventually breaks the silence.
“We’re leaving soon.”
His voice is controlled, but there’s an edge to it that makes Mike nervous.
“I know,” he answers, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He tries to keep his tone light, casual, like this is just another normal conversation between them. “We were just talking about it.”
Will doesn’t move from where he’s standing near the shelf.
“There are a few things we should probably talk about before we leave.”
Something about the way he says it makes Mike’s stomach tighten, but he forces himself to shrug it off.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore. We can still talk when we’re at college.”
He gestures vaguely toward the ceiling, like New York is just above them on the first floor.
“We’re gonna be in the same city anyway. We’ll see each other around probably.”
Will blinks at him a few times, then repeats Mike’s words slowly, disbelief creeping into his voice.
“We’ll see each other around… probably?”
Mike shrugs again.
“I mean, yeah. We’re both gonna be busy. We’ll have classes, assignments, everything else.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “Meeting new people.”
Will nods once.
“Right,” he says quietly. “Meeting new people.”
Something about the way he says it makes Mike frown.
“I don’t get why you’re acting like this.”
Will lets out a short, humorless scoff.
“Of course you don’t.”
Mike straightens a little in his chair.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Will shakes his head, looking at the floor for a moment before his gaze snaps back up.
“Because you’ve always been really good at pretending.”
Now Mike feels the irritation flare up in his chest.
“Okay, you know what?” he says, standing upright and pushing his chair back so hard, it almost tips over. “If something’s bothering you, just say it.”
Will studies him for a moment, like he’s weighing something. His following words come out calmer, but not less firm.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Mike immediately shakes his head.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Yes, you have.”
“I have not.”
Will takes a step forward now, the distance between them shrinking, and it only adds to the uneasiness that’s spreading through Mike’s chest.
“Ever since that night at Lucas’s place,” he says, his voice tightening slightly. “You’ve been acting like I don’t even exist.”
Mike opens his mouth to argue again, but Will keeps going.
“I tried to talk to you about it more than once,” he says. “And every single time you just shut me down.”
Mike feels something twist in his chest.
He tries not to let the thoughts come.
But they come anyway.
The warmth of summer lingers in the air, even though the sun has set hours ago.
They’re lying in the Sinclairs’ backyard, stretched out on the lawn after everyone else has already gone inside. The world feels softer than usual, blurred at the edges in that pleasant way that comes from a couple stolen beers.
Above them the sky is wide and endless, scattered with more stars than Mike remembers ever seeing in Hawkins.
Will is talking about something, Mike can’t even remember what now, his voice is slower than usual, the words drifting lazily between them as they stare up at the constellations.
At some point Mike turns his head. And Will does too, as if there’s a magnetic pull between them.
Their faces are suddenly much closer than Mike realized. For a moment neither of them moves.
Then they both do, slowly, without haste. Almost carefully.
Their faces drift closer together…
Mike blinks and the memory disappears just as quickly as it came. The basement comes back into focus around him. He looks back up at Will, who’s still standing a few steps away.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mike finally manages to say.
Will exhales slowly through his nose.
“Yes, there is.”
Mike shakes his head immediately. “No. There isn’t.”
But Will doesn’t back down. If anything, he looks even more certain now. Almost like the conversation Mike actually has been avoiding for weeks has finally reached the point where it can’t be ignored any longer.
“It happened,” Will says. “We should at least-”
“It was one stupid thing,” Mike interrupts him fast before Will can finish the sentence.
The words come out sharper than he intended.
“We were a little drunk and it got weird for a second. That’s all it was,” he says and tries to make it sound smaller than it felt in his own memory. “We should just forget it.”
For a moment the room goes completely still.
Mike sees the way the words land on Will’s face. The flash of hurt behind his eyes is unmistakable, but Will seems to swallow it down just as fast as it came. He pulls himself together before it can show too much.
“It wasn’t just that one evening,” Will insists quietly.
Mike doesn’t respond. He swallows and as Will takes another step toward him, Mike takes one backwards.
“And you know that. It was more than that,” Will continues, his voice steadier now even though there’s something fragile underneath it. “It was everything that happened before.”
Mike hates how the words seem to hang in the air between them. They feel too true.
Because he knows he can’t pretend things haven’t changed. Not after this summer, not after the way every conversation since then has felt slightly off-balance, like they’re both carefully stepping around something neither of them is allowed to name.
He hates this. He hates being put in the spotlight like this. He hates the feeling of being pinned down, of having Will look at him like he’s waiting for an answer Mike doesn’t know how to give.
And when Mike feels cornered, his body reacts before his mind can catch up.
The frustration snaps through him all at once.
“Maybe I’m just not ready for that, okay?” he shoots back.
The words come out far too loud and way too harsh.
“Maybe I’m still trying to figure it out. And you pushing me like this isn’t exactly helping.”
For a moment Will looks genuinely surprised. The frustration drains from his expression slightly, being replaced by something closer to disbelief.
“This isn’t about you needing time to figure things out,” he says after a moment, his voice calm again.
Mike frowns. “What?”
“It’s about you being afraid to actually say what you feel.”
Mike opens his mouth to protest, but Will keeps going.
“You’ve always been like this,” he says, quieter now but no less firm. “You keep everything locked up, waiting for someone to drag it out of you.”
Mike feels his irritation spike again. He’s so close to losing it completely. His hands clench and unclench at his sides.
“That’s not true.”
Will shakes his head.
“It is. It was the same thing with El.”
The name hits Mike like a spark to dry tinder.
“Leave her out of this,” he snaps immediately.
But Will ignores him.
“You did the exact same thing with her,” he says. “You avoided talking about what you felt until everything blew up, and you still don’t see it.”
Mike lets out a sharp laugh that doesn’t sound amused at all.
“Oh, so now you’re an expert on my relationships?”
“I’m saying you keep repeating the same mistakes,” Will replies simply. “And you don’t even realize it.”
Mike crosses his arms, knowing damn well how defensive it makes him look.
“Right.”
Will’s shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining out of him for a moment.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” he says, his eyes dropping to the floor.
Mike’s stubbornness kicks in immediately, and the words tumble out of him before he can reconsider them.
“Well maybe you should just stop then,” he says. “If it’s so annoying for you.”
Will looks at him like he’s trying to understand whether Mike actually means that.
“Do you really not care about this?” he asks him. His voice is softer now, but somehow that makes the question feel heavier. “About the fact that maybe someday it’ll be too late to have this conversation?”
Mike forces himself not to hesitate.
“No,” he says.
Will nods, but it’s not because he’s agreeing. It looks more like he’s already coming to terms with something.
“You’re just pretending this isn’t happening,” he says. “You think if you ignore it long enough it’ll disappear someday. But that’s not how this works.”
Mike throws his hands up slightly.
“What do you want me to say, Will?”
The question echoes in the quiet basement.
Will looks at him for a long moment, before he eventually answers.
“Something honest,” he says. “For once.”
Mike knows this is the moment where he’s supposed to say something.
Anything.
The truth, maybe. Or an honest apology at least. Even just an admission that he doesn’t know what he’s feeling.
But the words stay stuck somewhere deep in his chest, tangled up with fear and confusion and the stubborn instinct to protect himself from saying the wrong thing.
So he doesn’t say anything at all.
“Okay,” Will says with a finality in his voice that sends a shiver down Mike’s spine.
He turns toward the stairs. Mike can’t do anything but watch him.
When Will reaches the bottom step, he pauses for a moment and looks back over his shoulder one last time.
“You can’t keep pretending we’ll always have time to figure this out,” he says, and there’s an exhaustion in his voice Mike has never heard from him.
“Because we won’t.”
For a second it seems like he might say something else, but then he just climbs the rest of the stairs and a moment later the basement door falls shut with a soft click.
Mike stays where he is, staring at the empty space the conversation left behind.
The basement feels strangely quiet now, the kind of silence that settles in after a storm. The board is still spread across the table in front of him, the miniatures frozen in place exactly where the campaign ended. The villain stands untouched in the center of the map, surrounded by the fallen party.
Mike lets himself sink back into the chair and stares at it.
The conversation replays in his mind, even as he tries his hardest to stop it.
But he hears every word. He sees every tiny expression on Will’s face. He recognizes the exact moment where he could’ve said something, and didn’t.
Mike drags a hand through his hair and exhales slowly.
Yeah. Maybe he was kind of a jerk. He’s willing to admit that. But it’s all just… too much right now.
Everything feels like it’s happening at once. In two weeks he’ll be in New York, starting college, figuring out how to live in a city ten times the size of Hawkins. There’s an entirely new life waiting for him on the other side of summer.
His future.
The last thing Mike wants right now is to make some huge decision he might regret later.
He looks down at the board again.
In D&D, when things go wrong, there’s always another campaign. They always have another chance to approach the mission differently and to maybe make better choices next time.
Real life should work the same way.
They’ll figure it out eventually, he tells himself.
Will just needs time. That’s all. They both do.
Despite everything Will said, Mike still doesn’t understand what the rush is supposed to be.
They’ll see each other again.
They’ll both be living in the same city, after all.
Eventually, they’ll talk about it.
Mike doesn’t remember falling asleep. One moment he’d been staring up at the dark ceiling, and the next he’s drifting somewhere between dreams and half-formed thoughts.
The sleep that eventually takes him isn’t restful.
Fragments of the evening keep surfacing in his mind. His own words repeat themselves in circles until they blur together.
When Mike finally wakes up, it’s the middle of the night.
For a moment he lies still, staring into the darkness, unsure what exactly pulled him out of sleep. Something feels… off. And he can’t explain what exactly it is.
Mike pushes himself upright and reaches for the lamp on his bedside table to flick the light on.
Mike nearly falls out of the bed when he finds someone standing in his room.
“Jesus!”
His heart slams violently against his ribs as he scrambles backward on the mattress, his back pressing against the headboard. Slowly his eyes adjust enough to the dim light and he recognizes the person standing just a few feet away.
It’s Will.
Mike blinks rapidly, trying to process how that could possibly make sense.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands, his voice still thick with sleep and confusion. “How did you even…”
But he doesn’t finish the sentence, because he suddenly notices that something is off. Will looks different.
It’s subtle enough that Mike can’t name what it is right away. It’s just small details that don’t quite line up with the image of Will he has in his head.
The clothes, for one. Mike doesn’t recognize them at all. Of course he doesn’t have all of Will’s wardrobe memorized, because that would be weird. But they’re darker than what Will likes to wear.
His hair is different too. Still Will’s hair, the same color and structure, but it’s styled differently, pulled back from his face instead of falling forward the way it usually does.
None of it is dramatic enough to immediately explain why the sight of him feels so strange. But it definitely does.
Will tilts his head slightly, watching Mike like he’s been waiting for this exact reaction.
“Took you long enough,” he says.
Mike just stares at him.
“What?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” Will continues calmly. “You’ve been snoring.”
Mike frowns immediately.
“I do not snore.”
Will raises his eyebrows in a way that suggests he absolutely does.
Mike ignores that and as the tension in his shoulders eases a little, he wants to know what the hell is going on.
“Okay, seriously, what is this?” he says, louder now. “Lucas? Dustin? You can come out now. Joke’s over.”
He glances around the room expectantly, waiting for someone to jump out from behind the closet or the door. But nothing happens.
The house stays completely silent.
Mike looks back at Will.
He is still standing in the exact same place, studying him with an expression that’s somewhere between amused and mildly impatient.
After a moment he sighs.
“So you think you’re ready now?” he asks.
Mike blinks, startled.
“For… what?”
“You’ll see.” Will says simply, as if it doesn’t require any further explanation.
Mike just stares at him.
Something about the tone is off. Will sounds sharper than usual, more confident somehow, like he knows something Mike doesn’t. There’s also a trace of sass in the way he says it that Mike has definitely never heard from him before.
Mike stares at him for another long moment. Then he exhales and rubs his face with both hands.
“Okay,” he mutters to himself. “Great. I really need to stop watching all those weird sci-fi movies.”
Will just watches him.
Mike shakes his head, turning away from him.
“This is definitely a dream,” he mumbles. “That’s the only explanation.”
He lets his body fall backward - and the bed disappears.
For one horrifying second there is nothing underneath him.
Mike drops and a startled scream tears out of his throat as the room vanishes and the ground simply isn’t there anymore. His stomach lurches violently as he falls through empty darkness, the sensation so real that his mind can’t even process what’s happening.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stops. He lands back on the bed - hard.
The mattress slams into his back, but Mike bolts upright immediately, his heart racing wildly as he scrambles around on the bed.
The room is back, looking the same as it always has. Everything is exactly where it should be.
Across the room, Will is still standing there. He looks almost bored now.
“Are you done now?” he asks.
Mike just stares at him, breathing too fast.
“What the hell!”
He presses both hands down against the mattress, testing it like it might vanish again if he moves too quickly. But nothing happens.
He lifts one hand and touches his own face next, dragging his palm across his cheek like he’s checking that he’s still real too.
None of this makes any sense.
“What’s going on?” he asks Will, his mind trying to make sense of whatever is going on.
Will sighs, crossing his arms.
“I don’t have all night.”
Mike blinks at him.
“For what?”
Will tilts his head slightly, that same knowing expression returning to his face.
“You should get out of bed,” is all he says. Mike looks at Will, absolutely certain he must’ve misunderstood him.
“What?”
Will gestures impatiently toward the floor.
“Out. Of. Bed.”
Mike hesitates, glancing down at the mattress, scared to trigger whatever it was that happened before.
But then he swings his legs over the side and carefully stands up, his balance still a little shaky from the shock of the fall. The room tilts slightly for a moment before settling again.
Mike looks at Will expectantly.
Will simply nods toward the closed bedroom door.
“After you.”
Mike stares at him.
“You want me to…?”
“Yes.”
Reluctantly, Mike walks toward the door. He can’t believe this is happening. But there’s also the faintest pull of curiosity inside of him, urging him forward. Behind him he hears Will following at a slow, unhurried pace.
Mike reaches the door handle and pauses for a second before he pulls it open.
He immediately stumbles backward.
Instead of the dim hallway of his house, the doorway opens onto the staircase leading down to the basement.
Mike grips the doorframe to steady himself, his heart beginning to pound again.
“What? How is this… what is going on?!”
For a moment he genuinely wonders if he’s finally lost his mind.
Then he hears voices. They’re drifting up to where he’s standing. They’re familiar.
Dustin’s loud, rapid talking. Lucas arguing about something. Max complaining.
And another voice. That one hits the hardest. It’s his own.
Mike slowly leans forward and peers down the stairs. Behind him, Will nudges him lightly between the shoulder blades.
“Keep moving.”
Mike spins around.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he demands firmly, but Will just sighs like someone who is very close to losing his patience.
“You’ll find out once you go down those damn stairs.”
Mike doesn’t move, and Will rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.
“Or,” he adds casually, “I can shove you if you’d prefer.”
Mike stares at him with his mouth slightly open. This person has nothing to do with the Will he knows, that’s for sure.
But the look on his face makes it very clear he isn’t joking, so Mike turns back toward the staircase. He starts to descend, slowly and carefully.
The basement comes into view step by step.
He sees the table, the board, and the miniatures scattered across the map. Everything looks exactly the way it did earlier that evening.
Except now everyone is there again, including him.
Mike’s steps falter halfway down the stairs.
At the table, another version of him is sitting in the exact same chair he had been sitting in before. The others are spread around the table just like they were earlier, leaning over the map while Dustin flips through a rulebook and Lucas argues about strategy.
For a moment Mike can’t even breathe.
It’s the same scene. The same night.
But then Mike notices something is off, just like it had felt in his bedroom.
The details don’t quite match the way he remembers them.
Max’s hair isn’t curled the way it was earlier. It falls straighter now, loose over her back. Dustin isn’t wearing his beloved Hellfire Club t-shirt. And the more Mike looks, the more little differences he begins to notice.
He manages to make it down the stairs, but when he gets to the bottom, he stops again. For a moment he just stands there, staring.
Then he rubs his hands over his eyes, completely sure that the image in front of him will dissolve afterwards.
This cannot be real. He has to be hallucinating.
Maybe he’s still asleep. Maybe this is some incredibly vivid dream his brain cooked up after the fight with Will.
That has to be it.
Beside him, the other Will steps quietly onto the basement floor, folding his arms as he observes the scene unfolding in front of them like someone watching a play.
“You might want to pay attention,” he suggests.
Mike lowers his hands and looks at him.
“Pay attention to what?” he demands. “What the hell am I even looking at right now?”
Will gestures toward the table.
“This,” he says calmly, “is an alternate universe.”
Mike stares at him in disbelief for a moment, then says, “That’s bullshit.”
Will doesn’t argue, he simply nods toward the table again.
“Just watch,” he says. “You might find it… insightful.”
Mike hesitates. Then, slowly, he turns his head back toward the table.
The scene continues exactly the way it did earlier that evening.
The other Mike is sitting in his usual spot behind the map, leaning forward as he explains something about the monster he just introduced into the campaign.
Mike watches himself gesture toward the board, and hears his own voice narrating the story. It’s not the one from today. It’s a different story, one that is entirely new to him.
Watching it unfold sends a strange, uneasy feeling crawling up his spine.
There’s something deeply unsettling about seeing himself from the outside like this. This is probably what people would call an out-of-body-experience.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet thought forms.
Whatever this is…it probably doesn’t mean anything good.