Chapter Text
“Will?” Will turned his head around stiffly. “Be careful, ok?” Jonathan nodded at him, lips pulled in a thin line. He was trying his best to be brave for the both of them, Will really needed that. Hell, he needed all the courage he could get. This was no easy task after all, how many people have entered the mind of a raging psychopath and came out in one piece? He had El, at least.
She was cross legged just as he was, their backs pressed together and unpleasantly drenched with sweat. This was not their first attempt, but the one prior had been almost catastrophic, for Will got caught up in the visions Vecna had shown him and they’d just about escaped in the nick of time.
The visions in particular were some of his darkest moments, and tainted in fear Will could barely find the strength to look away from how the most horrible events of his life were unfolding right before his eyes. So much so that El had to physically pull him out of this trance, for god knows how long he would’ve spent staring at those mirages of his mistakes. There was something about these visions that formed a pit in your stomach, every ounce of feeling and rationality practically got sucked into an unknown void, the only feeling you could recognise were that of the memory or vision you were being shown. Sometimes they were familiar emotions from past events surging back up to the surface, sometimes they were your biggest fears being given the breath of life and you watched as your nightmares were incarnated. That’s how he got you. This time was going to be different. Will was going to be strong, he had to be. “Just ignore them,” Max had said, “They can’t hurt you.” It was easier said than done.
Will took a deep breath, nudged El’s elbow lightly to signal he was ready before pulling down his blindfold and plunging back into the vast void.
All of their previous trepidations had brought them through a maze of Henry’s mismatched memories, just as Max had said. However, it was possible to get into the memories of other people he’d captured. That’s what they’d been desperately trying to do for the past couple of days. It was uncertain if they’d made any actual progress and to be honest, it was driving Will a little bit insane. Who would want to explore the memories of their own abuser for crying out loud? Lord knows how Max had stayed sane long enough to escape.
Vecna knew they were in his mind whenever they entered, he just couldn’t pinpoint where they were straight off the bat. That gave them just enough time to get further and further and maybe just maybe find what they were looking for. So far though, they’d had no such luck.
“El?” Will’s voice echoed endlessly, his eyes darting around to survey his environment.
“Where are you?” He heard El say.
“I uh, I think I’m in my old kindergarten.” He took careful steps forward through the empty corridors, before hearing the faint sound of laughter up ahead, through the open double doors.
Before he knew it he was in the playground, kids running around giggling, chatting, playing. “I’m in the playground now, it must be here.” He informed El. This was a nice memory, thank god. But whose was it exactly? He prayed, he pleaded it was the person who he was looking for.
Will treaded over to the swingset and sure enough, a much smaller, meeker version of him was solemnly swinging backwards and forwards, his eyes glued to the ground in front of him, thinking about how much he’d rather he was at home in front of his sketchbook.
I’m here now, Mike. Where are you?
He saw young Mike standing awkwardly on the edge of the playground, watching Will. This was obviously the part of the memory where he was planning to approach the swings, the part Will hadn’t seen. He couldn’t help but smile to himself because this memory really was everything to them both. He was soon snapped out of it when he heard El’s voice again.
“Will? What’s going on now?”
“This is one of Mike's memories, one of our shared memories.”
“Do you see him anywhere?”
“No, not our Mike. His younger version is just here, nothing seems to be wrong yet, though.”
“See if you can find any anomalies. I’m in one of Henry’s memories that I do not recognise, I won’t be able to get to you for a while. Just keep me updated, ok?”
Will nodded, forgetting El couldn’t see him, “Copy that.”
He shifted his attention from him and Mike and scoured the whole playground, looking for something, anything that was unfamiliar. He checked the equipment, the environment. Hell, he even rummaged through a couple classrooms inside before running back out. If he didn’t find it quick, they’d surely run out of time and be back to square one. They couldn’t afford that.
“El I-I can’t find anything,” Will's breathing was shallow, more panicked. What the hell is wrong with this memory?! He stopped himself before searching under another rock, an obviously useless attempt. Why wasn’t El replying? “El?!” Nothing. Something was wrong. He’d taken too long and now Vecna had surely found her. She was probably fighting for her life right now and here Will was, messing about his old kindergarten playground without a single clue on what the hell he was doing here. This was a mistake, he wasn’t ready to go another round and his helplessness was putting everyone else in jeopardy. This was a lost cause and he knew it, everyone else probably did too.
In a last effort, he looked again towards the scene of him and Mike. This time, something was wrong.
Mike hadn’t sat on the swingset like he was supposed to. He was sitting by himself under a tree on the opposite side of the playground, his eyes locked upon a small notebook he was scribbling into, frantically. Mini Will was all alone, the sun catching on tears dribbling down his cheeks.
This wasn’t a memory.
Will rushed over to Mike, snatching the notebook clean out of his grasp to read the singular word scraped in pencil: “Run.”
Before Will knew it, the tranquil scene in front of him was melting away and by force of gravity he was plummeting downwards, falling until he thudded against hard ground.
He looked up, the atmosphere around him was shrouded in red fog and had the familiar, sickening iron smell of blood. In front of him was exactly what Max had described, the single door with the stained glass window, the staircase leading to nowhere, the pillars made up of vines.
And there, his arms and legs being tugged back angrily by these vines, was Mike.
“MIKE!” Will stumbled forward frantically, pulse rushing through his ears and every limb screaming from the damage of that fall.
He finally got to Mike, cupping both sides of his face, his head was drooping, heavy. He was unconscious and probably had been for quite some time. He was much paler than usual, almost…lifeless. Will let go and Mike's head lolled to one side. Was he even breathing?
Will felt for a pulse, it was faint but it was there. He needed to get Mike the hell out of here before there wasn’t one at all. “I’m-I’m gonna get you out okay? Just-just hang in there, Mike.” He began desperately pulling at the vines that threaded over Mike's every limb but it was no use. Every tug seemed to make them tighten, every breakage only made them grow back thicker. Finally giving up, Will stood back to survey the scene in front of him.
He needed to calm down, be strategic, like everyone had advised him to. How the hell was he meant to calm down when the most important person to him was hanging limp and lifeless, and whatever he did he couldn’t loosen the vines that tugged his life away from Will even further? Vecna was a cruel, monstrous man who had no regard for any human life but he was intuitive. Even he could see Will’s flaws where his loved ones refused to. He was weak. And it was finally getting the better of him.
He thought, naively, that harnessing Vecna's power would somehow make him stronger, more confident, but it turns out that was just wishful thinking. He was still just a coward.
“Mike, god I don’t know what to do.” He searched through the vines before finding Mike's hand. “I was too late. I wasn’t good enough, and now…” He looked around him. This hellscape Mike had been trapped in for so long and Will couldn’t even break him out. All that time he’d spent searching every corner of this boy's mind and the way to Mike was through a distorted memory. One which showed him a reality where he and Will had never met. Was that really the catalyst to all this?
So it really was all his fault.
If he’d never had said yes, none of this would’ve happened. He wasn’t to know back then, of course, but the fact that Mike knew it too made him feel sick. He never voiced how guilty he felt about roping everyone else into his mess. Vecna wanted him and only him because he was weak. And here the embodiment of his failure was right before him, hand still loose and cold in his grasp.
All of a sudden Will felt a cold tentacle wrap around his calf, before he was flung onto his stomach with a thud.
“WILL!” There was El, her hand outstretched towards… Vecna. His head whipped around towards El, before his hand reached out towards her, flinging her back into the fog, her shocked yell echoing until it couldn’t be heard any longer.
The tentacle was still sliding up Will's leg, he grabbed at it digging his nails into the rigid flesh. Vecna barely even flinched at this, he just titled his head and before Will knew it his back was up against one of those pillars, cold vines slowly slinking around his limbs leaving damp trails wherever they went. He remembered this feeling all too well. Flashbacks to that horrific day all those years ago flashed before his very eyes. He shook his head determinedly, just forget, you can’t let him get a hold of you like this. Vecna paid him no mind, he was walking ever so slowly in Mike's direction.
“NO, PLEASE,” Will shrieked. Vecna looked over to him. “You can do whatever you want with me, I promise, just leave him out of this. He didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice cracked.
“You don’t seem to be understanding, William, why I brought him here in the first place.” Vecna was facing him now and this undivided attention made Will's heart thump at his rib cage. Those memories flashed in front of him yet again. He didn’t expect them to affect him this much. “Do you need me to spell it out for you?” His long arching hand writhed beneath him.
“I do understand. You-you think he’s my weakness but he’s not. My weakness is…” He took a sharp intake of breath. “My weakness is me.” He hung his head in shame. He’d admitted it now. There was no going back. He had to do whatever it took to get him to release Mike, even if that meant risking his own life. “I mean that’s why you chose me right? You told me yourself.”
“Correct.” Vecna advanced towards him, slowly. Tendracils wrapping around his body in every direction, almost distracting Will from the grasp of his icy stare. “However we all have multiple weaknesses, William.” He hissed. “He, for example, is a coward. Pathetic. A liar. You are just too blind to see it.”
“You’re wrong.” Will seethed, “You’re so wrong.”
“Am I? Or is it you who is blatantly ignorant to the truth?” He raised his clawed hand above Will's head. Will screamed in agony, feeling the sensation of millions of tiny needles pricking the inside of his skull, his head felt like it was about to burst.
Everything went black.
He heard distant pleads from his family and friends. El, his mom, Jonathan, everyone begging him to wake up.
Wake up.
“Wake up!” Will felt a harsh shake of his shoulders before he jolted awake, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Where…
“Will?” It was Mike, but younger. And this… was their middle school. He remembers this. He’d fallen asleep in the middle of class.
“Will are you okay?” Mike had on a face of concern, one Will recognised fondly.
“Yeah, yeah just tired.” Will shook his head.
“Did they keep you late again last night? Those bastards, I mean, you’re not a lab rat for god's sake!” Mike shook his head before handing Will his backpack. “Come on, we’re meeting the others, they're probably sick of waiting for us.” Will took it from him before following him outside the classroom obediently. The hallways were eerily quiet, how long had he been asleep for? How long had Mike waited?
They turned a corner, bumping into a group of louder kids. “Hey watch where you’re going zombie boy.”
“Yeah, watch it. We don’t wanna catch your disease.” They mockingly acted out being zombies. Mike glanced at Will, subtly shaking his head as if to say “Just ignore them.”
“You got something to say? Or do you freaks have your own language now?”
“They’re advancing!” The kids all burst out laughing. Will tightened his grip on his bag strap. Mike shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. Both silently pray they’ll just get bored and walk off.
They didn’t.
“Not so talkative huh?” One kid punched Will's shoulder. It was light, teasing, but it was enough to make him stumble backwards as he wasn’t anticipating it.
“Get the hell off him!” Mike snapped, holding out an arm in front of Will, protectively.
“Uh oh, you’re in for it now. Zombie boy’s boyfriend leaps to the rescue.” Will felt his stomach practically flip over itself, his breath caught in his throat. He looked over to Mike, who flinched harshly, his protective arm falling flat against his side.
“I think we hit a nerve.” The biggest kid leans in up and close to Mike's face. “Why don’t you queers back the fuck up and get out of our way. Like I said, we don’t want that nasty little disease of yours.” Mike's face was gauntly pale.
The kid suddenly grabbed Will’s shoulder and slammed him hard into the wall. The harsh impact caused pain to shoot through his entire body. “Especially you. I think it’d be wise to take out the source, don’t you guys think?” The rest of the group nods. By this point, Will had forgotten how to breathe. His heart was hammering against his chest. Mike was staring straight at the ground. Unmoving.
The next couple seconds were a blur, but he remembers how his head pounded as it banged hard against the cold floor. He remembers the squeaking of shoes as the kids turn the corner and flee the scene. He remembers Mike at his side, tears sliding down his cheeks. “Will? Will I’m sorry… I’m sorry I just didn’t know what to do and there were so many of them I just froze up…I wasn’t brave at all.” His head hung in shame.
Before Will could even respond he felt his entire body be flung upright, his head jerked forward harshly and then knocked back up against that pillar. He was face to face with Vecna yet again. “You remember how he stood down in the face of a threat even when you were at risk?” He sneered.
“That was from when we were kids. It doesn’t mean anything.” Though tears were threatening to prickle his eyes. He’d tried to bury that memory, which he tended to do a lot with most things in his early adolescent years, however his one in particular was different. Mike had actually stood down. He was scared and for once, Will didn’t feel protected by him at all. Something had hit a nerve, and all this time Will had assumed Mike didn’t want to be associated with the rumours going around that Will was gay. They’d never spoken about this incident again. But on those nights where Will lay alone, restless in bed, the memory would flash before him and he wished he could push that awkward feeling about Mike far, far away.
“You’re still not convinced. I am going to change your mind.” Vecna raised his hand again, Will writhed, trying his best to fight back but Vecna had him now. And to tell the truth, Will had a dark curiosity about what he would show him next.
In the few seconds Will was plunged into darkness he heard voices again, but they were so much more distant. So much so he couldn’t even tell who was who.
Where his eyes took him next was a desk, covered in scrap pieces of lined paper covered in messy handwriting. Some crumpled, some laid out in front of him. He tapped his pen on his wrist thoughtfully before hearing a voice calling him downstairs.
“Dinner!” Someone called from downstairs.
“Be there in a minute!” He shouted down.
“Moms called like a hundred times already, she’s gonna be pissed!”
“Literally two minutes I’m just finishing something.” He replied frustratedly. He quickly scrawled down another line at the bottom of the page:
I’m sorry I didn’t call, I just didn’t know what to say.
He scoffs at his own writing before scribbling over it and tearing a new page out of his almost empty notepad.
He began again, Dear Will,
Wait, what?
Will practically felt his body toss itself into reality. He felt for his hair frantically, long and curly. He peered around the room. Yep, this was Mike for sure. He was in one of Mike's memories.
These letters… They were all addressed to Will. But Will hadn’t received any letters throughout his time in Lenora, not one. He flicked through the ones sprawled out on the table. Lots of the words had been scribbled out but he could make out plenty of “I’m sorry”, “I missed you”, “I tried calling but,”
This realisation was a lot to take in. For so long Will had been under the impression that Mike hadn’t even thought of sending him a single letter yet here he was, before his trip to Lenora messily drafting some sort of apology.
He called back to that argument in Rink-O-Mania on that fateful day. Mike hasn’t specifically denied reaching out, neither had Will. The focus of the argument got lost in denial and accusations. It never really had a proper conclusion. Mike had literally told Will verbatim that Hawkins wasn't the same without him so what possessed Mike to ignore him all that time? Will couldn’t answer that, not for certain. All he knew now was that Mike had made an attempt to sort things out, and by the looks of it he struggled hard.
He understood it was hypocritical to blame Mike fully for this lack of communication, Will had also ceased all attempts to make amends too but it felt somewhat justified. Mike had treated him awfully that summer, why should Will have to be the one to make up for it? Why should he have to sacrifice his dignity because Mike couldn’t sacrifice his own time?
The scene in front of him brought him more confusion than anything. He didn’t know what to make of it, let alone figure out why Vecna was showing him this. Was this really a display of Mike's cowardice? To Will, it was just sad. A miserable reminder of a time he desperately wanted to forget about. Mike probably did, too. Because they never brought up Lenora, the arguments or that strange road trip that changed the direction of their relationship forever. He also wanted to forget what Mike had said to El in the back of Surfer Boys Pizza…
“I feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods.”
Such a forgettable sentence, in spite of everything else Mike had been telling her, and yet it meant the most to him. It felt like he was being actively forgotten by the person he cared about the most. Even then, in that moment where he was meant to be worrying about El, he had felt his heart sink down to his feet. How could Mike say something like that? It was probably just said in the heat of the moment, a desperate last effort to get El to fight for her life, but it was still such a jab at their fragile friendship that felt loosely directed at him.
Maybe that was selfish. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he was just tired of being overlooked and being treated like a ghost by the person who had apparently once been so desperate to prove to everyone he wasn’t one.
He never had the chance to grow up, not properly, and figure out these feelings for himself. Because around every corner there was another hardship to face, another danger he needed protecting from, and probably another life lost in front of his very eyes.
And despite it all, despite all the pent up anger he had from all that had been taken from him, there was a part of him that wasn’t ready to give up, not yet, not when Mike was mere metres away from him, there was no excuse.
And this time, he could actually do something about it.
He started to rake through Mike’s room desperately, intent on not making the same mistake as last time and ignoring the most obvious details.
As he was practically destroying all of Mike’s belongings he started to realise how long it had been since he’d been in here.
The posters on the wall were unrecognisable, the desk wasn’t where it used to be and-
There it was, unmistakeable plastered against Mike’s wall above his bed.
The painting.
Will walked towards it, kneeling on the bed to get up close. If anything in this room was going to have the most significance, it would be this painting.
It was kind of perfect, it was the one thing in this room Will recognised the most, which said a lot about the deterioration of their friendship.
Will scanned each and every figure in his work until he saw it - Mike’s shield didn't have that deep red heart Will had put all his effort into, making sure he didn't paint outside the lines.
He reached up, just to touch it, and was transported into a whole other location.
This time it was no mistake, he was back inside that stuffy pizza van - sitting facing himself and Mike as he talked Mike over the significance of the heart.
It was a little surprising at first, to think that this memory was important enough that Vecna could’ve ever used it against Mike. If anything, Vecna should’ve used this against Will.
He had to watch his past self turning away and facing the window beside him, stifling the sobs threatening to escape his throat. He looked at Mike, for as he had turned away previously he hadn’t even noticed that Mike had quickly glanced at him. Whilst his whole body had been turned away from Mike, recovering from the immense amount of vulnerability he’d shown in that moment, Mike had given him a look of something so unreadable. Maybe Will was glad he hadn’t seen this before. It was almost too much to bear.
That stupid painting in which he'd spent so much of his time and care over those torturous months. The painting he’d credited to his sister to save her the same heartache he felt. The very painting Mike had put up on his wall, ignorant to its true meaning.
Will looked back to see Jonathan's face in the rear view. His eyes had welled up with tears and he was looking at Will with all the sorrow in the world. That’s when he couldn’t take it any longer. He threw open the car door and flung his body hard on the ground in front of it, desperate to escape the emotions crawling back up into his consciousness. He had to remember there was a goal here - this wasn’t about him - this was about Mike.
He stood up, brushing himself off and watched the van as it sped off into the distance.
Mike had to be here - had to be hiding somewhere. If the way to that next memory had been in the van, Will jumping out would’ve knocked him back into his own body. Mike had jumped out too, this was his memory after all.
“Mike?” He called out into the empty space.
There was nothing around for miles, he knew it, Mike knew it.
”I know you’re out here, wherever you are.” He looked around a bit helplessly. “He isn’t here, it’s just me, Will. You can trust me.”
”Prove it.” He heard it, the voice was so distant and yet it felt so close.
”W-what?”
”I said, prove it.” Was that Mike? He honestly couldn’t tell. The voice was distorted, somehow sounding like multiple people at once.
That’s when it clicked - that wasn’t something Mike would say. It was far too cryptic, left too much space for him to interpret it differently and ended up giving up his location to the wrong person.
He decided not to say anything, not to reply to this strange voice. Instead he just walked. This was a memory from inside the van - the desert in Mike’s mind couldn’t span forever since he couldn’t see beyond the horizon from just the window.
“You’re ignoring me?”
He kept walking.
”That won't get you very far. He’ll be dead long before you learn whether he’s even alive.
Will just kept walking, fists clenched at his sides.
”He won't want to see you.” The voice carried on, “He knows this ridiculous escapade puts everyone at risk. He’s hiding where nobody would ever think to find him. How pathetic.”
Will couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety after hearing this. There was no doubt this was Henry speaking, that robotic, emotionless voice that he’d heard echoing in his head so many times. But what if he wasn’t playing one of his tricks? What if this was an elaborate act of reverse psychology and he was just telling Will the straight truth. Perhaps he was so confident in Will failing, he was letting him down easy. Perhaps Mike was already dead.
No, Will thought. You can’t think like this. You made a promise.
That reminder struck the determination back into him. He wasn’t going to let Henry get into his head, literally. Not when Mike’s life was on the line.
He spun around, shoes scuffing on the hard, sandy desert floor. He wasn’t 100% sure what he expected to see but nothing could’ve prepared him for what he was looking at.
It was Mike, or at least it was meant to be. He knew this was another one of Henry’s tricks simply because of the way Mike was looking at him. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes completely empty of any light despite the blaring sun. His stance is rigid, composed, despite himself. Mike would never look at him like this.
But suddenly his face moulded, grotesquely, into an expression Will knew all too well. It was a face of distress, of anger, of fear all combined into one.
“Will, its really you!” ‘Mike’ ran to Will, wrapping his arms around Will’s shoulders. For just a split second, he swears, Will just let himself indulge in this fantasy. Filled his mind with the sudden relief if this was actually Mike, and he’d finally found him. He had to remind himself that this was Henry. Henry had kidnapped Mike, had probably tortured him with awful memories that definitely weren’t his fault, and now he was playing with Will's feelings in his fragile state.
That realization is what fuelled his anger yet again. And it's what fuelled his next move.
He shoved ‘Mike’ with all the willpower he could muster, watching his body slam hard against the ground.
’Mike’ looked up at him - thats when the facade filtered. Henrys cold glare infected Mikes usual warm, inviting face and he swiftly pushed himself back up onto his feet.
Will held his gaze the entire time.
”You really shouldn’t have done that.” He hissed. Will watched as Mikes hand warped into that unmistakable claw.
”You really thought I’d fall for that?” Will quipped. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
”Don’t I? Because I seem to recall how much this memory meant to you.” He started walking forward, slowly. Will matched his pace, walking backward. “And yet, here we are. You remember how you sabotaged everything.” Will flinched at the word ‘sabotage.’ He knew what Henry was getting at. He fought back at that familiar feeling. He tried to, at least. “You strung him along with your foolish lies trying to get his relationship back on track to save yourself that heartache. Instead, you ended up lying straight to his face with no payoff whatsoever.” Will knew Henry was just twisting the truth but even so, it felt so believable. Is this what Mike thought Will had done? Will hadn’t told him the whole truth about the painting but what if he’d found out another way? By what Henry was insinuating, with the “no payoff” it sounds as though the painting lie hadn’t ‘fixed’ whatever was going on with Mike and El like he’d intended. Maybe his words hadn’t been enough. Maybe they never could be.
”Sabotage. You’d know a lot about that.” Henry droned on. “This spring break, that whole year in Lenora, all the times the Mind Flayer found you, when everyone risked their lives that very first time to rip you from my grasp where you belong. It all. Trails back. To you.” He stopped walking. Will was already frozen. “But I don’t know you at all, right? But I know it, you know it, everyone in fact knows how much you helped me get to this point. You were just so easy to break.” Will’s breathing had sped up immensely. Just ignore him, just ignore him. “It’s funny, really, how much of this is your fault.” Will let out an involuntary gasp before tripping backwards stumbling over a rock, losing his sight of Henry. It was just a second, but in that moment Henry had his hold of Will, arm outstretched above his head.
“But I don't have to remind you of that, do I? You’ve known it all along. You always have. How much of a burden you are to those around you. If you hadn’t existed in the first place, none of your friends would even be in this situation. Their lives are only in danger because of you.”
There was that feeling again, of millions of needles piercing the inside of his skull. He let out a scream of agony.
Images began flashing before him. He saw Jonathan, his Mom, El. One second crowding Will’s real body as he lay on the ground and then the next they were being completely surrounded by demogorgons, with no escape. Then he saw Lucas, Dustin, Max, Hopper, Nancy, Robin, Steve all in the same situation. Completely ambushed. He heard Henry's voice.
“Thank you again, William, for letting me know where your friends are. You’ve been such an aid in my scheme.”
Then it all went black.
-
Will woke up again. His head heavy, and aching as if he’d banged it against some sort of hard surface. His limbs felt numb. He was freezing cold.
He felt a sudden wave of shallow water drench his body and immediately he sat up, his vision blurring and he felt impossibly dizzy. He realised he had been lying on the shore of some sort of lake. Tiny stones and clumps of wet sand went up the cuff of his jeans as he gingerly stood up.
Wherever he was, this still wasn’t his real body, he could tell. Everything he felt, felt fuzzy. Like a dodgy walkie connection. Like he was feeling everything more intensely, from a body much further away.
Like he’d gotten so used to, he attempted to gather his bearings. On where Henry could’ve possibly taken him to.
Then he saw it.
Sirens were blaring off into the distance, flashing lights and tens of people in uniform all surrounding something that must’ve been in the shallow end of the water. He jogged over uncertainly. He didn't recognise this at all.
He managed to get close enough to the centre of everyone’s attention and that's when his eyes locked on what they’d been looking at.
A small, paler version of him on a stretcher was being dragged tentatively out of the water. He was noticeably bloated. Features of his face a shade of a sickly purple. He wasn’t moving.
Oh.
That’s why he hadn’t recognised this memory. This was his fake death, the one nor Jonathan or his Mother could ever bring themselves to talk about when he’d asked.
He hadn’t even thought to ask…
Then he heard whispered squabbling behind him and his heart practically stopped when he saw younger versions of Lucas, Dustin, El-
Mike wasn’t there. Will looked past them and saw young Mike getting on his bike and that's when he ran. He ran and ran until he’d caught up with Mike’s pace on his bike. It was hard to properly concentrate on his expression - but he didn't need to. Mike was sobbing, hard. He was peddling furiously fast and Will struggled all the way, falling behind Mike’s pace until he finally made it to Mike’s house where he'd thrown his bike down on the lawn and ran up to his door. Will followed again until Mike was in his mothers arms. His sobbing subsided. The only thing left was anguish and defeat.
He knew in his heart he should be searching for Mike again but he just couldn’t tear himself away from the scene in front of him. Guilt piled up in the pit of his stomach. This is a side of death you weren’t supposed to see. The side you were graciously shielded from. The part that most people dread thinking about, having to imagine the grief of your loved ones taking over. His best friend, the one who’d searched for him tirelessly, at only 12 years old had to watch Will’s limp body get dragged out of the lake.
He wished he could understand the impact of this, then. Through all those arguments that had tore them apart the last couple years, the one thing Will always saw in Mike was just fear. Fear of losing him again. He knew what that felt like now.
This had to be it, right? Through all the memories Will had been searching through this one had never come up. Not even mentioned. That meant Mike had been suppressing it so viscously it had to take a conscious effort to push the memory back up from the dark corners of his mind, in which Will had had to search through for the past couple of days.
Though that doubt he’d become so accustomed to, remained prevalent in his line of judgement.
Why would Henry send Will straight to his goal? Was it a mistake? Or was he just letting Will down easily?
There was only one way to find out.
Will found his footing again and made his way to the basement door, but as he opened it he was met with a complete black abyss. He stepped into it.
He was in the Wheeler’s basement, but one he didn't recognise. It was cold, dark. Not emitting that familiar warm light. There were spores wafting through the open space. Will had to swallow down his remaining fear from that dreadful week. Just for now. This wasn’t a proper memory, it was a vision. It was a molding of two worlds that were never meant to collide - Will’s safe place and the very definition, for him, of hell. The place that had brought him and everyone he cares about so much turmoil and death. He had to face this fear just one last time, it was all for Mike.
He stepped out of the door of the basement, feeling the bile in his stomach already threatening to surge up. He pushed down that feeling, as much as he could. He grabbed one of the Wheeler’s bikes leaned up against the garage wall and began biking to his old house.
As he passed through Hawkins he kept his mind set on finding Mike, on a plan. Vecna knew how much this place still haunted him.
Is that why he’d sent Will here? Will had been navigating through this place for a good couple days now, Henry must know that. It was a scary feeling to think perhaps this was all a trap. But Will didn’t have time to second guess himself, the clock was ticking and he’d already wasted enough time as it is. He had an inkling of where Mike could be, now all he had to do was follow his best instinct and deal with the repercussions later.
Being in the Upside Down he felt it again, that isolation. The feeling he’d never make it out. The cold that seeped through his clothes into his bones. The feeling of constantly being on edge that had never really left him.
Will couldn’t help but let the thought slip into his conscience again, that perhaps Henry was right. He’d been right about one thing at
least, Will did feel at fault for all that had happened in the past few years since his disappearance. Even though he knew deep down it couldn’t have been helped, that he was kidnapped, he’d still roped everyone else into it and whether he liked it or not, his existence was proof of his loved ones working tirelessly over the past few years to keep him and themselves alive.
Except one thing Henry didn’t know about Will was that he wasn’t the same boy he’d kidnapped back in 1983. Henry had a way of seeing things in black and white. He assumed that being able to see people’s memories and worst fears could tell you everything you needed to know but he was wrong. The thing sparked your drive, despite all the things that weighed you down, was the love you had for others and yourself. Henry couldn’t manipulate that if he tried.
Will had seen enough, been through enough, to know that his life was worth fighting for. Especially seeing his own fake death unravel right before his eyes. That anger he still held wasn’t going to dissipate anytime soon and with Mike practically within reach, it was almost laughable for Henry to think that his words would suddenly weaken him.
After what felt like forever, he finally made it to that familiar driveway, but he didn't go towards the front door. He ran around the back into his backyard until he saw the familiar lettering.
CASTLE BYERS
As this was the past, it was still withstanding, in all its former glory.
Will stepped forward, pulling back the old tarp covering the front door.
That’s when he saw him.
Mike.