Chapter Text
Arriving at the WSQK station safely after all the fuck-ups of the evening was a miracle, to say the least.
Everyone was faced with minimal harm, the worst being Lucas with the still painful scar on his chest. Will had apologized endlessly for not being faster, which Mike thought was unnecessary since the alternative was Lucas being dead. Lucas thought so too, with the way he shook his head at the ‘sorry’s’.
Mike had barely torn his eyes away from Will since he’d saved his life. It was like the other boy was glowing with freedom, or some other magical power. Mike still had no idea how he’d done it, how he’d snapped the limbs of those demogorgons with ease, apparently three all at once. It was spectacular. He hadn’t been so proud in such a long time, but this felt like a new chapter.
It had to have been the greatest moment of Mike’s life. The way Will outstretched his arms, his muscles tensing and his eyes white enough to seem like they were glowing. The way his face scrunched up with strength as he lifted the demogorgon, taking its life with ease. The way he dropped down, blood leaking from his nose, which he wiped with a powerful expression on his face. Mike had watched all of it, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his life. The excitement of it had even managed to push down the disgust in his chest whenever he recalled his own thoughts about the other boy.
It had also managed to push down the unsettling fear and unreasonable familiarity he felt when the presence of Vecna had appeared. When he turned, and saw his shadow, emerging quietly from the gate and killing so many people. Mike had been knocked out for a moment, and when he woke up, the demogorgon was leaping at him.
Mike almost wished he could forget the image of Vecna’s face, because it was horrifying. The way the vines curled around each other to create some semblance of a face, his appearance was so uncanny and close to human but not, the way he seemed to kill so many people so effortlessly. It was terrifying, and he wondered how Max had managed to escape from such a terrifying creature.
Now, after they had all regrouped, they all pushed their way through the doors, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. Mike was ready to take some painkillers and throw himself onto a couch to pass out. Maybe he was taking after his father in laziness, but he figured that at least this occasion was reasonable, since he had nearly died.
Everyone had gathered on the couches on the upper level, where Ms. Byers had rearranged the seats for a meeting setting. Mike sighed, realizing the comfort of sleep wouldn’t come yet, but realistically he wasn’t expecting anything less.
He would’ve sat immediately with his Will and Lucas, who were still talking about his powers, but his clothes were sopping wet and he thought the weight of them would cause him to collapse, so he excused himself to grab an extra sweater, change, and come back. Luckily, he had stuffed one in his backpack, which was also a bit wet and very dirty, but he hoped that it at least stayed dry.
Clutching his bag over his shoulder, he walked casually down the hallway. He wasn’t a stranger to the station's layout, but he wasn’t here that often, just for crawls or meetings. Wracking his brain, he pulled up a mental layout of the space until he found himself at the door of the bathroom. Wasting no time, he gripped the fabric of his sweater and he stepped inside.
It was a small space, which made sense, since the station wasn’t a luxury hotel. The light was a warm yellow that buzzed and occasionally flickered, which made him anxious. The corners of the room had a bit of dirt in them, and the mirror was also fogged up at the edges, which made Mike scrunch up his nose, but other than that, it was somewhat clean. He kicked the door shut behind him, shrugging off his jacket immediately and lifting his sweater off his body. He squished them a bit and grimaced when a few droplets of brown water came out.
He gazed into the mirror, taking account of his disheveled appearance. His hair was matted down with dirty water and sweat, dried blood scarred on the side of his head. He had scratches from rough pavement scattered across his chest and arms. His lips were dry and red with blood, and the clothes in his hands were brown with dirt and soaked with water and heavy in his arms. Despite everything; the ache spread throughout his body, the throbbing pain in his head, the dryness of his palms and his throat, even other things, like his mother in the hospital, his father dead, his sister missing, his best friends at the center of everything, The adrenaline of facing death in the eye that still hasn’t worn off, everything. Despite all of that, he hadn’t cried once.
And then, reality hit him like a truck. The misty haze covering the realness of everything he’d gone through in the past few days dissipated in seconds, and he was really looking at himself. Shivering from the cold of the bathroom, shaking with fear, and he was so, so afraid. Afraid of Vecna, who he’d seen with his own two eyes for the first time, who was behind everything. He was afraid of demogorgons, the ones that had dragged Holly into the Upside Down, nearly killed his mom, killed his dad. The demogorgons that nearly killed him. Everything, the numbness he felt, the guilt, the horror, himself. He didn’t want to leave the bathroom to start planning like everything was going to be okay, like he was going to be okay.
Mike couldn’t believe that for a moment, he’d forgotten. How could he have forgotten the image of blood soaking the floors and walls of his house? His mom’s breathing, so tiny and stressed, and his dad’s lifeless body sprawled over his bed. He’d forgotten it for what, so he could nudge Will’s arm as they walked as if there was anything between them? He was a moron, an idiot.
He wanted to hide, like a child, to break down and start sobbing and to never get up again. He was so tired, so terrified, and there was nothing he could do about it. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his breath stuttering. The clothes in his hands fell, smacking onto the ground.
He gripped the edge of the sink with his now free hands, tearing his gaze away from his crumbling self. His knees shook, struggling to hold himself up, and every sense heightened. The sound of his scratchy breathing, the discussion outside, the pattering of his tears hitting the sinks edge. His vision blurring slowly, the tiles on the floor turning into a blurred mess of colors beneath him.
Suddenly, he was on the floor. He must’ve fallen over, but he wasn't focused on that, because he was too focused on the pounding in his head and the breath that kept escaping his lungs. He lifted his hands, clawing at his throat, coughing, before he shoved his head in his hands. His fingers threaded between his wet curls, yanking at random. The pain in his head grew, but he couldn’t stop. He could barely tell where he was, let alone what he was doing.
For a frightening moment, he was sure he was dying. They’d find him, on the dirty floor of the WSQK station's bathroom, dead from whatever was happening to him. He’d never be able to save Holly, or see his family, or the party again. This was how he’d go out.
He dragged his hands down his face, trying to clear his vision and calm himself down, He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in and out. The echo of his breathing spread around the bathroom, and slowly, his vision began to clear.
He sat in silence for what seemed like hours, living in the aftermath of whatever just happened to him. The clothes were on the floor, his bag as well. He was shirtless, and the wall pressed cooly against his back. His hair was still wet, and probably way more messy now that he tugged on it, but he couldn’t see himself in the mirror from where he sat.
He flinched as someone knocked lightly on the door, and winced. His senses must be really out of wack. He shifted on the floor, moving to stand up and open the door, but his limbs felt unusually weak. Whoever was out there must’ve heard him hit the floor, or his heavy breathing. He hoped that nobody else in the main room had heard him too, and he desperately hoped that it wasn’t Will knocking.
“Is everything okay in there?” he heard Ms. Byers ask. He was relieved that out of everyone who could’ve come, it was her. He wouldn’t want to try and find an excuse to shoo off someone like Robin or maybe Lucas, because they’d see right through him. Ms. Byers waited a few seconds, giving him a chance to answer, before knocking again. “Mike? Are you alright?”
He opened his mouth to respond, before choking on a fit of coughs. He hunched over, gripping the wall behind him. He heard a few knocks on the door again, before the doorknob rattled and turned.
He would’ve cursed under his breath if he could, but instead he squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head. Maybe, if he couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see him? He didn’t know, he was panicking and nobody had ever seen him like this before. Nobody had ever seen him so open. He felt mentally naked, if that was the right way to put it. That thought grossed him out, so he shook it out of his head.
He heard a sharp intake of breath from where he kept his head between his knees, feeling Ms. Byers kneel down and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jumped, before settling into her hand.
“Oh, Mike. What’s going on?” she asked sincerely. He lifted his head slowly, leaning forward and letting her embrace him in a gentle hug.
Mike didn’t have much of an answer to that, other than everything and nothing. He was just so scared, and he knew nothing else was expected of him, he was only sixteen and fighting off interdimensional monsters, but it just swallowed him whole. Sometimes he forgot this was his real life. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, he feels like he’s watching sci-fi on a television screen, like if he gets too overwhelmed he can just turn it off and go to bed. He can’t, though, because it’s real. And that’s what scared him so much.
He didn’t know how to say all of that, because it was just so overwhelming. The fear twisted around his body and tore him in half, beat inside him like a second heart, slid down his throat with every breath he took, pricked at the backs of his eyes.
“I miss my mom,” is what he whispered instead, and Joyce squeezed him tighter. He let his eyes fall shut again, and pretended that it wasn’t Ms. Byers, but it was his mom. Maybe that was wrong, but he just missed when he was younger, when he was upset, and his mom would hold him and tell him that he could tell her anything. He didn’t tell her about anything, though, and look what happened to her. He knew she was recovering, but he couldn’t believe he let that happen to her. It was devastating.
“I’m sorry. She’ll be alright, okay?” Ms. Byers reassured, rubbing a calming hand on his back. “I’m here if you need anything.”
He felt her apply a bit of pressure onto his back, signifying that she wanted him to get up. She stuck out her other hand, which he gripped tightly, stumbling when he stood. His knees wobbled, and he gripped the edge of the sink to stabilize himself. He felt like all the energy in his body had been sucked out of him, and his head still ached.
She led him to the door, and he was glad that he didn’t see anyone else standing outside. He assumed everyone else was still in the other part of the station, discussing the shocking events that had occurred in the past few hours. He swallowed, his mind drifting back towards the kids, and then Holly.
They stepped out, beginning to make their way down the hall, and Mike sniffled. Something warm dripped out of his nose, and he frowned. He didn’t have allergies in the fall, and his nose didn't feel very stuffy anyways, rather it felt dry. He wiped it with the back of his sleeve, planning on turning around to wipe his nose properly. Instead, when he lowered his hand, he froze.
Ms. Byers turned to him, confused as to why he stopped, but she took in a sharp breath as well when she saw the deep red stain on his sleeve, and the droplets of blood leaking out of his nose.
“Oh shit,” she cursed under her breath. Mike never heard her curse in front of him with such ease, but he figured this was a reasonable circumstance. He almost felt like he could collapse again.
“Maybe— Maybe it’s a fluke?” he tried to excuse, but his hand trembled, and the blood in his nose ran even faster. He felt so dizzy, and the corners of his vision began to blur. All of a sudden, his brain was wracking through the past week, trying to find an explanation.
He remembered the headache he had in his sixth period a few days ago, but he assumed it was because of the concerningly difficult test on his desk. He tapped his pencil against his head, willing it to go away, but it didn’t. It stayed till the end of the day, but it faded out before it worried him too much.
He remembered that two days before the crawl, he started having nightmares nearly every night. Shooting out of bed, he found himself drenched in sweat, recovering from a horrifyingly real dream, where horrible things happened. He played them off as nerves, because it wasn’t the first time he had nightmares, and he didn’t want to think of the alternative. Crawls always stressed him out, even if he didn’t do much during them.
He didn’t know how he’d let this happen. He was supposed to be smart, attentive. He’d heard Nancy warn them endlessly, seen the consequences on Max’s nearly lifeless face, and he’d let it happen.
Tick.
Mike froze. Turning his head slowly, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The hallway was the same, a bit of glowing light coming from the other room where the others should’ve been chatting. He noticed, gravely, that silence had to spread across the hallway. The conversations of the people in the other room had vanished abruptly, and worse, the breathing next to him had as well. He looked back to Ms. Byers, and was forced to hold down bile when he saw that she’d disappeared. There was no denying it now.
“Hello?” he called out. His voice bounced off the walls, but nobody responded. He regretted calling out, because the sensation of being watched washed over him in uncomfortable ripples, sending shivers throughout his body.
He knew for sure now that this was one of his visions. He’d heard about them, but he didn’t know how they worked exactly. Was Vecna here now? Did he run out of time? He didn’t know this would happen, he hadn’t been counting down the days, but now he panicked, not sure if it was too late for him to even try.
The atmosphere of the hallway grew significantly darker, as if all the lights had turned out. He felt his senses heighten, feeling very on edge. Stepping away from where he previously stood, he walked down the hallway in the opposite direction. Each step around him echoed loudly, and he was scared that someone, or something would hear him.
Turning the corner, he saw a bit of open space that led to the area with the couches, and he gripped the wall when he saw a ticking grandfather clock, swinging back and forth, indented into the wall. It was menacing, in the same way a murder of crow at your windowsill would be. It almost felt like it was calling to him, dragging him closer step by step, despite his urge to run away.
Tick.
Mike jumped, the sound louder in his ear. He’d never been more scared in his life. He didn’t know if this meant that Vecna was here or not, but he was alone, and he didn’t know what to do. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, like the clock was getting closer, louder. He knew this wasn’t real, but it felt like it. He could almost throw up.
He tried not to let himself be scared, because it was only a vision. It was only a vision, and Vecna wasn’t there, and Ms. Byers and everyone else would find him, and help him. Will would help him, and he’d survive this. He exhaled, letting the clock pull him closer.
As he approached it, the air around him seemed to warp, just as everything else did. The place, which couldn’t be the station anymore, was quite unsettling. Mike could’ve sworn there were footsteps following him, something breathing with him, but when he shot a glance behind him, nobody was there.
Despite that, when he turned around to face the clock again, a shadow loomed over his shoulder, something that resembled a man.
Mike.
A gravelly voice called out his name, and Mike gasped when he felt a palm on his shoulder.
“Mike?” Ms. Byers shook him harder, relenting when she saw that he’d stopped zoning out. “Was that one of the visions?”
Relief flooded his body, which was quickly replaced by all-encompassing dread. He had made it out, sure, but this meant he barely had any time left. A shaky breath left his body, recalling the voice that he heard that was definitely not Ms. Byers. He had to have been there, behind him. Mike couldn’t process Vecna being so close.
He was so used to Vecna being a story he heard about, someone that could scare him but he could forget about in the deep hours of the night. That wasn’t true now, though, since Vecna was now plaguing his mind, and he had no idea what to do.
Mike wanted to cry, to slide down the wall and break down in tears. He wasn’t ready to die, but Max’s first vision happened a day before she was targeted. She was brave. She could fight off Vecna, run away, give herself more time, but she didn’t escape him. He wouldn’t last any longer than her, and he’d probably end up worse.
Solemnly, he nodded, pointing behind him. “There was a clock, around that corner.”
The older woman pressed her lips together in concern, placing her hand on Mike’s back once again to lead him down the hall. He didn’t want to be the center of attention, or to face his worst fears, or to fight for his life. He wasn’t ready to tell his friends that he was leaving tomorrow, and he wasn’t ready to leave in the first place.
Still, he had no choice in the matter.
Stepping back into the full room, Mike felt a lot more anxious. His friends, still buzzed and excited from the previous events, had no idea what had just happened. He stumbled over, collapsing onto the couch beside Erica. Lucas, who was originally talking to Will, must’ve noticed his disheveled form, because he gave him a worried look.
“You alright Mike?” he questioned, causing both Will and Robin to send him a concerned glance.
Joyce shared a look with him, and he nodded.
“Something happened,” she said vaguely. Mike sighed, knowing he’d have to be the one to explain it.
“I think that… that Vecna’s going after me,” he breathed, and he saw Lucas tense in the corner of his eyes. A few gasps spread through the room, and he glued his eyes to his shoes once more. “My nose was bleeding, and my head has been hurting, and I… I saw the clock. I had a vision, just now,” he explained further.
“But that means…” Lucas trailed off, his expression filled with dread. Mike could tell that he was remembering what happened to Max.
“Tomorrow,” Will finished. “He’s coming for you tomorrow.”
“Shit,” Erica cursed, and nobody cared enough to point her out.
The room grew louder, too many people speaking at once. Mike couldn't make out any person's specific voice, just the subtle buzzing in his head, reminding him that Vecna was still there. Was this what Will felt like when he was near the hivemind? It felt like everything was blurry around him, and he could only focus on the curse that had been placed on him.
“We can figure this out, alright?” Joyce called out, above the scattered discussion. Everyone quieted down a little, turning to look at her for instructions. “We’ll need music, and someone to stay with him at all times, but we can figure this out.”
Everyone looked around, trying to decide who’d take the job. Lucas began to raise his hand, but Robin, who was deep in thought, interrupted him.
“Why not have Will stay with him?” she suggested, and Lucas dropped his hand. Will gave Robin an alarmed look, and they had some sort of wordless conversation, which Mike unfortunately couldn’t decipher. He noticed how much closer Will and Robin were getting, and it didn’t make him upset at all, he just got a twist in his stomach every time they spoke, and it made him frown, and he felt like he could explode with rage. Will collapsed back on the couch, his cheeks a bit redder than before, and Mike dug his fingers into the couch cushioning. Robin continued, finishing her explanation. “Like an alarm, or an antenna catching a signal.”
Lucas gave her a perpetuating look. “...What?”
“Uh…” Robin fumbled with her fingers, looking at the ceiling. “Think about it. Will can sense when Vecna’s near, even if he's in the Upside Down. So, maybe, he can sense when Vecna’s about to cause a vision? So he’s like a warning. Then, we can prepare Mike whenever he’s at risk.”
A beat of silence spread around the room as everyone thought over the plan.
“That’s… actually kind of smart,” Erica acknowledged, nodding in Robin’s direction.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she deadpanned
Will stood up, crossing the room and squeezing himself between Mike and Erica. Their shoulders brushed against each other, and Mike gave him a smile, which he returned eagerly. Everyone turned to speak to other people, the room lighting up with chatter.
“Your favorite song, is it still the same?” Will inquired, and Mike nodded.
He wasn’t surprised that Will knew his favorite song, since he’d played it so many times in the past year. It was Smalltown Boy by Bronksi Beat, a synth-pop single that he’d heard on the radio once, and it stuck with him. The instrumental, sure, but also the lyrics. He didn’t tell anyone that, though. He was surprised that nobody who heard him listening to the song had pointed out the queer notation of it, but he figured that it was because nobody there was like Troy Walsh or James Dante. Still, it was painfully obvious.
Will’s fingers tapped the beat to the song on his pants, humming the melody. Mike thought his voice was the prettiest thing on the planet, but he wasn’t going to tell him that.
“Why would he go after you?” Will inquired, as if Mike knew. “He only goes after people he can exploit, like people with super bad memories or secrets.”
Secrets. That made a lot more sense.
Mike had lots of secrets, like how he’d stolen half of Nancy’s halloween candy once and blamed it on Holly, and managed to get away with it, or how he’d drawn on his dad’s face at night with a sharpie, which didn’t come off completely for two days. He’d cheated on a lot of his math tests since he started high school because the subject had become increasingly brain numbing, and he’d helped Lucas cheat off of him in biology a few times.
He also had other secrets, like how the few times he went to Lucas’s basketball games, his eyes were trained on the players arms, not the ball, or how he’d rewatched The Empire Strikes Back just for the sake of watching Luke Skywalker train. How he’d nearly knocked over his drink at breakfast because Will had stolen one of his shirts and was wearing it, or how nice he thought Dustin looked with his hair long. He never told anyone the feeling of wrongness that he felt when reading El’s letters and finding that she signed them off with ‘love’.
He never told anyone but Dustin and El about the quarry, and he didn’t let anyone know how nice it felt. He never told anyone how easy it was to be a human shield, how naturally he imagined himself as a memory.
The fact that Vecna would be able to know that, to see his deepest secrets was the most horrifying thing he’d ever experienced. He barely trusted himself with those thoughts in his head, the thought of some otherworldly creature with unknown motives having them in his hand, disposable at any moment, was enough to kill him right there.
As he looked beside him at his closest friend, who was fixing him with a curious gaze, he knew that this would be the end. The end of his friendships, the end of his life as he knew it. He almost wanted to beg Vecna for mercy somehow, to ask him at the very least to only torment Mike with his own thoughts, to not give them to his friends, to not let them think lower of him. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if Will looked down on him with disgust, or Nancy, or his mother, or anyone in the party.
“I… I don’t know why he’s targeting me,” Mike lied, lifting a hand to his mouth and biting at his nails. Will could probably hear the hesitation in his voice, the untruthfulness, but he didn’t push any further, which Mike appreciated. The truth would likely come out anyways.
He flinched when he felt Will wrap his fingers around the wrist of the hand he held up, gently pulling it down to Mike’s lap. He let go as soon as he could. Will had always been attentive, and Mike felt a little bad for pushing him away, but he knew that Will wouldn’t want to touch him if he knew what he felt.
“It’ll be okay,” Will reassured, with a voice filled with sureness. “We know how to do this.”
Mike thought for a moment, feeling increasingly impulsive. Slowly, he crept his hand over to where Will’s hand sat, looping their pinkies together. “When it happens, you’ll be there, right?”
He worried that this was too vulnerable. Too obvious. It would take less than a glance to notice the less than platonic gesture. Still, he hoped that Will would take the route of obliviousness, and just assume that he was scared for the day to come.
Looking at Will, he saw that the boy’s eyes were glued onto their interlinked pinkies. Mike was sure he was imagining the dash of red on his face, or the slight upturn of his lips. Will looked up suddenly, catching his eye, and he gave Mike a small grin.
“Of course,” he whispered. “Yeah, of course.”
The rest of the night was spent discussing their plans in finer detail, changing, and going to bed. As Mike laid back onto the couch he was sleeping on, he registered that this may be the last time he got to go to sleep. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d probably be dead. He wouldn’t get to graduate, or leave Hawkins for good, or ever publish a book. He’d die, at sixteen, with nothing to his name. It was hard to picture his future, but he still wanted to reach it. He still wanted to imagine himself, in a big city, doing something.
As he drifted off to sleep, he accepted that he’d never achieve that dream.