Chapter Text
The first time Will goes back to Castle Byers after everything, it feels wrong.
Not empty. Not abandoned.
Wrong.
The woods are quieter now. Too quiet. Like even the wind learned to stay away after everything that happened. After Vecna. After the Upside Down finally tore itself apart like it couldn’t hold on anymore.
Will stands at the edge of the clearing, fingers curled into the sleeves of his jacket, staring at what’s left.
Castle Byers isn’t really a castle anymore.
It’s half-collapsed, the old wood warped and gray, one wall leaning like it might give up any second. The sign is still there though. Faded letters. WILL THE WISE, MIKE THE PALADIN.
He almost laughs at that.
Almost.
“You gonna just stand there?” Mike’s voice calls from behind him.
Will flinches. Of course he does. He always does, even now. Even after everything is supposed to be over.
Mike jogs up beside him, a little out of breath, hands shoved in his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Which, honestly, he probably doesn’t.
Mike looks at the wreckage, squinting. “Huh. Yeah, okay, it’s… worse than I remembered.”
Will doesn’t answer.
Because all he can see isn’t the broken wood.
It’s hands.
Not Mike’s.
Lonnie’s.
Rough, heavy, grabbing his arm too tight. The smell of cigarettes. The sound of his own voice going quiet because that was safer than saying anything at all.
Often times after Lonie would come home and take things out on Will or Johnathan or Joyce, will would go to castle Byers.
So even though this place was, at one point, a place for friends to hang out, it’s now a place of harsh unwanted memories.
You’re too soft, boy.
The memory hits so fast it steals the air out of his lungs.
“Will?”
Mike’s voice again. Closer now. Careful.
Will forces himself to breathe. In. Out. The way Joyce taught him.
“I’m fine,” he says.
He isn’t.
Mike nods like that settles it, because of course he does. Because Mike has always been like this, hasn’t he? Charging headfirst into monsters, into danger, into everything… except the quiet stuff.
The stuff that matters.
Still, he nudges Will’s shoulder. “C’mon. We didn’t bike all the way out here for you to just stare at it like it’s gonna bite you.”
Will huffs a quiet, shaky laugh despite himself. “It might.”
“Please. I fought interdimensional horrors. I can take on some rotten wood.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Mike pauses.
For a second, it looks like he might ask.
He doesn’t.
“Yeah, well,” Mike says instead, softer now, “we can fix it. If you want.”
Will looks at him.
Really looks.
Mike’s hair is messier than usual. There’s a faint scar near his chin now, one Will doesn’t remember from before. He looks older. Tired in a way that never really goes away anymore.
But he’s here.
He’s always here.
“Why?” Will asks quietly.
Mike blinks. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why fix it? It’s just… a dumb fort.”
Mike frowns like that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “It’s not dumb. It’s ours.”
Something in Will’s chest twists.
Ours.
The word sticks. Warm and painful all at once.
Lonnie never said things like that.
Nothing was ever ours.
Everything was his.
Will swallows. “It’s broken.”
“So were we,” Mike says, like it’s obvious. “Didn’t stop us.”
Will laughs again, but this time it cracks in the middle.
Mike’s expression shifts immediately. “Hey. What? What’d I say?”
“Nothing,” Will says quickly. Too quickly. “It’s just…”
He stops.
Because the words are there. Right there.
I’m still broken.
He doesn’t say them.
Instead, he turns away, stepping toward what’s left of the fort. The wood creaks under his weight, familiar and not at the same time.
Mike follows.
Of course he does.
They sit inside what used to be the main part, backs against the slanted wall. For a while, neither of them says anything.
The silence isn’t comfortable.
But it isn’t unbearable either.
Which is new.
“I used to come here when things got bad,” Will says finally.
Mike glances over. “Yeah. I know.”
“No, I mean… before.”
Mike frowns. “Before what?”
Will hesitates.
Then, quietly, “Before everything. Before the Upside Down. Before… all of it.”
Mike’s confusion is obvious now. “What do you mean?”
Will picks at a splinter in the wood. “When my dad was still around.”
Mike goes still.
“Oh,” he says.
Just that.
Oh.
Will waits for more. For questions. For anything.
It doesn’t come.
And somehow that hurts more than if Mike had said the wrong thing.
“He used to get… mad,” Will continues anyway, voice barely above a whisper. “A lot.”
Mike nods slowly, like he’s trying to piece something together way too late.
“You never really talked about him,” Mike says.
Will almost laughs again.
“Yeah,” he says. “I wonder why.”
Mike winces. “Okay, yeah, that was… that was dumb.”
Will shrugs, but his hands are shaking now. “I’d come out here and pretend it was different. That I was someone else. Someone… stronger.”
Mike doesn’t interrupt this time.
Good.
Because if he did, Will thinks he might shut down completely.
“I thought if I stayed here long enough, I wouldn’t have to go back,” Will says. “But I always did.”
The words hang there.
Heavy.
Honest.
Too honest.
Mike stares at the floor, jaw tight. “Will…”
“It’s stupid,” Will says quickly. “I mean, it’s just a fort, right? Just wood and nails and—”
“It’s not stupid.”
The way Mike says it makes Will stop.
He looks up.
Mike’s not confused anymore.
He looks… angry.
Not at Will.
At something else.
At someone else.
“He shouldn’t have treated you like that,” Mike says, voice low.
Will blinks. “You don’t even know what he did.”
“I don’t have to,” Mike snaps, then immediately softens. “I mean… I can guess. And it’s enough.”
Will stares at him.
Because that’s new.
Mike, who misses obvious things, who doesn’t ask questions, who doesn’t always understand…
Somehow gets this.
“I’m sorry,” Mike adds, quieter now. “That I didn’t know. That I didn’t… notice.”
Will swallows hard. “I didn’t want you to.”
“Yeah, well,” Mike mutters, “I should’ve anyway.”
Silence again.
But this one feels different.
Less sharp.
More… steady.
Mike nudges his shoulder again, gentler this time. “You don’t have to pretend you’re someone else here. Not anymore.”
Will’s throat tightens.
Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?
He’s been pretending for so long he’s not even sure what’s real anymore.
“You’re already…” Mike starts, then stops.
Will looks at him. “Already what?”
Mike hesitates. For once.
Then, awkward and a little flushed, “You’re already strong. Like, ridiculously strong, actually. You went through all that and you’re still… you.”
Will lets out a shaky breath. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“It is,” Mike insists. “It really is.”
Will studies his face.
There’s no doubt there.
No hesitation.
Just… certainty.
And something softer underneath it. Something Mike probably doesn’t even realize is showing.
Clueless, Will thinks.
Completely, hopelessly clueless.
And still…
Still here.
“Okay,” Will says quietly.
Mike blinks. “Okay what?”
Will looks around at the broken walls, the leaning beams, the faded sign.
Then back at Mike.
“Let’s fix it.”
Mike’s face lights up immediately. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
It won’t erase anything.
It won’t undo the past, or the Upside Down, or Lonnie, or any of it.
But maybe…
Maybe it can be something new.
Something theirs.
Mike grins, already standing up. “Alright, first step, we need better wood. And maybe, like, actual tools this time.”
Will smiles, A real one.
For a while, they actually try.
Not in any organized way. Not like they have a plan.
Mike kicks at a loose board, testing it like that somehow counts as construction. Will ends up holding one of the warped pieces in place while Mike tries to wedge another underneath it, both of them pretending this is enough to rebuild something that used to feel unbreakable.
It isn’t.
But it’s something.
“Okay, that is definitely not stable,” Mike says, stepping back as the board tilts dangerously.
Will lets out a quiet laugh. “You think?”
“Hey, I said not stable, not impossible. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
Mike turns to argue, already halfway into it, but then he stops.
Because Will is smiling.
Not just a small one.
Something softer. Warmer.
Mike stares at him for a second too long.
Will notices.
Of course he notices.
“What?” Will asks, the smile fading just a little.
“Nothing,” Mike says quickly. Too quickly. “You just… uh…”
He gestures vaguely, like the explanation might appear in the air between them.
Will raises an eyebrow. “I just… what?”
Mike groans. “Okay, why are you making this hard?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re smiling at me weird!”
Will blinks. “Weird?”
“Yeah. Like… like that.”
“That is just my face.”
“No, it’s not!”
Will huffs, crossing his arms, but there’s still something fragile underneath it now. “Sorry for smiling, I guess.”
“I didn’t say don’t smile!” Mike runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself more than anything. “I just meant it’s been a while since I’ve seen you do that. Like, actually do that.”
Will stills.
Oh.
“Oh,” he says quietly.
Mike winces a little. “Yeah. That sounded bad.”
“No,” Will says, softer now. “It didn’t.”
It just sounded true.
The air shifts.
Not heavy, exactly.
But charged.
Mike looks away first, suddenly very interested in a piece of wood on the ground. “We should probably, uh… take a break or something.”
“Yeah,” Will agrees, even though part of him doesn’t want to move.
They end up sitting again, closer this time without really thinking about it. Their shoulders brush, just barely.
Will feels it anyway.
Of course he does.
He always does.
“You remember when Dustin tried to make a roof out of, like, a tarp and it collapsed on all of us?” Mike says after a minute.
Will huffs. “Yeah. He said it was ‘structurally sound.’”
“It was not.”
“It really wasn’t.”
They both laugh.
It’s easier now.
Safer.
Until it isn’t.
Because the laughter fades, and the quiet comes back, and Will can feel it building again. That thing in his chest. That pressure. That truth he’s been holding onto for years like it might destroy everything if he lets it out.
Maybe it will.
Maybe it won’t.
He doesn’t know.
That’s the worst part.
“I almost didn’t come today,” Will says suddenly.
Mike looks at him. “What? Why?”
Will shrugs, but it’s tight. Defensive. “I don’t know. I just… didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“Because of this place?”
“Partly.”
Mike frowns. “Then why did you?”
Will hesitates.
Because there are a hundred answers.
Because I miss it.
Because I miss you.
Because I didn’t want to be alone.
Because if I didn’t come, I’d keep wondering what would’ve happened if I did.
Instead, he says, “You asked me to.”
Mike blinks. “Yeah, but you could’ve said no.”
“I don’t say no to you.”
The words slip out before Will can stop them.
Too fast.
Too honest.
Mike goes very still.
“Why not?” he asks, quieter now.
Will’s heart starts pounding.
He could backtrack.
He should backtrack.
He doesn’t.
“Because it’s you,” Will says.
Mike stares at him like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t realize he was looking at.
“That doesn’t really explain anything,” Mike admits.
Will lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I know.”
He looks down at his hands.
He should stop.
He really, really should stop.
But something in him is tired.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of almost saying things and then swallowing them down until they hurt.
“I think…” Will starts, then falters. “I think I got used to… needing you.”
Silence.
Not the soft kind.
The terrifying kind.
Mike doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t joke.
Doesn’t deflect.
He just listens.
So Will keeps going.
“Not like Dustin or Lucas or anyone else,” he says, voice barely steady. “It’s different. It’s always been different.”
His chest feels tight now.
Like he can’t breathe properly.
“I tried to ignore it,” Will admits. “For a long time. I thought it would just… go away. Or I’d grow out of it or something.”
Mike’s voice is careful when he speaks. “Out of what?”
Will laughs weakly. “Yeah. That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”
He finally looks up.
Meets Mike’s eyes.
And for once, he doesn’t look away.
“I don’t think I can,” Will says.
The world feels like it’s holding its breath.
Mike opens his mouth.
Closes it.
Opens it again.
“Will,” he says, completely lost, “I don’t… I don’t get what you’re trying to…”
And there it is.
Clueless.
Still.
Even now.
Will feels something in him crack, just a little.
Not enough to break.
Just enough to hurt.
“It’s okay,” Will says quickly, the words rushing out now. “You don’t have to. Forget I said anything, it was stupid, I just…”
“Hey, no, don’t do that,” Mike says immediately.
Will freezes.
Mike shifts closer, turning toward him fully now.
“I’m not… not getting it on purpose,” Mike says, frustrated. “I just need you to actually say it, okay? Because I think I might be missing something important and I really don’t want to mess this up.”
Will stares at him.
Because that’s new too.
Mike asking.
Mike trying.
Mike staying.
His throat feels tight.
But he nods.
Just a little.
“Okay,” Will whispers.
He takes a breath.
It shakes on the way out.
“I like you,” he says.
Then, because that isn’t enough, because it doesn’t explain the years of it, the weight of it, the way it’s shaped everything
“I’ve always liked you.”
The silence that follows is unbearable.
Will can hear his own heartbeat.
Loud.
Too loud.
He braces for it.
For the rejection.
For the awkward apology.
For the way everything is about to change in the worst possible way.
Instead
“Oh.”
Mike says it the same way he did before.
But it’s not the same.
This time, it’s not empty.
It’s full.
“Oh,” Mike repeats, softer.
Will looks away first this time. He can’t handle watching the realization settle in real time.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have…”
“Will.”
Mike’s hand finds his wrist.
Gentle.
But firm enough to stop him from pulling away.
Will stills.
“You said you don’t say no to me, right?” Mike says quietly.
Will swallows. “Yeah.”
“Then don’t say no to this either.”
Will frowns slightly, confused, heart still racing.
“To what?”
Mike hesitates.
Which is honestly terrifying, because Mike never hesitates.
Then, a little breathless, a little unsure
He leans in.
It’s not smooth. It’s not confident.
It’s Mike. A little awkward. A little off.
But real.
Will’s brain barely has time to catch up before their foreheads bump slightly, both of them huffing out a surprised breath.
“Wow, okay, that was…” Mike starts.
“Yeah,” Will says, half-laughing despite everything. “That was…”
“Let me try that again,” Mike says quickly.
This time, he’s slower.
More careful.
His hand is still around Will’s wrist, like he’s afraid he might disappear if he lets go.
Will doesn’t move.
Doesn’t pull away.
When Mike kisses him, it’s soft.
Tentative.
Like he’s asking a question he’s only just learned how to say.
Will answers.
Not with words.
Just by leaning in, just a little.
Just enough.
When they pull back, neither of them speaks right away.
Mike looks stunned.
Will probably does too.
“That’s what you meant,” Mike says finally.
Will lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. That’s… that’s what I meant.”
Mike nods slowly, like he’s still catching up. “Okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense now.”
Will stares at him. “That’s your reaction?”
“What? I’m processing!”
“You just kissed me!”
“Yeah, I know, I was there!”
Will laughs, a real one this time, and it feels lighter than anything he’s felt in a long time.
Mike smiles at him.
Soft.
Certain.
Still a little clueless.
But not about this.
Not anymore.
“So,” Mike says, a little shy now, “does this mean we’re…?”
Will tilts his head. “You’re asking me?”
“Well, yeah! I don’t know the rules for this!”
“There are no rules, Mike.”
“Okay, that seems like a problem.”
Will laughs again.
Then, softer, “Yeah. I think we are.”
Mike nods, like he’s committing that to memory. “Okay. Good. I like that.”
He hesitates, then adds, quieter, “I like you too.”
Will’s chest tightens.
But this time it doesn’t hurt.
Outside, the wind finally moves through the trees again.
Castle Byers creaks around them, still broken, still unfinished.
But no longer wrong.