Chapter Text
The desert willow tree across the street swayed softly in the wind. The vibrant pink flowers had bloomed a few weeks ago. Had Will not been preoccupied with another painting, he would have tried to capture their beauty using the new acrylic paint set he received at Christmas. He had to settle for sketches, relying on his trusty coloured pencils. Jonathan had complained about the flowers’ smell, saying they were too musty. Will thought they smelt like jasmine and citronella. El agreed with him – she thought they smelt pleasant. Then again, she finds the beauty in most things. In his opinion, Jonathan needed to stop smoking so much weed.
When their neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Moore, a married couple in their fifties, invited them for a welcome dinner not long after they moved in, Will had inquired about the tree. He’d never seen one before, though apparently they were very common in California. They told him about how the flowers usually bloomed in Spring and remained throughout the summer. Though, for some reason, that year the flowers remained until October.
Now, in early March, they were in bloom again. Will found himself staring at them more than what was probably normal. But he found a strange comfort in them. Those delicate pink flowers starkly bright against the expansive brown sandy landscape around them.
The move had been difficult, for a multitude of reasons, but somehow those flowers made each day feel a little more bearable. Because as hard as things may be – being away from his home, away from his friends, making no friends at his new school, El being bullied, his mom so busy with her new job he could hardly talk to her most days, and Jonathan always being high and checked out – how horrible could this place be if such a beautiful flower could grow and thrive here?
Though, Will supposed, things weren’t all that bad. Especially since it had started.
The first few times it happened, Will thought it was his imagination.
He had been sitting at the dining room table, the morning sun shining in through the windows. It was late October, about two months after they had moved. They were running a little late, needing to be at school in less than half an hour, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurry. He was eating his bacon and eggs, eyes heavy and tired after a sleep plagued with nightmares which were really his own memories, when everything had suddenly changed.
Instead of his breakfast, there now sat a dark blue lunch tray against an unfamiliar white table. No longer was his sister sitting across from him; in her place was one of his best friends from home, Lucas.
He had blinked, positive that he was dreaming, but something felt odd. It took him another second to realise what, but when he did, he only grew more confused. He blinked – he felt himself blink – but his vision had remained consistently unimpaired, as though he had never closed his eyelids at all.
What is happening? He had thought at the time. Am I dreaming still?
Lucas looked almost exactly as he remembered him. Though his hair did seem to be a little longer. And he couldn’t tell exactly, since he was sitting down, but Lucas seemed to be a little taller too.
Just as Will was taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, what appeared to be a larger school cafeteria, everything went back to normal. El was in front of him again, quietly eating her Eggos, and steam was rising from his freshly cooked bacon.
Will blinked – actually blinked – and shook his head, feeling more awake then he had a few seconds prior.
What the hell was that?
Will had spent the remainder of his breakfast trying to explain what he’d just experienced. It felt real, really real, but it didn’t make any sense. He reasoned that he must have just imagined what Lucas was probably doing at that moment because he missed his friends. The more he thought about it, the more logical that explanation felt. So, he just brushed it off and went about his day.
But then, three days later, it happened again.
This time, he had been in the middle of class, when in an instant the room around him had changed to a different but strangely familiar classroom. The colour of the walls and the floor and the desks; all of it seemed familiar. But what had caught his attention wasn’t the room, rather who he was looking at.
Dustin, another one of his best friends from back home, was sitting beside him. Will was already turned to look at him, rather than the board. He took in the details of his friend: a new cap, his signature immersed expression as he furiously took down notes, and a jacket that Will couldn’t recall ever seeing his friend wear before around his shoulders.
And, Will noted curiously, Dustin seemed to be a bit more solid than he had been two months ago. Like he had gained a small bit of weight. That itself wasn’t weird, but Will didn’t know why his mind was imagining Dustin slightly different than how he had last seen him.
Before he could linger any longer on how weird it was looking at his friend who seemed different, or just how vivid his imagination seemed to be, he was back in his normal classroom again.
Like the last time, Will tried to brush it off as his own imagination, but from then on a slightly uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He hoped that it wouldn’t happen again, even if it was nice seeing his friends for a few seconds, regardless of whether it was just in his mind.
Two days later, Will had been sitting in the back of Argyle's van as they were heading home, things changed again and now he was staring at dark trees that looked exactly like the forest in Hawkins. In fact, he could place exactly where in Hawkins too: the ones off the fields of Hawkins Middle and Hawkins High. He watched the leaves in the trees sway for a few seconds, before once again, everything returned to normal.
It was after the fourth ‘daydream’, just over a week after his first one, that he was sure that it wasn’t just his imagination. Because he wasn’t just seeing his friends or the trees he called home. No – he was seeing Mike.
As in the actual, present day, real life Mike.
He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why, but he knew that he wasn’t just imagining it. He knew Mike’s face as well as he knew his own, and that’s why he spotted the subtle differences a few months of growing made in an instant.
Mike’s hair was slightly longer, and also wavier, with subtle curls throughout that Will had never seen before. His face was slightly sharper, his jawline defined and his cheekbones angular. He had more freckles. He was also wearing a shirt Will had never seen before, but had actually heard about in one of Mike’s letters to El – the one where he described the new D&D club he’d joined, Hellfire.
But what made Will certain that he wasn’t just imagining this and knew that something else was going on, was that Mike was standing in front of a mirror, looking at himself. It was as though Will was seeing through Mike’s eyes.
Then it clicked. Because that was exactly what had been happening.
He wasn’t imagining things or hallucinating or daydreaming because he missed his friends. He was seeing through Mike’s eyes. Seeing exactly what he was seeing in that moment.
Will only had a second more to admire the face he’d loved since he was five before he was back in his own bedroom, staring at the ceiling above him, mind absolutely reeling after this discovery.
How was this happening? Why was this happening? Do I have powers now? Am I really seeing through Mike’s eyes? Why him? And why now? Was Mike experiencing the same thing? Do I tell anyone about this?
At the last thought Will snapped out of his spiraling.
He absolutely could not tell anyone about what was happening to him; they’d think he had finally lost his marbles after everything he had been through.
He spent the rest of the night trying, unsuccessfully, to explain and understand what was happening to him. He wondered if the exposure he had to the Mind Flayer resulted in this ability, but if that was the case, why was it manifesting now? Why not earlier? And the gate was closed, so how was it possible? It all made his head hurt.
At some point he had fallen asleep, but when he awoke the next morning, he was determined. He couldn’t understand how it was possible, but he would wait until it happened again, and he would try to make sense of it.
Three days later, that time came.
It was a Sunday, and he was in his room, drawing in his sketchbook, when suddenly he was in Mike’s basement.
He jumped to his feet, and he realised that he actually felt himself stand up, but in his vision, he remained seated on the couch – or, should he say, Mike remained seated.
The basement looked the same, but he could actually see part of Mike’s body in his vision now. Mike’s legs spread wide as he sat, his legs longer than Will had last seen, and the latest Spider-Man comic that had just been released in his lap.
Yep, Will confirmed to himself, that’s Mike right now.
“Mike,” he tried to say, but his friend made no reaction.
He heard his own voice though, and that’s when he realised another thing – he couldn’t hear whatever Mike was hearing. He couldn’t smell anything either. He could only see what Mike was seeing. Literally looking through his eyes at that exact moment.
The past four times hadn’t been long, only a few seconds, and felt like they were roughly the same amount of time, so Will had been counting, trying to figure out exactly how long these ‘visions’ lasted.
“Five seconds,” he said aloud when he could see his own room again. “Five seconds randomly every couple days.”
That’s another thing he had figured out. The visions didn’t happen everyday. They happened every 2-3 days, at completely random times.
With this information, Will tried to think about what to do. He’d already decided that he couldn’t tell anyone – they’d think he’s insane. But what could he actually do with this new ability?
He couldn’t talk to Mike – something he was becoming painfully familiar with, given the lack of contact from his ‘best friend’. He only saw through his eyes for five seconds – not enough to really do or learn anything useful.
After a long time thinking about it, Will ultimately decided to just… let them happen.
A way for him to see his friends even though they were thousands of miles apart. A strange connection between him and Mike that had no explanation, but even if Will was sad Mike had called him only twice in the months since he moved (while sending letters to El every week), he wouldn’t give this up.
But what if Mike is experiencing the same thing? What if he can see me?
So, Will decided to test it.
The following Friday, Will pretended to come down with a cold – coughing, fake sneezing, some sneaky work with heating a thermometer under hot water in the bathroom before taking it to his mother. Joyce’s overprotective nature hadn’t changed, and as soon as Will even mentioned being unwell she declared he would be staying in his bedroom until he was feeling better. A perfect cover that gave him three days clear – the longest amount of time he experienced between visions.
His plan was simple: write a note that said ‘Mike, can you see this? Is this happening to you too?’ and position it on his easel, which he then proceeded to stare at for the entirety of the three days. Even when he went to the bathroom, he took the note with him and stared at it. The only time he didn’t was when he was sleeping.
It was a rather boring three days. His only saving grace was Jonathan’s latest mixtape he’d made for Will, which he listened to over and over. Still, doing nothing but laying flat and staring at the note was starting to actually drive him insane.
During that time he experienced a vision himself.
Early Saturday morning, he saw half of the Wheelers gathered around the breakfast table. Mike was picking at his food. Will felt himself frown as he noticed how thin Mike’s arms looked. Is he not eating enough?
When the three days were over, and Will felt positive that Mike would have seen his message if he was experiencing the same thing, Will left his room and interacted with his family like a normal human being again.
As the days went by, Will waited anxiously for Mike’s possible reply. But when he had vision after vision without any sign of Mike having seen his message, he accepted that it was just him this was happening to.
Since then, he got used to it.
As the months passed, every couple days he’d see through Mike’s eyes and catch a glimpse into his and their friends’ lives for a few moments. He saw Mike and the others in class. He saw Mike doing homework. He saw Mike watching a movie with his parents. He saw Mike and Dustin at the cinema, though he hadn’t seen Lucas with them during that, which Will thought was odd. He saw Max sometimes sitting with them, and sometimes completely ignoring them, which made Will concerned.
Unlike Mike, his other friends, Lucas, Dustin and Max, had all kept in contact with Will. Not as often as he’d like, though his mother's work was partly to blame, but he’d hear from one of them at least once a week when they managed to catch Joyce away from the phone, usually on the weekend.
When Max next called, Will tried to see if she was really okay, but she didn’t give him anything. Will tried to keep an eye on Max in his visions from then on out, but Max was hanging around Mike less and less. He talked to Dustin and Lucas about it – apparently her and Lucas had broken up again, which could explain her distance, but they also said she’d been a lot quieter in general. Max also stopped calling as much, now only once a month, and even then the phone calls were short, and she asked Will more questions then she’d let him ask her. He was definitely growing concerned.
He saw Lucas wearing his basketball gear, something that would have been surprising if Lucas hadn’t told Will himself that he’d joined the team. He saw Dustin and Steve arguing at the video store where Steve worked, Robin rolling her eyes behind them. He saw Nancy stressing over something, talking fast, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying.
He saw Mike and his friends playing D&D with an older looking teen with long hair who had to be the infamous Eddie that Dustin talked about all the time. His chest ached, seeing his friends playing when they hadn’t wanted to all summer before he moved. Now, when he couldn’t play, they played all the time. They’d joined another party.
He couldn’t blame them for it though. Last summer had been a lot, and it’s not like any of them promised they wouldn’t join another party. That was just Will. Still, as much as he liked seeing his friends excited and laughing and animated as they rolled the dice, he felt left out, and was usually glad when those visions ended.
Will had been anxious as the months passed that he would end up witnessing something he wasn’t supposed to. And eventually, he was pretty sure he did.
Will had been slowly waking up one Sunday morning when suddenly he was in Mike’s bedroom, recognisable by his signature blue walls. And even though he couldn’t hear anything – thank God – he was pretty sure that Mike was in the middle of… something. Thankfully, he had his covers over him and was looking slightly up at the ceiling, but Will couldn’t help but burn with a bright red blush for the rest of the day. His mom thought he was coming down with something again, and for the next week he’d turn red anytime the vision crossed his mind.
Thankfully, that was the only time Will witnessed something private like that. He hated that he was invading Mike’s privacy at all, but he had no control over it. He had attempted to trigger the visions, or to prevent them, but he was completely at a loss. The visions just happened, at random times, and he just had to deal with it. He was just glad he’d never actually seen something, or accidentally saw Mike changing or in the bathroom or showering.
Mostly, he just saw Mike going about his day. Eating, sitting in class, reading in his bed or sitting down in the basement. It was nice – watching Mike live his life, even if Will wasn’t a part of it anymore.
Which led him to the vision he’d had three days ago.
March 1st, the first day of Spring, and exactly three weeks before his birthday and Mike’s visit over Springbreak. It was a Saturday, and he was in his room working on an important essay for his history class, when his vision changed.
He was used to this now. He'd had somewhere over forty visions at that point, so he could recognise pretty much instantly what was happening, and he was good at gathering as many details in those five seconds as he could.
Which was why he froze in his place as he read what Mike held in his hands.
William Byers
13212 Montgomery Blvd
Lenora, CA 87111
USA
Mike had written Will a letter.
Immediately, Will’s heart started to race with excitement. After months of radio silence, Mike was reaching out to him.
But before he could celebrate or even crack a smile about this, he watched as Mike knelt down beside his bed, pulled out a box from underneath, lifted the lid, and placed Will’s letter inside.
Will watched in confusion – which deepened when he saw that there were more letters in the box – as Mike closed the lid and pushed it back under his bed. The last thing he saw before his vision ended was Mike’s fist clenched tight in his lap.
Leading to where Will was now. Confused, hurt, lonely, and more isolated than he has ever felt since they moved. Mulling over this instead of doing his homework before school the next day.
He stared at the desert willow flowers, their vibrancy reminding him of a time when life was simpler. When he couldn’t magically see through his friend’s eyes and witness immensely confusing events.
Why did Mike write me a letter if he wasn’t going to send it? Why hide it in a box under his bed? Why was there more than one letter in there? Were they all for me? How long has he been doing this for? Why won’t he just call me?
He had no way to get the answers to these questions, other than hoping to catch Mike with another letter by chance, or confronting Mike himself about it when he arrived in three weeks. But that would only lead to a bunch of uncomfortable questions and even more uncomfortable answers.
So, as Will had to do with everything now it seemed, he just had to accept it.
A knock at the door drew Will from his thoughts. He turned away from his window to see his sister poking her head into his room.
“Are you staring at the flowers again?”
El’s English had improved considerably since they moved. Between school and home lessons with Jonathan or Will himself, she could properly hold a conversation and express herself.
“Yeah,” Will said, flicking his eyes back towards his sketchbook where he had replicated the tulip-like flower bulbs with his pencils.
He heard El step into his room, then saw her sit on his bed, facing him at his desk under the window.
“You are not doing homework,” she observed.
“No, I just…” Will sighed. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Will met her deeply intelligent eyes and felt himself, not for the first time, wishing that he could come clean to her – about everything.
If anyone could understand, it would be El.
But he was also worried about how she would feel, knowing that Will was seeing through Mike’s eyes – her boyfriend – every few days, when she hadn't seen him in months. Not only that, but she lost her powers. How would she feel if Will suddenly gained this ability when she had lost all of hers? He hated keeping secrets, but like many of the others he kept, mainly the ones about Mike, he felt it was for the best if only he was burdened with them.
“Not particularly,” Will said after a long moment. He tried to laugh it off. “I just haven’t been sleeping all that great.”
That wasn’t a lie. His nightmares had been worse and more frequent than usual the past week. He now sported a near constant headache and dark circles under his eyes as a result.
El smiled sympathetically. “I get them too.”
Everyone in the Byers-Hopper household had nightmares, but El and Will had them the worst. Of course she knew what he was referring to without having to ask. On multiple occasions Will had awoken to find El sleeping on her blankets on the floor beside his bed because she didn’t want to be alone. Will never minded, even if he always preferred to deal with his own nightmares himself without bothering anyone. They never talked about what they dreamt, but having the other near made them both feel less alone.
“Oh!” El perked up, changing the subject, which Will was grateful for. She smiled wide. “Mike sent me another letter!”
Nevermind – Will wasn’t grateful for this new topic of conversation.
“O-Oh, did he?” Will cursed himself for stuttering. Get a grip.
“Yeah! He said that he has his flights booked and is looking forward to coming to see us.”
“That’s…” Will felt too many emotions swirling within him to decide how he truly felt about it. “That’s great,” He settled on saying.
Then, El’s face fell.
Will frowned before he turned his desk chair so he was facing her fully.
“What?”
“He just…” El said slowly, her eyes landing on something at the bottom of the letter which Will only then realised she had brought with her. “He signed it the same…”
Will knew what she meant.
It had taken a couple months until she eventually confided in him about this, but apparently, since he had let it slip at the cabin last year while everything was going to shit, Mike has never told El that he loves her, either in person or in his letters. She signs all of hers ‘Love, El’, but his are always ‘From, Mike’.
The whole thing made Will feel… conflicted.
On the one hand, he’s loved Mike since they were kids, even if he’s only been aware of his feelings since the whole Mind Flayer possession stuff. He had Mike first. Even if he knows Mike doesn’t feel the same, part of him still feels jealous and possessive over him. That part of him is glad that Mike hasn’t expressed those feelings to El directly.
But, on the other hand, Will can see how much it upsets her. She isn’t just some ‘stupid girl’ to him anymore – she’s his sister. He loves her deeply. He’s protective of her, and after she’s suffered just as much, if not more than he has, he just wants her to be happy. And if that happiness is Mike, then he can put his own feelings aside and let her have that. It’s not like he ever had a real chance with Mike – he’s made it pretty clear since El returned that he prioritises her over Will.
But that’s why Will is also confused.
If all that is true, then why can’t Mike say ‘I love you’ to El? Why can’t he write it?
Which then brought him back to what has been plaguing him for the last three days – why did Mike write him a letter, and why didn’t he send it?
Will shook his head. This is so confusing. When did Mike become so difficult to understand?
“It’s okay, El,” Will tried to comfort her. “Maybe he doesn’t feel comfortable writing it and would rather say it in person? After all, didn’t you say that when you told him in person it was right before we left, and you had left the room before he could reply? Maybe he’s just… waiting until you reunite so he can say it back? Make it special?”
He had no idea if that was true – how could he? But he had to say it anyway to try and make El feel better. Even if the idea of it being true made his heart ache.
El perked up again, her lovely bright smile returning to her face, and Will had the urge to draw her. El was always pretty, but especially so when she was smiling.
“Yes. I hope you are right,” she said.
Will returned her smile before glancing down at his watch. “Crap, I really should start my homework now, otherwise I’ll never get it done.”
El rose to her feet and stepped closer to place her hand warmly on Will’s shoulder. “Thank you, Will.”
Will couldn’t find the words to respond, so he just gave her a nod and another smile.
El waved and turned to leave his room. “Have fun,” she said before he heard the sound of his door closing.
Will slumped back in his chair and pressed his palms against his eyes. His head ached. He wished he could just sleep and not think or feel anything.
The Wheelers were having a roast. The dining table was set up perfectly, just as Karen liked it, and Mike was half slouched in his seat, staring at the chicken he had stabbed on his fork and twirling it back and forth a few times. Mike suddenly lifted his head, his eyes landing on his mother whose mouth moved, saying a few words. If Will had to guess, he thought she asked: “Aren’t you hungry, Michael?”
His vision returned to normal, the five seconds over.
He sighed, finding himself yet again concerned over Mike’s apparent lack of an appetite. Something he’d have confirmed for himself in just a few weeks time when he finally saw Mike again. Just another thing to have on his mind.
He turned back to stare at the tree across the street. The desert willow leaves swaying softly in the afternoon breeze. He reached over to crack open his window. A few moments passed before the scent of jasmine and citronella reached him. He closed his eyes and breathed it in, wondering if he would ever get any answers about what’s been happening to him.
He doubted it.