Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will stood in Mike Wheeler’s basement, the stink of it so achingly familiar to him. Will could see several of his drawings hung up everywhere. That, at least, hadn’t changed. He walked to the couch, the one where Mike had comforted him just two days ago, where Mike had promised they’d go crazy together; the one where Will had cried about Lonnie and Mike had vented about his frustrations with Ted. As he sat down, he allowed himself to think, not for the first time, about everything that had happened in just the last week.

Whenever Will thought about this, he would get nowhere, as the thoughts were so overwhelming that they would jumble up in his brain and all he could hear was a muffled screech. This time, however, Will was determined.

He began by sorting out his thoughts into three major categories:
Upside down(he hated that that was his first priority but he was used to it by now.)
His family and friends(could he call them that? He doesn’t know.)
Mike(sigh)

Honestly, at this point, he was over it all. But processing his thoughts would help him get some clarity, even if it isn’t the kind he wanted. So he did.

He thought hard about the presence he felt as soon as the van entered Hawkins, about all the thoughts occupying his brain, thoughts that weren’t his, telling him things he already knows goddammit.

Will’s not one to be in denial. He knows that Lucas and Dustin have their own shit to deal with, even if they are ignoring him, did ignore him. He knows that El is dealing with her own grief, and he wishes he could help her. He wishes he could bring Max back. He knows that the adults are busy, trying to get all of this under control, as if that could be achieved by a few people. He knows that Mike just doesn’t care anymore. He knows that.

And if Will had a shred of selflessness in him, he wouldn’t be bitter about it. He knows he’s been fading into the background, in the eyes of his loved ones, for years now. No wonder they’d forget his birthday, no wonder Lucas and Dustin sent him a minimal amount of letters, no wonder they’d all joined The Hellfire Club, right after he left, after ignoring him all summer for wanting to play DnD and being childish.
No, Will had accepted all of this. It was bound to happen after all, he wasn’t normal. He knew they’d leave at some point, just like his dad did.
It didn’t hurt any less when they finally did, though.

But Will was over that. It was simply a fact now, not something to be argued upon, nor defended.

But Will was selfish. He longed to feel wanted, to be the object of their attention when he wasn’t in mortal peril. To just be their friend. But that was the old Will right? The one who needed his friends ,very much, to need him. To want him around, to care for him. This Will was over it all. This Will couldn’t be bothered anymore. They didn’t care anymore, that was all.

But Will did. He still loved all of them, he loved his mom and Jonathan so much. And he still loved Mike, no matter how much he tried not to. He wanted to be able to protect them, but how? How could he help? How could he be useful, all he did was get into trouble.

No, that’s a lie.

He didn’t need to get into trouble, trouble usually found him.

Which is why he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Vecna came for him.

Chapter Text

Mike was having a pretty normal day, the usual really. Being a moody teenager, trying to be normal and ignoring his feelings, nothing out of the ordinary. At least, that was until he was told Nancy had invited Jonathan, Joyce and Will to stay with them.

He wasn’t thinking about how he and Will would be sharing a room. Together. Just like old times. Where they’d bounce around, screaming absolutely nothing at each other, pretending to be their dnd characters, and complain about every asshole in their lives(and there were many). And then Will would slide in beside Mike, and they’d smile at each other, whispering even after the lights were out, softly exchanging words of-

Anyway.

Where was he? Ah yes, everything was normal. He was normal. Obviously.
Now Will was in the basement, and Mike was procrastinating going down there. Why? Because he had stuff to do in his room actually…like….rearrange his posters! And- and pick out clothes for Will, because who knows if he packed any.

Should he pick out some innerwear? Surely, Will’s gotten that though, right? Is it even hygienic to-
“Michael, get your room ready for Will, you both will be sharing it!”
What does that even mean? And why would Will care? They’ve known each other since they were FIVE, what does Mike have to hide? Except for-

Nothing. Nothing.
Help.

Mike looked at his closet, thinking about the size difference between him and Will. Mike’s not blind, he saw how much more….buffer Will had gotten. Now, he had muscles, which Mike was not staring at in Lenora, what do you mean?
Please let the closet swallow him whole.

~

Will saw black.
Ha! He thought derisively. What else is new?
He felt himself being pulled towards something.
Suddenly, he was six years old, in his room. He could hear yelling coming from the living room, faint but clear enough to pick up the words, for Will’s sharp ears anyway.

Will, present Will, did a double take. He remembered this day. Of course he did. Because it’s the trauma that’s always more memorable than the happiness. Hooray.

He remembers what triggered it, Will coming home shaking with happiness because he’d just had a great day with Mike. They were just playing, running around the playground, holding hands. Of course, he can’t remember a lot of that because it’s now all covered up by this shitty memory.
But, see, he knows why they were fighting, why they always did. He knew it then, he knows it now. Jonathan didn’t know he knew, didn’t know anything about this day. He was out with a friend, which he was very rarely. Little Will was happy for him, but he was also scared. Terrified. From the way his father had looked at him, the way his mother had looked at Lonnie after those words had slipped out of his mouth; the words that would haunt him for the rest of his life, that don’t mean anything to his attackers but mean so much to him.

Will knew very well that he was the problem. He was the one who could never do anything right, nothing that would ever earn Lonnie’s approval. Not that Will cared too much about that, though. No, with time, he realized that Lonnie was a shitbag. No, what Will cared about was that he was hurting his mom. He worried his mom so much, he could see it in the stress lines in her expression, the bags under her eyes, the concerned and desperate look she got when Lonnie came home to Will drawing.

Will wished he could make it go away. He was angry, furious at how helpless he was, how useless he was. He wasn’t a real man, just like Lonnie said. He couldn’t stand up for himself, or for his mom. No, that was always Jonathan, just another thing Will felt horrible for.
Little Will didn’t understand why though. How did he make Lonnie so angry? Make his mom so concerned? Why was Will like this?

Present Will knew, though. Oh, he knew all too well. He wished he didn’t.
Actually, no.
Being clueless is just as terrifying as knowing.
Like he is right now.

Seeing all this again….he felt numb. He had so many things to say, but nowhere to say them. Oh god, he wanted to scream-

And he was zooming again, being pulled towards an unidentifiable source. Perfect.

He was in his elementary school, being laughed at for choosing to wear purple coloured clothes-
Flash to the Middle School with the Zombie Boy posters stuck everywhere, trying desperately to keep up a poker face as he knew exactly what everyone was thinking.
He could feel the taunting, the cruelty, the amusement in their expressions. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. No, he could feel the pity. Somehow, that was worse than whatever they could say. The fact that they weren’t saying anything, but looking at him like that, that was enough. Sure, he felt bad, but he knew the real reason.

He recognized that look. It was way too similar to how his friends used to look at him, three years ago. Like he was going to shatter, any second. Like he was untouchable, something foreign, not the same boy they’d known for years now. Hell, even his mom and Jonathan looked at him like that.

And that just….did it. It just confirmed all of his fears. If he wasn’t a freak before the Upside Down, he definitely was now.
But there was still one glimmer of hope: Mike. The ray of hope he clung to like a life-saving drug, and it worked. Until it didn’t.

True to his thought process, the Upside Down took him right to the scene. Vecna knew exactly where to hit. Too bad he was many months too late, Will’s brain did it better. If Vecna wanted to affect Will with this, it wasn’t gonna fucking work.

Because, as Will watched that exact scene unfold before him, he maintained a neutral face. Why? He knew all of this. He’d come to these revelations a while back. He wasn’t in the discovery phase, no he was done. He was tired, exhausted with all of this shit. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. So, Mike doesn’t care about him. He doesn’t care. So Mike’s like everyone else. He doesn’t care. So they all did forget about him. HE DOESN’T CARE.
He’s sure they’ll all remember now, that he’s being attacked by Vecna. That’s the common theme here, of course. Let’s only care about Will when he’s in mortal danger? Why? Because he’s a victim, not a person. But Will doesn’t give a damn.

Should Will be feeling scared right now? All he’s feeling is free. He knows why, of course he does.

First, after some time, you stop being terrified or shocked, at least. Perhaps Will is scared, deep down, but not surprised. Right now, he can’t think of anything but the fact that he can leave now. He doesn’t have to stay. If Will was selfless, he wouldn’t feel relieved.
Second, of course, is that he has a lot to say. He has been having it for months now, and hasn’t said it to anyone, afraid to hurt them. But, clearly, he doesn’t give a shit about what Vecna thinks of him. Who better to rant to? He has some shit to say, and goddamnit, he will say it.