Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world hadn’t ended yet.

Thanks to a bunch of courageous maniacs, a girl with superpowers, a few Molotov cocktails, an ancient sword, and a sawed-off shotgun, Vecna had been beaten back—reduced to a bleeding, burning husk hiding in the Upside Down, nursing his wounds.

But no one felt like victors.

The cost had been too high.

Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, Jason. Eddie. Maybe Max. Twenty-two other Hawkins residents, all gone the night the rifts cracked the town into four ragged quarters.

And the worst part? Everyone knew it wasn’t over. Not even close.

The best-case scenario: they’d bought themselves time. Time to regroup. Time to prepare. Time to hope.

Because it was perfectly clear to everyone that it was only a matter of time until One was ready to conquer and destroy. First and foremost, to eradicate Hawkins, the town he hated most, and all its inhabitants. And, after that, the rest of the planet.

Meanwhile in the strange new Hawkins—a town literally split open but still clinging to normalcy—hope was fragile. Minor earthquakes had become routine—rattling windows, cracking sidewalks, unsettling everyone in ways they didn’t want to talk about. It was like the town itself remembered, still shivering from the wound left behind. Then again: Some neighborhoods were eerily untouched. Kids still rode bikes. Stores still opened. School was still in session. But just a few blocks away, streets gaped open like wounds, reminders of what had happened and what still might come. People that stayed – far more than expected – tried to ignore the chaos, the roadblocks, the military around them. It was surreal. To put it mildly.

Dr. Owens had resurfaced in the chaos, surprisingly alive and with something resembling good news. He’d cleared El’s name by showing surveillance footage from the massacre at the lab to people in power. That was enough to dethrone Lt. Col. Sullivan and stop the hunt for El. A glimpse of hope.

The Byers family had returned to Hawkins. Owens had found them an abandoned house where they could live, on the outskirts of the most unharmed part of town. Nothing big, nothing special. A home.
Hopper’s cabin became the group’s headquarters, a battered sanctuary in the woods where they tried to plan for whatever came next.

You’d think that under the looming threat of annihilation, no one would have time for personal drama.

But you’d be wrong.

Fifteen-year-old Will Byers knew that better than anyone.

He hated fighting.

He’d grown up hearing it—his mom and Lonnie tearing into each other like wild animals. The yelling, the cruel words, the bitter silences afterward. It had carved something permanent into him: a deep aversion to conflict, to confrontation.

So, he avoided it. Swallowed it. Smoothed things over. Bit his tongue. Even with his friends.

Especially with Mike.

That’s what made it hurt more when he snapped. Again.

“Will, are you even listening?” Mike paced across the living room of Hopper’s cabin, his voice sharp.

Will blinked. "Huh? Yeah. Totally."

Of course, he hadn’t been listening. He was thinking about how things used to be—comic book debates, endless D&D campaigns, the way they used to be in sync. Back when Mike had looked at him like he mattered.

"Wow. That’s really not cool," Mike said, eyebrows forming that familiar angry V. "I’m telling you about my problems with El and you’re not even paying attention."

“It’s not like I didn’t listen to that yesterday”, Will just mumbled. “Or the day before...”

Mike’s eyes narrowed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Will stood up. "It means you’ve been unloading your drama on me nonstop, and the one time I check out for two seconds, suddenly I’m the jerk?"

"I didn’t say you were—"

"You didn’t have to!" Will’s voice rose. He tried to reel it back, to stay calm. But the words kept coming. "I’ve listened to you for weeks, Mike. Tried to help. Tried to be there. And all I get is more of the same. Do you even care what’s going on with me?"

Mike looked down, mouth opening for a second—but no words came. His brow furrowed, like he wanted to explain something but didn’t quite know how. Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, or maybe guilt.

When he said nothing, Will gave a hollow laugh. "Didn’t think so."

"That’s not fair."

"Fair?" Will’s voice cracked. "You think this is about fair? After how you treated me all last year? You said you were sorry, Mike, but nothing changed."

"I wanted to ask how you were," Mike said quietly. "You always seemed... closed off."

"So it’s my fault now?"

"No, that’s not what I—"

"Screw this," Will muttered, moving for the door. "Screw you, Mike."

With that, he left the room, slamming the door with a loud bang. Just before he stormed out, Will glanced back. Mike stood frozen in the center of the room, lips parted like he wanted to say something—but didn’t.

Of course, Will cried.

Because he hated fighting. Especially with Mike. It always felt like something vital inside him broke.

He thought about their friendship, how warped and tangled it had become. They tried, sometimes. But every time they got close, it fell apart. Like two magnets flipped the wrong way.

Maybe they’d both changed. Maybe they weren’t best friends anymore.

But Will couldn’t accept that.

He needed Mike. That’s what the painting was about. That’s what everything was about. Even if Mike never saw it.

That night, Will convinced himself his life couldn’t get any worse.

He was wrong.

Chapter Text

When Will heard the chimes of the old grandfather’s clock, he wasn’t surprised at all.
He had expected it, to be honest. Of course, it would be here—where else could Vecna find him??

Will Byers was standing in front of the crumbled, shattered remains of his childhood. The one place that symbolized everything that had gone wrong in his life, especially since that fateful day.

The day he had started as a cleric, as Will the Wise, full of enthusiasm. The day he had ended as a soaking wet, weeping lump.

He didn’t know why he had come here exactly, or what he had expected to see or to feel. But his feet had brought him here. And now that he was staring at the ruins of Castle Byers, he was filled with a strange cocktail of emotions: guilt, pride, anger, regret, satisfaction.

So, it would happen here. Maybe his life was about to end in a few minutes—the rest of him, the part that hadn’t already died a year ago.

He’d known this moment was coming ever since he first heard the clock. That had been four weeks ago—just days after they returned to Hawkins.

Since then, he’d heard the chimes again and again. Even seen the clock once or twice.

But this time, it was different.

He knew it by the hairs standing on the back of his neck. By the unnatural cold that made him shiver. By the sinking, leaden feeling in his gut.

Ever since the Mind Flayer possessed him, Will’s connection to the Upside Down worked like a sensor—a Richter scale measuring tremors in the other world.

And now, the needle was in the red.

He hadn’t told anyone about the visions. He was done being the one who needed protecting, the one everyone hovered over. Just once, he wanted to be brave. To face this alone.

And, if he was honest, a part of him was eager. Curious. Tired.

Because he was done.
Finished.
With all of it.

Coming back to Hawkins had opened his eyes.
And what he saw was just... misery. Confusion. Pain.
He didn’t need to list the reasons—he felt them all the time. Complicated reasons.
Messy, human reasons. All of them had names and faces.

Mike, of course. First and foremost. It had always started and ended with him. Back when they were inseparable, when every smile from Mike felt like sunshine—and now, when every glance felt like shadow.

Their relationship had unraveled slowly over the past year, slipping from comfort into confusion. The silence that followed their last fight still rang in Will’s ears, sharp and unfinished. Things had once been effortless, bright—but now every word felt barbed, every look uncertain. It was easier not to think about the distance. Easier than wondering how they’d drifted so far.

Their relationship was… well, complicated wasn’t even the right word. Better: the completely topsy-turvy, shaken-up, and messed-up condition that once could have been described as best friendship.

Mike was still Will’s compass. His obsession. His anchor.
But being near him didn’t make Will feel safe anymore. It made him feel... small. Unseen. Weak.
And worst of all, it didn’t make him happy. With every passing day, he felt the tension increase, felt pain and anger grow inside him.

There were moments—good ones. Mike had even apologized, kind of, for the year he’d spent ignoring him.

But there were too many things left unsaid.
One thing, especially. The one Will knew he could never say.

So every time he saw Mike, he wanted to yell at him, shake him, slap him – just to let off some steam from the over-spiced stew of emotions that was boiling inside of him.

And every time Mike wasn’t around, Will felt lost, spending too much time thinking about him, missing him. It was driving him mad.

Then there was Jonathan. And Joyce. Their love burned constant, warming him.
But they looked at him like he was made of glass. Always worried, always watching.
They were his shelter—but also the walls of his cage.

There was El. His half-sister. He loved her for who she was, especially because her insecurity reminded him of himself. The only - but, in Will’s eyes, crucial - difference between them was her powers. How often had he envied her, wished to swap places. To solve problems with a twitch of the neck, to make obstacles disappear with a snap. El was a constant reminder of what he lacked. And that wasn’t just supernatural abilities. It was also a very specific person…

His friends—Dustin, Lucas, Max—they meant the world.
They would die for him. They had, almost.
But they were all moving on. In relationships. In life.
And Will?
He felt like an appendix—technically part of the body, but no one quite knew why.
Unnecessary.

In the last few months, he had felt so much pain, so much despair, grief and self-pity. Feelings that he was well acquainted with. But there was another one.
He had wept, raged, and curled into himself. But this - this burn in his gut - it wasn’t fear. It was hate. And it was new.
It curled inside him like smoke. Like fire.
He had raged before—he’d destroyed Castle Byers.
But this wasn’t an explosion.
It was a burn. A steady, smoldering fury.

And it was freeing.

Will wasn’t entirely sure if those were truly his own emotions or Vecna’s instead. Maybe it didn’t matter. His heart had already cracked open—Vecna was just crawling through what Mike had left behind.

He knew that One was reaching out to him. He felt it. Vecna wanted to get to him. Again. And this time he wasn’t afraid. And, as strange as it sounded, that’s what frightened him the most. That he was almost eager to hear what Henry had to say. To see what he was going to do to him.
Couldn’t get any worse, Will had thought more than once. Even if Vecna did to him what he’d done to the others, at least it would be over quick. Like ripping of a band-aid…

*****

Two days earlier:

El found Will out on the back porch, sitting alone with a blanket around his shoulders. The stars above were faint, veiled by cloud, but Will was looking up anyway—like they might still shine for him if he stared hard enough.

She stepped outside, barefoot and quiet.

“I thought you might be out here,” she said softly.

Will didn’t turn around. “Couldn’t sleep.”

El sat beside him, tucking her knees up beneath the hem of Jonathan’s oversized hoodie.

“I had nightmares,” she offered, like a truce.

Will gave a small nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

Silence stretched between them—not heavy, not awkward. Just… real. Familiar.

After a minute, El said, “You’ve changed, Will. Since we're back.”

Will didn’t answer.

“Like there’s something you’re carrying and I don’t know what it is.”

Will exhaled through his nose. “Some things are just heavy, El.”

She turned her head, studying his face. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Will hesitated. Then he nodded. But his voice was small when he spoke.

“Have you ever felt like no matter what you say, it won’t matter?”

El thought for a second, then answered honestly. “Yes.”

Will gave a bitter smile.

El laid a hand on his arm. “You matter to me, Will.”

Will swallowed. He didn’t move.

“That’s kind,” he said. “But sometimes… kindness isn’t enough.”

El didn’t know what to say to that. Not really.

After a long moment, Will looked back up at the sky.

“Some people get to be the heart,” he murmured, so quietly she almost didn’t catch it. “Some people get to be the superhero. And some people just… watch.”

El blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

Will looked at her now, really looked, and there was something in his eyes that wasn’t bitterness—it was grief.

He could tell her. Right here. Just like that.

Instead, just: “Sometimes it feels like… vanishing.”

Then he stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. “You should get some sleep.”

She wanted to stop him. But something told her… this wasn’t a wound she could close with words.

So she nodded.

And Will went back inside.

******

“Hello William.”

Will turned around and saw the disfigured form of what had once been Henry Creel approaching slowly. He stared at him, stunned—not just because the monster was here at all, but because he looked... whole. No burns. No charred flesh. No broken limbs.

Vecna tilted his head as if reading Will’s thoughts.

“Surprised?” he asked, almost amused. “I heal quickly. Pain is nothing new to me. It teaches. Refines.”

He stepped forward, unscarred and calm. “Fire only made me stronger.”

Even if the sight of Vecna scared him deeply, Will stayed in place and looked at him, almost provocatively.

“Took you long enough.” There was only a slight tremble in his voice. “Missed me?”

Vecna just smiled, then he let his gaze wander to the sad pile of wood, rope and fabric behind Will. “I could say the same about you.” He pointed at the ruins. “I was impressed by you back then. Because you finally found the strength and bravery to do what you should have done long before.” He took a step closer. “Set yourself free.”

Will stared at him defiantly.

“But you didn’t finish what you started that day.”

“You overinterpret things”, Will replied quietly. “I was just angry.”

Vecna let out a laugh—low and jagged, like splintering ice beneath pressure, the kind that seemed to echo from a place far deeper than his twisted form. “Why do you keep lying to yourself, William? You weren’t just angry. You were hurt. Again. Because people you hoped would be on your side let you down. Again.”

Will felt a lump in his throat. He thought about the ruined campaign, the embarrassment when he realized Lucas and Mike didn’t take the game - didn’t take him - seriously anymore.

“And they didn’t just let you down, did they?”, Vecna sneered. “He insulted you. Said bad things. Poor William, him of all people…”

Then his form changed. Mike stood before him.

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.”

Will felt his eyes burn. Seeing his best friend, hearing that voice, reliving that moment – it hurt like hell.

“He didn’t mean it in a bad way…”, Will mumbled, his voice flat, unconvincing.

“He didn’t?” Vecna shook his head. “William, when will you finally stop defending this world? These people…” He looked Will dead in the eye. “People like him, people who judge you because you’re different. Just like they judged me. I would never judge you.”

Will laughed scornfully. “Yeah, right. You’d just kill me.”

“I have no intention to do that”, Vecna said. For the first time his voice sounded almost compassionate. “I never had. Not now, not when I first took you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Will looked at him incredulously. Vecna smiled. “I chose you because we are very much alike. You remind me of myself, of how I used to be a long time ago. Sensitive, introverted, artistically gifted. A good observer. Receptive to nuances. Quick to assess people.” His eyes became small slits when he continued speaking. “But also misunderstood, overlooked. A misfit.”

“We are not the same”, Will snapped.

Vecna laughed. “You can’t deny the truth. But you’re not completely wrong. There is a difference between us. I saw through them. The people of Hawkins. I saw what they really are.” He raised his right hand and ran a finger over Will’s cheek. The scenery changed.
Suddenly, they stood on Weathertop, overlooking the town.
“Do you want to see something really scary?” He pointed toward the distant houses. “Look at them! They are the real monsters! And unlike me they hide behind their pathetic masks of petty bourgeois respectability. You should fear them, not me!”

“Seems like you fear them”, Will said.

“I did. Once.” Vecna’s anger faded. “But more than fearing them I feared to become one of them. Now I’m so much more.”

Vecna smiled. “You know they despise us. People who are different. Two thousand years ago, they crucified a young carpenter just because he wasn’t like them. Because he scared them. Showed them their averageness.” Vecna growled. “Now they worship him. Hypocrites.”

“You are blinded by your hatred”, Will said.

“Blinded?” Vecna looked disgusted. “It’s not me who refuses the truth. They haven’t changed. They want us to believe they did. If they could, they’d erase us, William. And you know it.”

Will didn’t want to admit it. But he had heard the hate. He had seen the disgust. He had met the Billys, the Troys. The Lonnies.

“I remember you, William. I remember that scared little boy that wanted nothing more in life than to live up to his daddy”, Vecna said with a triumphant smile. “And I wonder: Can you still see the disappointment in his eyes?”

And then, Lonnie stood before him. “Now pull yourself together, son! It’s a fucking baseball, not a hand grenade. Just catch it, dammit!”

Will knew it was an illusion. But the words, the contempt, still burned.

Even though his eyes stung, he showed nothing. He wouldn't give Vecna the satisfaction.

“You like to torture people, huh?”

“I like to show them the truth”, Vecna just replied. “I’m the mirror they can’t shatter.”

“You make people hallucinate, that’s all!”

“Exactly”, Vecna growled. “And this world does the same. Declares everything it doesn’t want to see as unreal. That ends now.”

He laughed. “I’ll show them something they can’t ignore. I’ll show them that underneath their feet there has always been another world. A world so pure and genuine, so much more beautiful…”

Will shook his head. “You make it sound noble. But all you want is to destroy this world.”

“Reshape it, not destroy”, Vecna corrected. “Make it better.”

Will stood frozen, the town below him blurred by heat or memory or grief.

Vecna turned toward him, slow and deliberate.

"You dream of better places, don’t you, William? You escape into your drawings, your stories, your own imagined worlds where things make sense. Where you’re seen. Heard. Loved."

Will clenched his jaw.

"You create because the real world failed you. But what if it didn’t have to stay that way?"

Vecna stepped beside him, gaze still fixed on Hawkins.

"Help me tear this one down. All its hypocrisy, its cruelty. And when it’s gone, you can help me build something new. Something honest. You, with your vision, your gifts... your loneliness."

Will flinched.

"You hide it well," Vecna added. "But it’s there. I see it. I know it."

Will looked down at his hands.

"You're not a soldier. Not a destroyer. You're a creator. That’s why I chose you."

He turned to Will now, eyes glowing faintly.

"You could shape a world where you never have to lie again. Never have to apologize for who you are. Where you are not merely tolerated—but essential."

Will swallowed hard. And for the first time, there was hesitation in his silence.

Then, quietly: “You are going to kill innocent people, millions of them…”

“THERE IS NO INNOCENCE! AND YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, SHOULD KNOW THAT!”, Vecna roared.

He closed his eyes. Breathed.

“Enough”, he said quietly. “No more talking. Words never changed anything.”

“So, you’re going to kill me now?”, Will said, surprisingly calm.

“No”, Vecna replied. “Like I said, I never intended to. I want to give you something. Something to show I’m not your enemy.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

Vecna made a sound that almost resembled a chuckle. “We’ll see.”

He stepped forward and touched Will’s cheek with a misshapen finger. A wave of heat rolled through Will’s body. Then Vecna leaned in. Will thought, for a moment, that he was going to kiss him—but instead, he whispered:

“Maybe you’ll understand me now.”

And in the next instant, Will stood alone before the remains of Castle Byers.

Chapter Text

Will had waited for two weeks now.
But nothing happened.
No sign, no feeling. Nothing.

Vecna must have lied about that “gift” or whatever he had meant.

With each passing day, he became more convinced that Henry had tricked him, maybe even mocked him. He wasn’t even sure anymore if the encounter had been real. Maybe it was just some weird dream.

There was only one notable change since that conversation, real or imagined: the connection.
For two weeks now, Will had almost felt nothing.
No tremors on his internal Upside Down-scale. No warnings. No danger.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
Maybe Vecna was asleep. Or waiting. Or gathering strength?
Or… was this the gift itself?
But then again: How could he understand him better without the connection?

In those two weeks Will had withdrawn even more from the rest of the group.
He stayed silent at their regular meetings in Hopper’s cabin, hiding in the background, hoping to be left in peace.
Tried to ignore the (many) stolen glances from Mike.
Blocked off Dustin’s efforts to make him laugh.
Rejected El’s or Jonathan’s offers to watch a movie together.
Found excuse after excuse when Joyce asked him why he seemed to isolate himself (“Mum, it’s just a lot to be back in Hawkins, give me some time” or “Mum, I’m fine, I’m just thinking a lot about that whole Vecna stuff”).

Most of the time Will spent in his room, listening to music, drawing. Simmering.
His thoughts constantly wandering from one to the other of the two villains who haunted his life. Sometimes he didn’t know which one was the bigger one.
Vecna almost seemed calculable in all his evilness.

Then there was this other being.
Stupid, stubborn, clueless, oblivious and painfully adorable Michael Wheeler.
The boy Will wanted to slap and kiss at the same time.
The boy that had taken over his brain long before the Mind Flayer did.

Mike was in Will’s head even now, while he lay on his bed with his hands behind his neck, staring at the ceiling. “Tainted Love” boomed from his cassette player—a depressing song he’d always liked. Today, it fit. Didn’t it?

Sometimes I feel I’ve got to run away,
I’ve got to get away
from the pain you drive into the heart of me.

Scattered on the duvet were sheets of paper, Will’s efforts to distract himself, just random drawings of Hawkins, of fantasy creatures. And one unfinished portrait of a skinny boy with dark hair and a freckled nose. And a smile on his face. That particular smile he had given Will when he told him that they were better off as a team. Friends. Best friends.
He had started to color Mike’s blue shirt but stopped when a new wave of anger rushed through his body. Best friends? He knew what happened to that since then.
And yes, Will had drawn a few red hearts on it, too. He knew how corny it was. But even Will the Wise had a right to be childish now and then.

Once I ran to you, now I run from you
This tainted love you've given
I gave you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not really all.

Will closed his eyes. Actually, the song wasn’t fitting after all.
Mike hadn’t given him tainted love.
Mike hadn’t given him love at all.

Don’t touch me, please,
I cannot stand the way you tease.
I love you though you hurt me so…

…

…

It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.

Will didn’t know why that specific line came to his mind right now. But there it was. Once again. It always came randomly. And it was always equally painful.

The sentence itself wasn’t wrong. Will knew that. And it wasn’t Mike’s fault that Will loved him.
But that didn’t change the fact that it was the most painful thing Mike had ever said to him. He had struck Will’s deepest insecurity. Maybe Mike wasn’t aware of his sexuality, but he was aware of the things people had said about Will—the names they’d called him. And he said it anyway.

That put Mike in the same category as Lonnie. As Troy. As all the others.

To hell with Mike.

Hell, I want Mike.

To hell with…

Will exhaled loudly as that nerve-wracking loop of thought started again. He tried to focus on the music. A new song had started, “Separate Ways” by Journey.

Someday love will find you.
True love won't desert you.
You know I still love you.
Though we touched and went our separate ways.

A knock interrupted the lyrics.

Jonathan’s voice filtered through the door. “Will, can I come in?”

Will didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with anyone. He had made that perfectly clear the last couple of days. But then again, it was his brother. And he didn’t want to be rude to him.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. Flat, detached.

The door creaked open. Footsteps. A pause.

“Man, how can you listen to this stuff all the time?” Jonathan asked. He tried to sound casual, light. “You’re going to depress yourself to death.”

“I like it,” Will replied, still not looking at him.

Silence stretched. The music filled the space—the moody, aching synths wrapping around them like a fog.

Jonathan exhaled through his nose. “You’ve been in here all day.”

“I know.”

“You haven’t eaten.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Jonathan shifted his weight. “I thought maybe we could hang out. Watch a movie or something.” He tried again.

Will finally opened his eyes, but kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Will…” Jonathan’s voice was softer now. “You don’t have to go through whatever this is alone.”

Will sat up slowly, still not looking at his brother. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Will turned to face him, jaw tight. “You don’t have to check on me every five minutes, you know. I’m not going to break.”

Jonathan blinked, caught off guard. “That’s not what I think.”

“Isn’t it?” Will stood, arms folded. “Ever since we came back, it’s like everyone’s walking on eggshells around me. Like I’m some glass statue that might crack if someone breathes too hard.”

“That’s not fair,” Jonathan said quietly.

“Well, that’s how it feels.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Jonathan sighed.

“Will, remember what I told you in—”

Then he suddenly stopped. His eyes were fixed on something behind Will. Something lying on his bed. Something Will had completely forgotten to hide. And Will froze in horror. Inside of him instead, he felt heat surging up. Shame.

The portrait…

“Will…”

In one motion, Will grabbed the crumpled drawing, crushed it in his fist, and turned towards the door.

Panic took over.

He had to get out.

Every single particle of his body screamed at him to leave the very place where a carefully built facade just had crumbled in an instant.

Not now. Not like this.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His heartbeat roared in his ears.

He tried to pass Jonathan, but his brother grabbed his wrist.

“No!”

“Will, please don’t go. We can talk.”

“Let me go!”, Will yelled, trembling. “Let go!”

“Will, calm down. You don’t have to--“

“LET GO!”

The house shook. Not figuratively—an actual tremor.

Jonathan recoiled in surprise. Will wrenched his arm free.

And ran.

He burst out the front door, his name echoing behind him. He looked over his shoulder—Jonathan wasn’t following.

But Will didn’t stop.

He ran. He didn’t know where to. Just one thing: As far away as he possibly could.

Five minutes. Ten minutes.

He didn’t stop until the cramp in his side became unbearable. He bent over, breathing hard.

If this had been physical ed he would have gotten at least a B for his performance. Because he had covered quite a respectable distance.

He was closer to central Hawkins now, the area that was still accessible for the public. The place where life seemed to go as normal as possible, given to the circumstances.
Where all those hypocrites tried to ignore the looming apocalypse just a few blocks away.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Will slumped against the rough brick wall of a closed hardware store, chest heaving. His breath came in ragged pulls, sharp against the dry taste of panic. He tried to ground himself—count his inhales, trace the shape of a windowpane, anything to stay present. His legs trembled, not just from the run but from the flood of shame and helplessness that still burned hot in his chest.

Jonathan had found out.

But that wasn’t what bothered him most.

He’d thought about coming out to Jonathan many times. After all, Jonathan knew him best. Will trusted him.

But he wanted to come out on his own terms.

But the more important thing was that he definitely didn’t want anyone to know about his feelings for Mike. Not even Jonathan. That was his secret. His alone. If anyone would ever know, and it was an “IF” written in capital letters, it would be Mike. And only because Will chose to tell him.

But that wouldn’t happen. Telling him would destroy everything.

And also, Mike didn’t deserve the truth. Not after this past year.

Lost in his dark thoughts, Will finally started to wander the streets of inner Hawkins.

How could I be so careless? So stupid. A drawing. With hearts.

After all those years of hiding. He wanted to slap himself.

And slap Mike.

Because it was his fault in the first place, of course. For being in Will’s head all the time.

Mike-Flayer.

He walked aimlessly, wondering how he’d ever face Jonathan again.

“Then I told him to piss off, fucking fairy...”

A familiar voice ripped Will out of his thoughts, followed by the laughter of others. It was a voice that made him feel uncomfortable in an instant. For he had heard it so many times before and it never had meant something good for him. Will turned his head and quickly saw where it came from. And he couldn’t help but shudder.
He hadn’t seen him for quite some time now, but he recognized Troy’s features immediately. He was strolling along the sidewalk on the other side of the street, surrounded by a bunch of other brutes.

Same sneer. Same gang. Same fear.

Even now, after everything—kidnapping, monsters, mind control—Troy still scared him.

Made him feel like a little child again.

Will didn’t need to hear the words. The laughter was enough. He’d heard it too many times before.

And then the anger came. It was like a warming flame in a cold winter night, a heat that drove the numbness out of his limbs. How many times had he imagined paying him back. Will didn’t know. He hated Troy. He truly did.

Will clenched his fists in his pockets. A strange heat throbbed behind his eyes.

Then, suddenly—a crack.

A cry of pain.

Will’s head snapped around.

Troy was on his knees, holding his arm, howling. “My arm! It just broke! Aaaah!”

Will flinched—then smiled. Satisfaction bloomed inside him. He didn’t know what happened. But one thing he knew.

Finally.

But the feeling faded. Guilt crept in.

What kind of person felt good about someone else’s pain?

Still... it was Troy.

Then Troy looked up. Searching. Eyes darting.

And Will remembered what Mike and Dustin had told him after his rescue from the Upside Down. About El breaking Troy’s arm. With her powers.
And now, Troy was looking for someone.

Will tried to hide his face as inconspicuous as possible and quickened his pace. He had to get away. Even though he wasn’t El, Troy would surely detain and interrogate him to find out where she was.

He turned, tried to hide his face, walked quickly. Not too fast. Just fast enough.
He rounded a corner until he was out of sight.
Safe.

What the hell just happened?

The shaking house. Troy’s broken arm.

Then it dawned on him.

Could it be?

Did Vecna…

No. Impossible.

But what if he had? The thought made him shudder. And yet—something inside him stirred.

Excitement.

What if that was the gift?
What if he wasn’t helpless anymore?
What if he could finally fight back?
Take revenge.

A car horn cut through his thoughts. When Will turned his head, he saw the bright smile of Robin, sitting behind the steering wheel of her car, driving in walking speed beside him.

“Hey, shrimp, need a ride?”, she asked, beaming.

Instinctively, he shook his head. “No, thanks. I think I’d rather walk.”

For a moment, the corners of Robin’s mouth seemed to turn down. She frowned, then scanned him.

“Don’t get me wrong, Will, but your look says different”, she said. “You’re all sweaty, you seem exhausted”, then her wide grin returned, “and you definitely look like someone who needs to talk.”

He smiled weakly and shook his head again. “I’m fine.” Robin didn’t buy it.

“Come on, Will, I won’t bite”, she insisted. “Just hop in. You don’t have to talk. I can chatter the whole ride.” She chuckled. “It’s not like I’m not used to it. But I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that I’ve left a desperate teenage boy in need of a ride behind.”

She was so nice. Once again, Will noticed what a friendly person Robin was.
And so he gave in.

“Ok. Thanks Robin”, he mumbled. He climbed into the passenger seat with a sigh.

“That bad, huh?”

Will closed his eyes. “Just a weird day…”

“That’s quite a statement these days”, she said, laughing. “Wanna tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Not really”, Will replied, “sorry.”

“No need to be.”

Silence fell. Robin tapped the steering wheel, her leg bouncing. She was clearly trying not to push him.

But she couldn’t help herself.

“I just want you to know that I’m trustworthy. So, if you need someone to listen, I’m right here. Not to say that others aren’t trustworthy, but I’m, you know, queen of trustworthiness. Natural born keeper of secrets. If there’s one good thing about me, it’s that. My lips are sealed.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Will couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re pretty curious. You know that, right?”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. It’s just... hard for me to sit by when someone’s obviously upset. I’m sorry, Will. I just want you to know I’d never judge you. Ever.”

Will’s smile faded. “Don’t promise something you can’t keep, Robin.”

“You do realize you’re talking to someone whose best friend is Steve “The Hair” Harrington?” She smirked. “Trust me. I’m judgment-free.”

Will snorted. “Good point.”

Silence again.

Robin finally broke it. “Is it the whole Vecna thing? Steve told me you can... feel him.”

Will tensed. Even though Steve meant well, he hated people talking about it. It made him feel infected.

Robin couldn’t know that.

He shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah, it’s always there”, he admitted. “And yeah, it’s sucks having the boss of the Upside Down camping out in your head. But that’s not what’s bothering me.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Robin chuckled. “With that going on, it’s hard to imagine anything else even making the list.”

Will grinned. “Yeah. You’d think I’d be full-on ‘couldn’t be worse’ by now.”

They both laughed lightly. The radio filled the space between them.
Will let himself relax. Robin had a way of making things feel less heavy.

“So?” she prompted.

And then the words slipped out. “Jonathan caught me this morning. In a pretty embarrassing situation.” He regretted them instantly.

Robin scrunched her nose. “Ugh. Some gross boys stuff?”

“What? No! Not that!” Will turned bright red.

“Phew.” She mimed wiping sweat off her forehead. “Dodged a bullet. Don’t know if I would have been the right one for that kind of chat.”

They laughed.

“So, let me guess”, Robin said. “He found out a secret. Maybe about someone?”

Will almost flinched. How was she this close already?

Sherlock Buckley.

Jonathan’s shocked face flashed in his mind. Shame followed like a shadow. Will looked away, eyes stinging. The lighter mood from seconds ago seemed already lightyears away.

“Hey”, Robin said gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry if I pushed too far.”

“I know,” he whispered, blinking fast.

Robin shifted, cleared her throat. “You know, Will, when I met you, I knew you were different—in a good way. Sensitive. Thoughtful. You care about people. It’s easy to see why your friends think the world of you.”

Will turned to her, confused.

“You just... get it. You don’t judge. That’s rare.”

His cheeks flushed. “Um, thanks. I guess.”

“And that’s why I’m gonna tell you something. A secret. Consider it payment for being nosy.”

Will shook his head. “Robin, you don’t-“

“Oh, shut up, Byers”, she said, smiling.

Then she took a deep breath.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours about me and Steve…”

Will’s eyes widened.

“So, you are dating?”

Robin laughed. “No, you dork. Not even close. He’s definitely not my type.”

Will smirked. “Really? He’s like, universally attractive.”

“Yeah. maybe”, Robin replied, smiling, “but…, well, maybe the word ‘type’ isn’t the best to describe it.” She sighed. “He’s just too, you know, male for me.”

At first, Will didn’t understand.

Then he did. And his mouth dropped.

“Oh.”

Robin laughed loudly. A little exaggerated, like someone who’s nervous about something and then happy when it’s over.

“Yep. That’s exactly what I thought too when I found out.”

Will stared at her. Amazed. Relieved. Confused. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Just that it was a lot.

“Wow, Robin, I-,…”, he finally managed to say, “I, I mean, thanks for telling me. I don’t know what to say…”

Robin smirked. “Try: Robin, you’re the coolest and most insanely awesome lesbian in Hawkins.”

They both cracked up.

Will felt the weight lift, just a little.

He wasn’t alone. Not the only one.

“It’s kind of impressive”, he said, “I mean, how open you are about… that. Takes a lot of courage to say it out loud, I guess.” He quickly looked away when he saw Robin’s suspicious gaze.

“To be honest, I’m not as open as you might think”, she just said. “You’re only the third person who knows.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Robin, I…, I’m,…”, he stuttered, “I’m honored.”

“Don’t be”, she said. “I knew I could tell you.”

He wasn’t sure why, but her look made him nervous. He shifted. “Who else knows?”

“Well, Steve of course.” She chuckled. “Poor guy had a huge crush on me. I had to shatter his dreams, unfortunately. Luckily, we were drugged by Russians at the time, so it made it weirdly easier.”

Will smiled but felt bad for Steve. The guy definitely seemed to be on the unlucky side of love-life.

“Well, and the girl I had fallen in love with. We were both 14, best friends, and she was the love of my life, at least that’s what I thought back then.” She shook her head. “I was so naïve. I should have known that she wasn’t queer. But my desire clouded my vision, I guess. So, I gathered all my courage and came out to her, told her about my feelings, about how beautiful she was, bla bla bla. Well, and she shattered my dreams like I shattered Steve’s. At least she didn’t tell anyone. Quite honourable, I think, given to the fact that we were teenagers in the middle of puberty.”

Will had listened silently. And with every sentence that came out of Robin’s mouth he felt more and more coldness running through his body. His mouth was dry.

“Did you, I mean, stay friends?”, he asked quietly, nervously nibbling at the skin around his fingernails.

Robin shook her head. “No, she told me she couldn’t handle it. That it made her feel uneasy to know how I really felt for her. So, we decided to go separate ways. A year later, she moved away from Hawkins with her family. I’ve never seen her again.” She sighed. “Shame.”

Will’s stomach dropped. His throat tightened.

Robin’s voice brought him back. “So that’s me. Now, if it’s okay, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask.”

Will’s pulse sped up. But then he nodded.

“Hawkins is small. Rumors spread. Long before we met, I heard about a sensitive, kind boy. Someone who got bullied. Called names.”

Will’s hands trembled.

“I didn’t know him, but I felt for him. Because that crap sticks with you.”

 Will didn’t dare to look at her, so he looked out of the window, once again trying to blink back a few tears.

She paused. “People like me… we notice those things more. So, I started to wonder…”

“Robin,” Will whispered. “Just ask.”

She touched his shoulder. “I wondered if they were right about you.”

Just when Will was about to reply, Robin quickly corrected herself. “I mean, not right in calling you names which is a pretty asshole-thing to do and shouldn’t be accepted at all, but-“

“Robin. I get it.”

“Sorry. Me again.” She looked at him with sympathy. “So, were they?”

His pulse thudded in his ears.

He’d rehearsed this in his head for years—imaginary versions of this moment with people who never actually asked. He always imagined himself choking, running, lying. But now here it was, real and terrifying and maybe safe. And maybe—maybe he was just tired of hiding.

He didn’t give his brain time to pull him back.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“HA!”, Robin cheered, startling him. “I knew it! I knew you were cool, Byers!”

Will stared at her.

“What? You think I’d freak out? C’mon, give me some credit.” She held out her hand. “High-five.”

He hesitated, then slapped her palm.

“Good boy!” she said, ruffling his hair.

“Robin, please…”, he muttered. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, I can see that”, she just answered and gave him a wink. “You must’ve been used to coming out to people, right?”

He looked down at his hands. “Actually, you’re the first one.”

“Awww, Will, that’s cute. I’m honoured.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, seriously? No one knows that you’re gay?”

Hearing the word made him feel uncomfortable. He shifted. “Jonathan found out today.”

“Today? Wow. How did he react?”

Will felt a chill running down his spine. “I-, I don’t know. I kind of freaked out and ran away.”

“Aaaah, now everything’s beginning to make sense. That’s why I just found you wandering like a lost sheep, with a look like you’d just seen Vecna himself.”

Will stayed quiet.

“So… not to push again, but you and your friends are tight. Don’t you want to tell them?”

Will frowned. “You didn’t.”

Robin sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. But for me it wasn’t the best start back then, remember? I came out to my best friend, who, unluckily was also the person I loved. After that had gone wrong, I wasn’t all too much eager to tell my other friends.” She chuckled. “But since you don’t have a crush on one of your best friends, I think you can take the risk to tell them the truth.”

The chuckle died immediately when she saw Will’s face.

“Oh no, … you have. You have?” She facepalmed. “You have! And I told you my… Damn me! And now you think you can’t…” She let out a roar of frustration. “Aaaaaarwww, Robin, why can’t you keep your mouth shut just for once! Stupid idiot me! Damn!”

If Will hadn’t been so depressed right now, the gush of curses coming out of Robin’s mouth would surely have made him laugh. But he couldn’t.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, trying to make the unhappy scenarios go away that were playing out in his mind. Scenarios in which a dark-haired boy turned away from him, disgust written in his face.

It's not my fault you don’t like girls. So, stay away from me.

“Of course, you have!! Oh my god, how could I not notice?”

She gave him a warm, knowing smile. “It’s Wheeler, isn’t it? I mean, now that I’m thinking about it. Those looks. The way you two always stayed so close to each other…”

Will’s stomach dropped. Anger flared.

“Robin, stop. This is too much.”

“Okay. Got it. Sorry.”

Silence.

Then softly: “Just... don’t take my story as a warning. Keeping it in forever? That’s not living. What if he feels the same?”

“He doesn’t,” Will said, too loud. Then softer: “He has a girlfriend. He’s already in love.”

“I dated a guy once too. Doesn’t always mean anything. Maybe he likes both. Maybe he’s not sure.”

“Please stop,” Will whispered.

“I’m just saying,” Robin said.

She finally went quiet.

Neither spoke the rest of the ride.

At his house, Will opened the door and turned back, feeling the big lump in his throat building.

“Sorry I was rude. Just… thank you. It meant a lot. Like, really a lot.”

Robin smiled. “Anytime, Will. Really.”

He nodded, then walked to the house quickly as his eyes started to fill with tears.

Before he entered, he inhaled deeply.
The moment the door shut behind him, Jonathan came round a corner, his eyes full of concern.

“Will, where the hell have you—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes locking onto Will’s face.

His whole posture shifted.

“Oh—hey, hey, it’s okay…” he said, arms already open.

Will didn’t answer. He just stepped forward and wrapped himself around his brother, the first tear already escaping.

“I was so worried…”, Jonathan whispered.

“I’m sorry”, Will sobbed into his brother’s shoulder. “C-, can we please talk tomorrow? I need some time.”

“Of course, Will.”

He gave his brother one more squeeze, then Will turned around and ran upstairs. He closed the door, threw himself on the bed and cried hard.

Too much. All of it.

After a while, the tears stopped. It was way too early to go to bed yet, but Will felt drained. Deeply exhausted. When he shifted his position, he felt something in his pocket. He reached into it and pulled out the crumpled drawing of Mike.

The cause of a partially miserable and altogether way too eventful day. He unfolded it. Mike was smiling at him innocently, the hearts almost provocatively floating around his head.

No, she told me she couldn’t handle it. That it made her feel uneasy to know what I really felt for her. So, we decided to go separate ways.

Will shivered.

He couldn’t risk it.

For a second, he thought about throwing the drawing away.

Instead, he crumpled it again and shoved it under his bed.

Too tired to get up.

His eyes closed.

In the distance of his thoughts, something cracked—like bone.

And sleep took him.

Chapter Text

When Will woke up the next morning, he was already tired.

His head throbbed with that familiar ache—too many dreams, too much crying. Yesterday’s mess still clung to him like static.

He dragged himself out of bed, even though he didn’t want to. A shower. Toast. Clean clothes. It all felt like acting, like going through motions he wasn’t really in. What he really wanted was to disappear.

But he couldn’t.

Jonathan would want to talk. Of course he would. Will had promised him. And he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. He didn’t even want to, not really—but the thought still made his stomach twist. So embarrassing.

Back in his room, he tugged on his headphones and lay down.

Maybe just a little time. Just to breathe.

The opening chords of Bowie’s “Heroes” filled his ears.

We can be heroes, just for one day…

He closed his eyes. Tried to focus on the song. But his thoughts blurred—Jonathan’s voice, the memories, the ache in his chest.

The distant sound of water running through the wall—Jonathan’s shower—began to blend with the music. A soft, rhythmic hush.

He felt himself sinking.

Then—

He was standing.

Barefoot. In darkness. A floor of shallow, rippling water beneath him.

It didn’t take Will long to realize this wasn’t the Upside Down. It felt… different.

All he could see was black. No landscape, no walls, no shapes—just endless nothingness. It was as if everything had been erased, leaving only him and a strange, slick floor beneath his bare feet.

He knew where he was. El had described it multiple times. But he wasn’t El.
He couldn’t be… here!?

The Void.

No doubt about it now. Somehow, he was in the Void.

Panicking slightly, he looked around for any sign of why he was here or how he got here.

Nothing.

Until voices pierced the silence.

“…don’t listen to me!”

“I do! But it doesn’t make any sense what you’re saying!”

It was a fight. Familiar voices.

It didn’t take Will long to identify them.

Mike stood upright, hands on his hips, frowning, shaking his head in frustration. He was clearly upset.

Opposite him sat El, her expression a mixture of anger and heartbreak. Will could see she was close to tears.

“But how can you judge me for pretending when you did the same thing in Lenora?”, Mike asked angrily.

“I wasn’t pretending anything, Mike!”, El shot back.

“You were! You acted like everything was fine, like you had all these friends, like you were living some normal life!”

A tear ran down El’s cheek. Her voice softened.

“I did that because I didn’t want you to worry. Because I wanted you to be happy when you saw me. Because I wanted you to believe I was okay without my powers.” She hesitated, then added in a whisper, “At least I didn’t pretend I loved you.”

Mike paled. “I didn’t do that either.”

El laughed bitterly. “No, Mike? Are you sure?”

“El, I-, of course, I’m, jeez, why are we even talking about this…”, Mike moaned, “I mean, are you serious?” He exhaled deeply, then sat down on the bed beside his girlfriend, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“El, please, help me understand”, Mike said now in a much calmer way.
“Because honestly, I don’t.” He took El’s hand in his own. “You know, I get it if you’re upset because of your fight with Vecna, because of what happened to Max and everything, but…”
He sighed.
“I thought we’ve been through all this. I mean, I thought things would get better between us since that day when One had you and, you know, I said all those things you wanted to hear, and I helped you. But now it feels even worse. And I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“What I wanted to hear…”, El repeated absently. Then she turned her head to look Mike in the eyes. “You said it yourself. You only said what I wanted to hear. But you didn’t mean it.”

Mike groaned. “That’s not what I said! Yeah, I knew you wanted to hear that I love you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it. Why are you being so unfair?”

“Will had to tell you to say those things!”, she shouted. “You couldn’t even figure it out yourself!”

The words not only made Mike’s eyes widen in disbelief but Will’s as well.

“How do you know that…”

El smiled sadly. “I’m a superhero, remember?”

Mike buried his face in his hand, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Even if he did—why does that mean that I didn’t mean it? Give me a chance to explain.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“What?”, Mike asked blankly. “I didn’t…”

“Mike”, El cut him off. “Stop it. It’s okay.”

“No, no…”, Mike mumbled, his eyes glistening now. “Nothing’s okay.”

This time it was El’s turn to take Mike’s hand.

“Mike, listen to me. We don’t need to fight. We really don’t. But no more lying, please. First rule, remember? You taught me.”

Mike looked simply devastated. “But I didn’t…”

“Mike,” El said softly, “you told me your life started the day you found me in the woods.”

The words landed like a stone.

Mike’s expression flickered.

And Will—watching from the void—felt something twist sharp and deep inside him.

He remembered that moment. The way those words had gutted him the first time. The way he’d tried to bury them, seal them off like they meant nothing.

But El hadn’t forgotten.
And neither had he.

“Because it did”, Mike said, sounding almost defiant now.

El replied, quieter but sharper: “The same day you found me… was the day you lost Will.”

Mike’s eyes widened slightly. His mouth parted, like he was about to argue—but nothing came out. The words sat there, heavy between them.

His eyes dropped to the floor, and something in his face shifted—subtly, but unmistakably.

Will, watching from the dark, saw it too. A flicker. A crack.

Something inside Mike had just faltered.

El continued, more gently now. “That’s when I knew your words weren’t true. Not completely. I know you were trying to help me… but deep down, you knew they didn’t fit.”

Mike swallowed hard. And Will, watching unseen, couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“I’m not blaming you, Mike,” she said gently. “I just think we both need some space to figure things out.”

Mike looked panicked. “But I can’t lose you.”

El smiled. “You won’t lose me, Mike. No matter how things will turn out, I’ll always be your friend. But what we’re having right now isn’t good for any of us. Not for you, not for me, not for the people around us. It’s consuming us, Mike. You see that, don’t you?”

Mike nodded slowly.

“Take Will, for example”, she added.

Will flinched.

“You can see how much he misses you, right?”

Mike nodded again.

And Will tried his best to blink back his tears.
At least. At least he had noticed.

“Don’t you miss him?”

“Yeah”, Mike whispered. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then spend time with him. Maybe it’ll help you both. I’ll use this time to keep searching for Max, to prepare for One.”

Mike wiped a tear from his cheek. “So this is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s call it a break,” El said. “Take a breath. See how things go.”

They hugged.

“I’m sorry”, Mike whispered.

“Don’t be. It’s okay. We both made mistakes. I’m happy that we can talk about it.”

Then, after a few more moments of hugging – moments in which Will just stood there, silently crying out of compassion for his friend and his half-sister but also out of relief that Mike still cared about him – El got on her feet and turned towards the door.

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Mike said hoarsely.

“What’s that?”

“How can you tell me not to lie… when you did?”

El turned back, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The painting,” Mike said. “The one Will made. The one you supposedly told him to paint.”

Will felt his stomach drop.

“What painting?”, El asked.

“The one you commissioned Will to paint for me. The one that said I’m the heart. That you need me. That one.”

El looked puzzled—but then something shifted. Her eyes softened, her brow lifted ever so slightly.

“I’ve never seen the painting,” she said calmly. “Will never showed it to anyone. Maybe you should ask him again.”

She left.

And Will knew he was in trouble. Deep trouble.

The last thing he saw before a loud knock on his door pulled him out of the Void was Mike’s confused, wide-eyed face.

*******

There was no time to process what he had just seen—no time to figure out how or why he’d seen it.

Because now there was a knock at his door.

Jonathan’s voice followed. “Hey, Will? Everything okay in there? It’s getting late, and I haven’t seen you yet.”

Will rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… slept in.”

“Okay, good.”

A pause.

“Um, I was wondering… could I maybe come in?” Jonathan asked carefully. “But only if you’ve made sure there’s nothing lying around I shouldn’t see.” He chuckled softly.

Surprisingly, it helped. Will felt his pulse slow a little.

“You can come in.”

Jonathan opened the door slowly, every part of his demeanor signaling caution. Will scowled.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Is it okay that I’m here?” Jonathan asked gently.

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have let you in, would I?” Will snapped.

Jonathan flinched. “Yeah. Right.” He pulled out Will’s desk chair, spun it, and sat down with his arms resting on the back. “You okay?”

“I won’t be if you keep looking at me like that,” Will snapped again, surprised at the anger bubbling up.

“Like what?”

“You know. I hate it.”

Jonathan raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just worried. Because you’re my brother, and I love you.”

Will didn’t reply.

Jonathan scooted the chair a little closer. “So… you wanna talk?”

Will sat up, hugging his knees. “I don’t know. After what you saw yesterday, I don’t think there’s much to talk about. You already know.”

“You like him a lot, huh?”

Will blinked. “What?”

“Mike. He’s a good guy. Not the worst pick. A little bit of a jerk sometimes, but he cares about you.”

Will stared, speechless. He hadn’t expected the conversation to start like this.

“I should’ve seen it earlier,” Jonathan went on. “The way you blushed when he said something nice. The way you looked when he only had eyes for El in Lenora—”

“Jonathan,” Will groaned.

Jonathan laughed. “What, you thought I’d yell at you? Tell you it’s wrong or something? That’s not gonna happen, man. I already told you—I love you. Nothing changes that.”

“Yeah”, Will muttered, “but this is embarrassing.”

“It’s cute,” Jonathan said. “My little brother’s in love.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Will suddenly shouted. “Cute? Really?”

He stood, his voice shaking. “Just to remind you of the facts, Jonathan: I’ve fallen in love with my best friend, a boy, who, by the way, is in a relationship with my stepsister which means there isn’t even the slightest chance of him feeling the same way for me like I do for him.”
He pointed at his brother, fighting the tears that were already gathering behind his eyes.
“What you’re calling cute is literally destroying me for almost two years now, Jonathan! Two damn years! Can you imagine how it feels to see them holding hands all the time? Kissing? Knowing that you’ll never get the chance to do that with the one you love? That’s pretty cute, right…”

He turned away, a sob escaping.

Jonathan stood and wrapped him in a hug. Will collapsed into him, crying hard.

They stayed like that a while.

“I’m sorry, Jonathan,” Will eventually mumbled. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s okay, bud,” Jonathan said. “I can only imagine how you must feel.”

Then, smiling: “But I still think it’s kinda cute.”

Will laughed, just a little.

He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For being nice. I mean, for accepting me.”

Jonathan looked hurt. “Did you ever doubt that?”

Will hesitated. “…yeah. A little.”

Will made a helpless gesture, showing the palms of his hands. “I don’t know. I mean, when you’re being taught your whole life that…”, he hesitated a second before saying the word for the first time, “…gay people are scum, that they are abnormal, weak, even dangerous, then…” Will bit his lower lip. “…one begins to doubt if anyone would accept it.”

“You shouldn’t let assholes like Lonnie get in your head. The world may be a shithole but there is also love. And friendship. And acceptance. You know that the others won’t reject you”, Jonathan gave him an intense glare, “you know that, right?”

Will shrugged his shoulders. “How can I know?”

“Think, Will. Lucas, Dustin, El, Max—even Mike. They love you. Being gay doesn’t change that.”

Will bit his lip. “You can’t say that. It’s not that simple. People think being gay is abnormal. Dangerous. It changes everything. Especially for the guys…”

“Why would it matter for them now?”

Will shook his head again, but this time also pursing his lips. “Jonathan, stop! You can’t put it like that! It’s not that simple! Now it matters because being gay is not normal! Look, it’s not as if I just changed the colour of my hair or the style of my clothes. It changes everything! Especially for the male ones!”, Will moaned. “Not to mention Mike…”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong, buddy”, Jonathan insisted. “You’re all literally glued together. I mean, you fought against monsters! You saved each other’s lives multiple times! And now you really think they would say: Oh, you’re gay, then we don’t want to be friends anymore!” Jonathan snorted. “That’s ridiculous, dude.”

Will looked away. “Whatever…”

“So, what about Mike?” Jonathan asked.

“What about him?”

“You gonna make a move?”

Will gawked. “Are you kidding? He’s with El.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Being with someone doesn’t always mean being in love.”

Will didn’t answer. But in his chest, something ached.

He leaned back, finally breathing a little easier.

Jonathan stood and stretched, ruffling Will’s hair before heading for the door. “You did good, man.”

Will gave him a tired look. “Did I?”

“Yeah. You did.”

The door clicked softly shut behind his brother.

Will sat in the stillness for a long moment, staring at the wall.

He said he missed me.

That should’ve felt good. Should’ve meant something.

But all it did was make everything worse.

Chapter Text

Will wasn’t surprised that his day was far from over. Not that an unexpected journey to the Void, witnessing his best friend and half-sister break up, and coming out to his older brother wouldn’t have already been enough for one day.

But of course, everything had to happen all at once these days.

Only an hour after his upsetting conversation with Jonathan, a certain dark-haired boy was standing on his doorstep—pale as a ghost, frowning, eyes glistening. Will was home alone, Jonathan and Joyce had left to help Hopper in his cabin (not without telling Will to be careful and to call if something strange happened). There was no backup.

It wasn’t like Will hadn’t expected something like this. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to prepare himself. Not after what he’d seen in the Void.

But still, seeing Mike like this—clearly upset and wearing that oh-so-obvious “We need to talk” expression—sent a jolt of fear through him.

And that’s exactly what Mike said.

"We need to talk."

Will furrowed his brows. "Um, hi to you too," he said. "Is everything alright?"

"No."

Mike had never been good at finding the right tone, but this time he didn’t even try. And if that was just the beginning, Will knew it could get ugly.

"Oh. Come in, then."

"Thanks."

Will, always a visual thinker, suddenly imagined a scene from the Superman movies—Kal-El exhaling an icy breath that froze everything in an instant.

He led Mike up to his room and closed the door. The moment the latch clicked, Mike spoke.

"El just broke up with me."

Will turned slowly, putting on the best mask of surprise he could manage. Mike had dropped onto the edge of his bed, shoulders heavy.

"Wha—oh no, Mike. Shit. I'm sorry."

He didn’t have to fake it entirely. He truly was sorry. Regardless of his own feelings, he'd hoped Mike and El might be happy together. If he couldn’t have Mike, at least someone who loved him should.

Will sat beside him. "What happened?" he asked quietly, tentatively reaching a hand to Mike’s shoulder.

But Mike pulled away.

That’s when Will realized this wouldn’t be a comforting heart-to-heart. Something deeper was brewing.

And Will already knew what it was.

That stupid painting.

"I—I don’t know, to be honest," Mike said, staring at his fingers.

"You don’t know? Didn't she explain herself?"

Of course she had. Will knew that. But he had to play dumb.

Mike shrugged. "She did. But it was... unexpected. Weird. She said she needed time for herself, to prepare for Vecna."

"That’s it?" Will asked, feigning confusion.
"I mean, she wouldn’t have to break up with you just for that, right? If she needed space, you’d give it to her."

Mike looked at him with an unreadable expression, then snorted. "She also said I don’t love her."

"What made her believe that?"
Will truly wanted to know. He’d seen the moment El lost faith, but even with that, Mike’s feelings weren’t simple.

"I have no fucking idea, Will," Mike snapped.

A lie.

Will opened his mouth to challenge it, then stopped. Officially, he knew nothing about that conversation.
He couldn’t bring up that line.

My life started the day I met you in the woods...

Oh, how badly he wanted to throw that at Mike.
Instead, he tried to steer the conversation calmly.
"Is she right?" he asked hesitantly.

The question landed like a match in gasoline.
Mike’s head jerked around. He stared at Will, fury in his eyes.
"Are you kidding me, Will? What kind of dumbass question is that?"

Will flinched.
He lowered his gaze to the floor, to a crumpled X-Men comic peeking from under the bed.
"I’m sorry. I was just asking."

"Yeah," Mike said sharply. "Speaking of asking…"
He exhaled hard.
"Why did you lie to me about the painting?"

Will felt a chill creep down his spine. He looked up, trying to mask his dread.
"The painting?"

"Don’t take me for a fool, Will! You know exactly what I’m talking about."

Will felt his own temper start to rise.
"Honestly, I don’t! And even if you're upset, that doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like this!"

"The painting you gave me on our trip to save El! The one where you said she told you to make it—that she needed me. That I was the heart. That one!"
Mike’s voice was rising now. Nearly shouting.

Will trembled. He felt something inside of him start to move. Something dark. Something powerful. But part of his brain was still calculating, still strategizing.
"I’m sorry," he said. "I just wanted to give you confidence. I didn’t know she didn’t feel that way anymore. Calling it a lie—that’s not fair."

Mike wasn’t convinced.
"That’s not the point," he shot back. "You said El told you what to paint. That’s a lie. A total, complete lie. Why would you do that? You don’t lie, Will. Not ever. Why now?"

Will tried to deflect. "I didn’t—"

"You did! Don’t even try!"

"Fine. I lied. Great detective work, Sherlock. I lied because I wanted to make you feel better. What a crime. And sorry it didn’t go the way I hoped."

Mike just stared.
"That still doesn’t explain why you painted it in the first place."

Will rolled his eyes. "Why does it matter? I didn’t ruin your relationship with a painting."

"It matters because you betrayed me!"

That word hit hard. Will laughed, but it was bitter and hollow.

Then he exploded.

"Betrayed? Seriously? Your relationship just ended and you’re worried about a piece of paper with some colors on it? I mean, yeah, I get it, you’re pissed because she dumped your ass. Again! And if you want support, fine, I’ll give it to you. Again! But what I’m not gonna do is be your scapegoat because you just need someone to blame! Because, honestly, Mike, you screwed it up all by yourself! Again! You alone! Not me, not anyone else!"

Will pointed at him, trembling.

"Maybe you would’ve screwed it up already back in that pizza place when El needed you and I had to tell you to talk to her. But luckily, you didn’t. Because if you had, she might be dead. And Max, too! So maybe think about that before trying to pin your failures on me. And for god’s sake, maybe work on your choice of words! Because we wouldn’t even be having this stupid conversation if you hadn’t said that crap about your life starting the day you found her in the woods!"

It was the longest, rawest rant of Will's life.
And as soon as the final words left his mouth, the heat inside him cooled just enough for regret to slip in.

Mike, normally wounded by even a sharp glance from Will, didn't react with fury or guilt.

He blinked.

"How could you know that?"

Will froze. His face turned from flushed red to pale as snow. He dropped his gaze to his hands, wishing he could disappear.

"Will," Mike said again, his voice lower now. "How could you know that?"

"Know what?" Will mumbled, already knowing the lie wouldn’t hold.

Mike was staring at him, but the anger was gone. In its place was concern.

"That line… it's exactly what El said when she broke up with me. Word for word. How the hell would you know that?"

Will stood there, stunned. Caught.

"I just guessed… I think."

Mike shot to his feet. "No. Don’t give me that. Tell me the truth! Now! And don’t even try to say El told you—she didn’t. She hasn’t left the cabin and I know she can’t use the phone at the moment."

Will clutched his own arms tightly, fighting to keep it together.

"Will, I swear… I’m not leaving this room until you tell me."
He closed his eyes. Breathed in, out.
"How. Could. You. Know."

"I saw it, okay?!" Will finally shouted. Then more quietly: "I just… saw it."

Mike stepped back. "How could you…? How the hell did you see it?"

Will folded in on himself.

"From the Void."

Mike's jaw dropped. "From the... Wait. What?"

"It wasn't on purpose," Will said quickly. "I didn’t mean to!"

Mike stared. "You were in the Void? How?!"

"I don’t know!"

Silence. Then Mike exhaled and sat again.

"Okay, stop. Will, seriously—you have to tell me what happened."

Will shrugged, not meeting his eyes. Then—out of nowhere—Mike placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"He’s targeting you, right? You said that yourself. So if something's happened, we need to know. I need to know."

Will barely whispered, "I saw him."

Mike's breath hitched. "You mean… Vecna?"

Will nodded. Desperately trying to hold back tears now.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," Mike muttered. "Tell me everything."

Will hesitated, but then he did. Because it was Mike.

"He came to me. We talked. He wanted me to join him. Said I reminded him of himself."

Mike paled. "Did he threaten you?" Then, more intense: “Did he hurt you?”

Will shook his head. "No. He just gave me something. Then left."

Mike blinked. "Gave you something? What did he give you?"

Will shifted uncomfortably under Mike’s stare.

“I don’t know what it was exactly,” he murmured. “It wasn’t like… a thing. Not an object.”

Mike’s brow furrowed. “Then what was it?”

Will hesitated, rubbing his hands together. “I think he gave me… some kind of powers.”

Mike’s hand, still on Will’s shoulder, tensed. “Powers?”

Will nodded slowly. “I’ve felt… different since then. Like something's changed. Things have been happening.”

Mike’s voice sharpened. “What kind of things?”

Will swallowed. “A few days ago, I saw Troy in town and... I got really angry. And then—suddenly—his arm broke. I didn’t even touch him. It just… snapped.”

Mike recoiled, pulling his hand away. “Jesus, Will.”

“And then today,” Will added quietly, “I was lying in bed and the next second I was in the Void. Like I just slipped into it without meaning to.”

He paused, his voice even lower now.

“With each passing day, I feel it more. Like whatever he did... it’s growing.”

“With each passing…” Mike froze. His expression darkened.

Then, slowly: “Will… when did Vecna come to you?”

Will’s breath caught.

“…Two weeks ago.”

And that’s when Mike lost it.

"Two WEEKS? Are you insane?! And you're telling me now?!"

"I wasn’t sure!" Will shouted, tears now spilling. That stirring inside him—dark, heated—rippled again.
"And even if I had been sure, it's not like anyone would care."

Mike gasped. "Are you MAD? I care!"

Will rose from his bed now, too, facing his best friend. The stir—the anger, the frustration—everything that had been festering for over a year surged up inside him. One part of him wanted to run, to avoid confrontation. But another, darker part—the part that had been quiet too long—rose to the surface.

The part that told him to stand up for himself.

And that part finally took over.

"No, you don’t, Mike! You try to protect the group, but you don’t care about me."

Mike opened his mouth, but Will cut him off.

"You haven’t cared for a long time! You used me! Used me when you needed help with El. When you needed advice or comfort. That’s all I was good for. But did you ever ask what I needed, Mike? Did you even think to?"

Will’s voice cracked. He let out a sob, but he didn’t wipe his face. He didn’t stop.

"I..." Mike began.

"No! You have no idea how many nights I’ve spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why you’d save me when I was taken or possessed—only to act like I didn’t matter the moment I was safe. Like I wasn’t even there!"

Mike stood frozen. Guilt weighed heavy on his face.

Will took a step forward.

"You rejected me, Mike! You ignored me for almost a year! I wasn’t important to you—not really. And now you’re here yelling at me because El broke up with you? That’s not my fault! You need someone to blame again—and surprise, it's me. Again!"

Will's voice rose with each word, his body shaking.

"And then you have the nerve to make a scene because of that painting. A stupid painting! It was supposed to show what you meant to me. What you still mean to me. And you, of all people, call me a liar!"

He slammed his fist into the closet door, a loud thud echoing in the room. The heat rolling through him was unbearable now. He knew Vecna was near—could feel him. Whether it was Henry speaking or something buried deeper, he couldn’t tell anymore.

"What about you, Mike? Didn’t you lie? You told El you missed me. But clearly, you didn’t. That makes you a liar too, doesn’t it? You ruined everything—our friendship, everything—like I told you that day in front of your house."

Another step forward.

"And yeah, you’re right—it’s not your fault I don’t like girls. Which is true by the way. But do you know what your fault is? Pretending! Pretending like you care! That’s why I’m actually considering One’s offer right now. Because he did something you haven’t done in a long time, Mike. He saw me. He gave me something."

He heard himself say it, and part of him wondered if it was even true—or if he just wanted Mike to hurt as much as he did.

"Will…" Mike whispered, eyes filled with tears. "That’s... that’s not true. You can’t mean that." His voice trembled. "Will, you have no idea what you mean to—"

"Oh, Mike, I do know!" Will snapped, his voice low and sharp. "And since your life started the day I got lost, I think it’s only fair to say that my life started that day, too—because it’s the day he found me."

He stood there, chest heaving, eyes closed. But the power inside him didn’t ebb. It swelled. And Will knew something terrible was coming.

Then Mike’s voice again, soft and broken.
"Will, I never wanted to make you feel this way. You have to believe me."

Will didn’t open his eyes.

"Stay away."

The words were barely a whisper, as if by lowering his voice he could keep the storm at bay.
Tears spilled over. He clenched his fists.
"Words never change anything," Will muttered.

"Will…" Mike's voice was barely audible now. Gentle. "Please, listen to me…"

"I said stay away, Mike. You need to go. Now."

But Mike didn’t move. "He’s with you now, isn’t he?"

Will heard him step closer.

Then—the touch.

Mike’s hand, warm against his cheek, was the most intense sensation Will had ever felt. For a second, he wanted nothing more than to melt into it. To hold Mike. To stay there.

A part of him did.

But the other part—the monster—roared.

And then the cage broke.

The house trembled. Windows cracked. Lightbulbs shattered. And when Will opened his eyes, he saw Mike flung backwards through the air. He crashed into the closet and crumpled to the floor, motionless.

Silence.

The stir was gone. The rage gone. Goosebumps vanished.

And he saw what he had done.

"Oh god, Mike!" he gasped, stumbling forward, dropping to his knees beside him. Panic crashed over him like a wave. "Mike, please…"

He reached out with trembling hands, grabbing Mike’s shoulders and shaking him. Nothing.

"Mike, wake up—please!" His voice broke. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never meant—"

But Mike didn’t move.

And something inside Will shattered.
The sob burst from his chest before he could stop it. He collapsed over Mike’s limp body, his arms wrapping around him, forehead pressed against his shoulder.

“I didn’t want this,” he wept. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hurt you…”

He clung tighter, as if holding him might undo what he’d done. His tears soaked into Mike’s shirt, but he didn’t care. His body trembled, wracked with guilt, pain, and terror. The kind of crying that didn’t stop. The kind that came from the bottom of everything.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He could have checked for a pulse. He could have listened for breath. But what would it matter? Even if Mike was alive… Will had already lost him.

It was only when he could cry no more—when the last sob choked out of him like smoke—that the emptiness took its place.
He felt it settling in, slowly, like frost creeping across glass. His muscles ached from tension, but now they were weightless. His head was light. His chest hollow.
The sound of the room was deafening in its stillness.

That was when he felt it—a cold hand on his shoulder.
He turned.

Vecna stood above him, gaze unreadable, but calm. Almost... gentle.

“Come, William,” he said quietly.

Will didn’t move.

“There’s nothing more for you here.”

Will glanced down at Mike’s still form, the pain still clinging to the corners of his chest. But it didn’t rise again. It couldn’t. He had cried himself empty. And in the absence of pain, there was nothing. Only silence. Only cold.

He wiped at his face absently, not to hide the tears, but because that’s what his body did when nothing else made sense.
Then he stood, not because he wanted to—but because he no longer knew what else to do.

"I don’t know where to go," he said, voice low and distant.

“I’ll show you,” Vecna replied.

And with one last look—heavy and final—at the body on the floor, Vecna took Will’s wrist.

A second later, they had disappeared, leaving the scene of desolation behind them.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to show what you meant to me. What you still mean to me. And you, of all people, call me a liar!

He was alive.

Breathing. Heart beating.

He remembered something—
Warmth. Smooth skin. A flicker of bravery.
A wave of guilt.
Eyes, filled with rage, grief and disappointment.

Then he flew. Landed hard.

His head was hurting. His back. His ankle.

And there was another pain. Nothing physical.

You know what is your fault? Pretending! Pretending like you care!

He took a deep breath. It stung.

Alive.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Someone was shaking him.

“Mike! Mike, are you okay?”

He opened his eyes. It was Jonathan.

“Thank god, Mike!”

His vision was still blurry but he could hear the relief in the voice of Will’s big brother.

Will…

I said stay away, Mike. You need to go. Now!

He tried to push himself up on one elbow, but it wasn’t enough. Tried again.
Strong arms wrapped around him, lifting, steadying—until he was sitting upright.

“Are you okay, Mike?”, Jonathan asked again.

He nodded. “The others…”

His voice came out dry, hoarse.

Jonathan’s eyes widened in alarm. “Mike—what the hell happened? We tried to call Will but the phone was dead.”
His gaze darted around the room, taking in the broken lamp, the shattered windows, the overturned chair, the crack in the wall.
“Where’s Will?” His voice cracked. “What happened to my brother?”

Mike’s stomach twisted. The memory of Will’s voice—furious, betrayed, breaking—rushed back at full force.
He’d never seen Will like that. Not ever.
Had he really been so blind?
How could he miss that Will was hurting that much?

“The others”, he repeated, this time louder. There was no time.

“Where is he?” Jonathan demanded again, louder, panic rising. “Mike—what did he do? Did something happen to Will?”

That’s why I’m actually considering One’s offer right now. Because he did something you haven’t done in a long time, Mike. He saw me. He gave me something."

It was all his fault.

“Get the others! Everyone!”

The panic in his voice cut through the air.

“But what about—”

“I’m fine!”, Mike shouted. “Jonathan please, get them now! We’re in danger! Will is in danger!”

Jonathan hesitated only a second. “Okay, but stay here! I’ll be right back!”
With that, he rushed out of the room.

Mike tried to stand, but his legs felt like jelly. Pain stabbed behind his eyes and in his ankle.
At least, his vision was clearing, slowly.
He crawled toward the bed, dragging himself inch by inch. Maybe he could pull himself up.

An X-Men comic lay discarded on the floor—The Dark Phoenix Saga. Jean Grey’s eyes stared back at him, wild and burning. Something about them felt too familiar.
He pushed it aside. Didn’t want to slip.

That’s when he saw something crumpled lying under Will’s bed.
Something small. Something that looked like trash.

But it pulled at him, like a magnet.
He picked it up.
He knew it wasn’t right to look at it.
But hey, he’d fucked it all up anyway.
So, slowly, he unfolded it.

******

The sound of voices. Many voices.
The front door opening. Footsteps on the stairs.

Mike barely had time to shove the crumpled piece of paper into his pocket.
He couldn’t tell how long he had looked at it. But it didn’t matter. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, swallowed down the lump in his throat.
Just as he straightened, he caught Jonathan’s eyes on him—sharp, alert.
Had he seen what Mike was holding?
He couldn’t tell.
Jonathan said nothing.

Then they were there—his friends.

Nancy dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh god, Mike. Are you alright?” Her voice trembled, thick with emotion.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. That didn’t matter right now.

El sat beside him and took his hand. Everyone was staring at him—Hopper, Joyce, Jonathan, Steve, Robin, Dustin, Lucas. He saw Joyce cling to Jonathan, her knuckles white on his arm.

“What happened?” El’s voice, soft and full of worry, broke him.
It was like the question finally made him realize.
Everything collapsed at once. Tears spilled.

“Will…” he choked out. “I—we…, I think… he’s with Vecna.”
Joyce let out a sharp cry. Hopper wrapped his arms around her.
“What do you mean, he’s with Vecna?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

Mike tried to speak, tried to force the words out through sobs.
“It’s all my fault,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“He told me… Vecna came to him. That he wanted him to join him.”

“No. No, no…” Joyce sobbed. “Not again. Not my son again…”

Mike shook his head, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

El leaned closer, her frown deepening. “Sorry for what, Mike?”

“We had a fight.” His voice cracked.
Then, quieter: “I was stupid and unfair. And he… he was so angry. So angry…”
He shivered. “Then something happened.”

“What happened?” Hopper asked.

“I—I don’t know. But I think…” He hesitated, afraid to say it out loud.
“I think Vecna gave him powers.”

Silence fell. “I tried to calm him down. I wanted to say sorry. But it was too late.”
Tears ran freely again. El stroked his arm, gently.
“It was like something…, something dark erupted.”

Steve looked around the room at the broken glass and splintered wood.
“You mean, like… powers powers? Like El?”

Mike shrugged his shoulders.
“He made me fly across the room.”

But again, he didn’t matter now. What mattered was what he had done—what he hadn’t done. All the times he stayed silent, all the chances he missed. The look on Will’s face, broken and betrayed, haunted him more than any pain in his body.

“We have to find him.”

Saying it lit something in him.

He said it again—louder: “We have to find him, now!”

He shot to his feet, panic taking hold—but his legs buckled slightly, and he winced, grabbing the wall for balance.
Nancy reached out instinctively. “Mike, wait, you’re hurt—”
“I’m fine,” he lied, even though his ankle throbbed and the back of his head pulsed with a deep, steady ache.
“Why are you all just standing there?” he yelled. “Let’s go!”

“Mike—”

He shook his head, his heart thundering.
Something terrible was about to happen.
He knew it.
“I can’t lose him. Not like this. Not because of me.”
His voice cracked.
“We need to go!”
He couldn’t breathe.

“Mike!!”

Nancy grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “Mike. We will find him. But we have to think, okay? We can’t just run around Hawkins aimlessly. That won’t help anyone.”

Mike blinked at her.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale…
El’s voice came quietly beside him.
“You didn’t make him do this.”

Mike’s jaw clenched. He looked down.
“I could’ve saved him.” he whispered.

Robin knelt in front of him. “Mike, whatever went wrong between you two, you’ll get the chance to fix it.” She gave him a faint smile. “Will’s way too smart to join that vine-covered asshole.”

“But we have to find him first, if we want to convince him that we’re the better team,” Lucas said.

Hopper laid his big hand on Joyce’s shoulder. “We saved him twice, Joyce. We’ll save him again.”

Dustin pushed his cap back, his face unusually serious.
“Guys, think about it for a second. Why would Vecna share?”

Steve looked at him, puzzled. “Share?”

Dustin stared back like a teacher who’s disappointed by one of his students.
“Yeah, Steve, share. His powers. Why would he give him something? If he just wants Will to be at his side, he could’ve made him hallucinate or manipulate him. That’s what he’s good at. But this? This is different.”

“Where are you getting at?” Hopper asked.

Dustin scratched his head, thinking aloud now. “Maybe he needs Will. For something bigger. Something he can’t do alone. Maybe Will’s not just a tool—maybe he’s a key.”

He looked around, locking eyes with each of them. “And if Vecna needs him, then at least his life’s not in danger right now, right?”

Steve raised his eyebrow, approvingly.

“But why would he want to join this monster?” Joyce asked, her voice cracking. “Why didn’t he come to me?” Her voice rose. “What did I miss?”

Jonathan gripped her hand tightly. Joyce shook her head, tears brimming. “I should’ve seen something. I should’ve known.”

Robin stepped forward, voice softer now. “Sometimes… even if you’re the best mom in the world, it’s hard. When someone’s carrying something they don’t have words for yet.”

Jonathan’s eyes flicked toward her, something subtle shifting in his expression.
“She’s right, Mum,” he said. “It doesn’t mean you weren’t there. It just means… maybe, you know, maybe he didn’t know how to start.”

“But we need to know,” Hopper said loudly. “So, any ideas where Will could’ve gone?”

The room fell silent.
Eyes turned inward, everyone thinking.
Searching.
Nothing came.

Then, after a while.
“I can still feel him,” El murmured, eyes closed.
“But it’s… different.” She wiped some blood off her nose.
“I don’t see him. Like something’s in the way.”

“Can you reach him?” Mike stared at her, hope in his eyes.

“I can try.”

Moments passed. No one said a word, all eyes locked on El.
Then she winced, almost as if struck by an electric shock.

“What’s going on, El?”
Mike put a hand on her shoulder.

Her lips trembled. “He’s with Him.”

“Where?” Mike almost shrieked.

“I can’t see. It’s clouded. Only outlines. More emotion than sight. Fear. Grief. Anger.”
She shuddered. “It’s so dark.”

Joyce knelt before her, taking her hands into hers. “Honey, please. Give us something. Anything.”

El inhaled deeply, ignoring the blood that was running from her nose now.
“Like… lines. A cross. Red. A wheel. It smells… old. Musty.”

“A cross?” Steve asked. “Maybe, like a graveyard?”

Dustin facepalmed himself.

“What? Didn’t he try to get Max at Billy’s grave?”

“Yeah, Sherlock”, Dustin snapped. “But in case you didn’t recognize: Will’s not Max.”

Steve just waved off.

“A junkyard?” Lucas offered hopefully. “I mean, because of the wheel?”

“Quiet.”

Lucas looked at El with guilt in his eyes.
“Sorry.”

She shook her head. “No, I mean… quiet. It’s quiet. It needs to be.”

Mike buried his face in his hands, thinking hard.
“He said Vecna approached him at Castle Byers…”

Dustin shook his head.
“But that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit to what El’s describing.”

Then, suddenly, he sat upright, his eyes wide. “Wait… a cross. A wheel. The smell of books…” He stood up, breath catching.
“The library!”

He turned to them, his words racing now.
“Guys, think! The red lines—those are the four rifts. They intersect in one place. That’s the cross. The wheel—it’s the clock tower in the center. And the musty smell? Old books. Of course. It all fits!”

“It’s where he had brought Will when he got him the first time,” Mike muttered.
Even though he was still struggling, he got up on his feet, favoring his left leg.
“Dustin’s right. He must be there. I know it! I feel it!”

It was like he’d given the signal for everyone.
Suddenly, the room turned into a beehive of motion—everyone speaking, moving, heading for the door.

Everyone except one.

“Stop! Stooop!” Hopper’s voice cut through the commotion.
“Where do you think you’re going? You think we can just knock at the door and ask politely if we might get Will back? Show Vecna our library card?”

He stepped forward, expression deadly serious.
“We need to prepare. To arm. Because that son of a bitch isn’t going to hand Will over.”

“Okay, chief,” Steve nodded. “You’re in charge here. So? What now?”

“We go back to the cabin,” Hopper said grimly. “Grab every weapon we can get our hands on. And then—”
He glanced toward the group, voice dark with certainty.
“Then we end this. Once and for all.”

No one objected.

******

Jonathan fell in beside Mike as the others rushed ahead, already arguing about vehicles and splitting up. He glanced at Mike’s limping gait.

“You sure you’re good?” he asked, eyeing the way Mike favored his left foot.

“I’m fine,” Mike muttered, jaw tight.

Jonathan didn’t push. He just walked a step behind as they reached the stairs. When Mike hesitated, gripping the banister a little too tightly, Jonathan quietly extended a hand.

Mike saw it—and ignored it. “I’ve got it,” he said stiffly.

Jonathan didn’t argue. Just nodded and stayed close, like a silent safety net.

They moved slowly down the stairs, the others’ voices echoing from outside. When they reached the bottom, Jonathan finally spoke again, his voice quiet.

“You were holding something when we came in. Back in the room.”

Mike froze at the base of the stairs. His fingers brushed unconsciously against the lump in his pocket.

Jonathan’s voice was calm but firm. “Was it… a drawing?”

Mike didn’t look at him. “Does it matter?”

“You tell me.”

Mike swallowed. Then nodded.

Jonathan’s eyes were steady. “You know what Will feels for you now. You saw it.”

Mike opened his mouth, but nothing came.

Then, he almost whispered: “He tried to tell me for so long. And I missed it. All the time.”

“You know now,” Jonathan continued, “so just don’t pretend you don’t. And whatever you’re feeling—I get it. It’s complicated. It’s a mess. But whatever’s going on in your head right now, it doesn’t change this: he’s out there, and he’s not gone yet. Whatever you want to tell him, it’s not too late.”

Mike’s eyes were glassy. He nodded, just once, breathing hard through his nose.

Jonathan reached out again, not to help him this time, but just to rest a hand on his back.

“I don’t care how bad your ankle hurts or how bad your head’s spinning,” he said. “You go find him. And you don’t give up until you do. He needs you.”
He squeezed Mikes shoulder.
“And I’ll have your back.”

*******

They stepped out into the heavy evening air. The sun had dipped below the trees, casting Hawkins in dusky orange and gray. The clouds above hung too low, too still.

The group fanned out toward the parked cars. Doors creaked open. No one said much now. There was a mission ahead, and it weighed heavy on all of them.

Mike leaned against the car, breathing in the cold metal beneath his hand, trying to give his aching ancle a little rest, when—

“Wait,” Lucas said, stopping short. He stood completely still, his head tilted.

Dustin looked over. “What?”

Lucas held up a hand. “Do you feel that?”

A pause.

Then, like a heartbeat beneath their feet—

Thud.

Mike glanced down. “What the hell…”

Another one. Louder. A low, pulsing quake rolled through the ground, making the gravel rattle and the cars groan slightly on their suspensions.

“Okay,” Steve muttered, backing toward the vehicle. “That’s new.”

“No,” Hopper said, eyes narrowing. “That’s different.”

The air shifted. Static rippled against their skin, like the electric hum before a lightning strike.

“It’s starting,” El whispered.

Mike turned to her. “You mean—?”

She nodded slowly, her face pale. “Whatever Vecna’s planning… it’s begun.”

The next tremor was stronger—this time, everyone felt it. A distant crack echoed in the sky, like a tree snapping in half.

And then they heard it. Somewhere in the distance.

Something familiar. Familiar to them.

The sound of something living.

Another tremor. The streetlights flickered wildly now.

“Guys,” Steve said with a pained look, “just tell me he didn’t call the whole Upsi—”

He was cut off by the wail of a military siren.

Robin’s eyes darted to the horizon. “We need to move! Now!”

They all rushed toward the cars. Mike was the last to climb in. He looked up at the sky, at the darkness gathering like a tide.

If I have to fight the whole Upside Down to get him back, he thought, I will.

Chapter Text

Mike had no idea how right he was.

With two cars, the group sped through the darkening streets toward Hopper’s cabin.
No one spoke much. Just the hum of adrenaline.
Once there, they rushed inside and grabbed every weapon they could find—knives, bats, axes, pistols, rifles, a shotgun, Molotovs, even two flamethrowers.

It was a small army’s worth of firepower, the result of weeks spent stockpiling under Hopper’s command.

They didn’t waste time. Weapons were shoved into trunks, bags thrown into backseats.
Just when they were about to leave again, Dustin scratched his nose and said: “Guys, I mean, I don’t wanna be the one to ruin the party but has anyone thought about how we’re going to enter the sealed off part of the town?”

“Yeah”, Steve agreed. “Hop, your old badge won’t help much, I’m afraid.”

For a moment, Hop just stared at them.

Then: “We’ll figure on the way.”

Then they were off again – with Jonathan, Robin, El and Mike in Steve’s car, the others driving with Hopper.

But they hadn’t gone far before Mike—and he was sure the others too—started to feel doubt creeping in.

First, they heard only the sounds.

Roaring. Screeching. Growling.
Some of them familiar, bringing back some of their worst memories.
Some of them new, making them wince, looking at each other with frightened faces.

And there were human sounds too.
Screams of agony. Of terror.
But also barked orders.

Then came the gunfire—in all its terrifying variety.
Explosions. The rattling of heavy artillery. The hiss of rocket launchers.
The grinding, metallic clatter of tanks and tracked vehicles.

They were approaching the city’s center—and it sounded like war.

As they turned onto what had once been a checkpoint road leading downtown, they saw what had become of the military’s defensive line: it was gone.

The barricades were flattened. The gates twisted. Sandbags shredded, and the ground littered with bullet casings, broken rifles, burned-out vehicles. No sign of the soldiers. “Something tore through here,” Robin said grimly, scanning the wreckage. “At least, we don’t have to think about that problem anymore.”

Then they rounded another corner,
… and they were in hell.
Literal hell.

The massive rift that was running parallel to the street was glowing in an infernal red, casting Hawkins in a demonic light as the last of the sun disappeared behind the trees.
But the rift wasn’t what made them gasp in shock.
It was what was coming out of it.

I seemed like the entire Upside Down had been waiting at the gates—just for this moment.

Demobats.
Demodogs.
Demogorgons.
And others—things none of them had seen before. Fast, worm-like creatures with snapping jaws. Hulking brutes with twisted limbs. Some spat a sickly green acid that sizzled where it hit the ground.

They were everywhere.

From the backseat, Mike stared out the window as three Demogorgons swarmed an army jeep, ripping it apart in seconds. The soldiers barely had time to scream.
Demobats began to dive in for the kill—
until something hit them from the side.

A car. Launched through the air like a missile.

“What the hell was that—?” Mike shouted, already turning toward El. She sat beside him, blood running from her nose, eyes locked on the battlefield.

“El!” he snapped, grabbing her wrist. “No! You have to save your strength! You can’t face Vecna like this—”

“I need to help,” she said, yanking her arm free.

“Oh my god, look at this…” Jonathan stared out of the front window, eyes widened in shock, given the apocalyptic scenes unfolding before them.

What made it worse—what punched the breath from their lungs—was the people.

Civilians ran screaming down the streets.

Families. Kids. Elderly.

A woman tripped and fell in the middle of the road, clutching a crying toddler. A Demodog lunged for them—until a man with a crowbar tackled it, screaming in terror and fury. He didn’t win. But he bought them seconds. Enough for a Humvee to screech around the corner and scoop them up. The man didn’t make it.

On a nearby rooftop, someone was waving a flashlight and screaming for help.

From a shattered storefront burst a man with a baseball bat.
It was Keith, the sarcastic arcade clerk and video store owner, bloodied and swinging wildly as a Demobat dove toward him. He got in one good hit before disappearing under a pile of wings and claws.

“Jesus…” Steve muttered. “That was Keith.”
Robin turned away quickly, hiding her face in her hands.

In a side alley, a teenage girl fired blindly with a handgun at two Demogorgons, protecting a group of kids huddled behind a dumpster.

El’s fingers twitched beside him.

“El, don’t,” Mike warned.

She exhaled through her teeth, fists clenched. “I can’t just watch this.”

And luckily, she didn’t have to.

Because a second later, a huge truck ran over the Demogorgons, the driver – a fat man with a big beard and a red baseball cap – waving frantically at the girl and the kids to come over.

Then they heard gunfire again. Not the sound of the machine guns the soldiers were carrying, but that of hunting rifles.
There was an elderly couple, firing out of their upper windows at the creatures, taking down quite a few.

Not soldiers. Not government agents.

People.

Ordinary people.

They passed a group of men and women standing on the steps of the post office, baseball bats and crowbars clutched in shaking hands. One had a shotgun. Another—a teenager in a letterman jacket—lit a Molotov cocktail with trembling fingers.

“Are they…?” Jonathan muttered from the front seat.

"Fighting...", Steve finished.

A man in a stained apron—the butcher from Main Street—stood atop a pickup truck, swinging a cleaver into the skull of a Demodog as it lunged. His face was red with blood. Some of it his, most of it not.
Beside him, a woman—Mrs. Langley from the flower shop—held a double-barrel shotgun steady in her trembling hands. She fired. One of the worm-like creatures exploded against the brick wall behind it in a mist of green.

They weren’t trained.
They weren’t prepared.
But they were scared. And desperate.

A group of teens in band hoodies hauled open the doors to a music store, letting terrified families take shelter inside. One of them—eyes wild, a hammer in hand—stood guard at the door like a soldier.

Across the street, a combine harvester rumbled down the road, piloted by two men in denim overalls—likely brothers, faces smeared with dirt and blood. The massive blades churned forward, slicing through a pack of charging Demodogs with horrifying ease. Their bodies splattered against the machinery. A Demobat made it onto the windshield—only for the driver to slam it with a tire iron through the shattered side window.

Hawkins was fighting back.

And Mike felt a spark of hope flickering inside of him.

Then—

“Steve, watch out!!” Jonathan shouted.

Two Demodogs slammed against the windshield with a sickening crunch. To their shock, the glass held. Barely.
One clung to the hood, snarling.
Jonathan leaned out of the passenger window and fired twice. The first shot missed. The second didn’t. The Demodog yelped, slipped, and vanished under the wheels.

“We have to go faster!” Mike yelled, clutching the seat.
His brain knew the town was under siege, knew they were racing toward something they might not survive. But his heart cared about one thing: Get to Vecna. Find Will. Save him.

“Yeah, really?” Steve snapped as he swerved around a fallen power pole. “You wanna drive, Wheeler?!”

“Where’s Hopper?” Robin leaned out the window—then ducked back with a yelp as two helicopters roared overhead, shredding a cloud of demobats with chain gun fire.

Mike twisted in his seat to check behind them. All he could see was smoke, flame, and shadows.

Then a thud rocked their car.
A shrieking hiss followed—a new sound.
One of the worm-creatures had latched onto the driver’s side, jaws digging into the metal with razor fangs. Acidic drool sprayed across the window.
Steve swerved, trying to shake it loose.

“Give me your gun!” he shouted at Jonathan.

“You can’t drive and shoot—!”

Steve didn’t argue. The creature was burrowing deeper.

And then—

“Hold on!” a voice bellowed.

Hopper’s pickup came out of nowhere, slamming into the side of their vehicle. The worm-thing was crushed between them with a wet crunch. Blood and black slime sprayed through their open window, hitting Mike, Robin, and El full-on.

“Does that answer your question, Robin?!” Steve yelled while trying to steady the car.

Robin wiped her face with a groan. “God, I hope that wasn’t corrosive. If I melt, Steve, you can have my stereo!”

A blast shook the earth as a gas station exploded two blocks over, lighting the sky in orange.

The closer they got to the center, the more intense the battle became. Both cars lurched through the chaos, swerving to avoid hellish creatures and stray bullets from all directions.
Once, they squeezed through a narrow gap between two burning armored vehicles, flames licking at the sides of their doors.
Another time, Mike saw Joyce—face grim and splattered with blood—swinging an axe from the back of Hopper’s pickup, fighting a Demogorgon that had leapt onto the loading area.

Then, at last, they saw it.

The epicenter of the apocalypse.
Where the four rifts converged.
Where the ground split open in a vast crater that bled red light.

Even from a distance, Mike spotted a lone silhouette standing at the edge of the gaping void.
His breath caught.

“It’s him!” he shouted. “It’s Will!”

They were almost there. The library loomed in the distance, half-shrouded in smoke, its broken facade gaping like a torn ribcage.

Mike gripped the dashboard as Steve pushed the car to its limit.

“Almost—” Robin began.

Then the earth exploded.
A violent crack split the road ahead. To their left, a brick apartment complex groaned and crumbled.

“SHIT—!” Steve yelled, slamming the brakes.

The building collapsed. A massive slab of concrete crashed down between them and Hopper’s truck, sending debris and clouds of dust flying. A boulder-sized chunk clipped the car’s hood, and everything went sideways.

Metal shrieked. Glass exploded.
Mike slammed into the door. His vision blurred.
The car finally screeched to a stop in a shallow ditch. At first, Mike couldn’t hear anything except for the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

“El?” he croaked.

“I’m okay,” she said, breathless, blood dripping from her nose.

Robin coughed beside him, swiping at a cut above her brow. Jonathan groaned in the passenger seat, clutching his arm—but it was Steve who worried Mike the most.
He was slumped over the wheel, motionless.

“Steve!” Jonathan reached across, shaking him. Steve stirred, but his head lolled to the side, blood streaking down from his temple.

Behind them, Hopper’s truck was intact—but trapped behind the fallen wreckage. Mike could see Lucas and Dustin through the window, waving frantically.
Joyce’s voice crackled over the walkie in Steve’s glovebox.
“We’re cut off! We’ll try to circle around!”

“No time!” El hissed, struggling to shove her door open.

Jonathan turned, eyes sharp despite the pain in his shoulder. “Go. We’ll stay with Steve. You’re almost there.”

Mike hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“You two are the only ones who can end this! Now go!”

Mike grabbed El’s hand, and together they ran toward the spot where they’d last seen Will.
Every step sent a jolt of agony through Mike’s ankle. The pain was nearly blinding—but adrenaline drove him forward. He limped and hobbled, breath ragged, eyes locked on their goal.
They were getting closer. The massive tear in the ground loomed ahead, glowing from within with an eerie red light.

Then Mike noticed something.
There were no monsters here.
No Demodogs. No Demobats. No worms or twisted creatures.
It was like they weren’t needed here. Which couldn’t be a good thing.

And then—he saw him.

“Will!”

Will stood at the edge of the rift, unmoving. His back was turned to them.

Mike’s heart pounded. “Will, can you hear me? We’re coming!”

No response.

Mike took a step forward, but El yanked him back.

He looked at her, confused. “What are you—?”

“Wait,” she whispered.

“We don’t have time,” Mike said. “We have to go! We have to save—”

“He’s here,” El interrupted, voice quiet but full of dread.

She closed her eyes.

And then Mike heard it—something low and resonant. A sound that vibrated through his bones.
Before he could react, a tank, a fucking tank, came hurtling through the smoke like a meteor, straight at them.

“El!” he shouted.

She screamed and flung her arms upward.
The tank froze in mid-air.
With a flick of her wrist, she hurled it aside. It slammed into a crumbling building, metal shrieking on impact.

“Impressive,” said a voice—low, cold, and laced with mockery. “Still so powerful, Eleven.”

Vecna hovered above them, half-shrouded in smoke. His disfigured body pulsed with shadow, one withered hand raised.

“But still so very stupid.”

He struck.

With a savage sweep of his arm, a wave of invisible force crashed toward them.

El lifted both hands, gritting her teeth as the pressure met her like a tidal wave. The ground cracked beneath her feet—but she held. Barely.

And Mike saw the change in her face.
Her eyes widened, her breath stuttering. Sweat broke across her brow.
“Mike,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “You have to hurry…”
He looked down and saw her sneakers dragging backward across the dirt.
“Please…”

That was all he needed.
Fueled by fear and resolve, Mike limped forward, ignoring the pain lancing through his ankle.

“Will! Will, can you hear me?” he cried. “I’m here!”

And slowly—agonizingly slowly—Will turned.

He faced Mike, his eyes hollow, filled not with anger, but sadness.

“Will!” Mike shouted. “Come over here! Please!”

Will shook his head.

“Go away, Mike,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

His voice was almost lifeless. Resigned.

“No—Will, you have to trust me!” Mike pleaded. “You’re stronger than this!”

Vecna let out a cold, rasping laugh. Still pressing his attack on El, he taunted:
“Stupid boy. He trusted you once. And you abandoned him. You left him invisible. Voiceless. Now… he sees.”

Mike turned his fury on Vecna. “Shut up!”

Then, to Will: “He’s lying to you! He’s manipulating you!”

He took another step forward—only to freeze mid-stride.
He couldn’t move. His limbs locked in place.
For a heartbeat, Mike thought it was Vecna.
But then he saw it.
Will hadn’t moved.
But his right hand was raised, just slightly.
Just a single finger.

Holding him back.

And Mike’s heart cracked.

Will stared at him, eyes shimmering with pain. And then he spoke softly.
“Stay away.”

As tears welled in Mike’s eyes, he heard Vecna’s laughter echo through the smoke.

“Good, William,” the monster cooed. “After all he did to you—all the rejection—finally, you understand. Protect yourself from him. Don’t let him crawl into your heart again.”

“Mike, please!” El cried out. Blood streamed from both nostrils, her body trembling under the force of Vecna’s assault. “I can’t hold him much longer!”

But Mike couldn’t move.
Will’s invisible grip still pinned him in place, his legs locked as if buried in concrete.
Tears spilled freely down his cheeks.

“Will…” he whispered. “Please. Listen to me.”
He choked on the words.
“I’ve been an asshole. I didn’t see you. Not really. Not the way you deserved.” His voice cracked. “I was selfish… and confused… and scared.”

A sob tore from his chest.
“Yeah. Scared. So I shut you out. Because being around you was driving me insane, and I didn’t know why. But I know now!”

Will’s eyes flinched.
The faintest flicker.
But Mike saw it.
He pushed forward, the words pouring now, unstoppable.

“I’m so sorry, Will. If I could turn back time—undo everything—I would. I’d give anything.” He swallowed hard, the weight in his throat almost too much.
“But I can’t.” He breathed shakily. “All I can do now is be here. Right now. And tell you the truth.”

A deep rumble cut through the air.
A chunk of debris—jagged and the size of a football—ripped from the ground and hurtled toward him.
Mike flinched.
It missed by inches, slamming into the asphalt behind him and exploding into dust.

“Words,” Vecna snarled. “Empty. Meaningless. They cannot undo what you’ve done. They cannot unbreak what’s broken.”

He raised another slab.
It screamed through the air—only to be knocked off course mid-flight. El deflected it, but barely. She was on her knees now, trembling, sweat soaking her short hair. Her hands still hovered, fingers twitching from strain.

“I will break you, Eleven!” Vecna bellowed. “And when you fall, I’ll watch this boy break your precious Michael. Then William and I will reshape this world. Make it pure. Honest. Uncorrupted. Just.”

Suddenly, Mike nearly stumbled.
The pressure around his body wavered—just slightly—but enough for him to lose some balance.
His eyes darted to Will.
A tear slipped from Will’s eye.
“I’m sorry, Mike. But I have to”, he whispered.

“No, you don’t!” Mike cried, his voice breaking. “Don’t believe him. Please. Will—I see you now. I swear.”
Another wave of tears broke loose.
“And I can’t lose you. Not again. I need you.”

Will’s face twisted—pain, guilt, something fighting beneath the surface.

“I need you so much!”

And Mike felt it: the invisible grip on his arms fading. His legs were still locked, but his hands were free.

He didn’t hesitate.
With trembling fingers, he reached into his pocket. He hadn’t planned this. He didn’t even know if it would work. If it would help at all.
But he felt it.
And he pulled it out.
A crumpled piece of paper.

“I know now,” he said, unfolding it with shaking hands. “I know how you feel, Will. I know.”

Will’s eyes widened—shocked, panicked. The grip pulsed tighter again.

“No—Will, no,” Mike said quickly. “It’s beautiful! It’s so fucking beautiful. It means everything!”

The pressure eased—just a little.

“And I understand now! You tried to show me. When you gave me the painting. You were trying to tell me. And I didn’t see it. Maybe I didn’t want to see it then! But I see it now!”

He turned his head toward Vecna. The creature watched him with pure disgust.
But there was something else behind it—something flickering.
Surprise.

And then Mike realized it.
Finally realized what had been haunting him for so long.
Finally, it all became clear.
He looked back at Will, breath ragged.

“And, Will—” his voice cracked “I,—I love you! I think I always did! I just didn’t know what it was. That’s why I was so fucking scared. That’s why I pushed you away.”

The grip loosened further. Mike stepped forward. Then again.

“And I hurt you, Will. I hurt you so many times. And I’m so sorry. Because I understand now. And what I said to you that night in front of my house, God, I hate myself for it.
Because… maybe it wasn’t my fault—but it wasn’t yours either. Because it’s not a fault. Not at all.”

He was close now.

“I love you, Will,” Mike repeated, reaching out. “And I want to be with you. Please. Just believe me.”

Tears were running down Will’s face as he stood there. Still frozen. Still trembling.

Then Vecna’s voice cut the air like a knife.

“Such a stupid boy,” he sneered. “Now that it’s too late, you finally realize who you are. How you lied. To yourself. To everyone.”

He turned to El.

“How you betrayed your girlfriend. And how you broke his heart.”

His hand rose again, fingers clawing the air.

“You are a disgrace, Michael Wheeler. Just like all of them.”

With a violent jerk of his arm, he flung El across the battlefield. She slammed into a car wreck, metal shrieking, her body crumpling. She screamed.

“El!” Mike shouted, turning in horror.

Vecna floated higher, debris around him rising like orbiting moons.

“And that’s why I will end you. Now. Before I end her. She deserves to watch you die.”

El groaned, her arms shaking, blood trailing from her nose and ears.

“Mike… I can’t…” she whimpered.

Above them, debris floated—metal shards, glass, concrete, broken rebar.
The pieces trembled, rising.

Mike stared at them, eyes wide, breath shallow.

This is it, he thought. It’s over.
I was too late. For everything.

Then he closed his eyes.
He heard the debris tearing through the air—

And then he didn’t.

“No.”

A whisper. Barely more than breath.

Then silence.
Nothing struck him.
Seconds ticked by.

Mike opened his eyes, blinking into the haze—

The shards hovered in front of him, frozen mid-flight. Inches from his chest.

El, still pinned against the wrecked car, stared in disbelief. Her eyes wide. Lips trembling.

Then—

“No,” the voice said again. Clearer. Stronger.

Mike turned.

There was Will, arms raised, hands trembling, but steady. The air around him shimmered, alive with a strange, pulsing energy.

And his eyes...

The fog was gone. The torment. The emptiness. Only the sadness was left.

“Leave him alone.”

The words dropped like stone. Then, with a sharp flick of his hand, he launched the shards and debris at Vecna with stunning force.

The creature deflected them mid-air—but the effort made him release El.
Her hands snapped up at once. With a cry, she unleashed a wave of energy. Vecna blocked it with one hand.

“Not strong enough,” he spat—but there was strain in his voice now.
He snarled, twisted in mid-air, and reached out with the other disfigured arm—

—but couldn’t move it.

Will was holding it in place. Fingers spread, face set in concentration.
And suddenly Vecna was being pulled in two directions.
Like the dark and twisted version of a tug of war.

Somewhere near, Mike could hear the sound of an engine, of wheels.

But he just stood there and watched, stunned, as the monster writhed mid-air.
El and Will. Opposite sides. Holding him. Cracking him.

Vecna screamed. A terrible, ragged sound—part human, part something else.
For a moment, Mike dared to hope.

Then he heard the noises.
The howls and screeches.

And he knew: The Upside Down had felt it too.
Their master was in pain.
And they were coming for help.

Then something changed.
Vecna was still locked between El and Will’s forces—but the pain had faded from his face. His smirk was creeping back.
And Mike realized it wasn’t enough.

He watched, heart dropping, as Vecna’s right arm—Will’s side—began to move. Slowly. Deliberately.

“You fool,” Vecna growled. “Did you really think I’d give you something I couldn’t take back?”

Will gritted his teeth, shaking with effort. But the energy around him flickered.
He was losing grip.

“Will!” Mike shouted. “Watch out!”

But it was too late. Will rose from the ground, suspended by unseen force.

Then Vecna’s head twitched.
A sickening snap.

Will screamed. His arm—bent at an impossible angle.

“So sad,” Vecna whispered. “We could have done great things together.”
He leaned in, lips curling.
“But now you’ll suffer like the rest.”

“LET HIM GO!” Mike shouted, voice cracking. “EL—DO SOMETHING!”

But El was on her knees, shaking, blood running from her ears now.

Mike felt like he was watching a nightmare unfold in slow motion. Helpless. Burning.

“Just hold very still”, Vecna said, smiling. “It’ll be all over soon.”

Then, completely free of Will’s invisible grip, he raised his right arm—

—and then he screamed.

The first blow of the axe cut deep into his flesh.

The second came swift and clean—severing Vecna’s arm in a gush of black-red blood.

Then the woman lowered her weapon. Just for a second. To breathe.

She was shaking. Small. Her face drawn tight with fear and fury.
But behind her eyes, something burned—an ancient fire.
Fueled by an instinct. To care. To love. To protect.
By any means necessary.

“You’ll never hurt my son again.”

Joyce Byers raised the axe once more—and brought it crashing into Vecna’s ribs.
The blade stuck fast.

His powers faltered—and Will dropped like a stone.

Mike lunged forward, catching him mid-fall—but his ankle gave out, and the two of them hit the ground hard.

Will groaned, cradling his shattered arm.
And Mike pulled him close, holding him like a lifeline.

Then he heard Hopper’s deep voice booming through dust and smoke.

“Joyce, get down! Dustin! Lucas! Now!”

In perfect sync, the two boys lit their Molotovs and hurled them at Vecna.
Glass shattered. Flames erupted.

Vecna screamed as fire devoured him.

Then came the gunfire.
Hopper’s assault rifle barked, round after round slamming into the creature’s torso. He reeled from the force.
Nancy stepped forward, calm and focused, reloading her shotgun like she’d done it numerous times. Like she’d done it last time.

Boom.
Another shot.

Boom.
And another.

But Mike knew this wouldn’t be enough to keep him down.

Then he felt Will shifting against him.

“Will, no, don’t—”

But Will was already moving. He leaned into Mike’s support, bracing himself. Shaking. Bleeding.
He raised his hand.

And across the battlefield—El did the same.

Power surged. The air quaked.

Vecna screamed again.

They were pulling at him. From both sides. Tearing at him with everything they had.

Mike gripped Will tighter, his lips close to his ear.
“You can do it, Will. I know you can.”

Vecna rose from the ground—
But this time not by his will.

His limbs jerked violently, body contorting mid-air.
Light burst from within him—blinding and unnatural.

El screamed.

Will screamed.

And then—

With a final cry that split the sky—Vecna exploded.

A shockwave ripped outward. Mike, Will, El, and the others were hurled back.

Then silence.

And darkness.

***********

Mike must’ve been unconscious.
Not long—seconds, maybe minutes.
But when he opened his eyes, Will was gone.

Panic surged. He sat up, wincing, scanning the chaos.
Then he saw him—Will, limping slowly toward the rift where the four cracks had met. It was closing now. Shrinking. The last breach between their world and the Upside Down.

“Will!” Mike shouted. “Will, wait!”

Will looked over his shoulder.

And when Mike saw his eyes, he knew.

“No,” Mike whispered, then louder—“Will, no!”

He tried to stand. Pain exploded in his ankle, but he forced himself forward, limping hard, stumbling. “Will, don’t you dare!”

Will turned, tears streaming down his cheeks now.

“I’m sorry.”

“Will, stop! What are you doing?!”

“I have to,” Will choked. “Look at this…” He gestured at the destruction. “What I did to you—”

Mike shook his head, voice desperate. “No! You saved us! You saved everyone!”

But Will just looked away and stepped closer to the fading light.

“Vecna’s gone,” Mike said, calmer now. “Don’t let him keep living in your head. That’s not you.”

Will gave a hollow laugh. “Then who am I?”

Mike took another step. “You’re Will. You’re brave. You’re kind. You’re good. And I love you.”

Will froze.

Mike’s voice cracked. “Please let me prove it. Please.”

“I… don’t know.” Will glanced back at the rift. Almost gone now.

And Mike took the chance. He stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around him.

“Let go,” Will gasped, trying to pull free.

And for a moment they wrestled, Will trying to break free, Mike trying to hold him tight. Then the exhaustion took over and they both fell to the ground, still entangled.

“Let go”, Will repeated weakly.

But Mike held on. “No.”

“Mike, we can’t…”

Mike shook his head.

“I’m never letting you go again. I won’t lose you again. Ever.”

Then he kissed him.
It was sweat and blood and dust.
And it was the best thing he’d ever done.

When they pulled apart, Will looked at him—stunned. Blinking. Searching his face.

“You really mean it?” he whispered.

“All of it,” Mike said, breathless.

A deep rumble echoed behind them. They turned.

The rift was gone.

Chapter Text

Twelve hours later:

For the first time in months, the air smelled clean. No rot. No spores. Just pine and earth and the crisp bite of morning.

Mike pulled the blanket tighter around himself and Will. They sat on the porch of Hopper’s cabin, side by side on the bench, Will’s head resting on Mike’s shoulder.

Two half-empty mugs of Joyce’s hot chocolate sat behind them on the windowsill, long gone cold.

The boys sat in silence, half-dozing, half-drifting through their thoughts—still trying to make sense of everything.

Only fragments came clearly.

Mike remembered the weight of Will in his arms, clinging to him, terrified he might slip away again. Arms wrapping around them. Tears hitting their faces—hot and salty. Then, the gentle pressure of people trying to separate them, to make sure everyone was okay.

He remembered the drive back through Hawkins. The carnage. The twisted bodies of the creatures, dead the moment Vecna was destroyed. People—some injured, some dazed—wandering the streets. Their faces hollow, shocked. But beneath that, a dawning realization: the nightmare might really be over.
Neighbors helping each other.
Strangers hugging.
A town barely breathing—but still alive.

He remembered how a battered 1987 Mercury Grand Marquis nearly clipped their car. How the doors flew open. How his mom and dad—faces bloodied, eyes wide—rushed out, Ted clutching a crying Holly. How they saw them. Mike and Nancy.
How Karen broke down sobbing.
And how for the first time in his life, Mike felt his father truly see him. Not just as some sarcastic, dramatic kid. But as his son.
How those strong arms wrapped around him—how fucking incredible it felt.

He remembered being close to Will the entire way back—never letting him out of arm’s reach—and swearing to himself that he never would again.

And finally, he remembered arriving at the cabin. How he’d asked—insisted—that he and Will have some time alone.
And how everyone had understood.

Now they were here.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Kind of. You?”

“My ankle fucking hurts. What about your arm?”

“Same.”

Mike closed his eyes, trying to ignore the dull, pulsating pain in his leg. At least the painkillers and the bandages he had gotten in the mobile trauma tent were doing their job, so it was bearable. Will’s arm was casted and in a sling now.

“Can’t believe it’s over.”

Will shifted against him. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Mike turned his head to look at him. “You good? Really?”

Will hesitated. “Yeah. I mean… yeah. It’s just… weird. Sitting here. Like this. After everything. Feels unreal somehow.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

Mike slipped his hand under the blanket and took Will’s.

“Or are you trying to say I’m not real?”

Will snorted softly. “No. Trust me. You’re real.”

“How do you know?”

“You smell.”

Mike sniffed his shirt and made a face. “Ugh. Yeah. Fair.”

“It’s fine with me,” Will murmured.

“No, Will, it’s not,” Mike said dramatically. “Next time I face an interdimensional end boss, I swear I’m bringing better deodorant.”

They chuckled, their laughter small and cracked but real.

Then silence again.

“Can I ask you something?” Mike said, more tentative now.
There was something he needed to know.

Will blinked. “Sure.”

Mike hesitated. “What... what did he promise you?”

Will tensed. Mike felt it instantly and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it. It’s okay.”

A pause.

Then, quiet, almost ashamed: “Power.”

Mike turned toward him.

“Maybe it was all bullshit. Just manipulation. But... when I went with him, he told me I was the one who created the version of Hawkins in the Upside Down when he got me as a kid. Without knowing. Like, instinctively.” Will shivered, and Mike pulled him a little closer. “He said he always knew I was capable of something great. That I could build him a new world.”

“Shit,” Mike whispered. “That’s... heavy.”

Will’s hands were trembling now. Then a sob escaped him.

“Hey,” Mike whispered. “Hey, Will, it’s over. He’s gone.”

But Will shook his head and breathed in sharply, fighting the tears.

“I—Mike—I...” His voice cracked.

Mike turned fully, his brow furrowed. “Will. What is it?”

Will looked at him, his face crumpling under the weight of grief and shame.

Then, almost inaudibly: “A part of me wanted it, Mike.”

A silence fell like a stone.

“I wanted it. I was angry. And so sad. Everything seemed so hopeless, Mike. And it sounded so... tempting. I’d be powerful. I wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. And for the first time...” His voice broke completely. “I would matter.”

A sob overtook him.

Mike didn’t hesitate. He pulled him into a tight, trembling hug.

“Will,” he said, voice raw, “you’ve always mattered. You matter so much. To me. To all of us.”

Will shook his head against Mike’s chest.

“And then he said... he said I could create a world where you...” Another sob. “Where you’d love me. Where we’d be happy. Where we wouldn’t have to hide.”

Mike felt something twist in his chest—sharp, aching.
But he didn’t let go. He just held Will tighter, his fingers in Will’s hair, grounding them both.

“You don’t have to create a new world for that, you know that, right?,” Mike whispered.
“I love you, Will. Here. Now.”
He kissed Will’s cheek.

“I don’t deserve it,” Will murmured. “Not after what I almost let happen…”

Mike pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“Will, you have to stop saying that.” His voice cracked with urgency. “You killed that bastard. Yeah, he tempted you—but you turned on him. You fought back. You did the right thing. That’s what matters.”

Mike grabbed his wrist, forcing Will to look at him.

“Will, don’t you get it? That’s why he lost!” He stared at Will with an intense glare. “He underestimated you. Because you underestimated yourself. Like you always do. That’s why he gave you those powers. He was in your head all the time. But he never saw anything that gave him enough reason to doubt his decision.”

“What—, what do you mean?”, Will asked.

“Will, have you ever thought about what you’ve been going through? You survived the Upside Down as a kid! You didn’t let him take over your soul one year later! You overcame all that shit! You’re the fucking strongest person I know.”

Will snorted. “I highly doubt that.”

Mike nodded. “See? That’s exactly my point. He couldn’t see it… because you couldn’t. But you are, Will. You are.”

“I don’t know Mike, but thank you…”

“You have to believe me, okay?”

Will nodded faintly, but didn’t answer.

The silence between them stretched. Then Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar piece of paper—crumpled but intact.

He unfolded it with care.

“So…” he said, holding it out with a crooked smile, “you gonna finish it?”

Will groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Mike, come on. This is so embarrassing.”

“I think it’s a masterpiece,” Mike said, beaming. “I mean, with a subject like that, anything else would’ve been a shock.”

Will nudged him with his elbow. Tears still streaked his face, but a chuckle escaped him.

“Mike, don’t be ridiculous. Look at those hearts...”

Mike shrugged. “The hearts are fine. But yeah, I gotta admit—there’s one thing that is kinda embarrassing.”

Will blinked. “What?”

Mike pointed at the crumpled drawing. “My face. Look at those wrinkles. Thanks to the paper, I look like an old man. You should redraw it on a new sheet.”

Will laughed—genuine, whole. The sound echoed off the trees like a sigh of relief.

Before he could respond, the rumble of an engine broke the morning quiet.
Hopper’s pickup rolled slowly up the gravel path and came to a stop in front of the cabin. He stepped out with a groan and stretched, clearly exhausted. Then he spotted the boys on the porch.
“Steve’s fine!” he called. “Concussion. Couple cracked ribs. But nothing life-threatening. He was awake — told me to say hi to everyone.”

“Thank god,” Mike breathed.

Hopper walked closer, his heavy boots crunching on the path. When he saw Will’s red-rimmed eyes, his face softened — then turned serious.
He looked over at Mike, one brow raised.

“Everything alright here?”

They both nodded quickly.

“Yeah,” Mike said. “Just... you know. A lot.”

Hopper didn’t look entirely convinced.
He stepped closer, looming.

“Why is it always you, Wheeler?” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Why are you haunting my kids?”

Mike froze. “I— I didn’t—”

Then he caught the smirk tugging at Hopper’s mouth — and a second later, a giant hand landed on his shoulder with a clap.

“Just remember: Three-inch-rule is still on.”

He dropped into a crouch in front of Will.

“Whatever makes you happy, kid,” he said quietly. “I’m all in.”

Will smiled, touched and surprised.

Then Hopper’s tone shifted — softer now, more careful.
“But you know it won’t be easy, right?”

Mike frowned. “What do you mean?”

Hopper sighed, looking off into the trees.
“Kid... even without monsters, this world can be cruel. And stupid. And scared of things it doesn’t understand. Maybe it’s not ready yet.”

Mike straightened. “We’ll be fine.”

Hopper looked at him, a slow smile forming. “I bet you will.”
He stood, brushing off his knees.
“I just want you both to know — I’ve got your backs.”

“Me too.”

They turned. El was standing in the doorway, smiling — bright, fierce.
She walked over and kissed both of them on the forehead.
“Just let me know if there are any mouthbreathers that need dealing with.”

Mike chuckled softly.

She sat down on the bench beside them and pulled an arm around Will.
“You did great. Without you I would have lost.”

Will smiled, a bit dazed, but grateful.
Then he lowered his eyes in shame.
“I’m sorry, El…”

First, she looked puzzled. Then she frowned.
“Will, why would you—“, then her eyes fell on Mike. And she smiled.
“It’s fine, Will. Really. I’m not mad. I’m happy.”
Then El leaned forward and said under her breath, just loud enough for Mike to catch:
“I just hope for you he’s a better kisser now.”

Mike’s eyes widened as his cheeks turned pink.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

But El and Will just giggled.
As they laughed, the cabin door creaked again.

Joyce stepped out first, carrying a battered tray with two new mugs and toast that was more ash than bread. “Breakfast,” she said with a shaky smile. “Doctor’s orders. Don’t argue.”

Dustin bounded after her, arms flailing. “Okay, okay, but can we talk about my incredible throw? Like a Molotov-bullseye—”

Lucas followed, arms crossed. “Please. You slipped on your own shoelace. It was dumb luck.”

“Heroic dumb luck!”

Then came Nancy and Jonathan, quiet and steady.
Robin limped behind them, sling over her shoulder, eyes bright with relief.
When her gaze met Will’s, she smiled warmly and gave him a wink. “Told you, shrimp!”

One by one, the people they loved filled the porch.

Will blinked, overwhelmed.

“I guess the quiet part’s over,” he murmured.

Mike looked around.

“Good,” he said. “Feels like home. God, I missed it.”

Will looked at him, and something in his face softened—loosened.

Then the cabin’s landline rang — shrill, insistent. Everyone paused. Heads turned. Hopper grunted and stepped inside to answer it.

They could hear only one side of the conversation — muffled words, a low grunt, then a sudden stillness.

When he reappeared in the doorway, Hopper’s face was unreadable.

Then he said simply:
“Max is awake.”

Gasps, then silence. For a heartbeat, everyone hold their breath.

Then El stood so fast the bench nearly tipped. “She’s—?”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Hopper said. “Doctors say it’ll take time. But she opened her eyes. Asked for Lucas and you.”

El’s hands flew to her mouth. Robin sat down hard. Dustin whooped. Lucas turned away, wiping his eyes, quiet and fierce.

Then the porch exploded in movement — hugs, high fives, disbelief. The kind of messy, breathless joy that felt too big to hold.

Mike looked at Will.

And Will looked back.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just let the warmth settle — around him, inside him.

The fear was still there. The pain hadn’t vanished. But something new had started to take root.

And finally, with a quiet breath, Will leaned his head against Mike’s shoulder again and said:

“I think I’m gonna be okay.”

Chapter Text

One month later:

„Jeez, Mike, just pull yourself together already.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…”, Mike replied absently, his eyes fixed on the car that was coming down the road.

Max leaned on one of her crutches, shaking her head with a smirk. “Ugh. That doofus smile on your face is gonna be the thing that sends me back to the hospital.”

Beside her, Lucas and El laughed.

“Is he always like that?”, Max asked.

Lucas nodded. “Yup. Since the day we defeated Vecna.”

El leaned forward and whispered in Max’ ear: “Boys, you know. Different species.”

Jonathan’s old car rumbled into the parking lot, coming to a slow stop near the curb. Will stepped out carefully, adjusting the strap on his sling, then gave his brother a small wave through the window. The moment he turned, Mike practically bounced forward—fidgeting, glowing.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Will echoed, a smile already forming.

They glanced around quickly, almost in sync, then Will leaned in and kissed Mike—just a brush of lips, quick and quiet. But it was enough to light Mike up like a sparkler.

As they turned and walked back to the others, Mike let his hand fall to Will’s, just enough for their fingers to touch as they walked side by side.

“I missed you,” he said under his breath.

Max rolled her eyes. “Oh my god.”

Will chuckled. “Mike, we saw each other last night.”

“Too long,” Mike said, unapologetically.

As they reached the others, Max raised a brow at Will.
“Seriously, Byers? Why’d it have to be him? Of all people?”

Will grinned. “I was desperate.”

“Hey!” Mike bumped him in the shoulder, but he was also grinning.

Together, the group walked towards school.

“Everything alright?”, Mike whispered to Will.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, Will smiled genuinely.

“No nightmares?”

Will hesitated. “Still a few. But they’re getting better. I think I just need time.”

Mike frowned, but Will gave him a playful nudge.
“You don’t have to worry so much. Really.” He smiled. “Being with you helps. More than anything.”

Mike looked like he wanted to kiss him right here in the crowded hallway.
And Will seemed to read his mind.
“Save it for tonight, Romeo. If everything turns out well, we’re going to have plenty of time for that.”

Mike groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“What’s tonight?” Max asked, who had overheard them, raising an eyebrow. Then her eyes widened. “Oh god—is it really tonight?”

Will looked at Mike questioningly.
“You told them?”

Mike sighed dramatically. “Told them? Dude, I was interrogated. They tortured me!”

Will chuckled.

"Bullshit. We just asked couple of days ago why you looked like Vecna had crawled back from the grave," Max said.

“Believe me, it’s much worse than that.”

El giggled. “Mike, you’re exaggerating.”

“I wish I was…”

As the group headed up the school steps, Will nudged Mike gently.
“You sure you want to do this?”

Mike hesitated, then gave a lopsided smile. “Nope. But I’m not backing down.” He nodded toward the others. "They all know. It’s a matter of honor now."

Before Will could respond, the sound of something crashing drew their attention to the side entrance.

“Goddammit!” came a familiar voice.

They turned to see Dustin, staggering on the steps, both arms overloaded with books, dice trays, graph paper binders, and what looked like a full-size paper-mâché dragon head teetering dangerously on top of the stack.

“Dustin!” Lucas called. “What are you doing, man?”

“Clearly living my best life,” Dustin said through gritted teeth. “A little help?”

Mike rushed over and grabbed the dragon head before it could fall. Will took the binders. El lifted a tangle of painted miniatures out of his backpack with one hand.

“Thanks,” Dustin huffed. “It’s for tomorrow. Hellfire Memorial Campaign. For Eddie.”

Everyone went quiet for a beat.

Then Lucas said softly, “You’re still running that?”

“Of course I’m still running that.” Dustin’s voice sharpened slightly. “He saved my life. He saved all of us.”

El nodded. “He’d like that. Being remembered like this.”

“Yeah.” Dustin sniffed. "And he’d like all of you to be there."

“I’m in”, Will said without hesitation.

“Of course”, Mike said.

"There’s food, right?" Max asked.

“A whole buffet," Dustin said proudly.

"Then El and I are in. Every epic deserves an audience."

Dustin grinned. Then looked to Lucas.

Lucas hesitated, straight-faced.
"You know tomorrow’s the first basketball practice. I really can’t miss it…"

Dustin’s face fell.

Then Lucas cracked. "Just kidding. Of course I’ll come."

Dustin blinked, visibly touched. “Cool,” he muttered. Then, louder: “Cool. Okay. Good.”

He turned. “Unfortunately, there's still more in my locker. Anyone up for a heroic fetch quest? You two are off the hook,” he added, pointing to Max’s crutches and Will’s sling.

Lucas and Mike looked at each other, then shrugged. “We’re in. See you guys later.”

As they disappeared down the hall, Mike tossed Will an apologetic smile.

Max sighed. “Will, he’s hopeless.”

Will chuckled. “It’s Mike, remember?” Then, more quietly: “And I think it’s cute.”

Max made a gagging sound. “You two go ahead, I need to use the bathroom.” She smirked. “All that love stuff makes me sick.”

So, Will and El slowly walked down the hallway. After some moments of silnce, El turned to him. “Are you okay, Will? We haven’t spoken for days. You’ve been… busy.”

Will smiled. “I’m fine. Just… catching up on time with him. I’m sorry.”

She bumped his good shoulder gently. “I’m not mad. I get it.”

Then she glanced at him more seriously. “Do you still feel it?”

Will’s smile faded. “Yeah, sometimes. It’s like…” He hesitated. “I mean, it’s weird. I know that the powers he gave me are gone. I knew it the moment he died. But still…”

He touched the back of his neck instinctively.

“Sometimes, it’s like that old feeling is still there. It’s faint. Like a memory more than a feeling. But it’s still there.””

El frowned. “But he is dead.”

Will nodded quickly. “I know, I know. But sometimes I wonder…”

She slowed, listening.

“I don’t know. But, what if Henry never was in control? What if it controlled him?”

He shuddered. “What if it’s still out there? Hiding somewhere?”

El took his hand. “The gates are closed, Will. There’s no way for it to come back.”
Then, stronger: “And even if it finds one—we’ll be ready.”

*****

It was five minutes to six when Will rang the doorbell.

He’d stood here countless times before—but never like this. Never with nerves fizzing in his chest like a shaken soda bottle.

The door opened almost immediately.

“Hi,” said Mike, pale as a ghost. “Wanna come in?”

“Actually, you look more like you wanna come out…” Will replied before he could stop himself—then winced. “Oh god, sorry. Unintended pun.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Mike muttered, not even acknowledging the joke, panic etched deep into his features.

Will stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

Close to Mike’s ear, he whispered, “Hey. You really don’t have to do this, okay? Not tonight. Not ever, if you’re not ready. I’d never judge you.”

Mike exhaled shakily.
“Can’t you just make another drawing? Just us and a couple of hearts. We’ll throw it at them and run.”

Will snorted. “You’re such an idiot.”

Before Mike could reply, a familiar voice interrupted from inside.

“Hello, Will,” Karen said warmly, appearing in the hallway. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. Nice to see you too,” Will answered politely. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

She smiled. “You know, I think it’s a great idea—having a good old-fashioned sleepover. After... well, after everything.” She took his jacket and hung it up. “You know, I told Joyce the other day that it’s so good to have you all back in Hawkins. We missed you. Especially Mike. He never said much, but as a mother… you just know when your kid’s hurting.”

Will gave Mike a sidelong glance.
The boy still looked like he might bolt.

“Hi, Will!” Nancy called from the kitchen, perched on a barstool. Her smile was warm—and knowing.

“Hi, Nancy,” Will said, managing a smile back.
He knew she’d be their lifeline tonight. Their backup. Their safety net.

Half an hour later, they were all gathered around the Wheeler family table.
The clink of cutlery filled the silence between polite conversations. Karen had made roast chicken, potatoes, and green beans. Holly sat between her parents, fidgeting with a spoon and humming quietly to herself.

“So, Will,” Ted said abruptly, halfway through chewing, “what are your plans after school?” The strain in his voice made it clear he was only half-interested.

Will blinked. “Um... I’m not sure yet. Maybe art school?”

Ted furrowed his brow and reached for the salt. “Art school, huh? Not exactly a practicl career.”

Mike, who’d been tense the whole meal, suddenly bristled.

“Will’s a genius,” he said, sharper than he intended. “His work’s incredible. He’ll be successful. I mean—it’s what he’s best at.”

Will flushed. “I don’t know about that… It’s just the thing I love doing most.”

Nancy cut in smoothly. “Doing what you love and what you’re good at? Sounds like a solid plan to me.”

Ted grunted. “As long as someone’s paying the bills.”

Holly leaned toward Will and whispered, “I liked the bunny with the rainbow you drew for me.”
Will smiled at her. “Thanks, Holly.”

Karen stood up, clearing some plates. “Anyone ready for dessert?”

Mike’s knee was bouncing under the table. He took a breath, then pushed his chair back slightly.
“Actually… there’s something I need to say first.”

Karen froze mid-step. Nancy looked up, eyes narrowing slightly in anticipation.
Ted peered over his glasses.

Will instinctively bumped Mike’s knee under the table, just to give him some reassurance.

Then Mike exhaled, visibly gathering himself.

 “I— I wanted to tell you…”
He looked from his mom to his dad.
“that Will‘s… Will’s my boyfriend.”

Silence.

Will could feel it pool around the table like a heavy fog.

Karen stood frozen, plates still in hand.

Nancy smiled, eyes flicking between her brother and Will.
Ted just stared—first at Mike, then at Will, then back at his plate. Even Holly paused, spoon halfway to her mouth.

Karen finally set the plates down, slowly returning to her seat.

“Oh,” she said. “I… didn’t realize…”

With his knife, Ted moved some food rests from one side of the plate to the other, not looking up.
“This some kind of joke?”

Mike’s jaw tightened. “No.”

“Another act of rebellion then?”

“No, dad, it’s not. I’m serious.”

Finally, Ted’s eyes met Mike’s.
“You’re too young to know something like that for sure.”

“I’m not!”, Mike shouted. “Actually, I’ve never been more sure about anything!”

Ignoring Mike’s tone, Ted looked at Will, not cruelly—just blankly.
“And this is something you’re encouraging?”

Will opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say something, Nancy shoved her chair back with a loud scrape.

“Are you serious right now?” she snapped, glaring at her parents. “You have two kids sitting here who literally helped save the world, and this—this is what you’re focused on?”

Ted opened his mouth to respond, but Nancy didn’t let him.

“Your son just told you who he is. That he’s in love. And your first instinct is to pretend this is about rebellion?”
She looked at Karen next.
“And you? You’re just sitting there?”

“I just…” Karen rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t expect this tonight.”

“I don’t understand”, Holly looked at Mike, who sat there, eyes filled with tears now, visibly shaking, trying to hold back his feelings. “When you love someone… isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?”

Nancy leaned over and touched her sister’s hand. “Yes, Holly. It is. And never let anyone tell you otherwise!”

Ted stood slowly. “If this is how dinner’s going to go, I’ll excuse myself.”

Mike stood up too. “Yeah. Maybe you should.”

Ted looked at his wife, at his son, then turned and walked quietly upstairs.

For a long moment, no one moved.

Then Will rose. “Mike,” he said softly, “maybe we should just go to my place.”

He turned to Karen. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Wheeler. And I’m sorry for ruining the evening.”

Will took Mike’s hand, and they’d just reached the front door when—

“Wait!”

Karen hurried down the hallway.

“Don’t go,” she said, reaching out and placing a hand gently on Will’s arm. “Please. You’ll always be welcome in this house.”

Then she turned to Mike and pulled him into a hug. He stiffened at first—but then, slowly, he returned it.

“I’m sorry,” Karen whispered. “I was just… not prepared for that.”

She stepped back, her voice trembling slightly now. “Mike, I want you to be happy. And I love you—always. But please… give us a little time. This is just… a lot.”

Mike shook his head, his voice breaking. “Dad made it pretty clear what he thinks.”

Karen’s eyes shone. “Let me talk to him. Please. He’s not lost—I know him. He just needs time.”

Mike couldn’t hold it in any longer. He started to sob. “I just… want to be me.”

Karen looked at him—and then at Will—with a kind of quiet, warm resolve.

“And you can be,” she said.

*******

As soon as the door to Mike’s room clicked shut, Will wrapped his arms around him.

“That went better than expected,” he murmured against Mike’s neck.

Mike sniffed. “Can you just kill me, please?”

Will pulled him in tighter. “You did great, Mike. Really. I’m proud of you.”

After a moment, he added, “But maybe your mom’s right.”

“What?”

“Maybe they just need time. They’re not used to it—to people like us, I mean. But now they have to be. We should give them a moment to deal with all this.”

Mike snorted. “My dad will never accept this.”

Will nodded slowly. “Maybe not. But this isn’t about someone on TV anymore. It’s about his son.”

He kissed Mike’s cheek. “His incredibly handsome son, I should add.”

“Thanks for being there,” Mike mumbled. “It helped… a lot.”

Will smiled, then his expression shifted. “Still…”

Mike leaned back. “What?”

“I kinda failed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Will grinned. “I should’ve told you to wait on the confession.”

Mike blinked. “Why?”

“Because I really wanted to try those scones your mom made.”

“You little shithead…”

Mike lunged at him, and suddenly they were wrestling on the floor, laughter echoing through the room.

“Stop, Mike, I’m dying!” Will gasped between giggles when Mike finally got the upper hand and started to tickle him.

“Only if you kiss me, loser!”

“Okay, okay, I will,” Will finally promised, breathless and laughing.

Mike let him go, and Will stayed on his knees for a beat, catching his breath. Then he stood and dusted himself off.

“But not just like that, idiot. How about some atmosphere?”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Knock yourself out.”

Will crossed to the cassette recorder and pressed play.

Just a little more time is all we’re asking for—

Will spun around with mock drama, walking toward Mike with theatrical flair.

Just a little more time could open closing doors—

Then he leaned in, slow and romantic.

But Mike turned his head, snorting a laugh.

Will blinked. “What?”

Mike shook his head, grinning. “Sorry, but Never Surrender is already occupied.”

Will feigned offense. “You’re seriously rejecting a power ballad right now?”

“Only on principle,” Mike teased.

Will sighed, dramatically trudging back to the cassette deck. “Fine. You pick something then.”

Mike rifled through the pile of tapes beside the stereo and popped one in.

A click. A low hiss. Then—

There’s a story in my eyes, turn the pages of desire…

Will froze for a second, recognizing the opening bars of "I Can’t Hold Back" by Survivor. He turned slowly, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Mike gave a small shrug. “Thought it fit.”

Will smiled. “Actually… yeah. It does.”

And I feel the hand of fate reaching out to both of us…

Will stepped toward him again, this time without the theatrics. Just something quiet, and real. His hands found Mike’s. Mike stood, eyes searching his face.

“I’m okay,” Mike said, answering the question Will hadn’t asked.

“Good,” Will said, stepping closer. “Because I’ve been waiting to do this all day.”

I can’t hold back, I’m on the edge…

Will leaned in—and this time, Mike didn’t turn away.

I can’t hold back, I won’t back down…

The kiss was soft, unrushed. Warm.

Their arms wrapped around each other instinctively.
The music swelled in the background.

… it′s too late to turn back now.

And in that moment, there was no fear anymore, no hiding.
Just two boys, holding each other like they meant it.

Because they did.

*********

Will woke up the next morning, curled against Mike’s back, the morning sun brushing his face through the window. He yawned, then wrapped an arm around Mike’s waist.

Mike shifted, then turned to face him, eyes half-open.

“Good morning,” Will murmured with a smile.

“Morning.” Mike kissed the tip of his nose.

“If I’m still asleep and this is a dream,” Will whispered, “don’t you dare wake me up.”

“I wish it was,” Mike sighed.

Will blinked. “What?”

“Yeah. Because if it were, I wouldn’t have to pee so bad and could just stay here.”

Will laughed. “So little self-control.”

“Excuse me, I’ve been awake for an hour holding it just so I wouldn’t wake you up. That’s the definition of self-control.”

Will grinned. “Okay, fair. That act of bravery definitely earns a medal of honor.”

“Screw you, Byers.”
Mike slipped out of bed.
“By the way, you should get up too or we’ll be late for school.” Then he padded out of the room.

Will closed his eyes for another moment, soaking in the warmth of the sheets. Then he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and pulled on the clothes that were draped over Mike’s desk chair. A few minutes later, Mike returned, visibly relieved.

Will looked at him. “You think it’s safe to go down there?”

Mike shrugged. “Pretty sure. I heard the door when I got out of the bathroom—he’s gone to work.”

They headed downstairs to the kitchen.

“Good morning, boys!” Karen greeted, flipping pancakes at the stove. Holly was munching cereal at the table while Nancy sat reading the paper.

“Morning,” both boys echoed.

When they sat down, they noticed two mugs of steaming coffee already placed at their spots.

Mike frowned. “Mom, you know I don’t drink—”

“They’re not from me,” Karen said with a smile.

He looked over at Nancy, but she shook her head.

Then his eyes met Will’s—and realization clicked into place.

Karen was still smiling, her eyes glistening.

Mike smiled, too. So did Will.

As Karen set pancakes on their plates, she added gently, “Take it as a first step.” She dabbed at a tear. “And thank God he didn’t try to make breakfast.”

They laughed.

—

Half an hour later, fully dressed, they stood at the front door.

“Ready?” Mike asked.

Will nodded. “Ready.”

Then Mike took his hand and laced their fingers together.

Will looked at him, surprised. “Are you sure?”

Mike shrugged. “Why not? Just until we meet up with Lucas and Dustin. No one’ll notice.”

Then, firmer: “And even if they do—who cares?”

They started down the sidewalk together, hearts thudding but hands still linked.

“You’re crazy,” Will said with a nervous chuckle.

“You’re crazy too,” Mike replied. “But hey—remember?”

He smiled.

“Crazy together.”