Chapter Text
Will is about to jump.
He’s about to jump through the open gate in front of him, willingly throwing himself back into the hell he’d just narrowly escaped in 1983. But this time, someone is going to follow him.
Mike is going to follow him.
Mike had practically insisted on it. I can’t lose you again, he’d said, a jarring thing for Will to hear after a painful week of awkwardly being used-to-be-best-friends.
But, Will supposes, a lot can change in a week. Like how the Upside Down is now bleeding into Hawkins. The thick vines and particles and various demo-creatures are making their way up into Hawkins, practically throwing themselves at anyone who had been stupid enough to stay or unlucky enough to get stuck.
Slowly but surely Hawkins and the Upside Down are turning into one. Except the Upside Down is frozen in 1983.
Someone has to go back. Someone has to connect Will’s disappearance to all of this. To look for clues in his old house, Mike’s basement, anywhere that might hold the key to figuring out why this happened.
So here he and Mike stand, alone in front of the gate.
“Are we really doing this?” Mike whispers.
“We have to.”
“Will, we can find another way. You don’t have to go back there.”
But he does. He has to go back because he's the only one who can navigate the Upside Down. Because, oh yeah, as he was recently horrified to learn, he created the Upside Down. That's why he’s going. He has to.
Will goes first. He lands on a hand and a knee, sending a stinging pain through his limbs. He shakes it off and stands to watch Mike, peering up through the gate at his last glimpse of normalcy for at least the next six hours.
Mike takes a step back, inhales, and starts to jump. He gets no more than two inches forward before his foot catches and he goes tumbling head first into the Upside Down.
Shit.
Mike lets out a yelp of pain and Will watches in horror as he lands on the hard ground with a thud.
“Oh my god, Mike, are you okay?” Will rushes forward and drops to his knees, “Mike, please answer me, please–”
“Wh– jesus fuck,” Mike mutters as he sits up.
“Oh, thank god, Mike, you scared me,”
“What the fuck… what the fuck is this place?” Mike exclaims as he scrambles backwards into the wall, “Who are you?”
“Mike, if this is some kind of joke, it’s really not funny–”
“No, no, you’re the one not being funny. What's happening ?”
“You don’t… you don’t remember anything?”
“No, and I’m starting to freak out,” Mike sputters, “Seriously, what is going on?”
“I– we don’t have time for me to explain it all. I’m Will. You just hit your head, falling from there,” Will points to the gate above them, “but I think you’re okay. you aren’t bleeding. We’re in… a dangerous place, but I know my way around. Just follow my lead.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“What?”
“How do I know you’re not the bad guy?”
“I… I think you’ll know the bad guy when you see him. I can’t prove anything to you now, but your options are to follow me or stay here alone. And I really want you to come with me.”
“...Okay. I guess I already followed you in here, so I must like you, or something.”
“Yeah, or something,” Will scoffs at Mike’s wording and offers his hand to lift him up. If only he knew.
They begin to walk, Mike following closely behind Will, matching his footfalls and breathing shakily.
“So how do we know each other?” Will hears from over his shoulder. He cringes. This is going to be a nightmare if it lasts longer than an hour.
“Well, we met in first grade, and… and then we were best friends.”
“Were…?”
“Yeah. I had to move away, and then we just stopped talking, I guess.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Mike says, and it sounds genuine. But it isn’t. Will knows it isn’t.
“It’s okay,” Will says, and he means it.
“Where’d you move to?”
“California,” Will says, simultaneously annoyed and amused at the small talk he was being forced to partake in, “and you stayed in Indiana.”
“No way. You got to move to, like, the coolest state and I was stuck in Indiana?”
Will holds back a laugh, “Yeah, but you were actually visiting me last week.”
“Really?”
Will nods. "For spring break.”
“That sounds fun.”
“...It was definitely something.”
“Oh, no, did I do something stupid? I–”
“No, no, it wasn’t you. My sister broke this girl’s nose and then there was a shootout in my house and we had to–” Will pauses and turns to look at Mike, “We aren’t… we aren’t exactly normal.”
“Yeah, I kinda got that.”
“Right.”
They continue towards the Byers’ house like this, Will leading the way and Mike asking questions: what are his parents and friends like, what are they doing here, had Will really spent a week here?
Will stops at a convenience store, surveying the area. “We should stop and eat,” he says as he swings open the door that looks like it hasn’t been touched in, well, three years.
Will quickly sweeps the aisles to make sure they’re alone, shotgun held close to his body. He barricades the door with a display shelf. It’s not much, but it’ll do for a quick stop. Will sits on the counter and produces a granola bar from his backpack, gesturing for Mike to do the same. They eat in silence for a few minutes, and Will watches as Mike searches for more questions. His brow is furrowed and he’s staring into space. If not for the circumstances, Will would probably find it endearing.
“What do I look like?”
“What?”
“I mean, there’s not really any mirrors around here.”
“You want me to… describe what you look like? To you?”
“Yeah. I don’t know.”
“Okay…” Will sighs, “well, when we were younger, the kids at school used to call you frog face,” Will smiles as Mike’s mouth drops open at the old name, “but I think you were a cute kid. I always did. You have black hair and freckles and… and you’re tall, but you already know that. And I guess when we were younger your face was kind of… rounder? But now you’ve got like, these crazy cheekbones. I mean, you look so different.”
“So you don’t think I’m cute anymore?” Mike pouts, and for a second he looks like the frog faced kid he was so many years ago.
Will nearly chokes before shaking his head, “No, It’s not that,” He laughs nervously, “Now I’d say you’re more… handsome, I guess.”
If you’d told him a day ago that he’d be calling Mike Wheeler handsome in the Upside Down, he would have laughed in your face.
A smile appears on Mike’s face, “You’re not too bad yourself, Will.”
He knows Mike is just confused and messing around. But he still feels a blush creep across his cheeks.
After another moment of silence Mike speaks again, “Are you sure we’re not–” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he changed his mind.
“Sure we’re not what?” Will asks.
“Nevermind, it’s stupid. I just, I can’t imagine why I would stop being best friends with you. You’re so…” Mike waves his hands in Will’s direction, and Will raises his eyebrows questioningly, “I like you. So much.”
Will is going to explode.
“We got in a couple of fights. Bad fights.”
“What were they about?”
“It doesn’t matter. We forgave each other.”
“But we weren’t ever, like… we were ever, I dunno, like, dating?”
Will’s eyes widen in shock. He could not have possibly heard that right.
“D– dating?” he stutters, “No, why would– why would we be dating?”
“I don’t know. I just like you. Like, it feels like we might have been. Or we should have been. I don’t know.”
“Mike, you are dating my sister.”
A wave of confusion washes over Mike’s face and he’s looking at Will like that’s the strangest thing he’s heard today, not that other dimensions are real or that he’s been fighting monsters since he was 12 years old.
“That’s not possible.”
“What do you mean that’s not possible? You’ve been dating for three years,” Will has to fight the urge to raise his voice in frustration. This isn’t Mike’s fault, he reminds himself.
“No. No, that can’t be right.”
“You don’t know anything about yourself, why is this so hard to believe?”
“Because I’m gay.”
Will freezes.
Mike is confused. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He barely knows his own name.
“Mike, you’re not gay.”
“I am.”
“No, you aren’t. You’re just confused. You don’t know who you are right now, that’s all.”
“I might not know who I am, but I know I’m gay. Like I know that two plus two is four. It’s just a fact.”
Will doesn’t speak. He just stares, mouth agape.
“What, do you– do you have a problem with it?” Mike says, suddenly defensive.
“No, Mike, I–” Will pauses and takes a breath. The tone in Mike’s voice hurts. Because Will is gay. But if he tells Mike and he remembers when he gets his memory back would he ever look at Will the same? “I don’t have a problem with it. It’s just… we’ve never even talked about this before and now you’re asking me to believe that you’ve been gay this whole time? When you just told my sister you love her?"
“It took me three years to say I love you?”
“Yes– no– no, that’s not the point. You can’t– you can’t just say things like that,” Will chokes, and the horrible thought that this has all been a big practical joke prods at the back of his mind.
“What do you mean? I don’t– Will, I don’t understand–”
“No, you don’t understand,” Will snaps as angry tears start to burn behind his eyes, “you didn’t before, you don’t now, and you never will.”
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth and he sees the look on Mike’s face. He looks so hurt that for a second Will thinks maybe he did mean what he was saying. But he doesn’t. It’s not real.
Mike stands and starts to walk towards the door. “Wait, Mike, stop– you can’t be out there alone,” Will calls, “I’m sorry, I– I shouldn’t have said that, Mike, please!”
Will catches up to Mike and grabs his wrist, “It’s not safe here. We need to stay together. I’m sorry.”
“I guess I know what our fights were about now,” Mike scoffs as he pulls away from Will’s grip, but he stops walking.
Will feels sudden anger. They had fought about this. But not in the way Mike thinks.
It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!
“No, Mike, it’s really not like that, I–”
“Listen– let’s just, do what we need to do here and get out. I need– I need to just lay down or something.”
“Shit, you’re right— we’re almost at the house. Just, hold on.”
They walk to the Byers’ house in relative silence, Mike’s previous curiosity about his life having been seemingly stomped out.
Will feels bad. How could he not? But he just has to keep repeating to himself that this isn’t Mike, and ignore the nagging sensation in the back of his mind that it is. This is Mike.
Entering his old home washes Will in a wave of emotions that he wasn’t expecting. Nostalgia, sadness, fondness, anger, pain. So much had happened between these four walls.
He wonders if Mike would feel the same way, had he been Mike right now.
“Okay,” Will says shakily, “just… just grab anything that looks important.”
“What does that even mean?” Mike mutters in annoyance, but Will gets the impression that he isn’t looking for a response.
Papers from the kitchen table, Will’s old schoolwork, Jonathan’s tapes, anything of documentation that can fit in their backpacks is tossed in. They make their way to the backyard and Will braces himself. They’re approaching the shed where a twelve-year-old Will had loaded a gun with shaking hands and aimed at something he couldn’t comprehend. Not then, and maybe not even now.
Will stops, staring at the small structure. He sees Mike glancing at him in his peripheral vision, but his eyes are glued to the shed. The shotgun slung over his shoulder suddenly feels a hundred times heavier.
Mike leaves his side and Will watches as he walks briskly towards the wooden door.
Something deep inside him is screaming at him to yell at Mike to stop, that that’s where it happened, that’s where it got me, stop or it’ll get you too!
But the rational part of him knows that it– he, whatever Vecna is– has already gotten Mike too, or they wouldn’t be here surrounded by the deep blue he’s become so familiar with.
After a quick sweep of the area, Mike returns with nothing in his hands save for a handful of something small, glinting in the low light. Shotgun cartridges. Will shudders.
Mike holds out the unused ammo for Will to inspect, and zips it in his own pocket when Will doesn’t move.
“Thank you,” Will whispers.
“Yeah,” Mike says. Mike’s mouth. Not him, though.
The Wheeler house is next, and Will dreads the long walk ahead of them. Although maybe, he thinks, being in his own house will bring back some of Mike’s memories. He thinks that’s how it works in the movies, at least.
The walk is quiet again, though this time Mike stands a little closer to Will and a little taller, like he’s trying to protect him. Like even though the memories of their friendship are gone and clearly replaced with some mixed up version of reality, that part of him, the part that wanted to protect Will so badly when they were twelve, is still in there. And the quiet is less unbearable this time.
Will silently turns on the path to the Wheeler’s front door and Mike follows.
“This one’s yours,” Will says as he slowly pushes open the door, ready to shoot at any lingering demo-things. He lowers his gun at the sight of the empty living room.
“This one’s mine,” Mike repeats slowly, seemingly in a daze.
“Yeah,” Will says as he makes his way into the house. He hates how much he’s missed it. “Same as last time. Grab the important-looking stuff. But most of it will be in the basement.”
“The basement,” Mike echos, and Will thinks maybe it’s all coming back to him. But that’s all he says.
Will makes his way to the stairs and absentmindedly brushes his fingers over the television, causing those familiar flickers of light to crackle around his hand. He hears Mike gasp behind him and smiles a little. Hide in the light, his mind supplies. He’s not sure if the television or the little gasp had prompted that thought.
They descend down the stairs and Will feels unusually nervous, even for being in the Upside Down. This was the last place (and time) that he was normal. Maybe the last time he was really happy.
“Damn,” Mike whispers as he glances over the campaign that’s been frozen in time for three years.
Will catches himself cringing out of habit as Mike tosses the miniatures and pages of the campaign into his bag. He shakes his head and digs through the various papers and boxes laying around the room until his hands land on a binder hidden below the other coffee table paraphernalia.
He doesn’t recognize it as Mike’s old schoolwork. In fact, he doesn’t recognize it at all, which is weird considering how much time he’s spent down here, especially in 1983. Slowly, he flips it open and is met with pages and pages of his own artwork. His first instinct is to cringe, immediately noticing every flaw within the old sketches. But then he realized that Mike had kept all of them. Every single one he ever gave him, it looked like. At least, up until this point.
Will feels his eyes start to sting and shoves the binder in his pack.
“Will?” Mike asks anxiously, “you ready? I wanna get out of here.”
“Yeah,” Will says as he wipes his eyes and turns, trying to sound cool and casual and normal, but his voice cracks and he can’t stop the tears.
“Oh, Will…” Mike says, “hey, it’s okay,” he glances at the floor before tentatively opening his arms to offer Will a hug, and Will can’t stop himself from stepping forward into the embrace.
Mike wouldn’t do this, not after what Will said. Mike would probably be disgusted if he saw them like this. But Will is greedy. And this just makes him cry more.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you this time,” Mike mutters into his hair as Will sobs.
When his breathing finally evens out, Will pulls away awkwardly. Mike’s hands linger on his arms.
“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? I was a total douche earlier.”
Mike doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Will with this funny look in his eyes, and slowly he leans down and plants a gentle kiss on Will’s cheek before pivoting and walking back up the stairs.
Will tries to call out ‘ Mike, wait,’ but finds he can’t make any noise at all. All he can do is rush after Mike and lead him back to the gate.