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Will barely registers the dull thud of his knees as he falls to the ground. His vision— previously split between three demogorgons —slides back into the present. He feels the blood pump back into his body, an unknowable strength draining out of him as he lowers his head. There's a trickle of something slowly sliding down his cupid's bow. His eyes roll back into place, and as the blurry edges of his sight fade away, as clarity seeps in, they land on something familiar, something entirely new.
Mike Wheeler, looking right at him. His chest heaving, his eyes shining. Seeing him, like he's never seen Will before. It feels like nothing. It feels like everything. For the first time in his life, Will doesn't have the strength to deny the obvious—
Mike's looking at him like he's fallen in love.
⚡
Later, back at the WSQK, a sombre air surrounds them.
They failed. Will failed. To protect all those children, to get Holly back. It was foolish in the first place, Will should've known this. He shouldn't have hoped, he shouldn't have tried. It was a risk to get Derek involved, and now he'd been taken too.
His mind unhelpfully supplies him with visions of children deep in Vecna's layer, a tentacle jammed down their throat as if Vecna were siphoning their very essence for his powers.
Vecna, stealing from the children. Will, stealing from Vecna. Vecna, stealing from Will as a child. A closed loop, with helpless children perpetually at the centre of it.
Will feels sick with hopelessness.
Mike's voice breaks through his reprieve. He's so excited, so enthused about Will's powers. He's gushing like he does when there's a particularly good plot twist in a book he's been reading. Rambling the way he does when he needs to get his point across or he'll implode.
Will doesn't need to turn around to see what he looks like— he knows this Mike well. Stumbling over his words, his hands gesticulating wildly, his eyes wide and his curls bouncing as he moves his head to emphasise his point.
There's an ache in his chest, dull and familiar. It grounds more than it hurts, now, practically a second home for Will. Unending, unwavering. His love for Mike.
As Lucas and Robin swap notes about how their own demogorgons had contorted and dropped to the ground before their eyes, Will closes his eyes. He can picture Mike in his minds' eye, can practically feel him spasm in excitement. It brings a small smile to his face; unbidden, unwanted.
Entirely inappropriate. Will turns around, gathering his features back into a frown.
"We should get inside. Regroup with Mom and Murray, try to get in touch with the others. There's no time to lose."
Lucas and Robin nod at him, rearranging their expressions into something resembling seriousness, but their eyes shine with hope. Admiration.
Will doesn't like this newfound eagerness in all of them, even though he knows they need all the hope and help they can get. Whatever Vecna's planning, whatever he's been building up to for the last eighteen months— it won't be taken out by El alone. Her training could not have prepared her for what they'd faced today. They have been fools, quietly hoping that Vecna had disappeared. Military grade weapons and trained soldiers wiped away within minutes. This is not a battle they can win on their own.
Will knows this, recognises this. Whatever connection to Vecna and the Upside Down this is, regardless of how familiar it feels to being possessed the first time around, it will be useful. It has to be useful.
Will has been waiting for this, has he not? To be more useful. Had snapped at his mother for it, jumped at the opportunity to use his connection to Vecna for something more than just goosebumps and despair.
There's something to be said about the fact that Will could have pulled these powers out at any point, had he just wanted to. But no, it had to come out when Mike was in trouble. It had to be him, hadn't it?
This isn't the right time to think about this. Will needs to stay focused.
And yet— is this all Will's life will ever be? Fighting for control, trying to build a home in a body that doesn't belong to him, craving a boy he'll never have. Is this how El feels, every time she uses her powers? Moving mountains to stay close to Mike, to keep him alive.
Maybe they're both fools.
When Will finally risks a glance at him, Mike doesn't look serious, or ashamed, or anything other than full of awe. He's still looking at Will like he hung the moon, and it doesn't sit right. It's all he's ever wanted, but it still doesn't sit right.
Lucas and Robin walk inside, and Will moves to follow them. He keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, fully aware of Mike moving closer to him.
It's so reminiscent of them earlier today, in this very field. Will walking in a straight line, trying to pretend he hadn't noticed Mike's frame inching closer to his from his periphery. Moving purposefully, trying to initiate something.
A bump of the knees, a touch of the elbow. Shared looks.
A part of Will— the rational side, perhaps —points out how pathetic he's being, how small his feelings for Mike make him. It barely affects him. He's spent his entire life waging a battle in his mind, against the world, against himself, against entities beyond comprehension. If his thoughts drift to Mike, then they drift to Mike. There's not much else to be done there.
"You saved me," Mike mumbles, his hand brushing against Will's. He's moved too close in the two steps they've taken towards the WSQK.
Will doesn't step away. It feels like Mike wants him to stop, so he does. He tries not to lift his gaze toward the blood on Mike's forehead. He's shown enough concern for one night.
(Although, Will gets the sense that Mike wouldn't mind. It isn't the first time he's noticed it. This constant, steady undercurrent present in every interaction with Mike. The sense that Mike wants to stop this dance between them. That he wants to pull closer, without pushing away. How obvious?)
Will waits, keeping his eyes fixed on Mike's shirt. A safe place.
There's a beat of silence.
Another.
Will realises Mike is waiting for him to respond.
"Yeah, I guess I did," Will says, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Saved all of you," he adds, because he doesn't want Mike to get the wrong idea. The right idea.
Mike bends down a little to meet Will's eyes. Will wishes he'd tilted his head up with his hands, but that's not what best friends do. He meets Mike's eyes and smiles at him, trying to send a message. I don't want to talk about it.
Mike doesn't hear it.
"I was right," he says instead, grinning when he pulls a laugh out of Will.
Will loves him. This stupid, enthusiastic boy. He shines. He glows. He's everything.
"You were," Will says, his eyes stinging a little. He won't cry, he won't cry. He's just overwhelmed, and Mike is allowing him a moment of reprieve. A moment to gather himself.
He looks away. Mike's eyes are still too intense, too full of something. Will isn't used to it anymore. There was a time when he bloomed under Mike's watchful gaze. When it felt like he could do anything, if Mike just kept his eyes on him. Now, it feels a little like being burned. And Will doesn't like extreme temperatures under the best of circumstances. Not anymore.
"Hey," Mike says, nudging him, his knuckles brushing against Will's shoulder. Will holds back a shiver. "I'm proud of you."
Will offers him a pained smile. They should really head back inside. Check in on Erica, tend to their wounds.
Mike seems to sense his restlessness. He tilts his head toward the building in the distance, and they walk back in together.
⚡
Mike Wheeler has always felt like a livewire, staticky and buzzing with a restless energy. It's something he's felt for as long as he can remember. Being a child, running around with too much energy for his mother or his sister to handle. Talking loudly, stumbling over his words, his body the wrong size for the voltage trapped inside. Jolting around, clumsy and disgraceful. Glitching and spasming whenever he was overwhelmed; too much, too loud.
That's why didn't have to think twice about it; of course Will was magic. He'd always been the only person who could handle him without caution.
You're more like a sorcerer, your powers are innate.
Mike had always believed Will was magic. He was the only exception. The only person who could approach Mike without the fear of being burned. There was no hesitance, no second guessing.
Will knew Mike, without ever learning him. Like he blinked into existence with a manual on how to handle Mike pre-installed.
He's a good influence on you, that kid, his father had muttered the first time Will had stayed over. It's still the nicest thing he's ever said about any of Mike's friends. Sure, he hadn't said it ever again, but he never said much, anyway.
And it was true; Will made Mike palatable. Digestible for the general public. He brought Lucas and Dustin to their party. Without him, Mike doubts he would've ever made a single friend.
When he'd disappeared, Mike felt like his system was about to overload. There was too much inside of him, growing loose and wild inside of him the longer Will wasn't around.
He tries not to think too often about that week— fighting with Lucas, shouting at El. Arguing constantly, buzzing with anger, despair, hopelessness. Will and Mike were supposed to be together forever, so where had he disappeared to?
And when they'd found him and brought him back, it felt like things were good again. Like that dangerous energy inside of him could finally rest. A return to form.
But then Will had started to fade away— he was there, but he wasn't, because the Mind Flayer had got to him, and every moment after that has felt like Mike was one short-circuit away from a full blown system shut down.
But something changed today.
Something fundamental, something that's finally allowed the overwhelming, ever-present current in Mike's veins to quiet down. Reduced to a soft, humble buzz. For the first time in his life, Mike Wheeler feels like a human being, instead of a clumsy collection of wires loosely arranged to resemble a person. For the first time in his life, Mike feels calm, assured.
Because of Will.
There had been a moment— as the demogorgon pounced at him, as he'd braced himself, as he'd realised he was going to die as a result of a failed plan, a result of his unassembled bravado. There had been a moment, when Mike had realised he would die with several regrets, but none louder or worse than the one that enveloped him as he steeled himself for death.
He wouldn't get to see Will grow up.
He wouldn't get to see Will survive all of this. To see him leave Hawkins for good. They would never write comics together, or share a flat. He would never see Will grow old.
It hit him in an overwhelming wave. Given no more than a nanosecond to process his grief for missing out on Will's life rather than his own, he'd almost forgotten to notice that he was still standing there, alive, breathing. Untouched.
He'd waited for the impact, for the claws to come down the same way they'd attacked his mother, his father, God, his sister. He thought of his mother, lying in that hospital, of the callous way he'd asked her to divulge information, not shedding a single tear at the sight of her. The disconnect between his mind and his body, a clunky attempt at containing the restless inside of him. What good had it done? He was going to die today.
And then, the dead air. The world, frozen for a second. Confusion sinking into Mike's frame, just enough incentive to lower his arms and risk a look. The demogorgon, frozen in front of him, mid-lunge. Ready to attack. Held back— by what?
He'd known before he'd looked.
Of course it was him. It was always going to be.
The realisation flooded Mike's system before the relief did.
It was always going to be Will Byers.
⚡
They're wasting time.
Mom's plan doesn't feel particularly well-thought out, but it's the first time she's ever suggested Will be at the centre of things, so he chooses to take it in stride.
This newfound confidence in his ability has been fuelled entirely by Mike. He still won't stop talking about it, relaying almost instantly to Erica and Murray how Will had stopped not one, not two, but three demogorgons at once.
When they'd first gathered back outside the WSQK, Lucas and Robin had been under the impression that they'd been the only ones to be rescued, that they'd been saved by some act of God. Mike was quick to clarify that it'd been Will. No less than a deity, is how he's been describing it. Will knows one thing; this is making him nauseous. It doesn't help that Erica's matching him in energy; the only thing Mike Wheeler needs to really ramp up is one person on his side. If he says Will's powers are innate one more time—
Well. He'll probably just blush. He's never known how to handle Mike's undivided attention on him, despite it being the only thing he's ever known to crave.
Now, there's a lull in conversation. Joyce has laid her plan out, a plan that feels entirely too optimistic, too hopeful, too… reliant on Will's ability to tap back into the hivemind. It's not that he's tired; he's just not sure if it'll work. If Mom's putting too much faith in him, to overcorrect for her earlier lack.
Robin brings up how he saved her life, and it sets Mike off again. This time, with Erica to back him up.
He wonders if Mike's thinking of El when he praises Will.
⚡
Mike pulls him aside, for a moment. Before the action can begin, right as everyone split up to gather what they'd need for the mission— reanimating a demogorgon corpse via electric shock, because everything about their life has to resemble a gothic horror novel now.
"What?" Will asks, trying not to snap at him. They don't have time for this.
Mike blinks at him, then shakes his head.
"Never mind," he says. "I just- never mind."
Will bristles at him. He's holding a pumpkin in his hand, which is what Will came here for. Why Mike has suddenly decided this is a two person job is lost on him. Nothing Mike does makes sense these days. It's what made him reach out to Robin, after all.
How obvious?
Maybe Mike's just feeling out of his depth. His planned hadn't worked, and the kids had been taken. Maybe he's looking for reassurance. It's not his fault Will established himself as the person to go to for emotional support. If anything, it's Will's fault.
Will softens, already regretting being short with him.
"Are you okay?" He asks, and watches as Mike's face flits through several emotions before landing on what looks like regret.
"I'm okay," he says, looking a little nauseous.
Will frowns at him. "Are you sure?"
Mike nods. "This isn't the time," he says, and even though it's what Will's been thinking, he still feels bad for it.
"Later then?"
"Later," Mike confirms. His jaw clenches, and he grips the pumpkin tighter.
Will doubts there's going to be a later.
⚡
When El pulls him out of possession, there's no time to waste. No time to grip at his mother's frame, to ground himself and make sure he's alive. Vecna had used him, had been using him all this time.
Will feels a strong disconnection from his body in the hours that follow. He tells his mother about the tunnels, and her reassurance falls on deaf ears. She's always right, except for when she's not.
This is all Will's fault. All this time, he'd been working for the Mind Flayer. Building, spying, gathering intel and delivering it to headquarters without ever noticing.
They used those same tunnels to try and rescue the kids. They used those same tunnels to sneak El around town. Has he been broadcasting their every move to Vecna all along?
Joyce ushers him into the shower and hands him a change of clothes— they've kept some of his clothes at Hopper's cabin for situations like this. Not life-threatening, apocalypse starting situations. Just regular can't head back to the Wheelers' tonight situations. Everyday life situations.
Will's everyday life feels astronomically far away. Things were normal for a few months in Lenora, but even that feels like a hallucination. Collective hysteria. It feels like Will's been living the same nightmare day after day, just tweaked a bit for the sake of creativity. As if whoever's writing his story ran out of material a decade ago. As if they're dragging it on for the sake of profit.
Who'd profit off a story like Will's, anyway? There's no happy endings. He doesn't get a reprieve. He doesn't get to be happy, safe, or satisfied. Accepted. Loved.
The things Vecna showed him were supposed to be his worst nightmare— his friends and family leaving him, drifting away from him, disgusted at the sight of him. Will's ashamed that it worked. He'd been seeing those horrors from the day he'd realised he was alive. Lonnie had done enough to engrave it into him, etch it into his bones. You'll never be loved. Filthy fucking queer.
And it had still worked. Because Will had become foolish, had forgotten his place. He'd let the likes of Robin, and Steve's unlikely acceptance of her nature, fool him. He'd let her joy, her optimism, and her relationship with Vickie cloud his judgement. Boys like Will don't get a happy ending. Boys like Will are dirty, tainted, diseased.
Will doesn't remember hearing anything bad about girls liking other girls, but he'd heard plenty about boys like him. He should've remembered. He should've realised.
He won't make that mistake twice.
⚡
Coming out is every bit the kind of terrifying Will thought it would be. It's as humiliating and vulnerable as he'd thought it would be.
It's also freeing.
Every time Will had thought about it, he'd envisioned a smaller audience. Intimate and simpler. His mother, brother; maybe the friends he'd grown up with. Nothing more, nothing less.
Then again, every time Will had thought about it, he'd also seen it going differently.
It felt like a humiliation ritual, in the moment. Sobbing openly and loudly in front of a mix of family, friends, acquaintences, and three people he's not sure he's ever had a full conversation with. Really, he'd been six people away from coming out to a quarter of the population of Hawkins, Indiana.
But in the after, standing at the centre of a circle of loved ones, held and loved and accepted, Will couldn't have asked for anything better. He'd ripped the bandaid off, and the wound beneath had healed quite a bit.
(There's a smaller, deeper wound that Will hasn't touched yet. It's in the shape of the birthmark on Mike's hip, and it begs to be acknowledged. Will blinks the hazy image of a painting away, calls it a crush, and hopes it is enough.)
⚡
Mike pulls him aside right after, and Will gets a bizarre sense of deja vu. They still don't have time.
"Will, I-I—" he tries, and Will has no pity for him this time. There was a time when he'd thought Mike would be the first to jump to his side, the first to insist nothing could change that. He's not that naive anymore.
He thinks of Halloween. A couch in the basement, a clumsy attempt to explain something inexplicable.
Crazy together. A promise, broken. An oath, left unfulfilled. A graceless paladin and a foolish sorcerer.
"We should get going," Will says, already walking away.
⚡
They're climbing the tower when Mike pauses for a drink of water. He offers it to Will, who takes it without a second thought. The others moved faster than them, bringing Mike and Will to the rear. Will wonders if Mike lingered for him, and then shakes himself out of it. Not the time, never the time.
Mike has the same conflicted look on his face. The same one from after MAC-Z, and after Will came out. It seems later has finally found its way into now.
For the sake of curiosity, Will agrees. He takes the bottle from Mike, and tries not to think about any indirect kisses. These feelings for Mike make him feel small, and Will's so, so sick of feeling small.
"Hey, um," Mike starts. "What you said earlier, at the Squawk…"
Oh, thinks Will. He's really doing this.
"I'm sorry."
Will just looks at him, speechless.
"I mean, not sorry about what you said, that came out wrong."
Mike looks away from Will, horrified. "I mean, not came out wrong! Jesus Christ."
Will laughs, despite himself. Watching Mike fumble with his words feels good. It hasn't, historically. A Mike who doesn't know what to say is a Mike who is cruel without intention. But this Mike is sweet, and his struggle is endearing.
"It's okay," he says, reassuringly, letting the fondness flow out of him. Will fixes his gaze at the Upside Down below them, and listens carefully as Mike starts up again.
"It's not," Mike insists, emphatically. "I should have been there for you. And I wasn't. And- I guess I was just so self-absorbed that I- I couldn't see it."
Self-absorbed? Will thinks. See it? See what?
Is this conversation still about Will's sexuality?
There had been a moment, earlier. When Will had talked about his feelings, and his eyes had slipped to Mike without his permission. It had felt like Mike had noticed. Realised. Will had brushed it off.
Could this conversation be about that?
"I feel like an idiot and I'm- I'm sorry."
Will swallows. There's no way to confirm what they're talking about without fully addressing it, talking about it. And they still have no time.
"You don't have to be sorry," he says, instead. Because who would Will Byers be if he put his feelings over Mike's? It's the only thing he's ever chosen to do.
Mike's life may have started the day he disappeared, but Will's started the day he chose to be friends with Mike. This will always be the fundamental difference between them. And Will has finally started to internalise this.
"And you are not an idiot. You're not. It's just-" Will inhales deeply, trying to gather his thoughts. Find something truthful to say, without saying everything.
"I didn't even understand it myself for the longest time," he says, truthfully.
His feelings for Mike have always been tied to his struggle with his sexuality. These feelings never felt wrong, until one day, they just did. The two will forever be connected.
"I just- I think it needed to happen the way it happened. I needed to find my own way." Without you, he adds in his head.
And it's true; Will needed to come to terms with himself on his own. Mike would have reassured him, helped him believe he was normal, that nothing was wrong with him. But it isn't true; Jonathan had been right, all those years ago. Being a freak is the best, and Will wouldn't have it any other way. This is a conclusion he needed to reach on his own.
"What matters is that you're still here— and you still think we can be friends," Will says, as honest as he's ever been. Because that had been his biggest fear, had it not?
There was losing his loved ones, and then there was losing Mike. Will would have stayed in the closet his whole life, miserable and alone, if it would've meant Mike would stay. But now, he's managed to carve out an alternative for himself; a life where Mike knows the truth, and he is loved anyway.
"Friends? No thanks," Mike says, and Will's blood runs cold.
For a second, he thinks he's trapped. Back in Vecna's clutches, being shown a version of Mike that he's seen before. A kind, understanding Mike that turns to him at the last second. His lifeless expression, his hands lunging for Will's neck. Tightening his grip as his eyes turn black, Vecna's voice coming out his perfect, pink mouth.
Will doesn't get a second to stutter out a plea. To check his surroundings, to ground himself in case he's imagining all of this. Mike continues.
"We should be more."
Will forces his shoulders to relax. This is fine. Everything is fine. Vecna wouldn't be focusing his efforts on him right now. He's with the kids. Trying to merge dimensions. El hasn't reached him yet. This is happening. It's real.
"Oh," he says, weakly. "Like, best friends?"
It's supposed to come out as a joke, but Will's still too tense for it to land properly. It falls frail and vulnerable between them, and Will wonders if Mike's ever-oblivious self has noticed. That Will has been carrying his bleeding heart out in the open for years now. That he's placed it between them once again, the same way he did it before through a painting, a failed campaign, and a promise to never join another party.
"No," Mike says, lightly, easily. He smirks at Will, just for a second. And then, the bastard turns to continue climbing up the tower, as if any of this makes any sense.
Will watches him climb, his breath uneven and his heart pounding. He follows after a beat, and throws out a quick prayer to a god he's never believed in. That they survive this, and they survive it together.
So he can slap that smirk off of Mike Wheeler's face.