Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

New York City, New York, 1999

Will Byers is enjoying a perfectly normal day filled with perfectly normal activities. He is currently sitting in his perfectly normal apartment drinking coffee from his perfectly normal mug, ready for a perfectly normal morning before having to go to his perfectly normal work. 

He is even feeling extra enthusiastic this perfectly normal morning because he is expecting a call from his perfectly normal super-powered sister who's planning on paying him a visit soon. 

So yeah, life is good. Life is normal. Life is perfectly, exactly how Will had imagined it. Boring and safe. He definitely isn't lonely. He absolutely loves the noisy city and his job. He certainly loves his coworkers who were constantly bickering over trivial things and who insisted that everyone needed to pay fifteen bucks each for only a thirty dollar birthday cake. 

He loves the view of a parking lot outside of his window and his neighbor who's definitely smoking too much weed for his old age. He especially loves how far away he is from all of his family and his friends and he loves how fucking bitter this coffee is. 

Life is good. Life is so, so good. 

Will dumps a spoonful of sugar into his coffee as he flips through his sketchbook for any designs he might want to use at work. His nose scrunches up when the drink is still too bitter and he reaches for the sugar again only for the phone to ring. 

Checking the number, he furrows his eyebrows. He assumes it's telemarketers or scammers since it's not El so he sits back down. 

As Will dumps even more sugar into his coffee, the phone rings again. Again it isn't El and he can't remember if it's the same number that called him before. He sits back down so he can finally, finally enjoy his perfectly normal, not too bitter, not too sweet coffee. 

The phone rings a third time. 

Will curses to himself before finally yanking the phone off the hook. “Hello?” 

“Hi!” A voice squeaks back. Yes, actually squeaks, his voice is that high pitched. “Is this Will Byers?”

“Uh, yeah,” Will answers unsurely. “Who is this?”

“Oh cool. I think I have your address, but you live in Queens right?”

“Excuse me?” Will asks, completely bewildered. “Why do you have my address? Who are you?”

“It’s Charlie.”

Charlie… That name sounds familiar, although Will can't place it. He scrapes his mind for an answer as to why this person would have not only his phone number but also his address. Suddenly, the name's familiarity becomes known to him. 

“Charlie Wheeler.”

Will slams the phone back on the hook. 

Hawkins, Indiana, 1988

The Byers move back to Hawkins in 1986 after Vecna opened the four gates and tried to destroy Hawkins.

Now, One is dead and the Upside Down is closed for good. Max is blind and paralyzed, but alive. Lucas takes care of her. Steve’s arm is broken and the rest of them have light injuries. But they all made it out alive. 

Will has a large scar from his neck to halfway down his back, but it’s healing. He’s alive. He didn’t think he would be in the end, but he is. 

They are all alive and they are all allowed to live normal lives, go to highschool and prepare for college and live their lives the way they thought they would as kids. No more monsters, no more alternate dimensions, no more danger. 

It is hard at first, to become accustomed to a life without the constant need to check your back. They’ve never really felt safe since the Upside Down first opened, and it’s hard to start now. Somehow they manage.

Mostly. 

But things don’t stay the same for Will. And he knows, he knows they’re not supposed to. So many people in his life have told him that change is natural, change is a good thing, but most of the time it doesn’t feel like it. Most of the time it feels like getting left behind.

Mike and Eleven break up after the battle. It’s hard to tell who initiated it, but the belief is that it was El who slammed the final nail in the coffin. Neither of them ever spoke about what happened but it was common knowledge that it had. 

After that, Mike never goes over to the Byers house and Will barely sees him. He tries, he really does, but hangouts with the party dwindle. Even when they are together, they're with everyone else and Will hardly speaks a word to him. They no longer sit on the couch together or place their sleeping bags side by side. 

Will doesn’t blame Mike, of course; Mike doesn’t seem distant on purpose. And during the battle, everything had seemed okay between them. 

But even at school, they have less classes together, they no longer sit next to each other at lunch, sometimes Mike isn’t even there at all. When they talk, it’s about shallow things, homework and teachers and the weather. 

They were never like that before, their friendship had never felt so stale. Will would give anything to have it back to the way it was. No matter how much it hurt loving Mike in secret forever, he’d much rather that than this awkward relationship they were in now. 

So upon suggestion from Jonathan, he tries to change it.

“Hey, Mike,” he asks after lunch. “I know it’s been a while since we’ve really hung out, but do you want to catch a movie with me or something?”

Mike’s hesitation is enough to send Will into a full panic, but he keeps going.

“It doesn’t have to be a movie. We could… go to the arcade? My house? Whatever you want, or… if you don’t want, uh, that’s fine too,” he rambles. 

“I- I’m kind of busy,” Mike mutters, looking away. 

Will feels his heart drop into his stomach. “Oh, yeah. That’s okay. Maybe later?”

“Maybe later.” Mike turns on his heels and leaves. 

This happens a few more times, Will offering even more choices to Mike and Mike making up some excuse to why he can’t. One day it's because of Holly, another it's because of too much homework, and then it’s because his car broke down (and even when Will suggests biking, Mike still declines). 

Eventually, Will stops trying. It’s fine. They still see each other most lunches, and they share English class, and they hang out with the party at least once every few weeks. It’s not like they aren’t friends anymore. 

Will hasn’t lost Mike. Not completely at least. 

Hawkins, Indiana, 1989

It’s Senior year and also the year Mike’s parents get divorced.

It's the first time Will’s gone to Mike’s house in months, to see him and make sure he’s okay. He’s missed more days of school than ever before and he’s no longer just declining Will’s invites to hang out, but the rest of the party’s as well. 

So Will packs a bag of Mike’s favorites candies and movies and heads over without warning. 

When the door swings open, it’s the first close up glance of Mike that Will’s gotten in a while. The first thing he notices is that he looks tired, exhausted even, dark circles under his eyes and unruly hair even more of a mess than was natural. He’s dressed in a simple red sweater and worn out black jeans. His expression is neutral, hidden of anything Will used to be able to identify. 

“Hi,” Will breathes out. “I- I’m really sorry for, uh, for what happened.”

Mike just nods, not opening the door for Will and Will feels a panic he’d never felt around Mike before, an anxiety friends shouldn’t feel around each other. A feeling like coming here was maybe a mistake, like Mike doesn’t want to see him.

“I know it probably doesn’t help,” Will continues, “But I brought some candy and a couple movies you can pick from. You can come to my house if you want, if you don’t want to be here. I’d understand, of course.” He bit his lip and handed him the bag as Mike’s eyebrows furrow. 

“You brought this to make me feel better?” Mike asks in almost a whisper, taking the bag. 

“Yeah, I know it’s kind of dumb but-”

“Will you ever stop trying?” Mike interrupts.

Will felt his breathing stop as his eyes met Mike’s. “What?”

Mike takes a deep breath, eyes glancing away before looking back at Will. “With me? Will you ever stop trying with me? I- I’ve been basically ignoring you, rejecting every one of your offers to hang out. You’re smart, I know you know I’m doing it on purpose. So why… Why are you here?” 

“Because you're my friend,” Will says without hesitation. “Because I want to be there for you like you’ve always been for me.”

“But I haven’t. I haven’t been there. Don’t you get that?” There’s a distress in Mike’s voice that Will can’t quite place, distress veering close to desperation. 

“I-”

“I thought it would work,” Mike mutters, almost to himself. “I thought we could drift apart naturally and stay like this, still have each other in our lives. But you won’t give up.”

“Why would I give up?” Will asks, a dread bubbling inside him. Something about this conversation doesn’t feel right. It feels like it’s about to overflow and that things will never be the same once it does. 

“Because we shouldn’t be friends!” Mike almost yells before his eyes go wide and he steps back through the door slightly. “Not like… Not like we were.”

Will feels his heart break, shattering like some light bulb that was barely working in the first place. The light had gone out long ago, but the glass intact meant maybe it could shine again. Now that glass is gone, forever dark.

“You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” Will’s voice cracks, tears pushing against his eyes. 

Mike looks beyond nervous, almost scared. Why did he look like that? Why didn’t he look angry? He was saying angry things. 

“No, that’s not… I- I don’t think you should be friends with me.”

Will tries to choke back his emotions. He should have seen this coming, it’s been obvious Mike doesn’t want to be friends for months now and Will had been too blind to see it. The whole time, he was holding on tightly to something that was never there, something Mike clearly didn’t want. 

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that it’s not your fault,” Mike whispers and Will can see where his fingers twitch on the door, ready to slam it in Will’s face. 

“Then I don’t understand,” Will said, frustration seeping into his voice. “Why don’t you want to be friends?”

“I- I do. We just can’t.” Will almost misses the tears slipping down Mike’s cheek, as he tries to desperately rub them away. “We just can’t.”

Will will take Mike any way he gets him. He doesn't want to be Mike's stranger, the someone Mike used to know. Even though even that feels like something, like he's Mike's in some way even as a nobody from his past. 

“Why?” Will repeats, even angrier. “You can’t just pull away and not give me an explanation!” 

“I’m sorry…”

The door is starting to close and Will’s panic is multiplying. If Mike closes the door, he knows this will be it, this will be the end of everything they’ve ever had. 

Even the little togetherness they’d gotten at school would be gone. Will would lose Mike completely. Forever. 

“Mike, please-”

“I’m sorry.”

The door closes. 

New York City, New York, 1999

It’s been a very long couple of days at work and Will is happy to be getting off early on a Friday. He heads back to his apartment around noon, stopping to pick up a sandwich and an iced coffee at a nearby cafe before he gets there. 

Throwing his coat onto the couch, he walks to the kitchen to grab his sketchbook. He hasn’t had any time to work on his comic book project and he’s been itching to have another go at it. 

Of course, when he finally relaxes, lifting his coffee to his lips, the doorbell rings. 

It should be known, the doorbell almost never rings. Will’s apartment has a good mail system and his neighbors are pretty independent. Will doesn’t even have to worry about friends knocking at his door because he doesn’t really have any. 

Maybe it was someone at the wrong apartment or maybe his family had come up for a surprise visit. They’d done that once, when Will had first moved in, but after the pipes burst and flooded and they all had to sleep in a hotel, it had yet to happen again. 

Will carefully opens the door and his breath hitches. 

His first thought is an insane one, but he’s given himself a free pass of a lifetime for insane thoughts considering how insane his life has been. Of course this time he shouldn’t be given a pass, because it really does feel insane like an insane thought. 

The kid looks like Mike, exactly like him. Just smaller, younger, maybe eight or nine, slightly different hair than Mike had too, curlier, no bowl cut. 

So yeah, Will’s first thought was insane. 

Oh my God, Mike just time traveled from the past and somehow found my apartment in New York. What the hell am I going to do?

“Will?” the boy squeaks. “Byers?”

Will just blinks before the phone call he’d had a couple of days ago returns to him. He’d tried so hard to forget what he’d heard, hoping the boy would forget as well and leave him alone. But apparently, Will was not so lucky. 

“Charlie.”

The boy nods enthusiastically, “You know who I am!” 

Will has seen Charlie Wheeler exactly twice in his life. Once for Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding back in ‘94 and once during a family Christmas between the Byers and Wheelers about two years ago. 

Mike had been at the wedding, but Will had purposefully ignored him and not seen him at all. Mike did not go to the Christmas dinner, but had instead left his son with Mrs. Wheeler. 

Now that Will is getting a better look at the child, there are a lot of things that were different from Mike. First, his hair isn’t quite as dark, more obviously dark brown than black like Mike’s had been. He has the same scattered freckles but his nose is a bit rounder, actually, his whole face is rounder than Mike’s was. For the first time, Will finally understand why Mike got teased for looking like a frog.

Squeezing between Will and the door, Charlie darts into the apartment before gasping as he looks at the walls. “Woah! This place is cool!” 

“I- uh- thanks,” Will stammers, still in shock by the fact that Mike’s kid has just randomly shown up at his apartment. 

The boy continues to run around the apartment, pointing at the different art Will has randomly set up everywhere. His walls are filled with his various paintings and some posters of movies and music he likes. He has a few plants on the windows that he sometimes forgets to water and a big lamp in every room. 

It’s not big and certainly not the neatest, but Will’s proud of his place anyway. It feels like his. 

“Did you paint these?” Charlie asks in amazement. When Will nods, Charlie’s eyes only grow wider. “Wow. No wonder my dad always said you were an amazing artist.”

It’s Will’s turn to have his eyes pop open in shock, “Wh- What?”

But Charlie’s already moved onto the next topic. “I think you should water your plants. They look a little bit sad.”

He runs to the kitchen and before Will can stop him, he’s back out with a glass of water, pouring it into the pots with surprising care and precision for a little kid. 

“I don’t understand,” Will starts, sitting down on the couch to try to hide his shakiness. “Does Mike- your dad- know you’re here?”

“Nope,” he answers happily, patting the leaves of each plant he waters before turning his attention to the posters. “I love the Cure!” 

Will looks at the Boys Don’t Cry poster Charlie’s pointing at. “Really?”

“Yeah! That one’s not my favorite though. I really like the one about caterpillars. Or the one about the days of the week.”

“Listen, your dad’s probably worried sick. I’m not even sure how you got here, or why you're here, but you obviously can’t stay.”

Charlie tilts his head, “I took a couple of buses. Dad’s money is pretty easy to steal and I got help getting to the right place by this nice lady with a bird on her hat. But yeah, you should call my dad.”

“Wait, you’re fine with that?" Will asks, completely bewildered. "You do know that means you’ll have to leave, right?”

“Yep,” Charlie confirms. “I want you to talk to him.”

“Why?”

The boy flops dramatically onto Will’s sofa with a great, exaggerated groan. He was definitely Mike’s kid. “Beeecauuuuuseee!  He needs to talk to you and I know he won’t.”

Will feels himself slip into his own mind for a moment. “Why does he need to talk to me?”

“Because you’re friends. Right?”

Will shifts uncomfortably, “I haven’t seen him in ten years.”

“Exactly!” Charlie cries, sitting up with his hair a complete mess. “So you should talk to him and then he can come here and he won’t be lonely.” 

Will’s breath hitches and his stomach twists at Charlie’s words but his mind repeats the same things over and over again. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. 

“No, I’m not talking to Mike,” Will decides. He obviously doesn’t want to talk to Will either, he hasn’t since they were kids and Will’s had to move on from that. 

He doesn’t need Mike anymore. Doesn’t care that he’s lost him. He’s moved on completely, enjoying his new life in New York and away from everything bad that was in Hawkins. 

Plus, he’s still mad, still furious. Mike doesn’t want to talk to him and Will now certainly doesn’t want to talk to Mike. 

“No, you’re calling him. What’s the number?”

“No!” Charlie jumps up from the couch. “You have to do it! You have to!”

“Actually, I don’t,” Will answers, grabbing his address book for a small slip of paper he’d gotten a few years from Jonathan. Jonathan who had told him it was just in case you ever need it.  

He punches in the number on the paper and then hands the phone to Charlie, making sure to keep it on speaker phone.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll call the police,” Will threatens. 

“You can do that?” Charlie looks scared and takes the phone. Then the ringing stops.

“Hello?” 

It’s Mike. Will stops breathing. 

“Dad, it’s me.”

“Charlie? What the hell? Where are you?” He doesn’t sound angry, but scared like Will had predicted. “Were you kidnapped? Are you okay?"

“I’m fine. I’m in Queens with Will.”

There’s a terrifying pause. 

“And what are you doing there?” Mike asks slowly, seeming to keep his impatience and anxiety in check. 

“I took some buses here. It’s okay though, I know I have to go back home.”

“I’m not letting you take more buses by yourself,” Mike says. “I can’t believe you snuck away from school like that, you are most definitely grounded. Just wait there, I’ll come get you.”

Oh. Shit. Will didn’t think of that. 

“Actually,” Charlie starts and for a moment Will thinks maybe he’s trying to save him. “There's this diner I saw in between our places called Sally’s. Will wants to meet you there at six.”

Will’s jaw drops. “What?!” He reaches for the phone but Charlie pulls away as the pause on the other end widens. 

Then… “Really?” Mike’s voice sounds so small, even on the phone.

“Yep,” Charlie nods as Will again reaches for the phone.

“No!” Will shouts but Charlie’s already placed the phone back on the hook. “You… You…” Will turns in bewilderment to look at the smug little kid in front of him. 

“Now you have to talk to him.”

“No,” Will shakes his head in shock. “No, I’m calling him back.”

“That works too,” Charlie grins cheekily. 

Will turns towards him angrily, “I can’t believe you! What are you doing coming here and messing with my life?”

Charlie just continues to look at him with arrogance only fit for a king or a small child who’s just gotten his way. “We should probably get going. It’s almost five and you know how traffic gets.” 

Will grumbles while grabbing his coat and pulling on the yellow hat El knit him for his birthday two years ago. “Fine, we’re going. Do you have a hat, it’s pretty cold out.” When Charlie shakes his head, Will pulls out a beanie he’d forgotten he had and throws it at the kid. 

The car ride is awkward at first, Charlie knows Will is mad and Will doesn’t really know what to do with Charlie. So for the first half an hour, he plays the Cure. 

I don’t care if Monday’s blue.

Charlie turns to him excited. “It’s this song! I LOVE this song!” He starts to dance a little bit in his seat beside Will and Will can’t help but smile. 

Thursday I don’t care bout you

It’s Friday I’m in love!

Will turns up the music and starts to shift in his own seat, as much as he could while still driving. “You have good taste.”

“Thanks! I don’t think my dad likes it though,” Charlie admits. 

“Well, your dad was never known for his music,” Will offers, remembering how he dissed both the Clash and Joy Division.

Oh, Thursday doesn’t even start

It’s Friday I’m in love!

“How did you know about the Cure then?” Will asks.

“Uncle Jonathan likes this music,” Charlie says. “He’s your brother, right?”

Will nods. 

“Then are you my uncle too?” 

“No, I don’t think so.”

Charlie hums at this and then seems to turn his attention back to the music. 

I don’t care if Monday’s black

Tuesday, Wednesday, heart attack. 

“So…” Will tries. “How did you end up at my doorstep, huh? You never really answered my question.”

“Yeah I did,” he argued. “First, I left school before they did attendance. Then I got on a bus, then another bus, and then that lady, remember, that lady with the bird hat, she helped me get here. Then I walked up the stairs until I saw your number, rang the doorbell, and voila!” 

“No, that’s- I mean, why? Do you even remember ever seeing me?”

Charlie takes a good look at him, “Nope.” 

“Then why did you decide to suddenly pay me a visit?” 

“I found this book,” Charlie starts to explain. “A big book, in our closet. It had your name on it.”

Saturday, wait 

And Sunday always comes too late

But Friday never hesitate. 

“My name?” 

“Yeah, it had all these drawings inside. Really good ones! And I knew my dad mentioned you sometimes and I heard him talk about you on the phone, but I didn’t really know who you were. I think he was mad when I asked, though.”

Throwing out your frown

And just smiling at the sound.

“I asked if you were his friend and he told me I was his only friend, which doesn’t even make sense because he’s my dad and we can’t be friends! And I also have lots of friends. I’m very popular.”

“I’m sure,” Will answers. 

“It’s true! And friends are great, right, ‘cause they do things with you and they talk with you and they're super fun and you both like the Cure or movies like Star Wars. I think I would be sad without my friends,” Charlie continues to ramble. “So I thought that maybe if you were my dad’s friend, you could talk and hang out and do things. Then maybe he would be less sad.”

Will swallows thickly, staring ahead at the road. 

Monday you can fall apart

Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart

Thursday doesn't even start

It's Friday, I'm in love. 

The song fizzles out. 

“Well, unfortunately, we’re not friends,” Will says tightly. “We haven’t been for a really long time.”

“Are you enemies?” Charlie asks. “Because Timmy, he used to play tag with me at recess and I thought he was really nice. Then he cheated and blamed me! Everybody kicked me out of the game! Timmy is my worstest enemy, definitely.”

Will can’t help but laugh a little bit. He thinks of the real enemies he’d faced in his own life and feels relieved that this kid’s biggest worry seemed to be a dumb boy named Timmy. Will’s gone up against bullies, shadow monsters, and creeps with mind possession powers. 

Mike has definitely never been his enemy. 

“No, he’s not my enemy. We’re just not friends anymore.” 

“So he didn’t cheat at a game?” Charlie asks. “Or one time this kid picked his nose and ate it! I had to stop being friends with him. Or Liz in math who’s a total know-it-all! I wouldn’t want to be friends with her.”

“No, none of those. There’s not one big thing he did for us to stop being friends anymore,” Will sighs.

“Then why aren’t you?”

“Because he didn’t want to be,” Will shrugs like it doesn’t bother him. Like he doesn’t think about it every day and every night. Like Mike means nothing to him and never did. 

“Then, did you do something?” Charlie tilts his head again, eyes wide with curiosity. “You seem nice enough.”

“Nice enough?” Will asks with fake disbelief. 

“You did threaten to call the police on me,” Charlie replies with a smile. “Could be nicer.”

“I’ll take your complaints into consideration,” Will smiles back. “And if I did do something, I never found out what it was.”

Charlie nods in a way that makes it obvious he still doesn’t understand, but knows that Will is getting sick of this conversation. “Well, maybe you can find out at the diner.”

“Oh no, definitely not,” Will shakes his head. “I’m dropping you off and leaving.”

“What? You can’t do that! I’m a kid!” 

“I’ll buy you a milkshake.”

Charlie freezes, mouth still open. Slowly, he closes it in consideration. “A large?”

Will smiles. “Whatever you want.” 

They make it to the diner about ten minutes early, enough time for Will to order two Reese’s milkshakes and tell Charlie the actual plan. 

“Okay, I don’t really feel comfortable leaving you here alone so I’m going to sit over there at that booth,” he points to a booth across the place. “And wait for Mike to pick you up, sound good?”

Charlie nods, happily sipping his milkshake through a swirly straw. 

“And remember that I bought you this milkshake, that means you can not, under ANY circumstances, tell him I’m still here, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Great,” Will gets up to leave, milkshake still in hand, when Charlie grabs his sleeve.

“Wait! You can’t let my dad ground me!” Charlie begs, gripping his sleeve. 

“He can do whatever he wants,” Will scoffs. “I’m not going to save you from being in trouble!” 

“Please! Please please please!” he continues, putting on a pout Will assumes is supposed to make him look pitiful and cute. 

It must work because Will slips a piece of paper from his sketchbook. If this is what it takes to keep Mike out of his life, then so be it. 

Dear Mike,

You’re kid is a menace, just like you. Please don’t ground him. 

- Will. 

“There,” he says, putting down the pen. 

Charlie beams at him. “Thanks Will! It was nice meeting you."

Will smiles at his politeness. "It was nice meeting you too." He's surprised that he means, even after the psychological torture the kid's tried to put him through. Surprised that he can find any pleasure in meeting someone a little too much like Mike. 

He leaves to sit alone.

Mike comes in at exactly six, which is a surprise seeing as he was always late when they were kids. It shouldn't be though, Mike's definitely changed just like Will has. Maybe he's now known for his timeliness. 

From the booth he's at, it's hard to get a good look at Mike. His hair is definitely a bit shorter than he remembers, but still not completely short, curling around his neck and ears. He's wearing a brown jacket with blue lining and a pair of jeans. 

He looks... good. Objectively. Like, if he was a stranger, Will would have to admit he had style, subtle but cool. Unfortunately, Mike's not a stranger and Will forces himself to look away. 

He can't fall back into old habits and something about seeing Mike here with his son, taking a sip of his milkshake and reading Will's note with a soft smile, is making him want to lose all of his anger and just walk over there. 

But obviously he can't. Will's moved on and he's not going to risk everything for someone who left him behind. Mike doesn't care about Will anymore and Will can't afford to care about him. Even just enough to get in a fight. 

He can't afford Mike his anger the same way he can't afford Mike his love. Not when Mike wouldn't take either. 

So instead, he watches Mike's expression, the way that worry rolls off him and then confusion, some flash of disappointment maybe (although Will doesn't want to think about that too hard), a soft smile of relief, a smile at the note, and then he's laughing at something Charlie said. 

Will's glad Mike's seemed to move on too. He didn't expect anything less and he's happy seeing Mike happy. He watches the pair as they order a full meal and Will decides to let them enjoy it without him acting like a stalker. Charlie's clearly safe now and Will should just go back. 

He’s at the door when Mike spots him, dark eyes tracing over his features and Will can’t help but freeze.

The waiter Mike was talking to looks awkwardly between the two and Charlie watches with curiosity and an evil grin. 

“Will?” Mike’s voice is soft. Nostalgic and bittersweet and if Will wasn’t careful enough, dangerous.

Will stares before bolting out the door, praying Mike won’t follow.

When he doesn’t, Will gets back into his car. He listens to the Cure again, no longer in the mood to dance. 

He feels an ache he didn't feel before, the loneliness inside him brewing. The shattered pieces of his heart seem to be stabbing him in all the right places, a reminder of everything broken and everything lost. 

When he arrives back at his place, it's dark and too late to start working on his comic. So instead he goes back to his perfectly normal room and lays down in his bed for a perfectly normal night of sleep. 

Will's moved on. His life is good now. 

Perfectly, normally good. 

Chapter Text

New York City, New York, 1999

Will can’t stop thinking about him, can’t stop seeing his face, can’t stop replaying his voice in his head, the voice that said but a single word to him. 

Will.

Will doesn’t care, he doesn’t. He’s cared his entire youth and it brought him nothing, there’s no point in starting now, no point dwelling on Mike’s smile or the softness of his voice when he saw Will, no use pretending it meant anything. 

Because it absolutely didn’t. 

Will has moved on, Mike clearly has too and no stupid eight year old is going to mess up Will’s perfectly normal routine life. 

So when Will prepares his morning coffee and the phone rings, he pretends he doesn’t recognize Mike’s number and lets it go. 

He sits down to add another spoonful of sugar when he gets the voice message. 

“Hey Will.” 

This time it’s not Charlie, but Mike himself.

“I know you’re probably busy and- or don’t want to talk to me. Which I get so I’ll make this short. I just wanted to apologize for Charlie and for making you drive out to deal with him. It’s my fault and I promise it won’t happen again. Thank you for watching him for an hour, I really don’t know where he got the idea to go see you, honestly, but yeah, thanks. You don’t have to call me back or anything, I just wanted to say sorry and, uh, thank you. Bye.”

Will waits for the beep but instead there is a pause of silence. 

“Oh, this is Mike by the way. Obviously, sorry. Bye.”

The phone beeps and then Will is devoured by silence once more. 

He’s not sure where Mike got his number, or really where Charlie got his number, but can only assume it was Nancy or Jonathan. It shouldn’t mean anything, Will also has Mike’s number slipped away just in case and that obviously means nothing. So Mike calling Will obviously means nothing either. 

Mike probably just feels bad, that’s all. And honestly he should, Charlie had totally ruined all of Will’s plans of working on his comic yesterday and now he feels behind.

Will goes back to his usual business of getting ready for work and finishing his perfectly sweetened coffee and thus goes about the rest of his day not thinking about Mike or his stupid voice or his stupid child or his stupid book. 

He definitely doesn’t think about anything Charlie said about Will’s drawings and he definitely doesn’t think of the disappointment on Mike’s face when he didn’t see Will at the booth. 

Because maybe nine years ago Will would have taken any little piece of Mike he could get, but too much time has passed now. Will’s moved passed everything having to do with Mike Wheeler. 

He doesn’t care. Not anymore. 

Two days later, there’s another knock on his door. 

Hawkins, Indiana, 1987

Screaming fills the air while ash and spores fill Will’s lungs. He can’t breathe and he can hear nothing but the pain his friends are enduring around him. 

He can’t breathe and he can hardly see and it feels like the end. The real end this time. 

It’s been the end before, when the demogorgon got him the first time and then again when it found him hiding. It was the end when he was processed and told his family to close the gate even if it meant he would die. It was the end when the Mindflayer attacked them in the mall and it was the end in California when they were almost shot to death. 

And it wasn’t really the end when Will confessed his feelings using his sister’s name, but it felt like it anyway. 

So many endings, but so unlike this one. 

This one is real. This one is truly the end. 

Suddenly, there are hands on his arms, squeezing tightly. He turns to be face to face with the dark eyes that would forever be the most beautiful things in the world, even in the end, even in hell, even filled with fear or anger or even hatred. Those eyes could hold a million things in them, a reflection of entire worlds hidden beneath them. 

“Will! Shit, shit.”

The arms pull him forward but Will can’t help but keep focusing on the eyes in front of him. They look at him with precision, with care, they look at him with attention and concern and Will for the life of him can not seem to look away. 

But then Mike turns his head to run, still dragging Will along, and it feels like the spell is broken. 

Suddenly, Will can hear all the screams again and feel all the debris settling in his lungs. Suddenly, he’s back at the end, the real end, and he can’t breathe. 

He stumbles, dizzy, and Mike stops, catching him, both hands squeezing Will’s arms, right below his shoulders. 

“Will, listen to me. We’re going to make it, okay? We’re going to make it.”

And suddenly Will can get lost in Mike’s eyes again. Suddenly he can breathe, grounding himself to Mike’s voice and staring into Mike’s eyes like if he doesn't, he will die.

“Mike…”

All the strength leaves Will’s body as he slips to the ground, Mike desperately trying to hold him up but to no avail. His eyes flicker closed before finding Mike’s again. Dark, so dark. 

“Will! Come on, you have to stay awake!”

Mike sounds angry. Is he angry… at him? It’s hard to tell what’s happening beyond the dizziness and the abyss that is the color of Mike’s eyes and the warmth that is his grasp.

“Shit, Will. Please,” Mike begs, pulling him forward into his arms. Tears are streaming down Mike's eyes and Will tries to reach forward to brush them away, but his muscles ache and his hand falls back to the sticky ground. 

He no longer sees his friends. No longer hears them fighting for their lives. 

He just feels tired. Why won’t Mike let him take a nap? 

“Will, Will!” Mike’s shaking him and Will thinks that’s kind of rude. He’s quite comfortable still in Mike’s arms. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me!”

“Where am I going?” he mutters back, staring at his best friend.

“No where,” Mike reassures him, grip tightening around his body. “No where, okay? Just stay awake.”

Will nods, allowing his eyes to rest for a few moments before they blink open again. As long as Mike’s eyes stay right there in front of him, he’ll keep his own open. Why would he sleep when he can keep staring. 

“Help!” Mike yells to someone in the distance. “Help! Please!” 

The realization hits Will and through the pain is in the background of his senses, a throbbing experience but not a focus, Will knows what is happening. He knows why Mike’s voice shakes and he knows why he trembles. 

Suddenly his tears make sense.

“I’m dying…” Will whispers. 

“No,” Mike says sternly. “You’re not.” He pulls him even closer, head resting against Will's lightly. “I’m not losing you again.”

One by one, Will’s senses disappear. He can no longer see anything but Mike, feel anything but Mike, hear anything but Mike’s soft reassurances. 

“You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get out of here, alright? I’m here. I’m here.”

And soon even Mike disappears and Will feels himself slip away completely. 

It’s the end. Death is no longer taunting him, no longer dangling a string in front of him and seeing if he’ll follow. No, now death walks with him on a leash, pulling and pulling and Will doesn’t want to go, not really, but he doesn’t feel like he has a choice. 

And in the end, death doesn’t seem that painful after all. At least he can rest his eyes.

New York City, New York, 1999

“Do you ever water your plants?”

Will hands Charlie the hot chocolate from where he sits next to the window, pressing his grubby little fingers into the dirt of his pots.

“Of course I water them. I’ll have you know I’m a very good plant parent,” Will scoffs, still in disbelief that Charlie had managed to again find his way to Will’s apartment. 

This time when he barged in, he made himself at home, greeting Will and then immediately kicking off his shoes to look at his plants. He was wearing the hat Will had given him and threw that on the floor upon entering. 

Will felt a little bit bad because today was definitely colder than it was three days ago, so he made him some hot chocolate before he could start the scolding. 

“Maybe they need more sun then,” Charlie comments, eyeing the windows. “They look a little wilty.”

“It’s the middle of winter,” Will rolls his eyes. “They’re supposed to look like that.”

Charlie goes to water them again anyway. “We don’t have any plants in our apartment, but I do have a fish. And we have some sucky lints at school we take care of.”

“Some whats?” Will asks. “Oh, you mean succulents?”

“Yep, that’s what I said.” He finishes with the plants and goes back to the stuff he threw on the ground, pulling out his backpack. “Before you yell at me and make me call my dad again, I have something for you.”

“Oh, you do?” Will asks, crossing his arms. “And then you’ll go home and never bother me again?”

The boy thinks for a moment, “Hmm, it depends.” He continues to rummage through his bag as Will shakes his head in disbelief. 

“No, Charlie, I know it seems like a fun adventure, but you can’t keep doing this. You can’t just run here without telling anyone and expect me to accept you every time. It’s dangerous and you can’t keep doing that to your dad.”

Charlie looks a little guilty as he pulls the thing he was searching for out of his bag. “But I’m doing this for him.”

Will’s face scrunches up in confusion. This kid wasn’t making sense the first time and he definitely isn’t making sense now. “And did he ask you to do this?”

“Well… no, but I’m sure he’ll be happy in the end!” There’s an envelope in his hands and he stands up, running to Will.

“And what about me? What’s at the end?” Will asks. 

Charlie shoves the letter into Will’s hands with a grin. “We’ll see! I found this letter in the book and it has your name on it.”

“It’s opened,” Will says, examining the back before he dares to look at the address. He doesn’t know what he’s scared of, but he knows whatever the letter contains can’t be good for his perfectly normal life. 

“Yeah, I opened it,” Charlie replies, still smiling with eagerness and leaning forward. “I think you’ll like what it says.”

Will doesn’t know when his fingers started trembling, but somehow they shake as he flips the envelope over. 

Will Byers

4819 Lenora Hills, California 

He slams the letter onto the couch, unable to let himself stare at the messy scrawl that was Mike’s handwriting back in highschool. If possible, he starts to tremble more, trying to take deep, shaky breaths to calm his nerves. 

“I- I’m not reading this.”

Charlie frowns, eyebrows lowering to rest on top of his eyes. “Why not? Have you already read it before?”

“No, I just- I just can’t. It’s old. It doesn’t mean anything,” Will mutters, hands curling around the paper so it crinkles slightly in the center. 

“If it doesn’t mean anything, then why won’t you read it?” Charlie asks. “I brought it for you to read.”

Will had no obligation to do anything this child says, no reason not to crumple the letter now and forget what he read, no reason not to call Mike now and kick the boy out once and for all. 

But still… 

Will Byers

4189 Lenora Hills, California

God, the letter must have been old. His family hasn’t lived in California since 1986. And Mike didn’t write to him when he did. He knows he didn’t and Mike told him he didn’t. Just like Mike hadn’t called. 

And Will had forgiven him for that, really. He was mad at the time, but Mike had made it up to him, proven himself to still be Will’s best friend all throughout the fight to kill One. 

Mike had been by his side when Will was targeted by Vecna, he was by his side when they realized Will had trapped the Upside Down in 1983, and he was by his side when Will had almost died in the Upside Down during the final battle. 

But then the danger was over. The Upside Down was gone and the gates were closed and One was dead. And Mike… Mike had grown distant.

Still Will’s friend, but it soon felt like he’s taken himself away from the title of ‘best’. It was no longer Mike and Will. And then Mike had ended their friendship for good and Will was forced to move on. 

And in the end, Will sometimes wonders if Mike only cared about him when he was in danger. And in the end, Will sometimes wonders if he had stayed in the Upside Down, if he’d get to keep Mike. 

But now in his hands is proof of something Will never believed. Mike did write to him and just never sent it. He wrote to him and then lied about it, leaving Will to think he never did. 

It doesn’t make sense and Will certainly doesn’t want any answers. Nope. Definitely not curious at all. Definitely content with burning the letter and going back to his perfectly normal day.

Because he doesn’t have time to rationalize Mike’s actions. He did a shitty thing and no letter is going to change that. Will doesn’t want anything to change that, doesn’t want to forgive Mike for breaking his heart without even realizing it. 

But still… 

It’s not like the letter is a big deal anyway, right? Some lousy words on paper aren’t going to change the trajectory of Will’s life or anything. He's not foolish enough to believe that.

He takes a deep breath and picks the letter back up. “Okay, I’ll read it. Is it- is it long? Is it- is there anything bad or mean or is there anything that could- I don’t know. Is-”

“Just read it,” Charlie urges. “Please.”

“Okay, yeah, okay.” Taking one more shaky breath, Will pulls out the letter and unfolds it neatly into his lap, his eyes falling onto the first few words. 

Dear Will,

He puts the letter back down. He can’t do this, he can’t. He can’t betray the ten years of work he’s put into moving on. He can’t let Mike just inch his way back into his thoughts like this. It’s not fair to him.

“Why are you scared of a letter?” Charlie asks with the tilt of his head. “I already said it’s good.”

“I’m not- not scared,” Will stammers. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Suddenly, the letter is yanked from his hands and Charlie brings it up to his face, clearing his throat. 

“‘Dear Will, I’m sorry I haven’t-”

“Give me that!” Will reaches for the paper in the boy's hand, but he pulls away, dangling it above his head. “It’s my letter! I get to decide what to do with it!” 

Charlie jumps from the couch and runs to the corner of the room. “‘I’m sorry I haven’t written you yet. This is the first time actual words are getting on the paper-’”

Will chases after him but he ducks away, under Will’s reaching arm. “I’m not going to chase you around! Just give me the letter!”

Charlie continues to giggle and evade every one of Will’s attempts to reach him. “‘Well, that’s not exactly true because I have about three other of these hidden in my desk-’”

Will stares desperately at the kid, “Please just give me the letter.” For all of Charlie’s playfulness, Will is in no mood for games. He can’t listen to anymore he just can’t. “Give it to me.”

Charlie keeps going. “‘Maybe this one will be the one I actually send. I haven’t crossed anything out so that’s a good sign, right?’”

Will walks to his room and slams the door shut. His shaking hands lock the door and he lets his bad slide to the ground slowly. 

There’s a pause and he wonders if Charlie’s still reading the letter out loud. Will leans against the door and only hears silence. Taking a breath of relief, he pulls his head carefully down towards his knees like he used to do when he was younger and overwhelmed. Somehow it still works and he feels himself relaxing. 

Something slides under the door.

The letter stares face up at him and this time, he picks it up gingerly. “Shit,” he mutters to himself. It's easier to fall prey to the dangers of Mike Wheeler when he’s alone.

He lets his eyes fall to the beginning of the letter again and starts to read. 

Dear Will, 

Sorry I haven’t written you yet. This is the first time actual words are getting onto the paper. Well, that’s not exactly true because I have about three other of these hidden in my desk. Maybe this one will be the one I actually send. I haven’t crossed anything out so that’s a good sign, right?

El’s been updating me a little about your life. I heard you’ve made a lot of friends at school so that’s good. Are they cooler than us? Are they better than me?

I also heard you’re taking an art class. I’ve missed you your art a lot. I can’t wait to see all that you’ve been working on when I come visit! I honestly can’t wait, I’ve been counting the days. Nancy thinks I’m being really annoying about it because she can’t go see Jonathan, but I think I’m being perfectly reasonable. I obviously can’t wait to see my best friend again. 

Things have been different with you gone. Hawkins High is kinda what you’d expect, Middle school with even more cliques. I’m sure you’ve already heard that Lucas joined the basketball points to try to seem cooler or whatever. I don't really know where I fit in yet. 

How’s Lenora high? And how are you? And how is everything? I want to know it all. It’s hard now that everything is different and I don’t really know what I’m feeling anymore. I feel a little lost actually, like you and El were the things holding me together. 

Max, and Lucas, and Dustin are great, but they’re not you. I wish you would call me back. I’ve tried to call so many times and the phone was always busy. Are you that popular?

Anyway, I hope life is good in Lenora, but not too good. I hope you haven't moved on. Please write or call back soon because I really can’t stand not hearing from you at all. 

I miss you too much probably.

Love, 

Mike

The words blur on the page and Will realizes it’s not just his vision rendering the paper blotchy, but the tears hitting the ink. He can’t help but hold the letter close to his chest as a sob lodges into his throat. 

Shit. Shit. He shouldn’t have read the fucking letter, what was he thinking? 

He pulls his knees even closer to his chest and folds his arms over them again to hide how pathetic he looks. Even alone in his room, it feels like there’s a spotlight on him, people pointing and laughing and saying look at him, what a fool. Stuck thinking about the same person for years, pretending like he can get a way.

The letter falls into his lap as Will brings his hands to his hair, pushing down on his head. Everything feels muddled as the words he read spin around in his head like a tempest. He wants to catch them, reign them into coherent thoughts and tame them. He wants so much and nothing at all and all he can actually do is cry. 

So he cries, the soft tears turning to something more, something yet more pathetic. God, he’s an adult, he hasn’t cried like this in years, not because of some stupid boy. Even if Mike Wheeler was never just a stupid boy to him. 

The sobs grow louder and he buries his face deeper into his knees. There’s no way Charlie can’t hear him but the kid doesn’t say anything or come knocking at the door. At least Will has one reason to be thankful. 

Will’s not fully sure why the letter affects him so much. Maybe it’s just the fact that he has solid proof that Mike did care during those six months apart. Maybe because missing Mike has hurt more than anything in the world, more than almost dying, more than being possessed, more than having his heart ripped apart. Maybe because this is the Mike he remembers, untainted with their fights and distance, untainted by the dangers that would soon await them. This was Mike in all his innocence and compassion, true and brave and everything in between. 

The letter is the honesty Will had been missing in their relationship since the first fight back when they were barely thirteen. Honesty they never got back from each other, lying and making excuses. Honesty Mike was never going to let Will read. 

He wonders why Mike never sent the letter, why he let Will believe he never cared at all, why he never mentioned calling and calling and waiting for Will. 

Even after ten years, Will can’t help but get caught up in the mystery that is Mike Wheeler. And it will forever drive him crazy. 

His sobs lighten but his tears do not. He unfolds his head from where it rests on his knees and presses the palms of his hands into his eyes until he knows they are bright red. 

Quiet, almost scared, a voice comes from the other side of the door. “Will?”

Will tosses the letter to the floor and gets up, wiping the final tears from his eyes. He knows he looks a mess, but he ignores Charlie’s concern as he strides out the door and heads for the phone. 

His fingers dance along the buttons like he’s playing an instrument, with ease, with memory. He presses the receiver to his ear and there is barely a second of ringing before someone answers. 

“Hello?”

“Mike. I have your kid. Meet me at the same time, same place.”

“Will, I-”

Will slams the phone back down and sits on the couch, still shaking. 

Slowly, Charlie comes to join him, looking away as he sits on the other side of the couch. His hands lay gently in his lap and he carefully looks up. “I’m sorry…”

Will turns to him with wide, pinkened eyes. “I need you to tell me everything you found in that book.”

Charlie’s mouth opens slightly in surprise. He goes on to explain every detail of the other notes and letters he found along with the old drawings Will had made and given to Mike over the years. 

Will doesn’t know why he thought that would make him feel better, he just feels more sick after, more confused than ever. Luckily he still has three hours before six and has time to figure out what he’s going to do. 

He starts pacing when Charlie’s eyes catch on his neck. “What’s that?”

“Huh?”

“On your neck,” Charlie jumps up from the couch and points at Will’s scar. “Woah.”

“Oh,” Will places his hand over the lighter skin. “It’s just an old scar. It’s fine now.” He knows the worst of it is hidden by the rest of his shirt, but Charlie still looks at it with awe and curiosity. 

“I didn’t see that before. How d’ya get it?” He blinks up at Will.

“It was an accident,” Will lies. 

“What kind of accident?”

“A boring one,” he deflects. “I just… fell.”

Half of Charlie’s face scrunches up like he doesn’t believe him. But he needs to, Will’s not going to tell him the truth, not going to mention the monsters and the Upside Down and Mike. He’s been sworn to secrecy. 

“Are you going to talk to my dad?” Charlie asks instead. 

Will hesitates, “I- I’m not sure.”

“Please,” Charlie begs, running up to Will. “You have to.”

Will breathes out to ease his growing frustration. “Why? Why should I do anything when it comes to him?”

“I-” Charlie stops. “I dunno. Did he really do something that bad?”

That bad? Was what Mike did that bad? Will has been asking himself that lately. It wasn’t Mike’s fault Will had fallen in love with him and it wasn't Mike’s fault that he had unknowingly broken Will’s heart. It was however Mike’s fault for ending their friendship once and for all. Their stale friendship was both of their faults, that friendship hurt. Was it really Mike’s fault for wanting it to be over? 

But he could have called. He could have apologized instead of letting Will slip away. 

“It’s not about that,” Will confesses. “It’s about whether or not we should even be in each other’s lives. We obviously don’t work as friends.”

“You don’t? But… I’ve read the notes and seen the drawings. And- And he talks about you all the time, about how good friends you were. How can you not work?”

“Because we grew up!” Will says, desperate to come up with an excuse. “Because things got in the way, girlfriends and college and whatever. He doesn’t want to talk to me, he doesn’t want to see me, he told me… He told me he didn’t want us to be friends!” Tears well up in Will’s eyes again. Pathetic, in front of a child. 

“That’s not true.”

“What do you mean that’s not true,” Will rolls his wet eyes. “He told me. He told me that.”

“But- But he told me he wished you stayed at the diner, he told me he wanted to talk to you. I tried to ask- ask what happened, but he wouldn’t tell me,” Charlie mutters. 

“That’s because he knows he was wrong.”

“Well, maybe he could be right now?” Charlie suggests. “Maybe you can both be right.”

“If that was true, he would have tried to call me or something. I’m not the one who should have to try!” Will isn’t sure why he’s fighting with a kid and he’s even less sure of why it feels like he’s losing. 

“I think he’s scared-”

“Well, I am too! It’s always Mike and Mike's feelings,” Will cries, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. “What about me? What about what I want? My feelings? Why can’t I just move on and have a normal life?”

He presses the palms of his hands back in his eyes as Charlie just watches. “I just… I just can’t. I don’t want to get hurt again."

He suddenly feels a warmth press against him as the small boy hugs him. “I’m sorry…”

Guilt swarms in Will's chest as he realized he just yelled at this boy who was just trying to help. “No, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at…”

“My dad?”

“Yes and no,” Will sighs, his hands falling from his eyes. “I’m just mad.”

There's a pause as they both sit on the couch together. 

“Can we listen to the Cure?” Charlie finally asks. “Just while we wait for it to get closer to six?”

“Sure,” Will nods and gets up to grab his record. When the music starts, Charlie gets up and starts dancing around. Will just grabs his sketchbook and a pencil so he can unwind. 

He always found an escape in art, ever since he was a kid. Even when his dad yelled at him for drawing, Will used it to cope. He drew when he was feeling any sort of emotion, good or bad. He drew when he was bullied, when he had a good day at school, when he got flashbacks of the Upside Down, when Mike was extra sweet. 

Drawing was always his answer and it didn’t become an exception when he grew up. 

So he sketches and sketches as the music plays and when the sketch starts to look a little too familiar, he doesn’t get angry, he doesn't get sad, he just stares. He stares and wonders how he memorized those features so easily he was able to recall them subconsciously. 

And in his frustration and anger, a more prominent emotion wins out. Because Will misses Mike, he always has and he knows he always will. 

And if Mike misses Will… Maybe, just maybe, Will can try to talk to him.

Will doesn’t pay attention to the music in the car, he doesn’t pay attention to Charlie beside him or the setting sun, he’s too deep in thought, a million words of his past laid out in his mind and rolling around like marbles. 

But if Will can move on from the past, maybe that means surrendering to forgiveness. 

They arrive ten minutes early like the time before and it gives Will a chance to prepare for his final decision. 

“Two Reece’s milkshakes please,” Charlie tells the waitress. 

“Hey, who says I’m getting you another milkshake?” Will asks as the boy just blinks up at him like a puppy. Will can’t help but sigh, “Fine, two milkshakes.” It seems like Mike isn’t the only Wheeler who has Will’s complete control in his hands. 

A couple of minutes pass before they receive their milkshakes, Charlie eagerly grabbing for his and finishing a third of it in one swallow. Maybe Will should have offered him more than just a hot chocolate from his apartment. Will only takes a small sip of his own drink, anxiety already twisting his insides into knots. 

Although, maybe if things got really bad, the nausea could give him a good excuse to leave.

Every time the bell above the door shakes, Will feels himself jump. The first customers are an old couple with a small kid, then there’s a five person family. 

Then it’s exactly six and the bell rings again. Will’s eyes turn towards the door, falling into darkness, the abyss, the thing that has always had a grip on Will’s heart. The dark eyes don’t blink, they just fill with recognition as they stare back at Will. 

For a moment, the world freezes, their locked eyes becoming their own characters with no audience. Will had almost forgotten what it was like to get lost in Mike’s eyes and now that he’s felt it, he’s not sure he can ever let it go. 

He watches as Mike’s breath leaves him, just standing awkwardly at the door. 

“Excuse me!” an old man bumps into Mike from behind and their eyes break away from each other, moment ruined. “Don’t block the entrance!"

Mike stumbles out of the way muttering apologies as the old man rolls his eyes. He looks back up at Will before starting to walk over with a soft smile.

“Will, hi,” he takes a seat next to Charlie, but doesn’t even look at him. 

“Hi,” Will breathes. 

“What? No hi for me?” Charlie asks, crossing his arms.

Mike finally turns to him, eyebrows pushed to the bridge of his nose. “Oh, definitely not. You are beyond in trouble.”

Charlie just pouts as Will starts to stand up. So far his plan is working, he just needs to hope Mike wants him to stay just as much as Will wants to. 

“Well, I should probably head back,” he says as he grabs his coat from the back of the bench. 

Mike frowns, “Oh, yeah… of- of course.” He looks away.

Will continues to stand in front of the booth, watching Mike. Come on, he thinks, just ask. Ask me to stay. He rocks slightly on his heels as he waits. 

They lock eyes. “Thanks, Will. For- for doing this again. I’m so sorry for- for the inconvenience.”

Will offers him a smile. “It’s not a problem. I like this place.” Come on, take the hint. Please just ask me to stay.  

He puts his coat on as slow as possible as Mike continues to watch, his face pinched in a thoughtful expression and Will recognizes it as one of conflict. 

Ask me to stay.

When Will finishes and Mike looks away, Will realizes his plan failed. Mike doesn’t want to talk to Will as much as he thought. When too much awkwardness has passed over them, Will sighs. “Well, good night then.”

“Yeah, good night,” Mike looks down at the wood and Charlie elbows him hard in the arm. 

Will turns away to hide his disappointment. 

“Wait!"

Will whips his head around. “Yeah?”

Mike bites his lip, hands tapping nervously on the table. “Would you- You, me- I mean, do you… Hungry? Are you hungry? I was just going to get Charlie dinner here if you... if you wanted to join us."

The smile on Will's face grows like a vine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mike repeats with a similar grin. 

The coat slides off Will’s arms as he retakes his seat. He feigns nonchalance at the proposal as his mind explodes. 

Oh my god, he asked. He asked me to stay. He wanted me to stay.

In his seat, Charlie is buzzing with excitement, eyes hopping from Mike to Will and back again with happy disbelief. 

After they order, the conversation starts a bit awkwardly. All the things that had happened in the ten years they’d been apart weighed heavy in their heads as they tried to catch up without speeding passed anything necessary. 

Will was still worried this whole thing was going to blow up in his face and was trying to play his cards safely and with care. 

“So the big city, huh?” Mike asks as they wait for their food. 

“Yeah,” Will says. “I mean, being an artist was never going to be enough so I found a job in graphic design with Jonathan’s help and moved. The job’s alright, but being closer to him is definitely worth it.”

Mike nods eagerly. “Graphic design, I bet you’re really good at that. What kind of stuff do you do?”

“I design book covers, mostly,” Will explains. “Figure out the colors and the composition, whether or not it should be drawn or photographed. You might have seen some of my covers in bookstores.”

“Really? What are some you’ve done?” Mike asks and Will knows he’ll never get used to the amount of interest and attention Mike is showing him. After their high school years full of awkward conversations and stilted hang outs, this feels natural, feels right. 

“Oh, uh, ‘Kept and Silenced’, 'Silvia Charleston', ‘The Wizard’s Miracle’-”

“‘The Wizard’s Miracle?’” Mike asks excitedly, leaning forward onto the table. “No way!”

“You read it?” The smile on his face grew. 

“Yeah! I thought the cover kind of looked like your style, with the wizard and the way you drew the magic, but I never... I never really thought it was.”

“Yep, it was me," Will admits shyly. "Took a couple months too because I actually had to draw it out myself.”

“It’s incredible!” Mike says. “It’s such a beautiful design, that’s the only reason I originally bought the book!” 

Will feels his cheeks burn red. “I- Thank you.”

Their eyes lock again, brimming with emotion. God, Will’s missed this. Missed Mike. The world around them disappears as they feed off of each other’s happy expressions, unable to believe they both want this back. 

Charlie's stomach growls and breaks the moment as Mike glances at him. “Ugh, I’m hungry. When’s the food gonna get here?” he groans.

“Few minutes probably,” Mike answers. “Just be patient.”

Charlie groans again, pushing his head to the back of the chair dramatically. “I’m going to die!”

Mike rolls his eyes as Will laughs. “Come on, it will be here soon.”

As Charlie takes another loud sip of his milkshake, Mike turns his attention back to Will who can’t help but say, “You know, he’s just like you.”

Mike opens his mouth but Charlie beats him to his words with wide eyes. “What? No I’m not! I would have never stopped being Will’s friend.”

The two adults at the table freeze up, watching the kid as he crosses his arms. The air shifts into something much more awkward, the unwanted acknowledgment of their past weighing heavy on the moment. 

“Uh…”

The waitress comes with their food and Will sighs with relief as she places the plate in front of him. If he has nothing to say, at least now he can eat. As he reaches for his fork, Will realizes how clammy his hands are. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Just want to wash my hands real quick.”

Mike looks up at him with frantic eyes, “You’re going?”

“To the bathroom,” Will states slowly. “And then I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, okay.” Mike bites his lip, stealing a final panicked look at Will before turning to his food. Throughout the majority of their waiting, his leg had been bouncing up and down under the table while his fingers fidgeted with his napkin. 

Will quickly weaved through the booths and the waiters to get to the bathroom and washed the remains of his anxiety from his hands. Of course that didn’t end the forever beating thrum of his heart and the twitching of his fingers. 

For a moment he stared at himself, reminding himself that this isn’t the end, it’s going well. His face is no longer racked with sadness or anger, but a smoothness he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

He barely wastes time drying his hands before making it back to the booth. 

“You’re back,” Mike states as his wide eyes catch Will’s. 

Will just tilts his head at him as he takes his seat. “Yeah, I said I would be.”

“Right, obviously,” Mike mutters before stabbing his chicken sandwich with his toothpick. 

“What?” Will asks despite every inkling in his body telling him to drop this conversation and just pick up his burger. “Did you think I was just going to leave?”

“No, I-”

“Because I wouldn’t just…” Will cuts himself off before he can finish and looks down at his plate instead, the unsaid words resting bitter on his tongue. I wouldn’t just leave with no explanation. Not like you did. “I, uh, wouldn’t just leave before eating.” He tries to send a lopsided smile back to Mike who returned it half-heartedly before looking away. 

Their meal continues awkwardly, the sense of familiarity now broken. Everything about it feels wrong and everything somehow still feels right, like Will should be here with Mike, like they should be in each other’s lives, but not like this. Not like they are both about to explode with secrets and confessions and a million apologies between them. 

The more time he spends in Mike’s presence, the more Will realizes he can’t go back to how things were. He can’t go back to his small apartment alone and go to work and pretend like his life is everything he wanted, pretend like he is doing completely fine. 

The truth is hidden in Mike’s soft grin, in the way his hair curls naturally over his ears, in the freckles that splattered his cheeks like someone had painted each one with purpose. It’s hidden in the way he taps his fingers on the wooden table, the way he keeps looking at Will, listening with an attentiveness Will hasn’t felt in years. 

Eventually, the cobwebs are dusted away and Will feels warm again, something flickering deep in his heart. They talk like friends should, eating up each other’s words so they can learn everything there is to know about the other. 

And Will learns a lot. He learns about everything Mike’s done after college and how he got one story published even though he didn’t get much money from it.

“Do you have a copy?” Will asks, wiping the remnants of his dinner from his lips with a napkin. 

“Not on me, but I have a few back at my place,” Mike answers. 

“It’s really good!” Charlie adds. “You should read it!”

“I’d love to! I always wondered if you kept writing since you were always so good at it. Is there any way I could get a copy?” Will asks without thinking too hard about confessing to Mike that he’s thought of him.

Instead of a smile like Will had expected, Mike’s face drops slightly. “I don’t think you want to read it. It’s not that good and I wrote it a while ago and-”

“Mike,” Will leans slightly across the table to force Mike’s eyes on his. “I’m serious. You’re an incredible writer and I’m sure it’s amazing.”

Mike’s cheeks flush, “Well, I guess I can get you a copy.”

“Thanks.”

Neither of them acknowledge how Mike will get the book to Will or if anything will happen after this. Will hopes it’s a good olive branch, hopes Mike gets the hint that he wants this to continue.

The bill comes shortly after, but they barely notice as their conversation continues. As Mike reaches for the book, Charlie makes a joke and Will, already giddy with the events of the night and the flickering of his heart, can’t stop laughing. 

Through the tears in his eyes, he makes out Mike’s dark eyes staring at him. They don’t look away, don’t blink, Mike just watches him laugh with a careful expression on his face. Lips dipped upwards but eyebrows creased the slightest bit. Will recognizes it. It’s bittersweet. 

When he finally gets control of himself, he makes eye contact with Mike who immediately looks away, cheeks reddening under his eyes. 

“Are you okay?”

Mike looks back at him, face even redder. “What? Yeah, of course- yeah.” He turns his attention back down to the bill. Will reaches for his wallet before Mike stops him. “No, I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?” Will asks, still reaching for his wallet. “At least let me pay for the tip.”

“Will, you’ve already done a lot for me, just let me pay.”

“Oh, okay,” Will feels his own face flush. “Thanks.”

It’s about half past seven when they finally leave, still talking as they exit the diner. The crisp air swipes at Will’s cheeks as he pushes his hat further onto his head. He was never much of a winter person, but he has to admit it looks beautiful. The city’s lights glowing against the thin layer of powder frosting the ground. 

A few flakes of snow rest in contrast on top of Mike’s exposed hair. Will can’t help but want to brush them away. 

They’re eyes lock again and Will can’t help but fall headfirst into them. All the city lights now shine like stars in Mike’s eyes and it’s beyond mesmerizing. As much as Will wants to get closer, he also wants this moment to last, just them and the night air.

Unfortunately, it’s not just them and Charlie runs at Will, giving him a big hug. Will crouches down to meet his level before returning the hug.

“Thank you, Will,” he whispers softly, digging his face into Will’s coat. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Will can’t help but smile as he returns the kid’s gratitude. “And thank you too. Just don’t run away again, okay?”

With a slight laugh, Charlie pulls away, “Yeah, maybe next time you can visit me!”

“Maybe,” Will stands back up, knowing that even though this hadn’t gone terribly, it would probably take a lot of time before anything like that happened. 

But Charlie looks satisfied as he gives Will a final wave and jumps into Mike’s car.

Now it’s just the two of them in the brisk winter air like Will wanted and suddenly Will’s not quite sure why he wanted that at all. 

Once they say goodbye, it feels like that will be it. It feels like another door being slammed in Will’s face. So instead he just stands there and watches Mike, seeing what he will do. 

Mike takes a tentative step forward, eyes shifting from the car to Will. “Thank you,” he says carefully. His dark eyes are wide and consuming every bit of light they see. 

“For what?” Will tilts his head. 

Mike’s eyes shift to the ground again, the light that drips from them momentarily blocked from Will’s view. “F- For driving Charlie here. For talking to me, eating dinner with me. For giving me a chance. I- I don’t deserve it.” He looks up again, his eyes glisten like the lights are melting into tears. 

The flicker in Will’s heart burns. “Mike…”

“I just… I know I should be mad at Charlie for running away, but… I’m glad I get to see you again, even after all this time. I missed you.” His wet eyes lock back onto Will’s.

Will’s heart continues to glow, brighter and brighter. “Me too,” he breathes. 

The tears release from Mike’s eyes, sliding down his cheeks and catching on the city lights. “Really?” 

Will feels his own eyes water as the thrum of his heart crescendos. He feels weightless, like everything around them is disappearing and it’s just him and Mike on the sidewalk, eyes locked.  

“Yeah, of course.”

His heart is beating so loudly and so brightly that Will can’t think. He can’t hear his mind screaming to be careful, screaming not to get hurt, not to fall prey to Mike and his damn words. He can’t hear any worrying, any regrets, all he can hear is Mike’s voice on repeat in his mind. 

I missed you I missed you I missed you

He should be mad, should be furious. But the warmth in his heart is overwhelmingly strong and Will can't help but feel consumed in it. 

So he takes the risk and pushes forward, wrapping his arms around Mike’s back. 

It takes less than a millisecond before Mike is returning the hug, pressing his tear stained face into Will’s shoulder. 

I missed you.

The moment feels endless even though they probably look ridiculous, hugging in the middle of a sidewalk. It feels a little bit ridiculous too, but Will can’t help but smile the widest he’s smiled in years.

Suddenly, a car honks and they split apart in surprise. 

Charlie is leaning out the open window of Mike’s car, unimpressed. “Are you coming?”

Mike’s gloved hands brush against Will’s arms before he wipes the tears from his eyes. “Yeah, sorry. I’m coming.” He turns back to Will again. “Can I call you?”

The smile has yet to leave Will’s face as he just watches, “Of course.”

“Cool,” Mike says as he starts getting in his car. “And I’ll look for that copy.”

"Cool." Will waves as the car starts. “Bye Mike.”

“Bye Will.”

“Bye!” Charlie yells as the car finally pulls away. 

The cold air pushes on, Will’s cheeks continue to burn red, and the night gets darker. He goes back to his own car wondering when this feeling will go away. 

But it doesn’t. The cold nips on and Will’s heart continues to burn. 

Chapter Text

New York City, New York, 1999

Mike doesn’t call Will. He doesn’t call Will for three weeks. 

And it isn’t completely his fault, not at first anyway. At first he’s too busy getting everything ready to visit Jonathan and Nancy at their place in New York City, something that has become an annual tradition instead of Mike and his sister flying home to Hawkins. Occasionally Holly’s allowed to come too, but not this year. 

This year it will just be Jonathan, Nancy, and their twins along with Mike and Charlie. 

So that’s Mike’s excuse. He’s been running around like crazy trying to get everyone gifts and making sure he can help out with Christmas dinner and double checking that Charlie’s packed everything he needs. 

Jonathan and Nancy really only live an hour away in the city, but Mike and Charlie usually spend Christmas Eve night there so that they can spend Christmas morning together. 

So that’s his first excuse, how busy he’s been. His second excuse is that he’s in a new place, i.e. Nancy’s apartment, and doesn’t want Will to mistake him for Jonathan. Unfortunately, that excuse only works for the one day Mike’s been in the city and not the three weeks he’s been avoiding the phone.

And he can’t say he’s forgotten because, well, he doesn’t think he’d forget anything Will related. Will had never left Mike’s mind, not since they were kids or teens, not in the years where they stopped speaking, and definitely not now. 

Plus, Charlie certainly hasn’t let Mike forget, reminding him at least three times a day that he should, in fact, keep his promise to call Will. 

But every day he feels a little more guilty, a little more scared, a little bit more like he shouldn’t be in Will’s life because Will is perfect and Mike is so clearly far from it. 

Every day Mike forgets a little more about Will’s wide smile and the way he looked when he told Mike he’d missed him too. Every day he remembers the heartbroken expression on Will’s face when Mike told him they shouldn’t be friends. 

And now it’s Christmas Eve and the Wheeler-Byers family is sitting in front of the fire with Charlie next to Allison and Barbara and Mike sitting on their couch. Jonathan’s in the other room talking to- because of course the universe has to rub it in Mike’s face- Will. 

Charlie looks pointedly at Mike when Jonathan announces it to the room and then leaves and Mike feels himself look away. Avoid, avoid, avoid. The only thing Mike’s ever had the capability to do. 

Nancy gets up to sit next to Mike while the kids laugh and play Mad Libs. “So, how is everything?”

“Pretty good,” Mike mutters, watching as Charlie whispers something most likely inappropriate into Allison’s ear and she keels over with laughter.

“That’s all you're going to give me?” his sister asks, crossing her arms. “Come on, it’s been months since I’ve seen you.”

“Just because you’re a reporter doesn’t mean you need to pry into my life,” Mike bites back with levity, just the way they always have. 

“I’m your sister, Mike. It’s my job to pry,” she smiles. “But seriously, nothing new? Nothing good?”

Will bubbles to the surface of Mike’s mind. Not new and maybe not fully good, but… something hopeful, something he knows he’s about to screw up again. So instead he shrugs, “Maybe…”

“Oh?” She raises her eyebrow. “Is it a person?” 

Mike looks at her alarmed, “No, what? Why would you think that?”

“Oh, so it’s that kind of person,” she says with a smirk. There’s no need to ask what she means by that and Mike’s face immediately turns bright red. 

“No! It’s not- Not even kind of like that,” Mike says, trying to shrink into the cushions as his sister keeps her keen eyes on him. She’s always had a sort of acuity when it came to observing other people, one of the many reasons she makes a good reporter. 

“So there is someone?” she asks.

Mike groans and hides his face in his hands, willing for her to drop it. It’s bad enough having to think about the Will situation, he’s sure he’s not ready to talk about it.

“Hey, Charlie,” she calls instead and Mike glares at her. “Who’s your dad talking to?”

Mike looks at his son with wide eyes, shaking his head slightly in a threat. He already told Charlie not to mention anything, seeing as Jonathan’s Will’s brother and all, but there’s no telling how honest an eight year old's going to be. Especially an eight year old who’s already run away twice and started the whole mess in the first place. 

Charlie grins, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“Really?” Nancy raises her eyebrows. “You’re going to keep secrets on Christmas Eve? You’re basically telling Santa not to give you any presents this year.”

Charlie’s smile drops as he stares at her. 

“That’s not true,” Mike interrupts. “Nancy, you can’t threaten him!” 

She crosses her arms, pulling her legs more comfortably on the couch. “Fine, then no presents for you, Mike.”

Mike just rolls his eyes.

Even through their bickering, Mike is incredibly thankful for Nancy. He wishes they were closer when they were teens, they really were more similar than they liked to acknowledge. Of course, that’s usually the time you want to get away from anything and anyone who even remotely resembles you so it’s not shocking they grew apart. Now though, he’s beyond grateful for his sister.

After his third year in a row of having to treat Charlie to a Christmas alone in his small apartment, Nancy had finally offered a new tradition. He knew Jonathan hadn’t liked it at first, still didn’t like him, but they got used to each other enough. It’s not like Mike blames him after what he’d done to Will. 

And Charlie loved Nancy’s kids and any awkwardness between him and Jonathan was worth seeing him happy. Plus, he had to admit it was nice not being completely alone. 

“Why all the interest anyway?” Mike grabs his glass of eggnog and takes a sip. He’s never been a fan of the taste, but he knows Nancy spiked it with alcohol and he could really use that if Nancy's going to continue this investigation.

“Mike, you know I’ve been worried about you. I’m just glad you’ve found someone-”

“There’s no someone!” Mike counters. 

Suddenly, Jonathan walks back into the room, frowning. He looks at Nancy and Mike on the couch and decides to sit on the floor in front of his wife. 

She turns her body closer to him, laying on her side so her arms dangle over his chest. “How is he?”

Jonathan leans further into the couch, closing any distance between the two of them. He steals a sharp glance at Mike before answering Nancy. “He’s alone. Again. He said that he’s fine and that he prefers it like that, but I know he’s lonely. I just wish…” Jonathan cuts himself off before stealing another obvious look at Mike. 

Hot guilt bubbles in Mike’s chest as he looks away. He knows he should bite his tongue, keep pretending not to care and ignoring the obvious tension in the room. 

But he can picture Will alone in his apartment, maybe he’s painting, maybe he’s working on his latest book cover. Mike remembers how lonely he felt, even with Charlie with him. 

So he releases his tongue that’s gotten him into so many problems before. And yeah, he’s not a kid anymore, but sometimes he still thinks he has the big mouth he once did. “Why can’t Will come here? He lives in the city, right?”

Nancy sits up a little more, obviously tense. Jonathan just stares at him, lips parted slightly in surprise. 

The kids haven’t registered any shift in atmosphere, too enraptured by their game as Allison reads out their newest story. 

And Mike waits for a response. 

Finally, Jonathan sighs. “I tried. I ask him every year, but he always declines.”

“Why?” Mike blurts. Instant regret hits him as Jonathan’s stare turns sour. 

“Why do you think, Mike?” His voice is sharp, holding back no emotion and Mike feels himself recoil. 

Him. Of course. Will doesn’t want to see him. 

Both the adults have their eyes on him, Jonathan’s still cold and piercing and Nancy’s soft, but filled with a sort of second hand embarrassment for him, pitying. He can’t tell which is worse. 

He’s always known that Jonathan was aware of what Mike had done. He and Will were always much closer than Nancy and Mike. It was to be expected that Jonathan would throw every bit of shade towards Mike that Will was unable to. And Mike definitely deserved it. 

“I’m going to get some more eggnog,” Nancy announces, her hand giving one final loving pat on Jonathan’s shoulder before she disappears into the kitchen. 

Jonathan’s gaze doesn’t leave Mike and he can practically feel the needles of scrutiny pricking at his skin. 

“You know,” Jonathan’s voice is low, face split between shadow and the light of the fire, “Will used to come here for Christmas almost every year.” 

Because the guilt Mike is already feeling is obviously not enough punishment for everything he’s done, Jonathan continues. 

“And I’m not saying this to make you feel unwelcome, Nancy and I are glad you’re here, but…” Jonathan leaves his thought open, making Mike swallow thickly in contemplation. 

Mike remembers the first Christmas he and Charlie spent here, after he’d almost burned down his apartment making dinner. The alarms were blaring and Charlie was sobbing and Mike was close behind, so he called up Nancy just for someone to remind him that things would be okay. 

But she didn’t tell him that. She didn’t whisper soft reassurances over the phone and instead told him to come over to her and Jonathan’s apartment and that she had more than enough food for him and Charlie. 

He wonders now if Will was already there, if Will heard Mike was coming and decided it was better to go back to his lonely apartment than to have to deal with him. 

If that was the case, no one ever informed Mike. 

Now it feels like Mike’s been taking advantage of Jonathan and Nancy’s hospitality for years when they should be offering their kindness to Will like before. Just another thing Mike’s taken from him. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike mutters, unable to look at his brother-in-law. “I can- I can leave. Just, can Charlie stay? I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Jonathan’s eyes soften and he joins Mike on the couch. “Mike, you’re not leaving. That’s not what I meant, I just mean, our families are kind of connected. Maybe you shouldn’t keep all your ties burnt.” 

Nancy comes back from the kitchen, “We ran out of eggnog. Do you think we need more or are we okay?”

Mike stands up, “I can go grab some from the store.”

“Mike, you don’t have to do that,” Nancy shakes her head. “We’re fine without it.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Mike insists. “I’ll just be a second.”

Charlie jumps up from his spot in front of the fire, “Can I come too?”

“Stay with your cousins,” Mike says as he throws on his coat and gloves. “I’ll be right back and then we can open your Christmas Eve gifts.”

Charlie’s eyes widen. “You better hurry then.”

Mike nods before slipping from the door. He jumps into his car, the cold air nipping at his exposed skin. He waits a few seconds as the vehicle starts to heat up. He waits and his thoughts settle into direction, a clear arrow. 

There’s a corner store a few blocks to his left, one that, he knows with certainty, carries eggnog. 

Mike takes a right, the arrow in his mind pointing in the opposite direction. 

Nancy and Jonathan don’t really need eggnog and neither does Mike as much as a bit more alcohol tempts him. 

It’s practically Christmas and Mike hasn’t talked to Will in weeks no matter how much he desperately wants to. It’s practically Christmas and Mike is being shown every bit of kindness he doesn’t deserve and Will is alone. 

After parking, he looks to the seat behind him, a single book laying on the cushioned seat. He takes it and throws it in his wide coat pocket just in case all goes well. He knows it won’t, but he’s at least learned to leave a little space in his life for hope.

It’s snowing when Mike exits his vehicle, soft and powdery, not likely to stick until the morning. It lands in Mike’s hair, dampening it as he makes his way to a tall building. 

Climbing the stairs is a blur as Mike makes it to the number he’s looking for. No need to double check, he has it memorized. He finds it easily, a bland gray color but with a colorful welcome mat and a painted number. It’s definitely Will’s door.

All that’s left is for him to knock. 

Hawkins, Indiana, 1987

Mike isn’t sure where his eyes should be looking. 

He can’t close them because if he closes them he knows he’ll fall asleep and he can not under any circumstance fall asleep right now no matter how much he wants to. He can’t watch the monitor as it beeps or he’ll drive himself crazy, or the leaky sink to his left dripping at just the wrong times so something’s always ringing in his ears. He can’t look out the window because it’s too dark to see what’s out there and what if there’s monsters or shadows or anything really...

And of all the places Mike can’t look, Will is the most important to avoid. Because that's all Mike can ever do. Avoid, avoid, avoid. 

Even while stopping his wandering eyes from catching on the boy in front of him, Mike knows exactly what he looks like, laying in the hospital bed with his head tilted slightly towards Mike. His eyes closed gently and shaded partially from his bangs.

The wound going from his back to his neck is mostly fixed up, the blood washed away and the laceration stitched up. Still Mike can’t look at it. 

He’s already dizzy and exhausted and it’s been almost seven hours since they’d made it out of the Upside Down and Will’s still not awake. 

Jonathan and Joyce were here before, but they’re talking to the doctors now. Lucas stopped by before going to check on Max and Dustin came for a little before deciding to help planning with Hopper and some of the others. 

Mike doesn’t know where to look, can’t stand to look at Will like this, injured and unconscious and Mike can’t shake his own thoughts, can’t stop seeing the vision in his head of Will bleeding out in front of him.

I’m dying…

Will’s voice continues to haunt him between the beeps of the heart monitor and the dripping of the sink. He feels crazy in the hospital room, nothing but bad memories here. But he needs to stay for Will. He needs to be here when Will wakes up. 

He can’t look at Will, so instead he looks to the seat next to him where Eleven is sitting, her hands playing with the hair tie on her wrist. There’s a tear resting on her cheek like a pearl, but the rest of the sorrow stays hidden in her eyes.

Mike wants to reach out, to take her hand and squeeze it. He wants to tell her everything will be alright and that Will is alive and will be okay, but he can’t. 

“It’s not fair,” she whispers when she feels his eyes on her. “First Max and now Will…”

Will’s situation was very different from Max’s and they both knew that, but Mike understood her point. Why did it have to be the people they loved? 

He nodded, the words caught in his throat. 

Why did it have to be Will? After he’d gone through so much with the Upside Down and the Mind Flayer and now the universe still wasn’t done with him. What had Will ever done to deserve any sort of pain? 

“I should have been better,” Eleven continued. “I am not strong enough.”

Mike turns his wet eyes to her and shakes his head just the slightest bit. His stomach twists and the lump in his throat expands. He hopes she knows that’s not true, that she is strong, one of the strongest people he knows. He hopes she can see it in his eyes that she deserves no blame. 

If anyone is to blame, it’s him.

He’s the one that promised to protect Will and he’s the one who failed.

“Are you going to say anything?” El asks, holding her two hands together and squeezing them. 

He shakes his head again and looks down at his lap, embarrassed by the tears that manage to escape his eyes. 

She just sighs.

He tries to mutter an apology but the words get stuck in his throat and he ends up opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. He’s still looking down when he hears her get up and leave without saying another word to him. 

Now alone, everything negative in Mike multiplies. The walls look even whiter, stinging his eyes. The dripping and the beeping combine into something painful, a throbbing in his ears. The dizziness gets worse and his head feels heavier. He hasn’t slept in a couple days and he hasn't eaten in at least etn hours and everything feels overwhelming. 

All the feeling in his stomach grows heavy, creeping up his tight throat and he feels sick. 

The visions ambush him one after the other, Will dying, getting attacked, Will’s blood, so much blood and it’s Will’s. Red and bright and urgent. Screaming the truth. Screaming that Mike had failed. 

Mike can imagine the yelling, still feel the spores and ashes lodged in his throat and lungs, still feel the vines that had wrapped around him. The screams of his friends, the screams of his sister, of El, Will’s screams. 

He pulls his head down closer to his chest, hands folding over his ears sparing no gentleness in the motion. He doesn’t deserve the gentleness. He failed. He failed.

He failed and now Will’s here in the hospital, asleep, and everyone else is miserable waiting for him to wake him. 

Mike was supposed to protect him, he’s the paladin, he’s the one who’s supposed to keep everyone safe. And he failed. 

More emotion pushes against Mike’s throat and he gags. 

“M-Mike?” 

He almost missed the words in his overwhelmed state. Just a whisper, soft in volume yet rough. 

“Mike?”

And Mike makes the mistake of looking up through his tear stained expression, his hands hovering over his head as he makes direct eye contact with those hazel eyes, half-closed and duller than they should be. 

He failed. He failed. He failed. 

Will’s blinking slowly at him. Even in his barely conscious state, he looks worried, worried for Mike. But he shouldn’t, Mike doesn’t deserve Will’s concern. 

God, he’s always been so selfless and all Mike’s ever done is fail him. 

“Mike?” he whispers again, rolling over just slightly towards him. 

Mike opens his mouth, trying to push the words out, just say something, anything. Will, his mind screams, Will. 

And for a moment everything freezes, the dripping of the sink slows and the beeping disappears from his ears. For a moment it’s just Mike staring at Will’s eyes, reminding himself that he’s not dead, that he’s awake. There's a light in the hazel, warm and alive. 

But then everything comes rushing back and suddenly it's all worse than it ever was. His mind is screaming at him, his stomach is burning, and all he can see is Will’s blood, all he can hear is Will’s screaming.

He shoots up from the chair and darts out of the room, ignoring Will’s soft, disoriented calls for him.

He doesn’t make it far before his vision grows fuzzy and he collapses onto the floor, acid burning his throat. 

Someone else is calling to him, not Will, maybe a woman, it’s hard to tell. 

His hands clench on the smooth floor, shaking with the rest of his body, he tries to sit up, push his hands from the ground and he makes it to his knees. His hands fly to his stomach, clutching at his shirt as if that will somehow make the sick feeling go away. He leans forward, holding himself tightly as the acid climbs up his throat and he throws up. 

He failed. 

“Mike!” the woman calls, but Mike can still barely see, barely hear. 

He just sobs as arms grab him, hold him with a warmth he didn’t deserve. He wants to fight the warmth, fight it and go back to the pain, because he failed. He deserves it. 

“It's okay. I’ve got you.”

He knows it must be Joyce, it’s not the first time she’s used her soft reassurances on him before. As his mind continues to spiral he remembers when she’d bandaged a cut he got from his bike, holding him even as the alcohol stung his skinned knee. 

He leans further into her touch, eyes still shut tight. 

It’s not okay, but the way she says it makes him believe for a moment maybe it can be. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Mike doesn’t pass out, but he really wants to. He failed Will and now he can’t even look at him. He failed Will and now he’s stealing all the attention. Will just woke up and he’s alone all because Mike couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle his own failure. 

That’s when Mike knows. He knows he doesn’t deserve Will. He knows he’ll just keep failing him every time, keep hurting him. 

He sobs harder into Joyce’s arms.

New York City, New York, 1999

Mike can’t help the small gasp he lets out at seeing Will again. It’s not that he looks particularly special, or at least, any more special than Mike thinks he looks on a normal basis, but seeing him now, this close up and able to take in every mark on his face, every wisp of hair out of place, the way his lips part just barely in seeing Mike, it sucks the breath out of him. 

It lasts all but one second before the door is slammed in his face. 

Instead of reacting immediately with emotion like he is tempted to, Mike takes a deep breath and leans his ear to the door, listening for movement. Will’s still there, just breathing. 

Even though only a few inches of wood and paint separate them, the gap feels too wide. The gap Mike had created. 

He sighs and retreats from the door ready to leave. Of course Will would be mad, he had every right to be. Every right to slam the door in Mike’s face just like he did to Will. 

But then the door swings back open and Will is still standing there, moles unchanged and wisps of hair still just perfectly out of place. This time, his lips are closed tight and thinned.

“H-Hey,” Mike says uncertainly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

Will shifts awkwardly as his eyes meet Mike’s. “Sorry about that, I just…” he bites his lip, leaning on his heels. “Why are you here?”

Mike just blinks back at Will stupidly. Why was he here? Why did he think this was a good idea after not calling for three weeks after ten years of silence. When the gap of silence becomes too long and Will starts to close the door again, Mike can’t help but blurt out, “Merry Christmas!” 

The expression on Will’s face shifts to one of confusion, “Uh, you too, I guess. Is that all you wanted from me?”

Was it all Mike wanted? Not really, not when he wanted everything to do with Will. But he wasn’t here to be selfish, he was here to apologize, try to fix a mistake he’d made almost a decade ago. 

“No.”

“Oh, okay,” Will raises his eyebrows. “Then what do you want from me?”

The sentence feels like it should be sharp, bitter, but the way Will says it makes it soft as if he’s prepared to give Mike what he wants just so he can be left alone. 

“A-Are you alone?” Mike asks even though he already knows the answer. “Can I come in?”

Will’s face sours at this. “Seriously? You don’t call me for three weeks and then just randomly show up at my apartment?”

“I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry,” Mike tries. 

“You’re sorry?” Will’s voice sharp with virulence. "You said you'd call! I thought- I thought you wanted..." he swallows before continuing. “I didn’t want to see you, I didn’t want to hear from you, I didn’t want you back in my life, but I let you in anyway! And you- you…”

Mike takes a step back at this, his heart dropping at Will’s words, no longer soft but cutting. He knew he’d lost Will for good years ago, but at the diner, he’d thought… maybe he’d get another chance. But now he’s fucked things up even more.

“Will, I’m sorry. I-”

“What?” Will snaps. “You didn’t have time? The line was always busy? Or maybe it’s my fault, right? Maybe I should have called you.”

“Will-”

“Or maybe you’re just too busy with someone more important, right?” Will continues, tears dancing in the corners of his eyes. 

“No, listen, I should have called,” Mike tries desperately. “I know I should have.” He doesn’t even have time to feel embarrassed about crying in front of Will because he knows he’s about to lose him. Again. For good. “I’m sorry, I was just scared. Isn’t that why you left the diner the first time? You were scared?”

“No,” Will says angrily, “You don’t get to turn this on me! I’m the one who decides, it’s my choice whether or not I let you in, not the other way around! You're the one who hurt me.”

“I know, I know, okay? I know I fucked things up beyond repair. I know I failed you. I know it all. I’m not asking you to forgive me, I just want you to hear me out.”

Tears stream down Will’s face and he shuts his eyes. “I don’t want your excuses, Mike. I just want to be left alone.”

“Please…” Mike begs, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t deserve it, but please.”

Will wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “I think you should give up.”

Mike swallows back more tears to no avail as they continue dripping down his face. 

“Stop trying.”

Now when Mike swallows back the lump in his throat, it feels like a pill of his own creation, choking on his own medicine so to speak. 

“If- if that’s what you want.”

Will blinks at him. The anger falls from his voice, replaced with surrender and solemnity. “It wasn’t, but…”

“I understand.” He shuts his eyes tightly, waiting for the door to slam in his face. He knows he must look like an idiot just standing there in front of Will, tear stains on his cheeks so he finally opens his eyes. 

They catch on the mark on his neck, the one Mike hadn’t seen before now, covered by Will’s jacket when they were at the diner. He hasn't seen it in ten years and yet it looks just as fresh as when it had first appeared. 

Blood. It’s covered in blood. Will’s covered in blood. 

Mike stumbles backwards, nearly tripping on the doormat but catching himself. His heart races as his breathing gets heavier. 

“Mike!” Will’s hands are on his arms, steadying him. “Are you okay?”

Blinking up at Will, Mike’s eyes land back on the scar. There’s no blood, just a light gash he knows extends all the way down to the middle of his back. He takes a shaky breath. 

“Y- Your scar. I…”

“Hey, hey,” Will whispers, placing his hand gently over Mike’s chest. “Don’t look at that, look at me. Just breathe.”

Mike’s eyes hesitantly move from the mark back to Will’s hazel eyes as he allows himself to fall into their warmth. Of course even after the distance and the fighting, Will would understand exactly what was happening and what he needed to do. 

He can’t get the vision out of his head, the vision of Will collapsing in his arms, covered in blood. He sees him in the hospital, tubes everywhere, the gash wide. He failed him. He failed. 

Will grabs Mike’s hand and plays with his fingers before pressing them to Will’s wrist where he can feel his pulse. His grip is firm and his heart is steady, maybe slightly faster than normal, but that’s understandable given the circumstances. 

Will’s touch alone is almost enough to help Mike calm down, the heartbeat under his fingertips even more so, but still, Mike can’t help but panic. If not just because of the fear of seeing Will covered in blood then also because this might be his last time seeing Will ever, of feeling his heartbeat, touching him in any way.

“See?” Will mutters, grip tightening around Mike’s hand. “We’re alive.”

It’s so stupid, Mike knows, he hasn’t reacted like this in years, not since leaving Hawkins. He knows they’re both safe and that everything to do with the Upside Down has been over for more than a decade. Now all he’s doing is embarrassing himself in front of Will who doesn’t want anything to do with him and who’s helping him anyway because that’s just the kind of person he is. The same one Mike fell in love with. 

When Mike’s breathing slows slightly, heart beating just as fast, Will takes Mike’s hand and moves it away from his wrist. At first Mike thinks he’s going to drop it and close the door but instead he pulls it up to his neck and places it over the scar.

Mike just stares as his fingers fall over the healed skin, fragile and dry. Will's neck is cool, but his hand is warm and grounding and Mike is able to take a deep breath. 

Slowly, the blood seeps from Mike’s vision and all he can see is Will, alive and concerned and uninjured. Will in his pajamas with his hair just slightly out of place, but it's still the same Will Mike’s always known. 

“I’m alive,” Will whispers. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I- I promised to protect you…” Mike mutters back, shutting his eyes. 

“And you did. You saved me.” Will’s voice is as soft as the city’s snowfall, delicate but surely not long lasting. Slowly, Will’s hand slides off of Mike’s, leaving his hand to rest on the scar without the warmth of Will to ground him. 

He jerks his hand away awkwardly as Will continues to watch him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you do that- That was-” He still has to take a couple of deep breaths the shaking of his body starts to slow. 

“Mike, you’re okay,” Will assures him. “It still happens to me too.”

“I-” Mike starts.

The door across from them swings open and an old lady in cat pajamas and a night cap glares at them. “Excuse me, it’s nine o’clock on Christmas Eve, you’re waking up the whole apartment!”

Mike, who knows that even with their fighting they were being as quiet as possible, scoffs while Will looks embarrassed. 

“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth,” he says, moving past Mike to get to her. “I hope you’re having a good Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah, I was,” she grumbles, already heading back inside her apartment. “Until you interrupted my movie.” She slams the door. 

Taking another deep breath, Mike turns his eyes back to Will only to find him already staring. “I should- I should probably leave… But I, uh, I meant what I said. Merry Christmas.”

He turns to go as a hand lands on his shoulder, beckoning him back towards the door. “Wait,” Will says, lowering his hand. “I’m not going to make you leave. It’s snowing pretty hard and we… We should talk.”

“Really?” Mike’s eyes widen as he follows Will to the door. “You don’t have to, if it’s just because, like, you feel bad or something then-” he mumbles before Will interrupts him. 

“No, it’s not,” Will assures him, letting him through the door. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I was just surprised to see you after… well, I guess I just accepted you didn’t want to see me after not calling me and now you’re here and it’s just… confusing.”

“Well, I can explain,” Mike says quickly as Will leads him to the couch. He’s about to sit before his eyes take in the inside of the apartment and his legs immediately walk him over to the walls.

The windows are covered in plants and the walls are painted a soft yellow cover that catches the natural light outside well. The walls themselves are covered in paintings and posters, some Mike recognizes but most he does not. 

“Did you paint these?” he asks even though every painting has Will Byers written all over it, something in the way Will paints, the smoothness of his lines or the way he creates magic on a canvas. It's the same magic that attracted Mike to The Wizard’s Miracle in the first place, something in the cover had been familiar and even though the actual content of the book seemed a bit cliche, Mike bought it. 

Will seems a bit embarrassed by the question as his eyes follow where Mike points. “Yeah, some of them are older though. I refuse to get rid of them so I keep them hung up.”

“These are incredible,” Mike breathes in awe. “I mean, I was never an artist and I know it’s not really the same thing, but, God, I wish I could write like you paint.”

Will walks over. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the way you capture life and emotion in your art, I could stare at it for hours,” Mike can’t take his eyes off the paintings even to look at Will’s face. 

“Well,” Will says, clearly flustered and nodding towards the current painting Mike is fixated on, “That’s one of the ones I couldn’t sell.”

Mike turns to him in bewilderment before glancing back at the painting. It’s about the size of a standard sheet of paper but on a canvas and it depicts a knight wading through a shallow pool at night, surrounded by fireflies and various glowing flowers in the water. The night surrounding the knight makes the scene feel intimate even with only one subject, it feels like Mike has stepped into a scene he shouldn’t be seeing, like he’s eavesdropping on something unimaginably important. 

“No way, it’s beautiful,” Mike shakes his head. “I’d buy it.”

“Thanks, but-”

“How much?” Mike interrupts. 

“W- What?” Will stares at him in disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, how much?” Mike repeats, pulling out his wallet. His fingers brush the book in his pocket but he ignores it, for now at least. If Will’s serious about wanting to talk, maybe he’ll be able to take it out again even with its condemning contents.

“Oh, well, it wasn’t really for sale,” Will stammers. 

“It’s fine if you don’t want to sell it,” Mike says. “Or if you, uh, specifically don’t want to sell it to me.”

“No, that’s not…” Will tries, “You can have it if you seriously want it.”

“Okay,” Mike says, relieved. “How much? This has to be at least 300 right? I don’t really know how expensive art is if I’m being honest.”

“No, Mike, I mean, you can have it for free,” Will says. 

Mike just stares at Will, “I can’t- I can’t just take it. I want to buy it, seriously.”

“It’s okay, Mike,” Will says, biting his lip. “I want you to have it. Consider it a Christmas present.” He shrugs before taking it off the wall. “I can wrap it up and stuff before you leave.”

I want you to have it , rings it Mike’s ears. 

I want you

To have it. 

“Well, at least let me sort of repay you with this,” Mike offers, slipping the book from his pocket into his hand. “I know it’s not even close to being the same as an original painting, but I did promise to get you a copy.”

Will leans the painting thoughtfully on the ground before taking the book from Mike’s hands. His fingers brush against the cover with awe but his face reflects a different story, eyebrows creased and lips down turned slightly. “Oh, this is why you…” visited me unwarranted on Christmas Eve goes unsaid. “And I just yelled at you without warning," Will looks genuinely upset with himself when his eyes lift to meet Mike's. "I’m sorry.”

“Will, you should not be the one apologizing. You were completely right for saying the things you did.” No matter how much it hurt to hear the truth. “I deserve it, every bit of resentment you hold, every bit of anger and bitterness and hatred. I deserve it all.” 

Because at least Will’s hatred was still some sort of attention. At least Will’s resentment meant he hadn’t fully moved on, that he still thought about Mike even with indignation. 

“I don’t hate you, Mike. Bitter, maybe, but I could never hate you,” Will whispers.

Mike swallows back his emotions. He’s embarrassed himself enough in the past ten minutes.

Will turns his attention back to the book in his hands, flipping it over to scan the back. 

Mike bites his lip with anticipation as Will glances over the words. After a moment, he starts to open the book and Mike’s hit with a sudden realization of a very specific bit of incriminating evidence he never wanted Will to see. 

“Wait!” He rips the book out of Will’s hands and flips to the second page, promptly tearing it out and stuffing it in his pocket. “There.” He returns the book to Will who gives him a suspicious look. 

“What was that for?” he asks as he looks at the spot where the torn page should be. 

Please don’t recognize what page it’s supposed to be, Mike thinks as his thoughts stumble over an excuse. “Uh, I spilled some coffee on that page. Wanted to make sure you had a clean copy.”

“You spilled coffee on one single page? How does that even happen?” Will raises an eyebrow, finger following the crease of the rip. 

Mike’s mind races for another excuse. “It was just a couple drops. It didn’t leak through the entire book or anything.” 

“I see.” Will flips to the next page and onto the first chapter. “So, what’s it about?”

This is the part Mike kind of wanted to avoid and why he was reluctant to give Will a copy at first. It’s not that there’s anything bad in the book, but it’s a bit more telling than he’d like. 

“Well,” Mike starts, “It’s about us.” Will’s face scrunches up and Mike adds, “The party. It’s about the Upside Down and One and everything.”

He’s surprised when Will’s face lights up. “Really? What, did you give us all fake names and stuff? Did Owens even let you do this?”

Mike smiled at his enthusiasm. “I changed all the names so it’s not as obvious and played it off as fantasy. I didn’t think I was going to get it published first, but when the opportunity arose, I checked with Owens and he helped me with some of the editing.”

“What’s my name?” Will asks excitedly. 

“Will,” Mike admits, a bit sad to ruin his fun. 

“What? I don’t get a cool new name like… I don’t know Peter or something?” Will teases.

“Peter?” Mike asks. “In what world is Peter a cool name?”

Will shrugs, “Peter Parker, like Spiderman, I don’t know. Will’s so… basic.”

“I like it.” Mike feels his face burn red at the confession. “I mean, sure, it’s a little generic, which is why I kept it, but… yeah, it’s a nice name.”

Will stares at him for a moment, tinted cheeks highlighted by the city lights coming through the window. “Okay, so what’s your name? No offense but Mike’s a pretty basic name too.”

There’s a moment where Mike debates lying. Even as an adult he’s tried hard to stick to the party’s rule about honesty, but now Mike feels stuck. Finally, he decides Will’s going to find out anyway if he reads the book so there’s no point keeping it secret. 

“I didn’t actually… include myself in the book."

“What?” Will’s lips part in shock. "Why?"

“Well, it’s not like I really did anything anyway,” Mike shrugs. “You’re the main focus with everything to do with the Upside Down and the Mind Flayer and then there was El who was literally a superhero. Nancy and Max both got put under Vecna’s curse so they were important. Steve and Dustin with the Russians, plus your mom and Hopper. Then I needed Lucas for the romance with Max. There were already too many characters and really I wouldn’t have added anything to the story.” 

There was another reason Mike hadn’t included himself as a character, even on the side. Because what if he had and he was confronted with all the things he’s done as a teenager, how he’d treated El and how he’d ignored Will. How could he write about what he had done without the temptation to fix it in the form of lies? And surely people would read the story and hate him the most. 

It was easier to just leave him out. Then he could focus on Will. 

“I mean, the plot didn’t change at all,” Mike continues while Will gives him a weird look. 

“What do you mean? You- You found El and figured out about the Upside Down,” Will says as he sits on the couch, eyes locked onto Mike’s. “You saved me when I was under the Mind Flayer’s control and you helped figure out what was wrong with Billy. You literally saved me again in the Upside Down during the final battle!”

“Oh, well, I kind of also took that part out,” Mike admits shyly. “And a lot of it wasn’t just me. Dustin figured out a lot too.”

“Yeah, but not like you,” Will says softly, a disbelieving look in his eyes like he wants to pull away from the conversation but just can’t. “You were always the leader.”

See how you’re leading us here? You’re guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That’s what you do. 

That’s what holds this whole party together. I mean without heart…

Without heart, we’d all fall apart.

Mike takes a seat next to Will on the couch and heaves a sigh. “I still don’t know why you always thought so highly of me. I was an asshole as a teenager.” 

Will shifts in his seat and looks away, “Not to me.”

Mike scoffs. He has no idea why Will’s trying to spare his feelings. Mike knows. He knows he’s a terrible person and he knows he’s done nothing but fail Will time and time again. Done nothing but hurt him. “Especially to you."

“I mean…” Will finally admits, a sad smile on his face. “I don’t know, you weren’t really an asshole, not like other teens are. You were just…”

“Terrible for no reason?”

“Confusing,” Will finishes. 

Mike breathes out, “I mean, I was pretty confused at the time.”

Taking a deep breath, Will locks eyes with Mike again, all hazel and warm like somehow a reflection of every season. Crisp like the autumn leaves, yet warm like hot cocoa, soft like the rebirth of spring, and light like summer sun. Somehow his gaze was timeless, like they were somehow turning back the clock being here together, like they were kids again. 

The gaze felt endless and mortal all at once and suddenly all Mike could see was the light in sixteen year old Will’s eyes fade completely, the hazel lifeless. 

And again it is Mike who has to end a timeless thing as he looks away. 

“You’re here now,” Will says slowly. “And- And you told me you missed me…”

Mike feels like he’s under a spotlight, one he’s been running from his entire life. The deepest shadows of his mind, his deepest secrets, the one’s he’s kept so close to his chest, hiding under his heart so they can only be revealed when his heart fully breaks. 

He feels close now, choking on his feelings, choking on everything he’s ever held back. And the lights in Will’s eyes, no longer dull, are blinding with attention.

Everything in Mike screams avoid. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Avoid and keep safe. Keep miserable but at least things can stay simple. Because what is Mike if he isn't only a terrible person?  

Will doesn’t look away as he continues, “What happened?”

“What happened?” Mike repeats dumbly, not in disbelief but just because he can, because he has Will’s full attention and can’t help but abuse it like he’s always done. God, he’s never learned, never grown from his mistakes. He’s still the same fucking child hiding in the dark corner and shoving away anyone who’s ever shown him any bit of light. 

“Why did you push away so hard?” Will’s voice is watery, slow as if not to tip the spout too quickly and spill everything he has. Mike understands the feeling as he continues to choke on his own helplessness. “I know things weren’t good, but… Why did you end it without giving me a choice?”

Mike swallows away his fear, or at least tries to. It’s still all consuming, stained somewhere in his veins and arteries as it pumps to his ever beating heart. 

But no matter how hard this is going to be, any piece of Will he gets back, even the smallest crumb, even just one more goodbye forever or maybe one more Christmas, any bit of Will is absolutely worth it. 

“There’s a lot of reasons, really,” Mike starts, unable to keep staring in Will’s timeless eyes. He must stay mature, the adult he is who is able to control his mouth and keep his emotions in check. He can’t afford mistakes anymore, not after everything he’s done. “I knew I was an asshole and that I was hurting you.”

Will tries to interrupt but Mike stops him. “Just let me finish. Please.”

Slowly, Will nods. 

“I knew all that and I tried to make up for it. I thought we could just be best friends again like when we were younger,” Mike takes a breath before continuing to ramble softly. “But it was in the midst of the war and Hawkins was already split apart and everything was happening at once. And I thought maybe if I couldn’t show you how much I cared about you with words, I could show it to you by protecting you. I just wanted to protect you.” Mike feels the tears starting to slip down his cheeks. 

But Mike doesn’t stop, even when his voice cracks. “And I couldn’t even do that.” He looks away before his eyes can wander towards the scar on Will’s neck. Even after he got the stitches removed, the scar had been bright and obvious for a long time, a constant reminder of Mike’s failure. 

Will takes a shaky breath. “Mike, it was never your fault.”

“I-I should have been watching,” Mike continues. “I should have acted quicker, gotten you out of there faster.”

“You got me out of there alive,” Will says as he rests his hand on Mike’s knee.

The touch is subtle and yet enough for Mike to feel like he is completely melting bare, like all his shields are falling down and leaving him vulnerable against winter winds. Except Will isn’t like the winter winds, not harsh or cold, he’s warm and gentle and he’s taking Mike’s heart in his hands without even realizing it. He’s taking Mike’s heart in his hands and he’s keeping it safe instead of squeezing it like he should.

Mike doesn’t deserve Will. He never did.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Mike whispers. “That’s not even the big reason I pushed you away.”

Will’s eyebrows crease slightly as if willing him to continue, but keeping a wall up in fear. 

Mike remembers what he’d said before. I don’t want your excuses. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should just leave Will alone like he wanted. Take his painting and forever live in misery, falling headfirst into the art Will gifted him eternally and wishing things could be different. 

He could continue to live miserably without Will and Will could continue to live happily without him. All these years and he’s no less selfish. 

But isn’t that what you did all those years ago? Did you not leave Will because you thought you weren’t enough? And didn’t you end up hurting him more? Shouldn't Will be the one to decide?

Will is risking everything by letting Mike in. Mike understands, mostly, definitely not why he would, but he understands the struggles. And Mike can’t just leave every time things feel like they’re too much, it’s not all his choice. 

It’s Will’s. 

Though it’s a counterproductive effort, Mike wipes his present tears away and sucks in his breath. This is it, the biggest confession of them all.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore,” he half mutters, still refusing to look Will in his hot chocolate eyes. “I know that now, I know I was just a dumb kid who was scared and that it was all stupid anyway. I just… It took a really long time to accept that.”

Will’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘accept’ but he says nothing, giving a slight nod as if beckoning Mike to push on. 

“I thought that-” Mike chokes on his words for a second, crying resuming immediately. “I thought that if I pushed you away, maybe I wouldn’t… sully our friendship I guess. Because I thought that I was wrong, like, wrong for being alive and I didn’t want to… I mean, god, you’re perfect, you were always so perfect and I-” he chokes again.

Beside him, Will is frozen and a stab of panic hits Mike as he regains control of his voice. He has to finish this, no matter what happens. He has to say it. He can no longer avoid. 

“And I was a mistake.”

Sometimes, when you’re different, you feel like a mistake. 

“I thought there was something wrong with me for a very long time. And when I finally realized what that meant, things felt like they were already falling apart between us,” Mike looks away, unable to keep watching Will’s tense body as he just stares at Mike, not a hint of any emotion on his statue face. 

Every bit of Will’s expression sends shivers through Mike’s spine and he longs to shut his mouth and pretend like he didn’t say anything at all, but he’s sick of being a coward and he’s sick of keeping secrets from someone who was his best friend a very long time ago. 

No matter what fear shocks Mike now, whatever is going through Will’s mind, Will deserves the truth. He deserves everything and now he wants an explanation. 

Sometimes, it’s scary to open up like that. 

To say how y ou really feel. 

“And you had so much bad in your life, so much unfairness already, I just… I didn’t want to add to it. I didn’t want to ruin everything with my wrongness.”

Like… Like ripping off a band aid.

“And I know now it’s not… wrong . But some days it still feels that way.” Mike risks looking back at Will who is sporting the same guarded look as before, this time his lips are split just slightly, as if you could slide a small slip of paper through them. 

Mike knows he knows what he’s saying. Will knows exactly what Mike leaves implied because even now he remains a coward hidden behind a shield. 

See your coat of arms, here? It’s a heart.

The heart was never on the shield and always behind it, always to be protected before all others. 

“I thought I was still protecting you,” there’s no break in Mike’s tears as he continues. “But this time it wasn’t from monsters or One or the Upside Down, I thought you needed protecting from me.”

Something shifts in Will’s face as his eyes grow moist, tears gripping his lashes and turning the hazel of his irises into something metallic, iridescent. 

“So I pushed you away without explanation even though you didn’t deserve it. I pushed you away and still you came back. And… And it felt like it was getting worse every time, what I- what I felt until I couldn’t take it anymore. The guilt, the shame, I just…”

Mike makes eye contact with Will before taking a deep breath. 

“I wished I had never fallen in love with you.”

The tears lose their grasp on Will’s lashes as they fall asymmetrically down his face, sliding in an arc until reaching his chin. 

“Will, I’m sorry,” Mike tries, his own tears a mirror of his once best friend. “I’m so sorry.”

Still Will says nothing, just stares at Mike as the tears continue to flow down his face. He blinks slowly as they roll over each other, every time his eyes closed he looks even more tired.

For a moment, Mike just lets it be, just the two of them sitting on the couch silently, almost everything out in the open as tears roll down the sides of their face. 

But soon Mike can’t take the silence as he feels a panic crawl into his skin. “A-are you going to say anything?”

Slowly, Will shakes his head and looks away. 

Mike looks away too, knowing he’s officially ruined everything again. It takes everything in his power to keep his crying to silent tears as his eyes blur staring at the painting resting against the wall. 

Finally, Will rises without looking at Mike and heads for what is assumed to be his bedroom. 

Mike shoots up to follow, desperate for any sign of what Will’s thinking. “Will!”

Will reaches the door and starts to close it, but stops to look at Mike before it clicks completely shut. “I’m just- I need- Stay. Just stay.”

Just like that Mike’s face to face with white wood, paint slightly chipped where hands and fingernails have been too many times. 

Mike sinks to the floor and leans against the door, hoping Will can’t hear him. His tamed tears free themselves from his eyes and Mike pushes both his hands to his mouth to cover his sobs. His fingernails grip his skin tightly as he suffocates the noises of his sorrow. 

He doesn’t deserve to mourn something he chose to lose. 

Stay.

Just stay.

Will’s words echo through his head, staining his mind with his voice. But Mike can’t stay. He’s said everything he should have said ten years ago and he knows it’s far too late to make it up now. 

After a moment, he wipes the tears from his eyes and stands up, eyes falling to the painting on the floor. He’s not sure he should take it anymore, not sure Will wants him to have it, especially now that he knows what Mike would do with it. Hang it up and stare at it for hours and dream of a world where they could try again. 

Stay. 

Mike prepares to leave. 

Suddenly, the door to Will’s room clicks back open and he steps out. 

“Wait,” his voice is shaky yet mixed with a strange sort of determination. Mike turns to look at him, soft hazel eyes melting all of his innards, melting all of his shields. 

His heart burns with pain as he does what Will tells him and waits. 

Will steps forward, the tears he wasn’t bothered to wipe away clinging like pearls against his skin. He takes a deep breath, eyes closed before they lock onto Mike again. 

Timeless. That’s all Mike can use to describe his gaze. It’s the same set of eyes Mike found on that swing set, the same set of eyes he fell into when Will came back, the same set of eyes he broke that day at his doorstep. 

“Do you still love me?” 

Mike sucks back a breath as Will lets the question hang in the air as if attached to a mobile, spinning around and around their heads. 

Slowly, Mike swallows back his fear and regret. He swallows back the shame meant for a child, the guilt that keeps burning through his veins. His heart burns with a fiery pain. 

“Yes.” 

Will’s expression doesn’t change, but he still doesn’t break eye contact. 

Everything is happening in slow motion, well, actually, nothing is happening at all, not outside of Mike’s head. The temptation to flee is strong but Will’s staring at him with so much attention, he’s scared he’ll be burned by his gaze if he turns away. 

Will takes a tentative step forward. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike can’t help but whisper again. If he could remind Will of how sorry he is every day until he’s dead, he would. Even if that was all the interaction with Will he could get, he would be satisfied.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he continues to chant like a prayer while Will just keeps staring with those hazel eyes, warm and gentle and… “I’m s-”

Will pushes forward and captures Mike’s words with his lips. The push is gentle yet full of longing, desire. 

Mike wastes no time kissing back, no time to get caught on his thoughts pulling away from him like strings finally being cut, a marionette come free. He lifts his hand to Will’s cheek and his skin burns where he touches him. 

Will seems to lose all uncertainty as he pushes even closer, kissing harder and with even more passion than before. Their lips fit together as if they were crafted for one another and Will’s arms rise as he tangles his fingers behind Mike’s head, pushing them into his hair. 

Mike’s own hands curl carefully over Will’s cheeks, pinkies resting under his jawline, thumbs brushing against his forgotten tears as his fingertips continue to burn. 

His heart is on fire, all pain extinguished and something else taking over. 

It feels unreal, like he’s somehow dreaming and yet at the same time, it is the realest thing that’s ever happened to him. Because Will’s lips against Mike’s are steady and sure and more real than anything Mike knows. 

When they finally break apart, it is so Mike can take a breath. He wants to breathe in even more of Will, everything he missed out on, everything, everything, everything. Instead, he presses his forehead against Will’s and gives a content sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Will smiles, hands resting on Mike’s shoulders. “Shut up.”

“Sorry. I mean… yeah.” 

After a small laugh that sends a million more butterflies through Mike’s stomach, Will leans back and grabs both of Mike’s hands, squeezing them and sending more shocks through Mike’s veins. 

His heart is burning so brightly, it feels like he might die with love. 

“God, I love you so much,” he whispers, basking in Will’s light. “I wasted so much time.”

Will just squeezes his hand again, “It wasn’t just you. I mean, I was in love with you the whole time too. Since we were twelve, probably.”

“Twelve?” he asks softly. “How does a twelve year old even figure something like that out?”

Will just shrugged, “It was hard at first, but you made it so easy. Even after everything, loving you always felt so easy.”

“And you still do? Love me?” Mike can’t help but question. “After everything?”

Will presses another kiss to Mike’s lips and they get lost in each other for a moment before breaking away. "I love you."

Mike hesitates and he knows Will is able to sense it. But the lingering feel of inadequacy is back, the thought that this shouldn't happen, that Will shouldn't forgive Mike. "Will-"

"Mike," Will stops him, already knowing exactly what he was going to say. "Stop. This is my choice, okay? This is my decision."

Thinking about how lucky he is, Mike pushes forward to initiate another kiss, Will immediately falling into it.

They don’t feel like strangers anymore, not with Will’s timeless eyes and both of their endless love. Somehow they feel like the same teenagers they were, suffocating themselves in emotion. 

Will pulls Mike into a hug and he lets his body melt into it, head nuzzling into his shoulder and neck. He knows there’s still a scar there, but he also knows it doesn’t hurt anymore. Those days are long gone and they are safe in each other’s embrace. 

“We should go,” Mike finally whispers, reluctant to break the content silence. 

“Go where?”

Mike pulls away, keeping his arms resting above Will’s waist. “It’s Christmas, Will.” After Will gives him a puzzled look, Mike grabs his hand and pulls him to the door. “Just come on.”

"Wait," Will grabs the painting, keeping his hand locked in Mike's before turning back to him. "You can't forget this!"

Mike’s not even bothered by the cold air, the hand in Will’s burning as much as his heart is.

“Mike, I’m still in my PJs!” Will says as he lets himself get dragged through the street to Mike’s car.

When they reach the vehicle, Mike turns back to look at Will. Snow falls quietly around them, landing in Will’s hair and he reaches to brush it away. 

“You look cute,” Mike says as Will turns bright red. “Come on, Charlie’s going to kill me if we don’t get there soon.” 

It was in fact, not Charlie who Mike should have been worrying about. 

“What the actual fuck, Mike?” Nancy’s pacing all around the living room, glaring at Mike with more anger than he’s ever seen on her.

Jonathan flinches from the couch when she swears, stealing a glance at the kids. 

Charlie is in Mike’s arms, clinging to him so tightly as Mike wipes his son’s tears. 

“We thought you were fucking dead!” Nancy continues to pace. “And we had no way of contacting you and it’s snowing and we thought you died!” 

Charlie buries himself further into his dad’s arms and Mike feels an overwhelming sense of guilt at worrying them all. "I'm sorry," he wonders if he'll ever stop apologizing to people. 

“Where the fuck is the eggnog?” Nancy stops right in front of him, hands on her hips and she looks so much like their mother it’s uncanny and sends a chill down Mike’s spine. 

“The what?” he mutters dumbly. 

“The eggnog?” she stomps. “The one you were supposed to get three hours ago?”

“Oh, right,” Mike says as he releases Charlie from his grasp and stands up again. “Yeah, of course. Um, I don’t have the eggnog.” 

That seems to be the wrong choice as Nancy lets out a frustrated growl from the back of her throat. “What do you mean? Where the hell were you?” 

Mike turns red as he steps to the side to reveal Will behind him. 

“Will!” Charlie squeals before hugging him. 

“Hi Charlie,” Will says back.

Jonathan’s jaw drops as he stares at his brother. “Will? You came?”

“Well, I’m here right now, right?” 

“Y-yeah, but…” Jonathan glances at Mike who just about wants to die. There’s no way he’s letting him know what had happened, not if he wants to live. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Will shrugs, sending a small smile to Mike before looking away. “I want to spend it here. With all of you.”

Jonathan sends Mike another look and he feels himself turn ever redder. The look is definitely suspicious, but it’s tangled with something else, something almost like gratitude. 

“If- If that’s okay,” Will adds. 

Jonathan walks forward and pulls his brother into a tight hug. “Of course it’s okay.”

“Yeah!” Charlie exclaims. “You’re just in time for Christmas Eve gifts!” 

After opening the first gifts of the season and putting the three kids to bed, all sleeping in the twins’ room down the hall, all the adults start to finish wrapping presents to put under the tree. There’s already a good pile, but Jonathan and Nancy have a couple more for their two kids and Mike has a few more for Charlie. 

“Will, are you staying the night?” Jonathan asks as it nears one o’clock at night and they finally finish. 

Will steals a glance at Mike and Mike feels his heart stutter. “I mean, I know it’s kind of last minute, but yeah, I’d like to stay for Christmas.”

His brother smiles, “Of course, although you might have to sleep on the couch. Mike usually gets the air mattress.” 

Mike’s already blowing it up when he looks up and grins at Will. As if he’d let Will take the couch. Will just shakes his head fondly and turns back to Jonathan, “That’s fine.”

“Okay.” Jonathan hugs him. “Good night, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I am too.”

They share a smile before Jonathan joins Nancy in their room and closes the door. 

“Hmmm,” Will sits on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees while Mike finishes with the mattress. “This couch seems kind of uncomfortable, don’t you think?” He smirks at Mike. 

“Well, what can we possibly do about that?” Mike asks before grabbing both of Will’s arms and pulling him down so he lands on the air mattress, laughing. Mike flops down next to him, already wrapping them both up in blankets. “Better?”

Will smiles, eyes glittering with all the Christmas lights. “Better.”

Mike gave a satisfied huff before shifting to get comfortable, inching closer to Will’s warmth. 

There’s a pause in the atmosphere as they both face each other, a few inches in between them just so they can watch each other’s faces. Mike wants to reach out and brush the few strands of hair resting over Will’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to disrupt the scene. 

“You know,” he whispers, pulling a smidge closer. “This is kind of like a sleepover.” 

“Yeah?” Will grins. 

“Yeah. And you know what else?” 

“What?”

“I’m not that tired.”

Will laughs quietly, “You’re such a liar.”

“No I’m not! Friends don’t lie, Will.”

“Okay,” Will shifts forward slightly, eyes tracing over Mike’s face. “What about boyfriends?”

Mike lets out a surprised breath before closing his mouth with embarrassment. Without warning, he leans in and places a gentle kiss onto Will’s nose. “Especially not boyfriends.” Mike sits up so he’s leaning back against the couch’s side. “Come on, I want to talk.”

Will follows him, their sides now pressed firmly against each other. “Then let’s talk,” he whispers back. 

“Good because I want to know everything about you.”

“Me too,” Will admits, “I mean, about you.” 

“Then you can ask me anything.”

Will pauses as he ponders a question. “Okay, since we’ve established friends don’t lie, what was on that page you ripped out? I’m guessing there was no coffee stain.”

Mike blushes as Will’s confrontation, “I… Okay, maybe I lied once. But I had to, Will!”

“Oh, you had to?”

Sighing, Mike leaves Will’s warmth behind to find the folded piece of paper he’d left in his coat pocket. With one last glance towards what are probably the most embarrassing words he’d ever written in his life, he walks back towards Will and joins him on the mattress.

“Okay, remember that this was, like, five years ago,” Mike warns as he warily gives up the page. 

Will’s eyes scan it as his cheeks burn red. 

Mike knows exactly what he’s reading. He has those words memorized by now. 

Dedicated to the kindest and bravest cleric I know. 

Will turns back to him with wet eyes, “God, you’re so cheesy.”

Blushing, Mike stares right back. “Now you see why I had to lie. I-”

Will stops him with a kiss, sweet and gentle in the night yet full of emotion. Mike lets himself lean into it, his eyes fluttering closed so all of his senses can just scream Will.

It’s late so they leave the kiss at that and it’s Christmas Eve so they have to be careful not to wake up the kids. Pressed close together, fueling each other’s warmth, Mike wraps a blanket around both their shoulders. 

They talk for hours in the quiet night, only lit up by the tree in the corner and the moon watching in the windows. They talk and they talk and they talk, in delicate whispers and hissing laughter. They talk and for a moment Mike gets lost in Will’s timeless eyes again.

Like they are kids refusing to sleep, they talk. Like restless teens, they talk. Like adults who have missed so much of each other, they talk. 

They talk and their hearts burn in sync. They talk and everything is finally perfect. 

Chapter Text

A Week Later...

New Years Eve, New York, 1999

10

Charlie is jumping up and down on the couch having had way too much sugar for his little seven year old body. He’s screaming the countdown as his eyes stay glued to the television screen. 

9

Somewhere out there in the city, people are freezing their asses off waiting for the ball to drop and maybe one day they’ll take Charlie to see it too. They both know he wants to, but this year they're joining Jonathan and Nancy’s family even though it’s only been a week since they last saw each other. Inside is warm and the ball drop on Nancy's tiny screen is good enough. 

8

Nancy wraps an arm around her husband’s waist and pulls him closer. She swings around her glass of champagne as she joins the kids in their chant, taking a swig of liquid between every number. 

7

Jonathan isn’t looking at the TV like Nancy is. Instead, his eyes are glued on her, love and fondness seeping through as he pecks her cheek between the numbers. Although he’s taken more than a lifetime’s supply of photos of everyone just this one day, it now seems like he’s taking a mental image of her, memorizing everything. 

6

Allison is counting with her mouth full of a cookie she snatched from the table. Barbara is beside her, giggling as she watches her cousin jump on the couch. They’re almost louder than Charlie. Just almost. 

5

Mike pulls Will back behind the couch while everyone’s focused to the front. His smile is soft and there’s gold glitter smeared over his cheek from when they were painting the New Year's poster together. 

4

They haven’t told anyone yet, but are aware of Nancy and Jonathan’s suspicions. Both already know about Mike and Will’s reconnection, it won’t be long until they figure it out. A reporter and a photographer are about as observant as any two people can be. 

3

But right now, Will wants to save it just for the two of them. That’s why he lets Mike pull him slightly away where no one is watching. That’s why he lets Mike grip his hand as if he’ll disappear as soon as the ball drops. That’s why Will’s not even watching the ball but instead staring into Mike’s dark eyes. 

2

Mike’s eyes are full of golden light, full of brightness and life. His hand is warm and sends fireworks through Will’s skin. Will almost doesn’t want the ball to drop, just wants to stay here in 1999 with Mike forever. But he knows just because it’s a new year, doesn’t mean the moment will break. 

1

The moment doesn’t break as Mike leans in and meets Will’s lips. They don’t watch the ball drop, they don’t check to make sure no one is watching, they just kiss. 

The whole world could be on fire and they wouldn’t care. Everything that matters in this moment is here. Is Will’s.

“I love you,” he whispers as he pulls away from Mike’s face. 

Mike’s face breaks out in the biggest smiles, slight wrinkles tugging at his eyes. “I love you too. So much.”

Another year they are getting older and yet this time it doesn't feel like another year Will has lost. It feels like Will’s life is starting all over again, saying yes to Mike like he did over two decades ago on that swing set. 

He knows he’ll never regret saying yes to Mike. 

New Year’s Day, New York, 2000. 

They break apart completely soon after that when Charlie turns around and runs towards his dad, throwing himself into his arms. 

Mike leans forward to fully fold into the hug and Will can’t help but think it’s the most adorable thing. “Happy New Year!” 

“Happy New Year!” Charlie says back before turning to the second adult. “And you too, Will!”

“Yeah, you too,” Will just smiles. 

It feels like he can see the whole future ahead of him, a future he never imagined he could have. Not just one with Mike, but one with family, one where he got to choose his path and what he wanted. 

Everyone else exchanges ‘Happy New Years’ to each other as they hug and watch the reporters and crowds react on the news. 

“To a new millennium!” Nancy calls, taking another sip from her glass.

“A new millennium!” the other repeat, adults with their alcohol and kids with their apple juice. 

Jonathan shoots Will a knowing look when he sees him in the back with Mike and Will hoped his cheeks weren’t on fire. He felt like he was back in Hawkins as a teenager, his older brother constantly shooting him looks whenever Mike did anything good or bad. 

When things settle down a bit, Will watches as Mike gets the air mattress and a few pillows. The plan was always to stay over at Nancy and Jonathan’s, both of them expecting to do a fair amount of drinking. 

“Hey Will?”

Will looks up at his brother whose hands are full of dirty plates and glasses. “Yeah?”

“Care to help me clean up?”

Nodding, he joins his brother in the kitchen, knowing well that Jonathan was using Will’s kindness as an excuse to get him alone. “What is it?” he asks, cutting to the chase.

“I just… I wanted to check in with you,” he starts as he drops the dishes into the sink. “About Mike.”

“Oh,” Will mutters, his smile dropping just the slightest bit before he plasters it back onto his face. “What about Mike?”

“Is he being okay? Not being… I don’t know, mean?” Jonathan asks carefully. 

“You make him sound like a high school bully, Jonathan. Mike’s being fine.” More than fine, Will thinks but he’s not about to let his brother know that. 

Jonathan put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will, I know the situation is complicated with our families and our pasts, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to forgive him or anything.”

“I don’t feel like that,” Will assures him, unable to help feeling a bit offended. “Trust me, okay?”

“It’s just that he hurt you and I don’t want to see you hurt again,” Jonathan continues. “I know you’re obviously an adult, but I’m still your big brother and I want to be here for you.” 

“I know, but it’s okay, I promise.”

Will turns to look out into the living room where Mike is teaching Charlie how to blow up the mattress. He’s blowing his cheeks out like a fish to emphasize the motion and Charlie’s doing it back at him. Will can’t help the wide, toothy smile that appears on his face, unable to drop it as he turns back to his brother. 

“Oh.” Jonathan’s eyes go wide. “Oh no.”

Will’s face turns bright red as his smile drops. “Jonathan…” he warns. 

“Oh, God, no,” Jonathan continues to mutter. “You’re not… You can’t be...”

Burying his burning face in his hands, Will tries to get his brother to stop. “Jonathan.”

There’s a second of silence before Will feels another hand on his other shoulder. He looks up carefully into his brother’s caring eyes. He wears a soft smile, head tilted towards Will. 

“Are you happy?”

Will just stares at his brother before glancing back at Mike. “I… yeah, I am.”

Jonathan's face breaks into a genuine smile and he pulls Will into a hug. “Then I’m happy for you.”

And Will knows he is happy, the happiest he’s felt in a really long time. This life no longer feels like the life he was supposed to have, but the life he wants to have. A life with Mike. With Charlie.

All the possibilities are dancing in front of him, except they are no longer pieces of thread to be pulled away once he gets too close, but actually lines on the palms of his hands, leading him forward into the future. 

Will’s heart feels full, bright and warm and healed. He can’t wait for his new perfectly normal. 

A Month Later…

New York City, New York, 2000

It’s Will’s fifth time being in Mike’s apartment. He immediately spots his old painting on the wall, along with a new one he’s done recently. Charlie’s waiting for him on the couch and jumps up in greeting. 

“Will!” he runs over. “Did you finish it?”

From behind his back, Will pulls out a small canvas and hands it to the boy. “Yep, all done.”

Charlie stares at it, eyes wide in awe as they trace the image of Charlie dressed as a paladin slaying a mighty beast. “Woah, I look so cool!” 

After the kid had seen the painting of the knight Will had given Mike, he’d wanted a painting all of his own and unable to see no, Will promised to get one done in a couple weeks. 

“I hope this is what you wanted.”

“It’s perfect!” Charlie ran into Will’s arms and gave him a big hug. 

“Good. Where’s your dad?” Will asked, looking around the apartment and seeing no signs of Mike. 

“He’s still getting ready,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes with an uncanny familiarity. “He’s always slow.”

Will just smiles and takes a seat on the couch. “And you’re ready?”

Charlie joins him, “‘Course.”

They sit there in silence for a moment, not an awkward one, just one of surprising patience. Because tonight is going to be a happy night and Mike making them wait a few extra minutes only adds to what Will considers special. 

And it’s not a special night, not really. It’s a Thursday first of all because Will couldn’t get off work on Friday night, and it's the beginning of February which is the most boring month of them all. It’s no one’s birthday, or anniversary, not a holiday, and not even a celebration. It’s just another night and that’s what makes it so perfect. 

A night Will can have a million of and still knows every one will be unique. 

“Will?” Charlie asks. 

Will turns to him, “Yeah?”

“I think you make my dad really, really happy,” he whispers. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy. And I’m happy too.”

Face turning red with pride, Will smiles as he ruffles Charlie's hair, “I’m not too mean?” 

Charlie giggles, “Not if you buy me another milkshake.”

Rolling his eyes, Will answers, “We’ll see.”

At that moment, Mike bursts out of his room, buttoning the last couple buttons at the top of his blue dress shirt before making eye contact with Will. His mouth spreads into a wide smile as he walks over to the couch and kisses Will’s cheek in greeting. “Ready to go?”

“Ready,” Will answers, getting up to follow as Mike holds the door for him and Charlie. 

As the couple walked to Will’s car, Charlie runs ahead. “I call shotgun!” He pulls on the handle of the front seat but it stays locked.

Mike pushes him lightly to the side. “No, I’m sitting next to Will.”

“But I want to sit next to him!” Charlie pouts but when his dad shoots him a look, he relents and climbs into the back. “Can we at least listen to the Cure?”

Will slides into the driver’s seat, glancing over to Mike who rolls his eyes in amusement. “Only if it’s the one about the days of the week,” he says.

“Oh, you like the Cure now?” Will raises an eyebrow.

“I like that song,” Mike protests. “And maybe yours and Jonathan’s music has started to grow on me a little bit.”

I don’t care if Monday’s blue

Charlie immediately starts screaming the lyrics from the back seat and Will can’t help but join in. It only takes a couple lines before Mike surrenders to the music as well, joining in at the chorus. 

Saturday wait

And Sunday always comes too late

But Friday never hesitate

They make it to Sally’s right on time for their reservation and take the booth they’ve always taken. 

As they order the same meals they usually do, Charlie complains about his classmates and his teachers, Will rants about the tediousness of his new cover design, and Mike explains his most recent story idea. 

It feels warm, right, like Will could just stay in this moment forever or maybe a million moments exactly like it. Even though the diner doesn’t have the greatest food they’ve ever tasted, and John’s an asshole of a waiter, just being here feels right.  

The aching in Will’s heart has dulled almost completely, the damage sewn up with more than loose thread but binding rope. A rope not even the fates could could with golden scissors. For the first time in a while, Will feels his heart really beat. For the first time in a while, he can breathe. 

One Year Later...

New York City, New York, 2001

Will had fallen easily into his new normal. 

Beside him, he let Mike’s soft voice wash over him, his tone shifting with every character, every new bit of dialogue as he reads. Will’s sketchbook rests on his legs as he doodls a new design for the comic book they had started together. 

Every once in a while, in between page flips, Mike’s hand finds its way into Will’s hair, brushing it lightly, Will unable to do anything except lean into his touch, trying to bite his smile away as it grew. 

Eventually, Mike’s voice grows hazier and more distant, the page turning slow. Will turns to look at his half-dropped eyes squinting at the page through fatigue. 

“Go to sleep,” Will whispers, turning slightly to face him, keeping his sketchbook propped against his legs like an easel. “You don’t have to keep reading.”

Mike’s eyes look like they're being pulled by strings as they droop further down. “I’m almost done with the chapter. I’m barely tired.”

“Mike,” Will gave a soft laugh, plucking the book from his hands. “We can read more tomorrow night.” And the night after that and the night after that and forever even, because that’s what their life could be now: Will sketching next to his boyfriend while Mike reads or writes every night until eventually they got tired and went to bed. Sleeping next to each other just to wake up cuddled together to start another day. 

And Will didn’t mind the city anymore. It felt like it was supposed to feel like an exploration, and adventure now that he didn’t have to face it alone. Now that he gets to face it with his best friend, his boyfriend, the love of his life. Even normal was exciting, even the same routine day after day with Mike was all he could ever ask for. And now it's his. 

Mike gives a small hum, eyes blinking slowly before looking back at Will. He pauses before leaning in and giving Will a kiss. “Tomorrow.”

Hand reaching up to curl slightly under Mike’s jaw, fingers lightly brushing over Mike’s cheek, Will agreed. “‘Night, love.”

Mike smiled even as his eyes remained closed, his head falling to the pillow, still facing Will. “Good night.”

A few minutes pass and Mike’s breathing evens out, lips parting slightly as soft breaths float from them. The soft yellow glow of the lamp hits his skin like he was under a filter on one of Jonathan’s cameras. 

Unable to keep his eyes on his paper, he gives up and slides down next to Mike, turning fully on his side. He keeps the light on just so he can keep staring. He already has all Mike’s features memorized, repeated over and over again in his mind as well as his sketchbook and yet still Will feels it’s not enough. 

Is the freckle under his eye new? What about the slight wrinkle by his eyes? Has the bruise on his cheek gotten worse from when Charlie accidentally hit him with a baseball? Will wants to take it all in. 

Because somewhere in Mike’s face are all the years they missed. All the memories are hiding in his features, laced in his soft expressions. And somewhere in his million freckles Will swears increase every day are all the years they have to come. All the memories that are just around the corner. 

And it doesn’t matter if Mike is asleep, Will leans in and kisses his forehead anyway. Mike doesn’t stir, but Will swears he sees the tips of his lips turn upwards just slightly. 

Will yawns, eyes watering as they fade from Mike to darkness to Mike again. He smiles, content with the day, content with the night, and content with the promises for tomorrow. 

He smiles as his hand reaches for the lamp.

He smiles at Mike before his face falls into the darkness of the room. And even though not even when no one is there to see it, Will smiles anyway.

Two Years Later...

New York City, New York, 2002

The door flies open and not even a moment passes before Mike is running towards Will and pulling him into a hug. His coat is slightly damp with snow as it presses against Will, but neither of them care. Mike grins and even though Will has no idea why, he finds himself grinning too. 

Mike pulls away and grabs Will's cheeks eagerly, placing a short kiss on his lips before pulling away again.

"What?" Will laughs, leaning into Mike's touch.

The smile on Mike's face somehow widens and he's slightly breathless when he speaks, as if he's just run a long way. "We did it."

Will's jaw drops as he stares at Mike. "Holy shit. We did it?"

Nodding eagerly, Mike shakes Will lightly in excitement. "They liked it! They're going to print it!" And all of a sudden he's kissing Will again except it's slower and Will is able to kiss back. 

And Will still feels like he's in shock. After almost two years of working on their comic and multiple publishers later, finally they aren't getting rejected. Their story is going to be published and it feels absolutely unreal. 

Breaking apart, Will laughs again, this time in pure disbelief. "I can't believe it."

"I got the call on my way home," Mike recounts. "And as soon as I realized what it meant, I ran to tell you as fast as possible!"

"Oh, so that's why you look so frazzled," Will says, raking a hand through Mike's snow-laden hair. 

"Frazzled?" Mike scoffs with amusement. "What? I don't look good soaked and out of breath?"

"Not particularly," Will answers fondly, though they both know he's absolutely lying and thinks Mike looks beautiful any time. His hand moves down the side of Mike's head to rest against his jaw. 

"So hypothetically not a great look for a really important day?" Mike asks. "Like, obviously this is an important day, we're getting our comic published, but like, if it became more important somehow then I wouldn't be good enough looking for it?"

"What?" Will laughs, completely lost by Mike's rambling. "What are you saying?"

Mike doesn't answer, just staring at Will with a soft smile and a head tilted towards his hand. Pure adoration written all over his face and Will can't help when his cheeks still flush, even two years after getting together. Because when Mike looks at him like this... well, Will isn't sure there's words to explain how he feels. 

After Mike still doesn't answer, Will's face falls slightly. "Mike?"

Breaking out of whatever trance he was in, Mike's hand falls over the hand Will still has laying on his cheek. He pulls it away gently, taking his other hand and pulling them both to his chest. "Will..."

Will tilts his head slightly. "Yeah?"

A deep breath and a squeeze of his hands and slowly Mike's opening his mouth again. "Will you marry me?"

It feels like all the air has been knocked out of Will as those words hit him. Here in their small apartment on a random Tuesday, the snow swirling around in the night. Mike is asking here. In their home. Here. 

And it feels beyond perfect. It feels so Mike and it seems so Will and it's even more than Will could have even hoped. 

Tears press against his eyes, mirroring Mike's own. A second passes, not tense or awkward or anything. It's warm, it's bright, and it's obvious what choice Will is going to make. Because now Will is in control of his life and he gets the things he wants and he gets to be happy. 

And even though gay marriage isn't legalized in New York, it means all the same to Will. They'll figure it out. Together. 

"Of course I'll marry you." He pushes forward and wraps Mike into a tight hug, head resting on his shoulder. 

"Yeah?" Mike's voice cracks slightly as his head falls against Will's.

"Yeah."

And Will just continues to melt with love. 

Ten Years Later... 

Hawkins, Indiana, 2010

“Mike!” Will laughs as he brushes through his black hair. “How did you manage to get flour in your hair?”

“What? There’s flour in my hair?” he looks up at Will’s hands before his own rise up to his head. 

“Yeah, what were you doing? Throwing it around like confetti?” Will drops his hand and takes a look at the rest of his appearance, his blue snowflake patterned apron covered with even more flour, somehow also coating his hands and arms. 

Mike scoffs with amusement. “I was just trying to finish these sugar cookies. I didn’t notice anything.” He looks down at his apron and groans at the mess. 

“Mike, why are you making more things? You’ve already made everyone dinner, plus the rolls, and didn’t you make a cake too?”

“A cake?” Mike blinks at him. 

And then the smell of smoke hits both their noses and chaos ensues.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Mike runs over to the oven, yanking the door open to reveal a burning cake. With a cough, he slips an oven mitt on and pulls the now almost completely black cake out before throwing it onto the stove.

And then suddenly the fire alarms are blaring and people start yelling from around the house. Someone bursts into the kitchen and turns panicked eyes onto the two of them, smoke surrounding the entire room. 

“Are you okay?” Will’s mom asks as she makes her way over to the oven, using her hands to wave away any smoke and pulling the neckline of her shirt up to cover her nose. 

“We’re fine,” Will assures her just as Mike yells to the rest of the people in the house. 

“It’s just smoke! There’s no fire!” 

“Yeah, Mike burnt the cake!” Will adds as Mike glares at him. 

Hopper’s head pokes out from behind the doorway, a direct stare at Mike as he takes in the situation. “You almost burnt down the kitchen, Wheeler?”

“What? No! There was no actual danger,” Mike counters. “Everything is fine. The cake is just a little…” He takes another look at the disaster on the stove. “Inedible.”

“And why do we need a cake?” Hopper asks looking around the room. “And what’s all over the kitchen?"

Will smiles and brushes some of the flour off Mike's chest. “He was trying to make cookies."

Mike shoots him an unamused glare as the fire alarms shut off. “I just thought since there’s a lot of people here, maybe there wasn't enough food or sweets so I just… I asked Will to use your kitchen first. He’s the one that said it was okay.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would burn anything.” Will rests his arms on Mike’s shoulder and leans his chin against them while Mike just crosses his arms and lets him. 

“Oh, Mike, honey. You don’t need to make anything else. You’ve already done so much,” Will’s mom says. 

Will watches Mike blush. “I mean, you’re letting us stay here the whole Christmas break, it’s the least I could do.”

“What? Not burn the kitchen down?” Hopper asks and Will just snorts, burying his face into his arms still resting against Mike. 

“Jim!” she scolds before turning back to Mike. “You both and Charlie are obviously welcome any time. I’m just so glad you decided to visit! I know Hawkins isn’t as exciting as New York.”

“No, but it does have its quirks,” Will says.

The first time Will and Mike had returned to Hawkins together was about nine years ago after Mike had admitted never really showing Charlie around beyond his parents’ house. And yeah, maybe the middle of Indiana wasn’t as exciting as the city, but to an eight year old? They could find fun in almost anything. 

Plus, it helped that Hawkins had become somewhat of a tourist attraction after everything that had happened. No one outside the original party knew the truth of course, but there were so many conspiracy theories associated with the place, it had acquired a bit of fame. 

But even better than the tourism boost and the stupid little kiosks with their snow globes of a broken Hawkins and T-shirts with pictures of the lab, was the Palace Arcade which was somehow able to stay open after all that time. 

Will’s pretty sure that’s where Charlie, Ally, and Barbara are now, or somewhere else. They promised to be back before ten so they’re expecting them any minute. 

The kids, well, practically adults now at seventeen, managed to get back at exactly 9:59. All the family, Joyce, Hopper, El, Nancy, Jonathan, Charlie, the twins, and of course Mike and Will, are now sitting in front of the fire. Mike had cleaned up the kitchen and himself and now the sugar cookies are being passed around between them and Will has a mug of hot chocolate with way too much sugar and is leaning against his husband on the couch. 

And as they passed around their one Christmas Eve gifts that everyone gets and as Barbara complains about being too old to receive PJs again even though it's been tradition every year, as Charlie holds up his matching pair and laughs, and as the fire crackles and the room is filled with warmth and as Mike presses even closer to Will, arm wrapped around him, Will remembers how lucky he is to have everything he’s ever wanted. 

After everything he’s been through, not even sure he would ever make it past his teenage years, now he is here, surrounded by family with his husband who is Mike and their kid who’s barely even a kid anymore. 

Sometimes things do work out for Will Byers. 

Now that the kids are older, they don’t have to get up as early for Christmas presents. This year they are allowed to eat a nice eggo breakfast first per El’s request and then they sit around the tree around 11:30.

Getting gifts as an adult is usually a lot less fun as when you’re a kid, less surprise and less anticipation to play with your toys after, and yet Will feels excited anyway. 

He gets a new easel from his mom after he broke his working on a canvas that was much too large and then a set of much smaller canvases from his dad. Nancy and Jonathan pitch in to get him and Mike the new coffee machine they’ve been asking for and El gives him a collection of artsy souvenirs from the few places she’s visited. 

Mike leans over and whispers in his ear while Barbara is opening a bag he knows is filled with new socks. “I want to give you your present later. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Will whispers back before giving him a kiss on the cheek. He wasn’t really sure what Mike had to give him especially after ten years of being together. Will had hardly known what to give Mike, settling on a set of fantasy books and hand painting each of them personalized covers. 

Suddenly, there’s a gift being shoved into his arms and Charlie’s looking at him with an eager smile. “This is for you, dad.”

Will grins back as he takes the gift. Even after years, the word makes his heart flutter. Charlie had accepted him so easily into his life and Will still can’t believe his luck that he got to be in the life of such an amazing person. 

He unties the ribbon carefully, never one to rush gift unwrapping opposed to Mike who tended to destroy even the neatest looking wrapping jobs and who had once even ripped part of a present with his impatience. 

But Will always took his time, appreciating the effort put into the presentation and savoring the slow reveal. As he lifted the paper away, his fingers slid against something smooth and cool. He carefully removed it, letting the paper and ribbon fall to the ground beside him. 

His breath catching, Will holds it up. It’s a beautiful ceramic vase, carefully painted with glaze, yellow at the top dipping into blue like a sunset. Will knows Charlie had been taking a pottery class in school and that he had been really enjoying it and yet Will can’t help but ask, “Did you make this?”

“Yeah,” Charlie answers. “I thought we could use it for new plants since you’re always killing ours.”

“Hey,” Will laughs. “I’ve gotten better.” Both he and Mike give Will a skeptical look and even El snorts from her spot beside Hopper. “I love it, thank you.”

He opens his arms for Charlie to fall into. Will had tried to get him into art a couple times, not wanting to push anything on him, but showing him how to draw and paint. Charlie had always seemed fairly interested, but never seemed to find the right medium. 

When Charlie had first made a pinch pot back in the sixth grade, the widest smile on his face as he held up the little bowl covered in fingerprints, Will knew if he was a creator in anything, it was in ceramics. 

Will can only hope that Charlie liked the pottery wheel Will’s hiding wrapped behind the tree. He bought it second hand and although it’s not the most expensive wheel, he’s been guaranteed of its reliability. 

They finish presents soon after that and it's not until later in their room that night that Will remembers Mike’s promise to give him his later. 

“Okay,” Mike says, seeming to find whatever he was looking for hidden in the room. “Close your eyes.”

Will places his hands in his lap from where he’s sitting on the bed. “Seriously? You didn’t wrap it?”

“Hey, I was kind of busy burning a cake.”

“Oh, right,” Will laughs.

He feels Mike’s hands take his as he pulls them out, face up and ready to receive whatever it is Mike needed them to be alone for. He hears him take a deep breath. 

There’s a slight jingling sound before something is dropped into Will’s hands. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Will stares at the keys in his hands before looking up at Mike confused. Mike’s biting his lip as if waiting for Will to say something. “Keys?”

“They’re metaphorical,” Mike says. “Because you’ve completely unlocked my heart.” He smirks as Will looks down at the keys again, not sure what to think. 

“Oh, I-”

Mike grabs both his hands as the keys stay between them, “Will, I’m joking. They’re the keys to your new art studio.” 

Will’s mouth drops open as he stares at Mike. “My what? How?”

“Don’t worry,” Mike says, “I’ve been saving up for a really long time. It’s not, like, the biggest place ever, but I know you’re kind of miserable doing art in our crowded apartment and you have so many paintings up everywhere. And don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love having your art displayed, but I thought you might want the space.” 

Will continues to stare, mouth unable to form any words as he processes everything Mike is saying. 

“Is- Is it okay?” Mike asks. “I know it was kind of a big decision and I probably should have consulted you about it first, but I wanted it to be a surprise and I-”

Will stops him with a kiss before slipping completely into his arms. “God, Mike. You’re the worst,” he mutters from where his lips meet Mike’s shoulder as tears press against his eyes. 

Mike chuckles, “So you like it or…”

“Mike,” Will pulls out of his embrace. “I love it. I love you!” He kisses him again just because he can’t. “I can’t believe… I can’t believe you did this for me.” He stares at the keys again. 

“Of course,” Mike responds immediately. “Anything for you.”

Will rolls his eyes fondly, “That was almost as bad as your key metaphor.”

“Yeah, but it’s true though,” Mike pokes him lightly. “I- I’m really glad you like it, Will. I’m glad you're happy.”

“Of course I’m happy,” and now Will’s smiling so wide it hurts. “How could I not be?”

They share a moment like that, one they don’t get often in their busy lives. Just a moment the two of them in the quiet, lost in each other’s eyes, a million feelings laid out between them. Feelings that are no longer hidden, woven into intricate traps and messy webs, but clear ones bridging everything in their lives together. 

“I love you,” Will says. “I love you.” He can never say it enough.

“I love you too,” Mike whispers back, taking both of Will’s hands and squeezing them. 

And Will has no doubts in his mind that his life is anything but perfect in every way.