Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was raining again—because of course it was. Hawkins never did anything halfway, not even October.
Will Byers crouched on the edge of the old clock tower, soaked to the bone, watching the flickering neon lights of Main Street below blur in the downpour. His mask stuck to his face, the fabric cold and clingy against his skin. His knuckles ached from the last hit he’d thrown.

Somewhere behind the buildings, a police siren wailed.
He should go.
But he stayed.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Mike.

Earlier that day, Will had sat two feet from Mike Wheeler in the high school cafeteria. Mike was laughing about something Dustin had said, hair a mess, hands moving as he talked, the way they always did when he was excited.

Will had barely heard the words. His eyes had been fixed on the bruise just below Mike’s jaw—faint, yellowing, but still there.

He knew exactly where it came from. A mugging gone wrong on Cherry Street.
Will had gotten there too late.

He’d webbed the guy to a dumpster and left before the cops arrived, but not before he saw Mike sitting on the pavement, shaken and bleeding from his lip.

Will wanted to throw up.

Now, perched above the streetlights, suit clinging to his skin like a second (unwanted) layer of responsibility, Will clenched his fists.
No matter how fast he moved, how many guys he webbed up, it was never enough. Hawkins wasn’t New York, but it had its share of creeps—especially now, with the weird uptick in crime. Something was coming. He could feel it.

And Mike had no idea.
About any of it.

He thought Will was just his best friend—just the quiet kid who liked art and D&D and got sick a lot.
Not the one who fought crime every night and came home limping, hiding blood under his hoodie sleeves.
Not the one who saw him every day and wanted to say, I’d die to protect you, but couldn’t.
Because Will Byers had secrets. And they weren’t safe ones.

⸻

He swung home late. Way too late. Slipped through his bedroom window and peeled off the mask, fingers shaking as he dropped it onto the floor. His reflection in the mirror looked like hell—dark eyes, wet hair, a gash on his side he hadn’t noticed until the adrenaline wore off.

He grabbed a hoodie from the floor and pulled it on.
Collapsed onto his bed.
His phone buzzed.

Mike:
hey are you okay? you weren’t in history again. you sick or something?

Will stared at the screen, heart sinking.
He typed and deleted a reply twice.

Will:
yeah. just tired. rain makes my migraines worse.

Mike:
sorry. let me know if you need anything. i’ll bring notes tomorrow.

Will’s throat tightened. He wanted to say I need you to stop walking home alone or I need you to know I’m the one keeping you safe.
But he didn’t.
Instead he just typed:

Will:
thanks. you’re the best.

And he meant it.
Even if Mike never knew.

⸻

Meanwhile, across town, someone else was watching.
A figure in a long black coat, standing just beyond the reach of the streetlamps, eyes fixed on the water tower.

They’d seen the Spider again.
They were getting closer.

Soon, it wouldn’t just be Will’s secret on the line.
It would be everything—and everyone—he cared about.

Chapter Text

Will didn’t sleep.

He tried. He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling while the wind rattled the windowpanes. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mike—not the real Mike, not the one who smiled too big and tripped over his own feet when he got excited—but a version of him bleeding in the dark, asking for help Will couldn’t give fast enough.

So he got up before dawn and swung a patrol. Just a quick one, he told himself. Just to clear his head. Just to breathe.

But even after webbing up a car thief and limping away from a near miss with a crowbar, he didn’t feel better. He felt worse.

At school, Will sat at his locker with his sketchbook open but untouched. The hallway buzzed with noise—sneakers squeaking on linoleum, lockers slamming, someone blasting Blondie from their headphones two rows over. Will barely noticed.

“Hey, zombie-boy.”
Dustin plopped down beside him, already mid-chew on a granola bar. “You planning to blink anytime soon or just ascend to a new plane of exhaustion?”

Will forced a weak smile. “Didn’t sleep great.”

“You never sleep great,” Lucas said, joining them with his basketball tucked under one arm. “You’re starting to look like one of those vampire kids from that Anne Rice book Max made us read.”

“I’m fine,” Will muttered, flipping a page in his sketchbook to avoid eye contact.

“You say that like it means anything,” Dustin said, but gently. “Seriously, man. You’ve been… off lately. And not in the I-just-got-back-from-the-Upside-Down kind of way. Like—”

“I’m just tired,” Will said. He hoped that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

“Guys,” Mike’s voice cut through the noise as he approached, “give him a break.”

Will glanced up—and of course he looked perfect. Mike, in his layered flannel and worn-down Converses, hair a little messy, eyes sharp and steady. The kind of boy who could walk into a room and make Will forget how to breathe.

“He said he’s fine,” Mike continued, dropping his bag next to Will and sitting down like he belonged there. “Maybe we should let him be.”

Dustin exchanged a glance with Lucas but didn’t push it. “Sure. Whatever. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Once they were gone, Mike leaned in a little. “You really okay?”

Will hesitated. “Yeah. Just… a long night.”

Mike studied him. His brow furrowed in that way that meant he didn’t believe a single word but didn’t want to push too hard. “I brought you something.”

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a folded paper bag. “Double chocolate chip muffin. From the good bakery. You skipped breakfast yesterday, and I know you won’t admit it when you’re not eating.”

Will blinked. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.”

Silence.
Will looked down at the muffin like it might explode. His throat was too tight to say thank you. So he just nodded.

Third period was History, and Will tried to focus, but his Spider-sense had been twitching all morning—not full-blown danger, just a low buzz in the back of his head, like the city was holding its breath.

He kept his eyes on the whiteboard, but every few minutes, his gaze drifted sideways. To Mike. Who was taking notes with his pencil wedged between his fingers the wrong way. Who kept glancing at Will like he knew something was wrong.

Will hated this.
He hated lying.
But more than that, he hated the thought of Mike getting hurt because of him.

After school, the group split off—Lucas to practice, Dustin to help his mom with something—and it was just Mike and Will walking home, like old times.

The air was cold, clouds hanging low. Will shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, hoping Mike couldn’t see how bad they were shaking.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Mike asked suddenly.

Will tensed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t play dumb. You’ve been weird for weeks. You flinch every time someone touches you. You barely talk in class. And yesterday you looked like you hadn’t eaten in two days.”

Will said nothing.

“And the bruise on your wrist?” Mike added, voice tight. “That wasn’t from tripping. I saw it.”

Will stopped walking.

“I’m not trying to pry,” Mike said quickly. “I’m just—I care, okay? And it’s not just because you’re my best friend. It’s—”
He stopped himself, biting his lip. “I just want to know you’re safe.”

Will swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I have to be,” Will snapped, then winced at his own voice. Too sharp. Too raw.

Mike blinked, stunned by the sudden bite. “What does that even mean?”

Will opened his mouth—and then froze.

His Spider-sense spiked. A sudden pulse. Urgent.

Something was wrong. Nearby.

“I have to go,” he said, already backing away.

“What? Wait, Will—”

“Just—I’ll talk to you later. I promise.”

And then he turned and ran. Behind a fence, around the corner, down an alley—and up. Up the fire escape, mask pulled from his pocket, suit already under his clothes.

By the time he hit the rooftop, Will Byers was gone.
Only Spider-Man remained.

The rooftops blurred beneath him as Will swung, muscles burning, wind howling in his ears. The city pulsed with something wrong—he could feel it in the rhythm of the air, in the unnatural stillness between every thud of his heart.

East side. That alley near the gas station. Something’s happening there.

He landed hard on the edge of a building, crouching low, eyes scanning the street below. A delivery truck was overturned, smashed into a lamppost, sparks flickering from its broken headlights. Glass everywhere. Smoke rising. And in the center of the chaos—

A figure.

Tall. Heavy. Wearing body armor like patched-together military gear, matte black, with a red symbol scrawled across the chest: a crude spider. Mocking.

Will’s stomach turned.

Another copycat? No. This one feels different. Trained.

The guy turned—fast—and launched a metal baton at the nearest store window. The glass shattered, triggering alarms.

Will moved without thinking.

He dropped from the rooftop, shooting two webs mid-fall—one to swing, one to yank the baton out of the air. It clattered harmlessly to the ground. The man turned with a snarl just as Will landed in front of him.

“Spider-Man,” the guy growled.

Will braced himself. “You picked the wrong town.”

“On the contrary,” the man said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Then he charged.

The fight was brutal. No flair, no banter. Just fists, elbows, dodges. Will ducked a punch, kicked the guy back, webbed his shoulder to a wall—only for the man to tear free like it was nothing.

Every hit Will landed, he took two in return.

His body was already screaming from patrol the night before, but he pushed through it. He had to. If this guy got loose downtown, someone could die.

Someone like Mike.

The thought hit Will mid-swing—a half-second distraction—and the man clipped him across the face. Will hit the ground hard, rolling, ears ringing. His mask was torn across the cheek. Blood.

Get up. Get up, get up, get up—

Then—a voice.

“HEY!”

Will’s heart dropped.

No. No no no.

Mike Wheeler stood in the alley entrance, panting, wide-eyed, holding a broken bike handle like a bat.

“Get away from him!”

The guy turned. Will’s blood ran cold.

He didn’t think. He moved.

Webbed the guy’s feet. Shot forward. Tackled him with everything he had, away from Mike. They crashed into a pile of trash cans and Will used the momentum to web the guy’s wrists to a pipe, pinning him temporarily.

“Run!” Will shouted, voice raw and distorted by the mask. “Get out of here!”

Mike didn’t move.

“I said GO!”

That did it. Mike stumbled backward, then turned and ran.

Will watched him disappear down the alley—safe, for now—before turning back just as the guy tore free again.

It took five more minutes to bring him down. Will had to lure him into a construction site, drop a full bag of cement mix on his head, and web every limb in three layers just to make it stick.

By the time the sirens started closing in, Will could barely stand. He left the guy tangled like a bug in a trap and slipped away into the shadows.

Later, Will crawled back through his window. Collapsed to the floor. He peeled the mask off and stared at the blood smeared on his palm.

Mike had seen him.

Not his face. Not the truth. But close.

Too close.

Meanwhile, blocks away, Mike sat on the curb outside his house, bike ditched on the lawn, hands still trembling from the adrenaline. He replayed the alley over and over—the fight, the blur of motion, the masked figure who stepped in front of him like a shield.

He hadn’t cared much about Spider-Man before. Hawkins’ own vigilante, sure—cool, whatever. Just another headline.
But now?

Now all he could think about was the way that guy had moved. The way he’d shouted at Mike to run—not scared, but worried. Protective.

And that voice.
Shaky, strained, but full of something real. Something that sounded like desperation.

Mike’s chest felt weird. Not in a bad way. More like… butterflies having a panic attack.

He pulled out his phone and typed:

Mike (unsent):
Spider-Man saved my life.

He stared at the screen. Deleted it.

Mike (unsent):
Do you think he’s okay?

Delete.

Mike (unsent):
He looked hurt.

Finally, he just sat there with the phone in his hand and whispered into the night:
“Who are you?”

The sky didn’t answer. But Mike’s heart did—loud, confused, and maybe a little too eager.

And he didn’t know what it meant yet.
But suddenly, he kind of wanted to see Spider-Man again.

Chapter Text

Mike Wheeler was glowing.

Not literally, but close. He walked into Hawkins High like he’d just stepped off the cover of a comic book—head up, smile twitching at the corners, one hand buried in the pocket of his hoodie, the other gripping his sketchbook tighter than usual.

And of course, Max noticed first.

“You’re acting weird,” she said flatly, falling into step beside him. “Did you finally beat that level in Zelda, or did El text you back for once?”

“I broke up with El like two months ago,” Mike muttered.

“Right,” she said, unconvinced. “So what’s with the stupid smile?”

Mike didn’t answer—because Dustin and Lucas were waiting by the lockers, and the second he reached them, he had to say something.

“Spider-Man saved my life last night.”

The words burst out before he could stop them. And yeah, okay, maybe he wanted the drama. Just a little.

Dustin choked on his Capri Sun. “What?”

Lucas blinked. “Like… the Spider-Man? Hoodie, weird voice, never takes interviews?”

“He stopped a guy who was about to straight-up kill me,” Mike said, pacing a little as his voice rose. “He just showed up, like—boom, out of nowhere, webbed him to the wall, told me to run—”

“You saw him?” Max asked, brows lifting. “Like, up close?”

Mike nodded, completely unaware of how animated he looked. “Yeah. He had this rip in his mask, right across the cheek. There was blood, but he still fought like—I don’t know, like he had to win. Like he didn’t care how hurt he was.”

Dustin whistled. “Okay, that’s actually kind of badass.”

“I never got it before,” Mike admitted. “Why everyone’s so obsessed with him. But now? I get it. He saved my life, and I didn’t even say thank you.”

“Aw,” Max deadpanned. “You’re in love.”

Mike didn’t even argue.

That’s when Will walked up.

He looked tired—hoodie slightly wrinkled, one sleeve pulled down too far, like he was trying to hide something. His eyes were shadowed, and he moved a little stiffly, but he smiled when he reached them. Quiet. Observant.

“What’s all the fuss?” Will asked.

And Mike turned to him, all bright-eyed and flushed, and said:
“Spider-Man saved my life last night.”

Will blinked. “He… what?”

“There was this guy—huge, military-type, wrecked a truck — and Spider-Man just tore into him. It was insane.” Mike talked with his hands, practically vibrating. “And he told me to run. Like he was trying to protect me. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Will’s face went red. Not just pink—red. Full-on cheeks-on-fire, ears-burning red.

He laughed awkwardly. “That’s, uh… cool.”

“Cool?” Dustin echoed. “Dude, he’s your favorite. You sketch him constantly.”

Will glanced away. “Yeah, I just—I didn’t know he was doing stuff that dangerous.”

Mike didn’t notice the tension in Will’s shoulders. “He was incredible. Like, yeah, a little scary, but mostly—I don’t know. Good. Like he’s trying so hard, even if he’s falling apart.”

Will’s stomach twisted. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, and he’s talking about me like I’m—

“You okay?” Lucas asked, narrowing his eyes at Will. “You’re sweating.”

“I’m fine,” Will said too quickly.

Max eyed him. “You sure?”

Will forced a smile. “Yeah. Just hot in here.”

Mike clapped a hand on Will’s shoulder—and Will flinched. Just a tiny bit. Barely noticeable.

But Max noticed. Max always noticed.

Before she could say anything, the bell rang. The group split off—but Will hung back, watching Mike disappear down the hall.

He’d never wanted to be invisible more than he did right now.

Will stumbled into the bathroom between classes, shoving the door shut behind him with more force than he meant to. It echoed off the tile like a warning shot.

He gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white, head bowed.

His hands were still shaking.

He stared down at them—the same hands that had webbed a man to a lamppost, thrown punches, bled under his gloves—and all he could think about was Mike’s voice.

“He was incredible.”

Will squeezed his eyes shut.

Stop thinking about it. Stop. Stop.

But it was useless. The words kept replaying in his head, warped by the kind of longing he’d spent years trying to bury.

Mike had looked at him—not at him, not Will—but at Spider-Man like he was something special. Like he mattered.

And that’s what killed Will the most.

Because he’d imagined it before. Stupid daydreams, usually when he was sketching or staying up too late. Mike looking at him like that. Mike noticing him—not out of obligation, not out of leftover warmth from El, but for him. Just Will.

But now it was real.
Except it wasn’t.

Mike was falling for someone who didn’t exist. A mask. A version of Will that didn’t stutter or second-guess or keep a twelve-foot wall between him and the people he loved just to keep them safe.

He slammed a fist into the side of the sink. Not hard enough to break it, but enough to hurt.

He wanted this. He’d always wanted this.

But not like this.

If Mike kept getting involved—if he kept looking for Spider-Man, chasing him, idolizing him—it’d only get more dangerous. And what if one day he figured it out? What if the truth broke everything they had?

And even worse: what if Will couldn’t save him next time?

His throat closed.

He couldn’t breathe. He ripped off his backpack, digging through it until he found a hoodie he kept as a cover-up for when he changed out of the suit. He pressed it to his face, trying to steady himself. Trying not to cry.

He hated this.

He hated that his biggest dream and worst fear had finally collided—and he didn’t know which way to run.

Will slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold tile, knees pulled to his chest, hoodie still clutched in shaking hands. His mind wouldn’t stop spiraling.

Every second, every heartbeat was louder than it should’ve been.

He kept seeing Mike’s face. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about Spider-Man. The awe in his voice. Like he finally saw something worth admiring.

He looked at Spider-Man the way I’ve always wanted him to look at me.

That thought hit harder than any punch he’d taken last night.

He wiped at his face quickly. No tears. Not here. Not where someone could walk in.

But then—like a curse—another thought crept in.

What if I just… talked to him?
Not as Will.
As Spider-Man.

He could do it. Show up on Mike’s windowsill. Let him ask questions. Joke around. Pretend, for just a little bit, that Mike really saw him.

It was selfish. Dangerous. Stupid.

But it was tempting.

Because when Mike had described Spider-Man like that—brave, protective, desperate to help— Will had almost believed it himself. Like he wasn’t just a scared kid with too many secrets. Like he could actually be someone worth loving.

And maybe, for once, it wouldn’t hurt to hear Mike say it to his face. Even if it wasn’t his real one.

But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Because sooner or later, Mike would figure it out. And then what?

Would he be mad? Scared? Hurt that Will kept it from him?

Or worse… disappointed?

The door creaked open suddenly.

Will’s heart leapt—but it was just another kid, laughing into a phone, barely noticing the occupied stall. Will stayed quiet until the door shut again, until the silence returned.

He didn’t have any answers. Just more questions, and less air every minute.

⸻

Meanwhile, down the hall, Mike sat sideways in his desk, foot tapping, eyes locked on the doorway.

Will hadn’t shown up for class.

He’d said he was fine, but now that Mike thought about it—he didn’t look fine. He looked pale. Twitchy. Almost like he was in pain.

And the way he flinched when Mike touched his shoulder… something about that stuck in his chest like a splinter.

He frowned, chewing on his pencil. “Where is he?” he muttered under his breath.

“You mean Will?” Lucas asked, halfway through his notes.

“Yeah.”

Max, from the other side of the room, leaned her chair back dangerously far. “Maybe he’s sulking because someone’s got a new hero crush.”

Mike shot her a glare. “I don’t have a—”

“You kinda do,” Dustin added helpfully.

“I don’t,” Mike lied, then looked back at the door. “I just… want to make sure he’s okay.”

But as he said it, a part of his brain whispered something different:

I wish Spider-Man would show up again.

Not to fight. Not to save him. Just to talk. To see him.

And that realization twisted into a quiet kind of guilt.

Because he missed Will—worried about him, cared about him—and yet all he could think about was a masked boy who had no reason to care about him at all.

Chapter Text

The final bell rang, and the halls of Hawkins High erupted into the usual chaos—lockers slamming, shoes squeaking, teenagers shouting across the noise.

Mike barely noticed.

His eyes were locked on Will’s empty seat. Still.

He hadn’t come back after lunch. Hadn’t answered his texts. And while part of Mike told himself not to overreact—maybe Will had gone home sick, maybe Joyce picked him up—the other part was buzzing with unease.

Because Will didn’t skip class. Not without telling him. Not unless something was really wrong.

“Yo,” Lucas said, nudging his arm. “You good?”

Mike blinked. “Yeah. Just—tired.”

Dustin glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “Still thinking about last night?”

Mike hesitated. “Yeah. That. And Will.”

Max slung her backpack over one shoulder. “Maybe he just needed a day. I mean, I’d probably hide too if my best friend started writing love sonnets about some guy in a ski mask.”

“It wasn’t a sonnet—”

“Close enough.”

They filtered out into the parking lot, but Mike hung back, gaze drifting toward the bike racks. He didn’t even have to think about it.

“I’m gonna check on him,” he said suddenly.

Dustin shrugged. “Want company?”

Mike shook his head. “Nah. I’ll just stop by. Make sure he’s okay.”

Max gave him a look. “You sure that’s all?”

He didn’t answer. Just got on his bike and pedaled off.

Meanwhile, Will was staring at his closet floor like it might offer him answers.

He was alone in the house—Joyce working a double, Jonathan out—and the weight of it pressed on him from all sides. Silence had never felt so loud.

The Spider-Man suit lay folded in a drawer he usually never opened. But now it was out, sitting there like a question mark.

He didn’t know what made him do it. Maybe the adrenaline hadn’t faded. Maybe the image of Mike, eyes wide and voice trembling as he talked about Spider-Man, had just… lingered too long.

But something cracked.

And before he could stop himself, Will reached for the suit.

He didn’t put it all on—just the mask, the hoodie. Enough to hide. Enough to become someone else.

Just for a minute.
Just to see him.
Just to hear his voice—and pretend it was meant for him.

⸻

By the time Mike reached the Byers’ front steps, the sun was starting to dip, casting long shadows across the lawn. His bike clicked softly as he rolled it to a stop.

He knocked.

Waited.

No answer.

“Will?” he called, leaning closer to the door.

Still nothing.

Mike frowned. He was about to head back down the steps when he heard something from the side of the house. A scrape, maybe. Or a stumble.

He followed the sound around the porch—and then stopped cold.

There, half-hidden by the shed, was a figure in a hoodie — limping.

Mike’s heart jumped. “Will?”

The figure froze.

Then turned.

It was Will. Or—it looked like Will. But only for a second.

Because in that same second, Mike saw it: the deep purple bruise across his collarbone, just peeking from beneath the hoodie. A torn strap of his backpack. The way he winced when he took a step.

“Holy shit,” Mike said. “What happened to you?”

Will panicked. “Nothing, I—I fell. It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing,” Mike said, stepping closer. “You look like you got hit.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Mike stopped. The sharpness in Will’s voice wasn’t like him—but the fear behind it was familiar.

“Why didn’t you come to school?”

Will wouldn’t look at him. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Mike stared. Something didn’t add up. Not just the bruises. The way Will moved. The way he flinched. The way he kept trying to keep his face in shadow.

But before he could ask more—before he could piece it together—Will backed away.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait—Will—”

But Will was already gone, slipping behind the shed, leaving Mike with nothing but a twisting feeling in his chest and way too many questions.

Inside the house, Will yanked the mask from his back pocket and stared at it.

He couldn’t do it.

Not like this.

But even as he shoved it back in the drawer and locked it tight, part of him still ached.

Because for just a second, he thought he might do it. Thought he could show up at Mike’s window and hear the words for himself. Thought maybe, behind the mask, he’d finally be brave enough to feel what he’d buried for years.

But now?

Now Mike was looking too closely.

And the lie was starting to crumble.

⸻

Mike barely said a word on the ride home.

He didn’t even remember pedaling.

His head was a mess—Will’s bruised shoulder, his quick escape, the look on his face like he’d been caught doing something wrong. And then, layered over that, like a song he couldn’t get out of his head: Spider-Man. Again.

It felt wrong. Wanting to see him again when Will was clearly hurting. But every time Mike closed his eyes, it was Spider-Man’s voice he heard. The way he’d pulled him out of that alley like it was the easiest thing in the world. The way he stood—tall, steady, like nothing could touch him.

It had stuck. Hard.

He kicked off his shoes and went straight to his room, flopping onto the bed with a frustrated sigh. The sun outside had dipped lower now, warm and orange through the blinds. He stared up at the ceiling, mind racing.

What is going on with you, Will?

And maybe more terrifying—

What is going on with me?

He hated this confusion. Hated how his heart kept getting tangled in a web he didn’t understand.

So when he heard a sudden tap at the window, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Mike sat up, heart pounding. “What the hell—?”

He turned.

And there he was.

Spider-Man.

Crouched outside on the roof’s edge, framed by sunset and shadow, mask gleaming faintly in the light.

Mike scrambled to the window and yanked it open. “Are you—? I mean—” He shook his head, breathless. “Hi.”

Spider-Man tilted his head in a mock-casual way. “Hey.”

His voice was soft. Almost… shy.

Mike blinked. “I didn’t think you were real.”

The figure laughed under his breath. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Mike stared, still reeling. “What are you—? I mean, why are you—here?”

Spider-Man scratched the back of his neck like he was trying to act nonchalant. “Just doing the neighborhood rounds. Making sure everything’s quiet. Thought I recognized the house.”

He glanced toward the driveway. “You were the kid in the alley, right?”

Mike’s stomach flipped.

He nodded. “Yeah. That was me.”

Spider-Man looked at him for a second longer, and Will hated how easy it was to drown in that look—even through the glass. Even when Mike didn’t know who he was.

“You good?” Will asked quietly. “After all that?”

Mike leaned on the windowsill, utterly starstruck. “Yeah. I mean… yeah, thanks to you.”

Will’s throat tightened.

Mike continued, a little softer now. “You saved my life.”

Will looked away. “It’s kind of my job.”

“Still.”

There was a pause. The kind that felt full, not awkward—like something lived inside it.

“I’ve… actually been hoping I’d see you again,” Mike said, voice barely above a whisper.

Will froze.

Mike didn’t notice. He was too busy staring, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was half-smiling without realizing it. “I didn’t care about you before,” he said. “I mean—not like that. I thought you were just some guy in a costume trying to be cool. But after that night…” He trailed off. “You’re something else.”

Will’s heart was beating way too fast.

He should go.

He should go.

But Mike looked at him like he meant it. Like Spider-Man was someone worth seeing. Like he was someone worth remembering.

And that made it so much harder to leave.

“I should get back to patrol,” Will said, even though every fiber of him wanted to stay. “But, uh… glad you’re okay.”

Mike leaned closer. “Wait—will I see you again?”

Will hesitated.

Then said, just barely: “Probably.”

And then he was gone, slipping off the edge and into the dark, leaving Mike breathless at the window—and Will, clinging to a rooftop a few blocks away, with his heart in his throat and tears in his eyes.

Because that was the closest he’d ever get to the truth.

And it still wasn’t enough.

Chapter Text

Mike didn’t sleep.

Not really.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him—the mask, the voice, the way Spider-Man had crouched on the rooftop like he belonged in the sky. Like he wasn’t just some guy in a suit. Like he was something more.

And the worst part? It felt like he knew him. The way he spoke, the quiet nervousness beneath the confidence. The way he looked at Mike, like he already knew him, too.

Mike lay awake until 2 a.m., his phone glowing inches from his face.
Google tab open.
Search bar full of questions he couldn’t say out loud.

“Spider-Man Hawkins sightings”
“masked vigilante Indiana”
“Spider-Man voice ID comparison”
“is it weird to have a crush on Spider-Man”

He closed the last tab quickly. Too quickly.
But his cheeks still burned.

By the time school rolled around the next day, Mike had managed maybe three hours of sleep. He trudged in late, slumped in his seat, hoodie pulled over his head.

Lucas leaned over the desk, amused. “Did your house burn down or something?”

“No,” Mike grumbled. “Just didn’t sleep.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Red and blue spandex dreams?”

Mike shot her a look. “It’s not like that.”

Lucas snorted. “Dude. You’ve been acting like you met your soulmate. You literally sighed at lunch yesterday.”

Mike tried to hide his face behind a binder. “I did not.”

“You definitely did,” Max said. “Right after you said, and I quote: ‘He didn’t just save me. He… saw me.’”

Mike groaned. “Okay. Maybe I’m just… grateful, okay? Like, that’s allowed. He saved my life.”

“Sure, Wheeler,” Max said, leaning back smugly in her chair. “Keep telling yourself it’s gratitude.”

Lucas shrugged. “Look, we’re not judging. I mean, if I got rescued by a mysterious masked guy, I’d probably be curious too.”

“Yeah,” Max said, smirking. “Except you wouldn’t be googling his hands at two in the morning.”

Mike flushed bright red. “I wasn’t—! Okay, first of all, how do you know that?”

Max held up her phone. “Your search history synced to your school Google account. Rookie mistake.”

Mike buried his face in his arms. “I hate both of you.”

Lucas grinned and rested his chin in his hand. “You’re in love with a superhero.”

“I’m not in love—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Guys, seriously—”

But then the bell rang, and class started, and Mike had no choice but to sit in the mess of his own feelings, trying not to think about rooftop visits, quiet voices, and how Spider-Man had looked at him like he mattered.

Across the building, Will sat silently at his desk in art class, headphones in, sketchbook open.

He wasn’t drawing the skyline today. Or new suit mods. Or villain weapon blueprints.

He was drawing Mike.

From memory.

The curve of his nose. The way his hair curled at his ears when it got too long. The half-smile he always gave when he was trying not to be nervous. It felt wrong and right all at once — like scratching an itch he didn’t want anyone to know was there.

Will had heard Mike’s voice on patrol last night. Had memorized it. Replayed it over and over in his head until he couldn’t breathe. He knew he shouldn’t have gone. Knew it was dangerous — emotionally, physically, everything-ly.

But Mike had asked if he’d see him again.
And Will had said probably.

Which, in Spider-Man language, meant:
I’d show up every night if you asked me to.

⸻

That night, Mike sat cross-legged on his bed again, light off, window open—just in case.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, screen glowing with open tabs. There were blurry photos, fuzzy TikToks from city blocks away, and a subreddit that mostly argued about whether Spider-Man was an alien, a mutant, or a government plant.

He clicked through each one anyway.

And somewhere in the middle of it, he whispered, “Who are you?”

Just loud enough for the wind to hear.

Chapter Text

Mike wasn’t waiting.

He just happened to be by the window. Again. With the blinds half-open. And the light off. And his phone in his hand. At 10:42 p.m.

Totally normal.

He sighed, thumb hovering over his lock screen. Maybe Spider-Man wouldn’t come back. Maybe that rooftop visit had been a one-time thing—a fluke. Some moment the universe handed him just to mess with his head.

He was about to pull away when—

thump.

Something hit the roof.

Mike jumped, smacked his knee on the desk, and scrambled to the window.

There he was.

Again.

Crouched on the edge of the roof like it was the most casual thing in the world. Spider-Man tilted his head, gave a little wave.

Mike shoved the window open, heart leaping. “Seriously?!”

Spider-Man shrugged. “Told you—friendly neighborhood guy.”

Mike leaned out slightly. “Do you just..what, swing by random kids’ houses?”

Will chuckled under the mask. “Only the ones who almost got flattened by a psycho with a taser bat.”

Mike blinked. “Okay, fair.”

There was a short, comfortable pause.

“You’re late,” Mike said without thinking.

Spider-Man raised an eyebrow through his mask. “Late?”

Mike flushed. “I mean—not that I was waiting.”

Will bit back a grin. “You totally were.”

“Shut up,” Mike muttered, looking away with a smile he couldn’t hide.

They stayed there like that for a moment—Mike leaning on the windowsill, Will crouched just a few feet away, the city humming quietly around them.

“Seriously though,” Mike said. “You’re kind of… insane, you know that?”

Will tilted his head. “Oh?”

“You’re out here risking your life every night. For what? No one even knows who you are.”

Will shrugged again. “That’s kind of the point.”

Mike’s voice softened. “Yeah, but… don’t you ever get tired of hiding?”

Will paused. That hit a little too close.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But it’s safer this way.”

“For you?”

“For everyone.”

Mike studied him carefully, and for a second, Will worried he’d said too much. That maybe, maybe, Mike was starting to put pieces together.

But then Mike just nodded slowly and said, “You’ve got a really lame sense of humor.”

Will laughed. Like, really laughed. It bubbled out before he could stop it—full, awkward, and breathy.

“Wow,” he said, still grinning under the mask. “Thanks. That’s what every superhero dreams of hearing.”

Mike smirked. “I mean, it’s not bad, it’s just—do you workshop the lines ahead of time, or do they come to you mid-air?”

Will put a hand to his chest, feigning injury. “Mid-air, thank you very much.”

“I knew it.”

They both laughed, and for a second, it wasn’t a masked vigilante and a curious boy. It was just them. Whoever “them” was.

Will glanced at the sky, then back at Mike. “I should go. There’s a guy stealing on 9th Street.”

Mike gave a little shrug, but his eyes didn’t match it. “Right. You’ve got neighborhoods to protect.”

Will hesitated. He looked at Mike—really looked at him.

And then, with a small breath, he said, “You know… unless you’ve got a few minutes.”

Mike blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Will gave a crooked little shrug. “Could use a break. Swinging all night’s a workout.”

Before Mike could answer, Will had already stepped lightly off the roof ledge and climbed in through the window.

Mike jumped back instinctively. “You—you can just do that?!”

Will landed softly on the floor, straightened up. “Window was open.”

Mike gawked. “Okay, yeah, but that doesn’t mean—whatever. Fine. Just—no web on the furniture.”

Will smiled under the mask and raised his hands. “No promises.”

He walked slowly around the room, taking it in—posters, books, the faint scent of pine soap and laundry detergent. He’d imagined this a hundred times—being in Mike’s room, talking to him, not as Spider-Man, not as Will, just being. But none of his dreams had been this charged. Or this terrifying.

Mike sat back down on the bed, clearly flustered but so trying to act cool. “So… uh… what do superheroes do when they’re not chasing bad guys?”

Will gave him a look. “Mostly recover from getting punched.”

Mike chuckled, a little breathless. “Yeah, I guess that tracks.”

There was a pause. Not awkward—just full.

Will took a small step closer, then sat cross-legged on the rug. “You’re really interested in me.”

Mike blinked. “What? No—I mean—yes—I just—God, that sounded weird—”

Will tilted his head, amused. “I meant Spider-Man.”

Mike shoved his hands in his pockets. “Right. Obviously. Because you’re—him. Yeah.”

Will leaned back on his palms, watching Mike out of the corner of his mask. “You ask a lot of questions for someone who ‘doesn’t care that much.’”

Mike scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you kinda saved my life.”

Will smiled. “Guess that makes us even now.”

Mike looked confused. “How would that make us—?”

But Will cut in, soft: “You made me feel seen.”

And Mike stopped. Just for a second. Something in that landed deep.

Will stood again, slow and hesitant. “I should really go. I’m pushing my luck.”

Mike walked him back to the window. “You’ll be back, though?”

Will hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

And when he disappeared into the night this time, it wasn’t because he had to.
It was just because he couldn’t bear to take off the mask yet.

Chapter Text

“Alright, someone’s glowing,” Max said, sliding into her seat beside Mike in the cafeteria. “And I know it’s not your skincare routine, so… spill.”

Mike blinked out of his daze, cheeks flushing. “What? I’m not—”

“You’re smiling,” Dustin cut in, pointing his spoon at him. “Like, weirdly. Creepy. Romantic movie smile.”

“Thank you?” Mike muttered, stabbing at his sandwich.

Will was already seated across the table, pretending to be deeply focused on his bag of pretzels. His heart was racing.

He knew exactly what they were talking about.
He knew who Mike was thinking about.
And he hated how much he loved hearing it.

Lucas leaned in. “So is this, like, a thing now? You and Spider-Man? Is he your mystery pen pal? Did he ask you to the winter formal?”

“Guys,” Mike groaned. “He’s not—I don’t even know him, okay?”

“Sure,” Max said, deadpan. “That’s why you’re practically writing his name in your notebook like some lovesick goth.”

Will nearly choked on a sip of water.

“I’m not writing his name in my notebook,” Mike snapped. “But… he did come to my window.”

“Oh my God, he climbed through your window?” Dustin squawked, slapping the table. “That’s iconic!”

Lucas gasped dramatically. “Did he say something cool?”

Mike hesitated, and suddenly Will was listening so hard it made his skin buzz.

“He said…” Mike’s voice softened slightly. “That I made him feel seen.”

The table fell quiet.

Will didn’t breathe.

“That’s…” Max said slowly, “actually kind of sweet?”

Lucas blinked. “What does that mean, though?”

“I don’t know,” Mike admitted. “But it stuck with me. Like—I’ve never had someone say that to me before.”

He rested his chin in his palm, eyes distant, dreamy in a way that made Will’s stomach twist and flutter.

Dustin leaned across the table, smirking. “So, when’s the wedding?”

Mike rolled his eyes, but he was blushing. “Shut up.”

Will forced himself to laugh along with the rest of them, but his heart was pounding so hard it felt like a warning siren.

He hadn’t meant to say that much. That wasn’t part of the plan. “You made me feel seen?” What was he thinking? That was basically pulling off the mask without pulling off the mask.

And now Mike was clearly thinking about it. Wondering. Replaying it. Getting attached.

Which was the exact opposite of what Will needed him to do.

But then Mike spoke again, softer this time. “I just… I don’t know. It was weird. He felt so… familiar.”

Will’s stomach dropped.

Too familiar.

“Maybe you knew him before,” Lucas offered. “What if it’s someone from school? Someone, like, super under-the-radar.”

Will smiled tightly and stuffed a pretzel in his mouth. Hard.

“No way,” Max said. “If Spider-Man was one of us, we’d know.”

Will looked at his hands in his lap and thought, No, you wouldn’t.

⸻

Third Period: English

Mike stared blankly at the whiteboard. Something about metaphors. Or maybe irony. Who cared. He was still stuck on the way Spider-Man had looked at him when he said You made me feel seen.

Max elbowed him sharply.

“Earth to Spider-Fan.”

Mike blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve been writing in the margin for like five minutes,” she said, leaning over to peek. “‘SP’? What’s that, like, a code? Secret crush?”

Mike slapped his notebook shut. “It’s… doodling.”

Max arched an eyebrow. “So Spider-Man’s got you sketching initials in class now?”

Mike groaned and slumped further in his chair. “I didn’t ask for this, okay? I didn’t ask for him to show up at my window and say cryptic things and laugh at my jokes and have this—this voice.”

Max leaned her chin in her hand, amused. “Oh my god. You like him.”

Mike glared at her. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to torment?”

“He’s in science,” she said cheerfully. “And I’m multi-talented.”

Mike groaned again, muttering, “This is torture.”

⸻

Meanwhile: Chemistry Lab

Will stared down into his notes, heart thudding. He wasn’t absorbing anything the teacher was saying—just trying to focus on not passing out from nerves. Across the room, Dustin was mid-rant about Spider-Man’s suit upgrades.

“I’m telling you, he’s gotta have a built-in mic or something,” Dustin said. “You can hear him perfectly during those rooftop videos, even when he’s, like, doing flips!”

Lucas leaned on the edge of the table. “You think he built all that himself?”

Will didn’t dare look up.

Dustin grinned. “If he did, the guy’s a genius. I mean—what kind of high schooler just makes a compression web-launcher from scratch?”

Lucas laughed. “No one here, that’s for sure.”

Will’s pencil snapped in his hand.

He ducked his head quickly, pretending to reach for his backpack, heart hammering. He hadn’t realized they were watching those videos that closely. If they looked at one for too long… what if someone caught something? A voice slip? A habit? A twitch?

He needed to calm down. Play it cool.

Dustin was still going. “And did you see the way he just disappeared after taking down the guy on Main Street? Poof. Like Batman.”

Will swallowed hard. He’d been limping after that one.

Lucas turned to Will, nudging him lightly. “You’ve been quiet. No Spider-Man takes today?”

Will gave a thin smile. “Just… trying to pay attention.”

Dustin mock-gasped. “Will Byers? Ignoring superhero gossip for academics? Who are you?”

Will just laughed weakly.

He could feel the cracks forming.

And somewhere in the building, Mike Wheeler was daydreaming about his alter ego, writing cryptic initials in the margins of his notes.

The bell shrieked through the hallways, and the usual flood of students poured out of classrooms like a wave crashing against lockers and backpack straps.

Mike drifted out of English looking dazed, Max hot on his heels.

“So what’s your plan, Romeo?” she asked, slinging her bag over one shoulder. “Climb out your window every night hoping he swings by again?”

“I don’t have a plan,” Mike muttered. “I just… think he might come back.”

Max grinned. “God, you’re so gone.”

Up ahead, Will joined Lucas and Dustin at the water fountain, looking pale and quiet. He spotted Mike immediately and felt that dumb flutter in his chest again.

There he was. Laughing softly at Max. Hair a mess. Shirt slightly wrinkled.

Everything Will loved.
Everything he’d never get to have—not the way he wanted.

“Dude, your face is white,” Dustin said, squinting at him. “Did you get chemical fumes in there or something?”

Will blinked. “What? No. Just tired.”

Lucas clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, get un-tired. Coach makes us run if one of us throws up again.”

They all groaned.

“Don’t look at me!” Dustin shot back. “That was ONE time and the chicken sandwich was sketchy!”

Will barely heard them. His eyes drifted back to Mike.

He hadn’t noticed Will yet.

He was still talking to Max. Still smiling. Still thinking about himself, but not him.

Will clenched his fists at his sides.

Just a little longer.
He could keep it together a little longer.

The group merged as they moved toward the gym, joking, elbowing each other, the air light with distraction.

But under it all, something was coming.

And none of them saw it yet.

The hallway outside the gym was buzzing with end-of-day energy—sneakers squeaking on tile, the echo of bouncing basketballs, and Coach Marston yelling at some poor freshman to stop pretending to have asthma again.

“Catch you guys in the gym,” Max said, peeling off toward the girls’ locker room. “Try not to trip over your hormones.”

“Don’t be jealous, Mayfield,” Dustin called.

She flipped him off cheerfully over her shoulder.

The boys pushed into the locker room, immediately hit with that familiar wave of deodorant, socks, and awkward teenage body spray. Other students were already changing—loud, obnoxious ones, the quiet kid in the corner with noise-canceling headphones, the guy who always took too long to tie his shoes.

Dustin shoved his gym bag into an open locker and kicked off his shoes. “Man, I swear this place smells like feet and injustice.”

Lucas snorted. “You say that every time.”

Will was quiet. Focused. Tense.

He hadn’t changed in front of anyone in months. He always found a way to stall or grab a bathroom stall instead. But today he hesitated. Glanced toward Mike, who was busy untangling the sleeves of his shirt.

Just breathe.

He pulled off his sweater and shirt.

Everything stopped for a second.

Dustin, in the middle of telling a story, suddenly blinked mid-sentence.

Lucas straightened up. “Whoa. Will?”

Even a guy two benches over gave a second glance before going back to lacing his shoes.

Mike froze.

Will, the smallest of the party for years—gangly, thin, all elbows and shadows—now had defined shoulders, arms that looked like they could actually swing from buildings, and, oh yeah… definite abs.

Will quickly turned his back, grabbing his PE shirt like it burned.

Mike was still staring.

Dustin elbowed him. “Dude. Earth to Mike.”

“Huh? What? Nothing—I’m not—shut up,” he stammered, face heating fast.

Lucas leaned over. “Okay, but when did Will get jacked?”

“Puberty’s crazy,” Dustin muttered. “Maybe he’s lifting Demogorgons in his free time.”

Will yanked his shirt on and sat down, trying to pretend he didn’t hear any of that. But his ears were red, and his hands were shaking just slightly in his lap.

Mike blinked and tried to shake it off. But his thoughts were spiraling.

Spider-Man was ripped.
Will was now ripped.
Coincidence? Yeah. Probably.
…Right?

Coach’s whistle blew from the gym.

“Let’s move, ladies!” he bellowed. “You’ve got five seconds to exist in a state of movement!”

The party scrambled to finish changing, laughter and jokes masking the weird little silence that had settled between Will and Mike.

They headed out into the gym, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, the blinding lights making everything feel sharp and too real.

Will kept his head down. Mike kept stealing glances.

Neither of them had a clue how this period was going to end.

But something was definitely about to change.

“Alright, let’s hustle! This ain’t nap time, it’s PE!” Coach Marston’s voice boomed across the gym like a foghorn as the students trickled in. “Get on the line, people! You’re gonna warm up ‘til you drop!”

The class groaned in unison.

“I swear he wakes up every morning and chooses violence,” Max muttered, joining the others on the far side of the gym where they were herded like reluctant cattle.

“Warm-ups, go!” the coach barked. “Ten jumping jacks, ten push-ups, ten squats. No counting like you’re toddlers!”

The group spread out, some half-committing, some barely moving.

Will dropped down and moved through the sets with ease—smooth, controlled, barely breaking a sweat. Jumping jacks: sharp and even. Push-ups: perfect form. Squats: deep, steady, balanced. No struggling. No hesitation.

Mike tried not to look.
And failed miserably.

Will’s shirt shifted slightly as he moved, revealing the line of his back, the flex of his arms—again. Mike stared a second too long before quickly snapping his head away.

“Dude,” Dustin whispered, watching Will too. “When did he get so good at this?”

Lucas nodded, a little breathless halfway through his own set. “Seriously, he used to hate gym.”

Will, catching their eyes mid-squat, offered a quick, sheepish smile. “Uh—been working out. Just… for fun.”

Max smirked from a few feet away. “Yeah? You training for something?”

Will grabbed a water bottle, shrugging. “Nah. Just… y’know. Wanted to get stronger.”

Mike swallowed hard, heart thudding.

He had noticed Will was acting different lately. More quiet. More tired. More… built.

“You sure you’re not like, secretly a ninja now?” Dustin asked, only half joking.

Will just laughed it off. “Pretty sure I’d be a terrible ninja.”

“Maybe he’s Spider-Man,” Lucas joked, nudging Mike.

Mike snorted, but it came out weird and choked. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

Will’s face burned.

The whistle blew again. “Let’s go! Laps next! Move like you’ve got somewhere to be!”

The group groaned and started jogging.

Mike ended up beside Will as they fell into pace, sneakers slapping against the gym floor. Neither of them spoke right away. Just breathing. Just running.

And Mike noticed, in the back of his mind, how Will didn’t even look tired.

“Alright, alright! Pair up!” Coach Marston barked, holding a clipboard like it was a weapon. “We’re doing light contact drills—one-on-one defensive movement. No tackling. No body-slamming. No lawsuits.”

The gym buzzed with noise as students shuffled into messy pairs. Max instantly made a beeline for Lucas, grinning. “Ready to lose?”

“I literally beat you last time,” he said, already bracing for defeat.

Dustin, scanning for a partner, got stuck with some tall kid from the volleyball team who looked like he did squats for fun. “Great,” he muttered. “Guess I’m gonna die today.”

Will turned to Mike automatically. “Want to pair up?”

Mike hesitated, only for a second. “Yeah. Sure.”

They stood across from each other near the center of the gym, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, the fluorescent lights humming above them.

Mike tried to act normal. Chill. Totally not imagining grabbing Spider-Man’s face and kissing him.

Will bounced on the balls of his feet, pretending not to notice how his palms were sweating.

“Alright!” Coach shouted. “Mirror drills! One leads, one follows—move quick, stay close, no collisions. Go!”

Mike took the lead first, shifting side to side. Will mirrored his steps perfectly—fluid, precise, too precise.

“You move like a freakin’ Jedi,” Mike muttered under his breath, trying not to laugh.

Will grinned, flustered. “Guess I’m just—fast?”

They switched. Will started to lead.

Mike tried to follow, but Will was fast. Like, blurry fast. He caught himself once or twice speeding up, then slowing down again to not look weird.

Mike stumbled.

Will instinctively reached out—and grabbed Mike’s arm with reflexes that weren’t just fast. They were inhumanly fast.

Mike blinked up at him from where he’d nearly fallen.

Will blinked back, hand still gripping his arm a little too tightly.

“Uh,” Will said. “You good?”

“Y-Yeah,” Mike said quickly, yanking his arm back. “You, uh… nice save.”

Will let out a breath. “Sorry. Guess I panicked.”

Lucas looked over from a few feet away, frowning slightly. Dustin’s eyebrows were raised.

But the moment passed. Will forced a casual smile. Mike tried not to think about how strong that grip had been.

“Alright! Wrap it up!” Coach Marston hollered. “Next activity’s dodgeball, so if you’ve got weak knees or unresolved childhood trauma, now’s the time to fake a cramp!”

Groans and laughter echoed across the gym as the class started moving again.

Mike didn’t say anything, but something about that moment stuck with him.

The speed. The reflexes. The strength.

It didn’t add up.
But somehow, he didn’t want it to.

Because part of him—stupid, obsessive, hopeless—was still thinking about Spider-Man.

And the other part?
Was still thinking about Will Byers.

The gym was suddenly filled with red foam balls and quiet dread.

“Dodgeball!” Coach Marston bellowed like it was a battle cry. “One ball to the face and you’re out. If you cry, make it quick.”

Half the class groaned. The other half grinned like maniacs.

“Teams are by numbers! Evens to the left, odds to the right! Move!”

Will ended up with Mike and Dustin on one side of the gym, facing Lucas, Max, and a couple of other athletic kids who definitely took this game too seriously.

The coach tossed the balls into the center. They landed with loud, echoing thuds.

“Three… two… one—GO!”

A mad scramble.

Will could have easily grabbed two. His reflexes twitched with instinct—but he held back, pretending to stumble like everyone else. Let someone else shine.

Mike dove for one instead, managing to snatch it and lob it quickly toward a taller kid who’d just picked off Max. The ball bounced off his side and earned a cheer from Dustin.

“Nice!” Will called, ducking under a shot and backpedaling fast.

Across the gym, one of the more aggressive kids—some junior named Connor, built like a linebacker—grabbed a ball and narrowed in on Will.

Will saw it coming, but at the speed that ball was going—it would be suspicious if he dodged it.

Even then, Connor faked him out, switching directions at the last second and whipping the ball point-blank into Will’s chest.

Hard.

Will staggered back, caught off guard not by the pain—but by the intent. That hadn’t been a dodgeball throw. That had been personal.

“Dude!” Dustin shouted.

Connor smirked. “What? He was wide open.”

Mike’s face darkened.

Will picked up the ball he’d dropped and slowly got back into formation. He wasn’t hurt—not really—he doesn’t stay injured for long.

“Coach, that was way too hard!” Dustin yelled across the gym.

Coach Marston didn’t even look up from his clipboard. “It’s dodgeball, Henderson, not ballet.”

Connor threw again, this time aimed at Mike. Mike dodged—barely.

“Alright,” Mike muttered, picking up a ball. “You wanna play rough?”

Will caught his eye. “Mike…”

But Mike wasn’t listening.

The next throw came so fast it was a blur. Right toward Connor.

And it nailed him in the stomach.

Connor doubled over, gasping.

The gym went a little quiet.

Mike stood there, breathing hard, ballless now but still brimming with adrenaline. “We’re playing a game, not trying to knock each other out.”

Connor glared but said nothing.

Dustin looked between them. “Damn. Okay, Mike.”

Lucas called out from across the gym, “Did we just witness a Wheeler moment of justice?”

Max was grinning too. “About time.”

Will blinked. He didn’t know whether to laugh, thank him, or… maybe panic a little. Because seeing Mike stand up for him like that?

It made his chest ache in a way that wasn’t from dodgeball.

God, I love him, Will thought, heart pounding.

But Mike just turned to him, flustered but trying to act cool.

“You okay?”

Will nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks. I’m good.”

Mike smiled, a little crooked.

Will smiled back, and for a second, everything else fell away.

Then Coach blew the whistle again. “Game’s over! Back to the locker rooms! Try not to limp!”

The class started to scatter, sweaty and sore and half-grumbling. But Will’s head was still spinning—and not from the hit.

Mike Wheeler had gone full paladin.

And it had made Will fall even harder.

Chapter Text

The locker room was loud, humid, and buzzing with the sharp edge of leftover dodgeball energy. Sneakers squeaked against the tile as students filtered in, still laughing, groaning, or bickering about who “technically” won.

Mike toweled sweat off his face and tossed it into his locker, muttering under his breath. Across the room, Connor was sulking like a sore loser—until he locked eyes with Mike again.

“Look who’s still puffed up,” Connor called, loud enough for the room to hear. “Didn’t think the lanky emo kid had it in him.”

Mike rolled his eyes, biting back a retort. Will, still changing a few lockers over, froze mid-movement. He could feel it—like pressure rising behind his ribs.

Connor didn’t stop there.

“What’s the matter, Wheeler? Trying to impress your weird little group? The freak show club?”

Dustin’s head whipped around. “What did you just say?”

Lucas stepped closer to Mike, eyes narrowed. “Back off, man.”

Connor laughed, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I’m just saying—what do you guys even do? Get beat up and cry about superheroes all day?”

Will clenched his jaw. His fingers twitched.

Mike turned slowly to face Connor, breathing evenly. “Why are you so obsessed with us? Did one of us beat you at D&D or something?”

Connor’s smile dropped. He took a step closer.

“Oh, I get it,” he sneered. “You’re still mad I tagged your little boyfriend so hard in the chest. What’s his name? Will?”

Will’s head snapped up.

Lucas moved between them, trying to deescalate. “Okay, that’s enough—”

But Connor was already shoving Mike. Hard.

Mike stumbled back into a locker with a loud clang, shoulders tensing. “Don’t touch me again,” he warned, stepping forward.

Connor laughed. “Or what? You’ll write a sad poem about it?”

That was it.

Mike shoved him back.

The locker room erupted in noise—people cheering, shouting, moving out of the way.

Dustin grabbed Will’s arm. “Will—”

But Will wasn’t hearing anything.

All he saw was Connor, squaring up again.

All he heard was the breath catch in Mike’s throat.

And all he felt was that sharp, burning, protect-at-all-costs panic that came with the mask—even if he wasn’t wearing it.

Before Connor could move again, Will was there.

He stepped in between them, one hand outstretched. “That’s enough.”

Connor scoffed. “What, you his backup dancer?”

But then—Will caught his arm.

Just as Connor went to shove again, Will grabbed his wrist with the kind of grip that didn’t budge.

Connor froze.

So did the room.

Because the sound—crack. Not bone, not break. But something shifted. Unnatural. Like strength from someone much stronger than a teenage art kid.

Will’s eyes didn’t move. “I said,” he repeated, voice even but dangerous, “that’s enough.”

Connor yanked his arm back, stumbling a step. “What the hell—?”

Will stepped closer. “If you ever touch him again, you won’t get the chance to regret it.”

Everyone was silent.

Even Mike.

Will blinked, realizing how close he was standing. Realizing everyone was staring.

He let go.

Connor stepped back like he’d been burned.

And Will—breathless, trembling—grabbed his towel and shoved his locker closed.

“I’ll see you guys outside,” he muttered.

He walked out before anyone could speak.

Mike stared after him, chest tight, head spinning.

Because that hadn’t been normal.

That hadn’t been just Will.

The locker room was dead silent.

For a second, all anyone could do was stare at the swinging door Will had just walked through.

Then:

“Okay,” Dustin said, breaking the silence. “Did that just happen? Did Will literally just manhandle Connor like a pro wrestler?”

Lucas nodded slowly, eyebrows raised. “That didn’t look normal. That looked… superhero-level.”

Connor muttered something under his breath, rubbing his wrist, but he didn’t say another word. His bravado had all but vanished.

Max, rejoining them from the hallway, blinked. “What did I miss?”

“Will went beast mode,” Dustin said. “You would’ve loved it.”

Mike didn’t say anything. His heart was still racing—not from the almost-fight, but from how Will had stepped in like that. The way he moved. He’s seen it before. The control in his voice. Something fierce, quiet, and boiling just beneath the surface.

It wasn’t just defense.

It was instinct.

“I’ll be back,” Mike muttered, already tossing his shirt over his shoulder.

Lucas frowned. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to him.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Dustin asked. “Will looked like he needed air. Or, like, a punching bag.”

Mike gave a half-shrug, already heading out. “Yeah. I just… need to see if he’s okay.”

⸻

Will wasn’t in the hall.

Mike checked the end by the vending machines. Nothing. The water fountains. Empty.

But when he passed the supply closet near the back stairwell, he caught it—the sound of someone breathing hard. Trying not to sound like they were.

He stopped. Quietly knocked.

“Will?”

Silence. Then a soft, muffled, “Go away.”

Mike didn’t.

He waited a second, then opened the door slowly.

Will stood with his back turned, gripping the edge of a metal shelf like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His knuckles were white. Shoulders tense. Hair still damp from gym.

Mike stepped in and shut the door behind him.

“Hey,” he said gently.

Will didn’t move.

“I didn’t mean for you to—like—save me,” Mike said quickly. “I had it under control. Kind of.”

Will let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “No, you didn’t.”

Mike smiled faintly. “Okay. But still.”

There was a long pause.

Then Will finally turned to face him, eyes dark and guarded.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I shouldn’t have lost it.”

“You didn’t lose it. You stepped in.”

“I almost broke his wrist, Mike.”

Mike’s breath caught.

“I saw what he was going to do,” Will continued, voice tight. “And I just—I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

Mike blinked. “Why?”

Will stared at him.

And for a second, he almost said it.

Because I love you.

Because you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to protect.

Because being near you makes me feel like maybe I don’t have to be alone in this.

But instead, Will just said, “Because you matter.”

Mike’s expression softened, something behind his eyes flickering. He took a step closer.

“You matter too, you know,” he said quietly.

Will looked at him like he wanted to believe it.

And for a second, neither of them spoke.

Then, faintly, from down the hall:

“Wheeler! Byers! You two die in there or what?”

Dustin.

Mike laughed, and Will smiled despite himself.

“Come on,” Mike said. “Let’s get back before they think we made out or something.”

Will choked. “Jesus, Mike.”

But he followed.

And as they stepped into the hallway, walking side by side, Mike glanced at him again—quietly, thoughtfully.

There was something different about Will lately.

Something strong.

And it made Mike feel safer than he’d ever admit.

Chapter Text

Lunch at Hawkins High was chaos, as usual—trays clattering, gossip buzzing, and fluorescent lights buzzing a little too loud overhead.

Mike sat across from Will, poking at his mashed potatoes like they were plotting against him. His thoughts were a scrambled mess of locker room flashbacks and web-slinging fantasies, all orbiting around two people who, somehow, felt more like one.

Will.

And Spider-Man.

He couldn’t stop thinking about either.

Across the table, Dustin shoved a handful of chips in his mouth. “Okay, but seriously, dude—what the hell was that earlier?” He looked at Will. “You grabbed Connor like he was a twig. I’ve never even seen you mad before.”

Lucas nodded, wide-eyed. “You looked like—honestly? Kind of terrifying. In a cool way.”

Max smirked. “I liked it. New side of you, Byers.”

Will tried to play it off, half-smiling as he nudged his juice box. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Mike glanced up, watching the way Will’s face colored under the attention. His fingers tightened around his fork.

Because the problem was… he agreed with them.

Will had been terrifying. But also brave. Strong. Composed.

And… hot?

Mike blinked hard and looked down again.

Oh god.

What is happening to me?

The thing was, he’d never not thought Will was important. Will was his best friend. He was sweet, smart, kind of shy, kind of intense—quiet in that way that made you want to listen closer.

But lately…

Mike’s chest felt weird every time Will was near. Every time he looked at him.

And now, thanks to a spandex suit and some spider powers, he also couldn’t stop thinking about Spider-Man. The way he moved. The voice. The way he’d said—

“You make me feel seen.”

That sentence hadn’t left Mike alone in days.

It haunted him—in the best and worst ways.

Dustin kept rambling. “I’m just saying, maybe Will’s been doing secret jiu-jitsu. Or like… watching Batman tutorials at night.”

Will snorted. “Right, because I’ve got time for that.”

Mike chuckled quietly, eyes flicking to him.

Yeah. He definitely had a crush on Will.

And Spider-Man.

And somehow, that was two separate problems.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe that was the most confusing part of all.

Mike was still lost in his own head when Max shoved Lucas’s shoulder with her tray.

“You’re the one who said we were meeting outside after math, and then you weren’t even there,” she said with a huff.

Lucas raised his hands defensively. “I was literally five minutes late! And it was because you took my hoodie and said you were cold!”

“I was cold.”

“You’re wearing it right now!”

“I look better in it.”

Dustin rolled his eyes dramatically. “I swear, you two are worse than my parents.”

Will snorted softly and reached into his backpack. From it, he pulled a slightly beat-up black sketchbook—edges worn, corners bent. He didn’t say anything as he flipped it open to a blank page and pulled a pencil from behind his ear.

Mike noticed immediately. His eyes lingered.

Will had always been good at drawing. But lately, whenever he caught glimpses of Will’s pages, it was almost always the same theme—red and blue. Webbing. Movement. Tension.

Spider-Man.

Will bent over the page, tongue just slightly poking from the corner of his mouth. His hand moved fast, familiar. Sketching the rough outline of a new glove design—more compact, with reinforced wrist support and a built-in shock mod he was still theorizing.

He was so focused he didn’t notice Dustin leaning over.

“Yo,” Dustin said, eyes widening. “That’s actually sick, man.”

Will flinched and angled the page away, a little flustered. “It’s just a sketch.”

“No way, that’s like, real concept art. What even is that? Web cartridges?”

Will hesitated. “Uh—kind of.”

Max leaned over, interested. “You’re, like, really into Spider-Man, huh?”

Will gave a half-shrug. “He’s cool.”

Lucas grinned. “You’ve probably drawn him more than anyone else on earth.”

Will blushed, flipping back a few pages without thinking—and Mike caught a glimpse of a swinging figure in motion, red and blue blurred with motion lines. One pose, mid-air, looked like it had been drawn five or six times over.

Mike leaned closer.

Something about it made his stomach flutter.

Then an idea clicked in his brain like a switch being flipped.

“Hey, Will?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “Could I maybe borrow your sketchbook? Just for a bit.”

Will blinked at him. “Why?”

Mike shrugged. “I just wanna look through it. I dunno. It’s cool.”

Will’s ears turned red. He hugged the sketchbook to his chest for a second, then hesitated.

“…Sure,” he said, handing it over with a quiet smile.

Mike took it gently, fingers brushing Will’s.

And Will’s heart skipped.

Mike flipped through a few more pages slowly, carefully. The drawings were even better up close—fluid poses, masked expressions, detailed designs that made Spider-Man look almost… real.

He paused on a page where Spider-Man was crouched on the edge of a rooftop, the city skyline sketched in moody grays behind him. The shadowing was so precise it almost felt alive.

“Dude,” he murmured, awestruck. “These are insane.”

Will ducked his head, suddenly very interested in peeling the label off his juice box. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Mike hesitated, then looked up. “Hey… do you mind if I, uh… take it home? Just for the night?”

Will’s eyes snapped to his. “My sketchbook?”

“Yeah. Just to look through it more,” Mike said, trying to sound nonchalant. “They’re really cool, and I wanna… study them a little.”

“You wanna study them?” Dustin echoed, clearly suspicious.

Mike kicked him lightly under the table without breaking eye contact with Will. “I swear I’ll give it back tomorrow. No pages bent. No food stains. Total respect.”

Will bit the inside of his cheek.

His sketchbook was personal. Not just because it was filled with Spider-Man, but because he was in there—his ideas, his thoughts, his suit upgrades, his everything. Giving it away felt a little like handing Mike his diary.

But Mike was looking at him with that soft, eager expression. The one that made Will’s chest flutter and his brain short-circuit.

“…Okay,” Will said finally, sliding it toward him. “Just be careful with it.”

Mike grinned, like he’d just been handed the moon. “Promise.”

Will smiled faintly. “It’s not that special.”

Mike met his eyes, his voice a little quieter. “I think it is.”

Will’s heart skipped again—twice.

Dustin made a dramatic gagging noise. “Okay, can you two not flirt directly in front of my sandwich?”

“Shut up,” Mike and Will said at the same time.

Lucas snorted. Max high-fived him.

He wasn’t sure what scared him more:

That Mike had it.

Or that he wanted him to.

Will was trying very hard not to spontaneously combust.

Across the table, Mike was still flipping through his sketchbook, brow furrowed in concentration, the softest little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Every so often, he’d whisper something like, “whoa” or “how did he even draw that angle?” and it sent a rush of heat up Will’s neck every time.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even close to fair.

Because here he was, trying not to melt into the cafeteria floor, while Mike looked like someone had handed him his favorite comic.

You could’ve drawn anything else, Will scolded himself. Literally anything.

But no—he had to fill it with Spider-Man. With half-finished suit sketches and rooftop poses and technical gear upgrades. Stuff that would definitely get questions if someone knew what to look for.

If Mike finds the wrist web cartridge cutaway—

“WHEELER!, HENDERSON!”

He jolted so hard he nearly knocked over his juice. Mike and Dustin both looked up, grinning ear to ear.

Will turned—and immediately froze.

Arms suddenly slung around Mike’s shoulders was none other than Eddie Munson, grinning like the devil himself had told a great joke. His rings glinted in the light. His jacket looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. His presence was—loud.

“Wheeler!” Eddie crowed, ruffling Mike’s hair. “I leave you nerds for five minutes and you’re already discussing politics and superhero ethics without me?”

Mike practically beamed. “Eddie! I thought you had band practice?”

“We finished early. Can’t keep the party waiting, right, Henderson?”

Dustin’s whole face lit up. “Finally! The energy in this place just leveled up.”

Lucas gave a nod of greeting. Max raised her eyebrows and offered a teasing, “Hey, cult leader.”

Eddie made a dramatic bow. “Lady Maxine.”

Will, meanwhile, sat stiffly in his seat. He tried to look casual, but his jaw was tight.

There was something about Eddie that always made his nerves spark. Not because he was mean—Eddie was cool, loud, funny, kind in his own chaotic way. But Will had noticed things.

The way Mike looked at him.

Like he was some kind of rock star.

Not a crush, not exactly—but admiration. Hero worship. Mike listened when Eddie talked. Lit up when he laughed. Mirrored his movements without even realizing.

And it made Will’s stomach twist.

Mike flipped through the sketchbook with a reluctant sigh. “Seriously, this thing’s awesome. You could be a pro artist if you wanted.”

Will blinked, caught off guard. “You think?”

Mike gave him a soft smile. “I know.”

Then Eddie leaned over Mike’s shoulder to peek at the closed book. “What’s this, secret drawings? Ooh, wait—are they Spider-Man?”

Will tensed, interrupting before Eddie could get too close to Mike. “Just sketches. Nothing important.”

Eddie smirked. “Well, color me intrigued.”

Will offered a weak smile, heart hammering.

Dustin leaned over to whisper loudly, “Will’s obsessed with Spider-Man. It’s like, his emotional support superhero.”

Will kicked him under the table.

Mike laughed. “Can you blame him?”

Will glanced away, face burning.

If only they knew.

Eddie plopped down next to Dustin, dragging a chair with the kind of screech that made half the table wince. He reached for one of Dustin’s chips like he owned the place and popped it in his mouth with a grin.

“So what’s the obsession with Spider-Man lately?” he asked through the crunch. “Everyone’s acting like he’s some kind of urban legend-slash-celebrity.”

Dustin shrugged. “Maybe because he is.”

Eddie scoffed. “Please. Guy swings around doing flips and acts all mysterious like he’s Batman’s gymnastic cousin. Bet he’s just some stuck-up Midtown prep school kid with daddy’s tech and too much time.”

Will flinched, head ducked just enough that it didn’t show. His fingers clenched a little tighter around his lunch.

Mike’s brows drew together. “He’s not stuck-up,” he said quickly, sitting forward. “He literally saved, like, three people in one week. Including me. He doesn’t even ask for credit—he just does it.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah, neighborhood watch in tights. I just think he’s overrated, that’s all. Probably got some rich kid complex and a savior thing.”

“Dude,” Mike said, sounding offended now. “He’s brave. And smart. And he’s trying to help people. What’s wrong with that?”

Eddie held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to commit sacrilege.”

Mike rolled his eyes and leaned back again, arms crossed—but Will caught the quiet flush of pink at the tips of his ears. He’d never seen Mike defend Spider-Man before. Not like that.

Max looked between the two of them and smirked. “Someone’s got a little hero crush.”

Mike didn’t even deny it. He just shrugged, a little bashful. “Maybe. He’s cool.”

Will’s heart gave a little lurch. He didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath.

The tension in his shoulders slowly eased. He let his eyes flick sideways—toward Mike, who was already glancing back at him with the smallest smile.

“You okay?” Mike asked softly, under the noise of Eddie loudly defending his taste in comic books.

Will nodded, voice quiet. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Mike’s eyes lingered for a moment longer. “You should keep drawing. That stuff matters.”

Will ducked his head, hiding the warmth that bloomed across his face.

Maybe Eddie didn’t get it.

But Mike did.

And right now, that was enough.

“Alright, enough lunch and lame superhero discourse,” Eddie declared, standing abruptly and clapping his hands together. “Business time, gentlemen.”

Mike blinked up at him, mid-sip of his drink. “Huh?”

Before he could react, Eddie reached down, grabbed Mike and Dustin each by the back of their shirts, and yanked them up from their seats like a disgruntled camp counselor corralling delinquents.

“Hey—!” Mike yelped, nearly dropping Will’s sketchbook in the process.

“You two are the only remaining loyal soldiers in my crumbling kingdom,” Eddie growled dramatically. “Everyone else is either playing basketball, drawing moody superhero fanart, or selling their souls to high school popularity.”

“I’m still in Hellfire!” Dustin protested, not even trying to escape the grip. “I’ve literally never missed a session!”

“Exactly!” Eddie barked, giving both of them a not-so-gentle shake. “Which is why I need you nerds focused. The next campaign is going to be epic. I’m talking puzzles, monsters, moral dilemmas that make you cry in the shower.”

Mike, still clutching Will’s sketchbook against his chest, gave a half-smile. “You mean the usual?”

Eddie pointed a ringed finger at him. “Sarcasm, Wheeler? I will smite you with a cursed D20.”

Dustin was already nodding eagerly. “What’s the theme this time? Please say it’s eldritch horror.”

Eddie released them finally with a grunt, dramatically brushing imaginary dust from his jacket. “All in due time, squires. But you better bring that chaotic energy. I want to see blood on the dice.”

Across the table, Max leaned on her elbow. “You are so weird.”

“And proud,” Eddie replied with a flourish.

Will watched it all with a forced smile—but inside, his chest was tightening.

Mike had laughed. Of course he had. He always laughed at Eddie’s antics, always let himself be tugged along into whatever weird little world Eddie spun up.

He still hadn’t let go of the sketchbook, though. That meant something… right?

Will’s fingers twitched around his tray, resisting the urge to throw it at Eddie and free Mike.

Something about Eddie always unsettled him—like the guy was a hurricane Mike never tried to shelter from. Will had always been the calm in Mike’s chaos. But Eddie… Eddie was the chaos. And Mike just let it happen.

“Dude, can we use some of these sketchbook designs for campaign visuals?” Dustin asked, peering over Mike’s arm. “They’re sick.”

Mike looked down at the page he’d left open. A design for a sleek, upgraded web-shooter gauntlet. Clean lines. Purposeful.

“I’ll ask Will,” he said automatically, glancing toward where Will had quietly sunk into the background of the conversation.

Their eyes met. And Will’s stomach dropped.

Mike gave him a little grin. “You cool with that?”

Will hesitated—then nodded, voice just barely audible. “Sure. Go for it.”

Mike’s smile widened. “Thanks.”

Eddie clapped him on the back hard enough to make Mike stumble. “That’s the spirit! Now let’s go strategize, nerds.”

As the three of them moved off toward the courtyard, Will stayed seated, watching the distance grow.

He knew he had no right to feel the way he did—not jealous, exactly. Not even threatened. Just… quietly replaced.

Max gave him a sideways glance, her expression unreadable.

“You okay?” she asked.

Will looked down, then back at the cafeteria doors where Mike had disappeared.

“Yeah,” he lied. “I’m fine.”

Chapter Text

The bell rang like a distant echo, muffled by the thick walls of the art room. Will sat alone at the far table, hunched slightly over a blank canvas. The chatter from lunch still swirled in his head—Mike’s laugh, Eddie’s teasing, Dustin’s excitement.

All of it, too loud and too far away now.

A pencil twirled idly between his fingers. His other hand was clenched beneath the table.

He’d told Mike it was fine. That he could use the sketchbook. That it didn’t matter.

But it did.

Mike flipping through page after page of Spider-Man gear ideas. Mike complimenting the designs. Mike smiling—at him, sure—but also while talking about Eddie, joking with Dustin, holding that sketchbook like it was just some cool doodles and not… everything Will didn’t know how to say out loud.

His stomach twisted.

He dropped the pencil. It clattered softly against the table, rolling until it stopped at the edge of his sketchpad.

The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the heater kicking in. The teacher was off helping another student in the supply closet, and no one else had come in yet.

Will leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes drifting toward the window. A soft overcast haze hung over Hawkins, the clouds thick and gray—like they were ready to spill all the secrets he was too scared to say.

You should be happy, he told himself. Mike likes Spider-Man. He defends him. He smiles when he talks about him.

But Mike didn’t know Spider-Man was him. And somehow, that made it worse.

Because all the things he loved about Mike—the way he lit up when he believed in someone, the way he defended people without thinking twice—that was the part that made this ache more than anything.

Will wanted that version of Mike to love him. Not the mask. Not the costume. Just… Will.

And maybe that was selfish.

Maybe he was spiraling.

Maybe he’d already lost.

He picked up his brush and made a slow, quiet stroke across the canvas. Red. Like the suit. Like a warning.

His chest tightened.

He didn’t hear the door creak open behind him.

Will didn’t hear the door creak open behind him—didn’t notice the soft footsteps until a familiar voice broke the silence.

“So. This where you go to sulk now?”

Will jumped, nearly smudging the paint across the canvas. He turned quickly to see Max leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, red hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you’d be the brooding-artist-in-an-empty-room type, but… I gotta say, it fits.”

Will huffed a quiet laugh, more from surprise than anything else. “I’m not sulking.”

Max walked in slowly, letting the door shut behind her with a soft click. “You’re alone. Painting Spider-Man in, like, your fifth art period of the week. Pretty sure that counts.”

Will turned back to the canvas, cheeks flushing faintly. The red line he’d painted suddenly looked a little too dramatic. “It’s just… quiet in here.”

Max didn’t say anything right away. She dropped her bag onto the table across from him and sat down, propping one leg up on the bench.

“You’re thinking about Mike, aren’t you?”

Will stiffened.

Will swallowed hard and set his brush down. “It’s stupid.”

“No,” Max said. “It’s not.”

He didn’t answer.

Max leaned forward, voice quieter. “You hate Eddie, don’t you?”

Will blinked. “What? No. I mean… not really.”

Max tilted her head, unconvinced. “You looked like you were about to launch yourself across the cafeteria when he showed up.”

Will stared down at his sketchpad, flipping it shut just a little too quickly. “He was being loud.”

Max snorted. “He’s always loud. That’s not new.”

He didn’t answer.

She leaned in a little closer, voice soft but sharp. “Look. You can tell me if you’ve got a thing for Mike, you know.”

Will’s whole body went still.

Max smirked at his silence. “That’s what this is about, right? You’ve been drawing Spider-Man like he’s your coping mechanism and avoiding eye contact with Mike like he’s made of fire.”

Will’s ears were red. “I—Max…”

“It’s okay,” she said, and suddenly her voice was gentler, more understanding. “I’ve known for a while. You don’t exactly hide it well.”

Will gave her a weak smile. “I thought I was doing a pretty good job.”

“You were,” Max said. “Until, you know, your eyes nearly fell out of your head when Mike started talking about Spider-Man’s ‘kind eyes’ like he’s in some teen romance novel.”

Will groaned and dropped his face into his hands.

Max laughed. “Hey. I get it. Crushes suck. Especially when they’re… complicated.”

“Understatement of the year,” Will muttered into his palms.

She nudged his foot under the table. “So what are you gonna do?”

Will peeked at her. “About what?”

“About Mike. About you. You can’t just sit in here and draw until he magically figures it out.”

“I don’t know,” Will said. “What if telling him makes things worse? What if I lose him?”

Max shrugged, but her eyes were kind. “Or maybe it makes things way better. You don’t know unless you try.”

Will sat back, staring at the ceiling for a long beat. His heart still felt like it was tied up in knots, but Max’s words settled somewhere deep.

“You’re really annoying sometimes,” he told her.

Max grinned. “Yeah, but I’m also usually right.”

Will was just about to reply when the door burst open.

“You guys—” Dustin’s voice echoed into the room like a small explosion. He skidded in with his backpack half-open, LEGO pieces rattling somewhere inside.

Lucas and Mike followed right behind, slightly out of breath, as if they’d sprinted across the school to get there.

Dustin’s eyes immediately locked on Will and Max. “You will not believe what just dropped. A new Spider-Man LEGO set. Limited edition. Two versions of the suit. One with the silver webbing and—dude—his eyes are even articulated! Eddie gave it to us for free! Something about his mom getting it for him and he didn’t want it.”

Will blinked. “That’s… cool?”

“Cool? Cool?” Dustin clutched his chest like he’d been mortally offended. “It’s art. It’s history. It’s—it’s—”

Max raised a brow. “Plastic?”

“Sacrilege,” Dustin said dramatically. “Lucas, back me up.”

Lucas shrugged. “It is pretty awesome. I already texted my mom.”

Mike, meanwhile, had wandered further into the room, eyes scanning for something. His gaze caught on the closed sketchbook near Will’s elbow.

“Oh, hey—” Mike pointed. “That’s the one you let me borrow, right?”

Will hesitated, then gave a quick nod. “Yeah. You want to take it now?”

Mike walked over and picked it up carefully, like it was something fragile. “I started looking at it during lunch but… there’s a lot in here. You’re seriously amazing, Will.”

Will ducked his head, heat crawling up his neck. “It’s nothing, really.”

Mike flipped open a page and grinned. “This one’s my favorite. You gave him that silver web upgrade like in the comics. That’s so sick.”

Will smiled despite himself. “I just thought it’d be fun to modernize it a bit.”

Max side-eyed Will with a barely hidden smirk, clearly thinking, Yeah right.

Dustin bounced on the balls of his feet. “Okay, we need to form a strategy. If we all pool in, we can order the set and build it over the weekend. Spidey marathon, anyone?”

Mike looked up at that, eyes sparkling. “I’m in.”

Will opened his mouth, then hesitated.

Max nudged him. “You’re going, too.”

Will flushed. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

Dustin was already halfway into planning who got what minifigure, Lucas was trying to negotiate first build rights, and Mike had gone back to flipping through the sketchbook, clearly hooked.

Will watched him for a second, that little flutter in his chest returning.

Maybe wearing a mask wasn’t the only way to be seen.

As the final bell rang overhead, the noise from the hallways began to swell—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, voices echoing as students poured out into the corridors.

“Okay, decision time,” Dustin declared, spinning around to face the others as they packed up their things. “Whose house? We need a good flat surface and snacks, obviously.”

“Not my house,” Max said. “My stepbrother’s around, and I’d rather not have him breathing over our shoulders.”

Lucas made a face. “Pass.”

“My mom’s on a cleaning rampage,” Mike added with a grimace. “She literally unplugged the TV to vacuum under it.”

Everyone turned to Will.

He blinked. “Wait—me?”

Dustin clasped his hands together like he was praying. “Joyce loves us.”

Will hesitated, then smiled. “Okay. Yeah. My place works. But you guys better not mix the pieces again like last time.”

“No promises,” Dustin grinned.

“Can we do, like, 7:30?” Mike asked, shouldering his backpack. “I need to run home and grab a few things.”

Will nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Perfect,” Lucas said, opening the door. “Operation Spider-Set is a go.”

They all began to head out into the hallway, the buzz of post-school chatter surrounding them. The group was a comfortable tangle of voices, nudges, and bickering as they made their way through the crowd.

Will walked beside Mike, close enough to hear him humming under his breath—something upbeat, something excited. He was still holding Will’s sketchbook like it was something special.

And for a moment, everything felt okay.

Maybe tonight, Will thought, he could just be Will. No mask. No weight on his shoulders.

Just a bunch of friends, building something cool together.

And maybe, if he was lucky, Mike would look at him like that again.

—

6:30 PM – Wheeler Residence

Mike sat cross-legged on his bed, the late afternoon sun casting orange-gold across his room. Will’s sketchbook was open in front of him, pages fanned out like a portal into a mind far more brilliant than he’d ever realized.

He traced the lines of a web shooter blueprint with his finger. It was so detailed. So thoughtful. So cool.

How had he never noticed how incredible Will’s art was?

He flipped another page. Then another. Each one had something new—upgrades, suit redesigns, gadget mockups. All of it clearly inspired by Spider-Man, but with a personal twist. Like whoever had drawn these didn’t just admire Spider-Man—they understood him.

Mike smiled to himself. Maybe that’s why Will liked Spider-Man so much. Maybe they had more in common than he thought.

Knock knock.

Mike’s head snapped toward the window.

He scrambled to his feet and darted over, heart immediately picking up speed. Outside, standing cool as ever against the dusky sky, was Spider-Man—one hand resting casually on the windowsill, the other lifted in a little wave.

Mike flung the window open so fast he nearly knocked over his lamp.

“Hey! You—you’re here again.”

Spider-Man climbed in smoothly, landing with barely a sound. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No—no, not at all,” Mike said quickly, stepping aside to give him room. “I just… wasn’t expecting—”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Will said, voice pitched low and calm behind the mask. “Wanted to check in. Make sure everything’s okay.”

Mike blinked, flustered. “Yeah, I’m good. Better now. You… uh, want to sit?”

Will nodded and settled into Mike’s desk chair while Mike lingered awkwardly by the bed, heart hammering. It was still so weird having him here. In his room.

“So,” Will asked, glancing around, “anything new?”

Mike hesitated—then his eyes flicked to the sketchbook. He grabbed it, suddenly excited.

“Actually, yeah. You’ve gotta see this,” he said, stepping closer and flipping it open to one of Will’s recent sketches. “My friend—he drew this. Like, these are his ideas for Spider-Man. I know it’s kinda nerdy, but I think they’re genius.”

Will leaned in slowly, and Mike held out the book like it was sacred.

“This one’s my favorite,” Mike continued, tapping a suit redesign with reinforced gloves. “He said the extra grip could help you swing better and punch harder without hurting your hands. And look—he added these little vents here? For airflow, I think.”

Will stared at it, heart thudding so loudly he was afraid Mike might hear it.

Mike glanced up at him. “Cool, right?”

Will swallowed. “Very.”

“I think you could actually use some of this,” Mike went on. “Like, maybe you two should team up or something. You’d make an insane combo.”

Will’s breath caught in his throat.

“You really think that?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, smiling wide. “I mean, you already do all this amazing stuff, but imagine having someone who could help with the tech side. You’d be unstoppable.”

Will shifted in the chair, his whole face hot beneath the mask. “He must be really smart.”

“He is,” Mike said, voice soft. “And he’s got a good heart. He cares. Like… really cares.”

Will looked at him, eyes wide behind the lenses.

Mike chuckled. “Sorry. I probably sound obsessed.”

“No,” Will said quickly. “I think it’s… nice.”

Their eyes met, and something warm buzzed between them.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then Mike laughed awkwardly and glanced back at the sketchbook. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to just info-dump all that. I just… I think you’re really cool. And I guess I want you to know that other people see it too.”

Will’s heart squeezed tight.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

And he meant it. More than Mike would ever know.

Will glanced toward the window, then back at Mike. He couldn’t believe he was here again, in Mike Wheeler’s room, being talked about like a real hero. The praise, the way Mike looked at him—it was overwhelming. And kind of addictive.

He stood slowly, stretching a bit, then turned toward Mike with a mischievous tilt to his head. “Want to see something cool?”

Mike blinked, still seated on the edge of his bed, sketchbook balanced on his knee. “Uh—yeah?”

Will didn’t wait for further confirmation. He stepped back into the center of the room, checking for space, then casually launched himself into a backflip.

Mike’s jaw dropped.

“What the hell—?!” he blurted, eyes wide.

Will landed lightly, without a sound, and straightened like it was no big deal. “Been practicing.”

“Practicing? That was a full flip! In my room!”

Will turned, planting one foot on Mike’s wall and sticking to it like it was second nature. He crossed his arms casually, now fully horizontal. “Not bad, right?”

Mike’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “That’s insane. How are you doing that?”

Will gave a theatrical shrug. “Spider stuff.”

Mike ran a hand through his hair, stunned. “That’s—no, seriously, that’s insane. That’s like, superhero-gymnast-ninja level stuff.”

Will dropped back to the floor with a quiet thud, then flicked a web toward the door handle and tugged it gently shut.

Mike flinched. “Okay, that was awesome.”

Will glanced over at him and, despite the mask, Mike could’ve sworn he was smiling. “You’re easily impressed.”

“I’m realistically impressed,” Mike said, laughing, breathless from excitement. “You’re literally climbing walls in my room. You just shut my door with string. That’s—God, I don’t even know what to say.”

Will stepped a little closer, voice softer now. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Mike stared up at him, all awe and wonder. “You ever think about going public? Like, not with your identity or anything—but interviews? News segments?”

Will tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because people should see this. People should know how cool you are. You save lives, you flip off walls, and then you show up at some random kid’s window just to make sure he’s okay.”

Will looked down at him, quiet for a moment. “You’re not just some random kid, Mike.”

Mike’s eyes flicked up. “What?”

Will cleared his throat quickly. “I mean… You were there. That night. You were scared, but you didn’t freeze. You didn’t run.”

Mike’s chest tightened a little. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything.”

For a second, they just looked at each other.

Then Mike laughed under his breath, trying to break the tension. “Well, if you ever need a sidekick, Wills got this whole sketchbook of ideas and a decent knowledge of comic book logic.”

Will smiled behind the mask, feeling lighter than he had in days. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mike leaned back, still grinning like an idiot, the sketchbook resting open on his lap. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand—and instantly froze.

“Shit.” He bolted upright, nearly sending the sketchbook flying. “It’s 7:18?! I was supposed to be at Will’s by 7:30!”

Will jolted slightly.

Mike scrambled to his feet, already grabbing socks and one shoe. “Dustin’s gonna kill me if I’m late. Again.”

Will backed toward the window, trying not to laugh as Mike hopped around with one shoe half-on. “Guess I should get going, too.”

Mike glanced up, breathless. “Yeah, I mean—yeah, you probably have…you know, Spider-stuff.”

Will nodded, stepping onto the windowsill. “See you around, Mike.”

Mike paused, then looked at him again—softer this time. “Thanks. For coming.”

Will hesitated for a beat, heart hammering. “Anytime.”

Then he shot a web and zipped out into the night sky.

Mike stood there for a moment, dazed, before snapping back into motion.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, tripping over his other shoe as he yanked off his hoodie to change into something more appropriate. “Of course Spider-Man shows up right before I have to leave for Will’s. My brain’s fried. What the hell is my life?”

He threw on a clean shirt, grabbed the sketchbook carefully off the bed, and bolted down the stairs.

Mike flew down the stairs, sketchbook tucked under his arm, sneakers only half-tied as he reached for the front door. He swung it open, the cool evening air rushing in—but he paused.

Something tugged at the edge of his thoughts.

He stepped out onto the porch, hand still on the doorknob, brow furrowing.

Wait a second…

He turned his head slightly, glancing back toward his window, toward the direction Spider-Man had vanished into the sky.

“…I never told him my name,” Mike murmured.

His heart skipped.

He hadn’t said it. Not once. Not that night in the alley. Not tonight. Not even while talking about Will’s sketches.

And yet—Spider-Man had called him Mike.

Out loud.

Mike stood frozen for a moment, heart thudding in his chest. He looked down at the sketchbook in his hands, like it might hold the answer. His mind was suddenly racing, trying to make sense of something that, a minute ago, he hadn’t even noticed.

“…Weird,” he muttered.

Then he shook his head, forcing himself to move.

“No time for conspiracy theories,” he said aloud, as if trying to convince himself. “I’m late.”

He took off down the sidewalk, sketchbook in hand, but the thought lingered.

Spider-Man knew his name.

And Mike Wheeler didn’t forget stuff like that.

Will swung through the trees behind his house with ease, the wind rushing past him as he moved silently under the cover of twilight. Lights glowed from the Byers’ kitchen window, and he could hear the low hum of conversation—Joyce’s familiar voice, Jonathan answering back with a laugh.

He landed gently on the roof outside his bedroom window, crouched low, listening.

“…Just let him have the night, Mom. He’s had a weird week.”

Will smirked faintly at his brother’s voice, then quietly slid the window open and climbed through.

He stuck to the ceiling without a sound, crawling spider-like above the familiar clutter of his room. A model he never finished. A sketch pinned to the wall. His bed, neatly made.

Then he flipped and landed in a crouch, soft as air.

The moment his feet hit the floor, he reached up and tugged his mask off, breathing hard—like peeling off the pressure of the whole night in one motion. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed.

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath. “Made it.”

Then he looked toward the bed—

And froze.

Dustin stood there, mouth open. Wide-eyed. A brand-new Spider-Man Lego set half-unboxed in his hands. And it slipped through his fingers with a plastic clatter as his jaw dropped.

Will’s heart stopped.

“…Dustin?” he croaked.

Dustin blinked. “Will?”

Will’s mask was still in his hand. His cheeks were red. His chest was still rising and falling from the swing home.

They stared at each other, dead silent, the Lego box at their feet.

“Dude,” Dustin said, barely above a whisper. “You’re—you’re Spider-Man?!”

Will didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His mind raced through a million explanations, denials, jokes, lies.

None of them came.

“…You cannot tell Mike.”

Chapter Text

“You’re Spider-Man?!” Dustin whisper-yelled, voice caught somewhere between excitement and existential crisis.

Will backed into his desk like it might swallow him whole. “Dustin—please. Please. You can’t tell anyone.”

Dustin blinked rapidly, arms stiff at his sides, as if his body couldn’t figure out how to function anymore. “Will. Will. You’ve been Spider-Man this whole time?! Since when?!”

“Shhh!” Will hissed, running over and slapping a hand over Dustin’s mouth. “My mom and Jonathan are in the kitchen!”

Dustin made a muffled, astonished sound under Will’s hand.

Will pulled back a second later, pacing in a tight circle like the room was closing in on him. “Oh my god. Oh my god. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to get here so early!”

“I wasn’t planning on it! My mom didn’t want me biking at night and Jonathan invited me in. But then your mom asked me to drop these in your room so no one would step on them.” He pointed at the Lego set still scattered across the floor. “And then I looked up, and you were, like—crawling on the ceiling!”

Will groaned, grabbing his hair. “I’m so screwed.”

Dustin looked at him, expression slowly shifting from pure shock to the slow, dawning realization of how huge this secret was.
“I knew you’ve been acting different lately.”

Will stopped. “Wait, what?”

“I mean—I should be mad that you didn’t tell us. But also? This is, like, comic book level insane.” Dustin looked around, as if the walls might be hiding cameras. “Does anyone else know?”

Will shook his head. “No. Not even Mike.”

Dustin’s eyebrows shot up. “Especially not Mike?”

Will’s ears turned bright red. “…Exactly.”

Dustin’s eyes were practically glowing. “So wait—how long have you been—”

Knock knock knock.

“Will?” Joyce’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Sweetie, the others just got here!”

Will and Dustin both jumped like they’d been electrocuted.

Dustin turned to him, eyebrows raised high. “So what now, Will Byers?”

Will groaned, sprinting to his closet to grab a clean hoodie. “Okay. Listen. Please, please don’t say anything. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“I mean, I don’t want you arrested or anything,” Dustin said, flopping down onto the bed, still processing. “But dude. This is huge. Like—real life vecna huge.”

“I’m trusting you, okay?” Will said, pulling the hoodie over his head and yanking off his Spidey-suit underneath. “You can’t tell Mike.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Code red secret. Totally zip-lipped.”

Will paused, looking at him seriously. “I mean it, Dustin.”

And for once, Dustin dropped the smirk. “You have my word. I won’t say a thing.”

Another knock. “Will?”

“Coming, Mom!” he called, voice cracking slightly.

He turned back to Dustin, hair still messy, face flushed, heart pounding. “Okay. Act normal.”

Dustin gave him two thumbs up. “Normal’s my middle name.”

Will gave him a skeptical look and cracked the door open—only to be hit with the sound of Mike’s voice drifting up from the living room.

“I swear, if Dustin already got the head, I’m taking the cape.”

Will froze.

Dustin gave a low whistle. “But we’re talking about this later.”

Will sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yeah. I know.”

And with that, they headed out of Wills room—one calm, one completely unraveling.

Chapter Text

Will left his room with Dustin at his side, both doing their best to look casual—though Will’s heart was still racing from the near disaster in his room. He wiped his palms on his jeans as they rounded the corner into the living room.

The scene was already alive with energy.

Lucas and Max were bickering over what movie to put on, standing in front of the TV like it was a battlefield.

“I’m not watching The Lost Boys again, Max,” Lucas groaned.

“Well, I’m not watching Batman again either!” Max shot back, arms crossed.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through the pages of Will’s sketchbook with intense focus, occasionally holding it closer to his face like he might find some hidden secret in the lines. Will froze for a split second when he noticed, stomach flipping.

Jonathan was perched in the recliner, half-asleep already with a soda in hand, and Joyce popped her head in from the kitchen with a fond, tired smile. “Snacks are coming in five! Be nice to each other.”

“Hey!” Dustin called, throwing himself onto the couch dramatically. “The party has arrived.”

Max rolled her eyes. “You’ve been here.”

Will eased into the room, eyes on Mike, who looked up the moment he felt someone’s presence. His face lit up.

“Dude,” Mike said, holding the sketchbook up, “I’ve been going through this—there’s this one design with these gauntlet things? It’s seriously genius. You could totally pitch that to, like, actual engineers.”

Will rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how hot his face was. “I just… doodle sometimes. It’s nothing.”

“No,” Mike said, smiling warmly. “It’s not nothing. It’s… cool.”

Dustin coughed loudly and very obviously next to them, but no one paid him any attention.

Will sat down next to Mike—closer than he normally would—and tried not to notice how Mike shifted a little toward him, still flipping pages.

“So,” Lucas said, turning around. “What’s the plan tonight? Legos? Pizza? Cringe horror movie we’ll all regret?”

Mike grinned. “All of the above.”

And as the room filled with laughter and warmth, Will allowed himself—for just a second—to feel like maybe everything wasn’t falling apart.

Mike carefully closed the sketchbook and held it out to Will, who took it back with a small, sheepish smile. Their fingers brushed, and Mike looked up—his eyes bright with something new, like he’d just remembered the best part of his day.

“Oh!” he said, suddenly animated, sitting up straighter. “Guys—you’re not gonna believe this.”

Will’s stomach dropped. He already knew.

Mike turned to the group, his excitement contagious. “I saw Spider-Man again. Today.”

Lucas raised a brow. “Wait, again?”

“Dude, what?” Dustin leaned in, already feigning surprise.

Max sat down on the arm of the couch, intrigued. “Where?”

Will tried to melt into the couch cushions.

“It was—okay, I was in my room, right? Just, like, thinking about stuff, and then he showed up at my window. Again.” Mike grinned. “And we talked. Like, actually talked. He remembered me.”

Will blinked, heat rising to his face.

“He said he remembered me from the alley,” Mike went on, completely unaware of Will’s slow descent into flustered silence. “And I showed him some of Will’s sketches—like the ones with the gear—and he actually liked them. I think I made him laugh. He’s… different than I thought he’d be.”

“Different how?” Lucas asked, watching him with a lopsided smirk.

Mike stared off for a second, thoughtful. “He’s funny. Kinda awkward, but in a really charming way. And I don’t know. He makes me feel like… like I matter.”

Will coughed, trying to disguise the squeak in his throat. He looked down at the sketchbook in his lap, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

Across from him, Dustin squinted.

He glanced from Mike—rambling, glowing—to Will—silent, tomato-faced.

Then back again.

Dustin’s mouth opened slightly.

“Oh,” he whispered, just to himself.

Will glanced at him. Dustin immediately looked away.

Will’s heart pounded.

Mike, oblivious, leaned back with a dreamy grin. “Anyway. That was the best part of my day.”

Lucas tossed a pillow at him. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

Mike caught it, laughing. “Maybe.”

Will didn’t say a word. But his entire body was buzzing.

Dustin looked like he was watching a puzzle solve itself in real time.

And the tension? Practically screaming.

Dustin, still side-eying Will like he’d just unlocked a new level of a video game, couldn’t stop his brain from connecting dots—or his mouth from moving.

He squinted at Mike. “Wait—how do you even know Spider-Man’s our age? He could be, like, old as hell. What if he’s just a short dude with a youthful voice?”

The room went still.

Mike furrowed his brows. “No way. He’s not old.”

Will’s head snapped toward Dustin.

Not subtle. Not slow. Just a sharp, pointed look.

The kind of look that screamed: Do not push this.

Dustin’s eyes went wide. “I mean—yeah! No. Totally! He definitely seems like a teen. Super teen vibes. Teenagery. Not old. Nope.”

Max narrowed her eyes, catching the weird energy.

Lucas leaned forward. “What was that look about?”

“Nothing,” Will said a little too quickly, turning back to his sketchbook like it had become the most interesting thing in the world.

Mike didn’t seem to notice. “I just know, okay? It’s the way he talks. The way he moves. It’s not… I don’t know, some guy in his thirties or whatever. It felt like he was just… one of us.”

Will’s face softened for half a second.

Dustin, watching him carefully now, swallowed hard.

He was so onto something.

The moment Mike turned his attention back to the others, Dustin leaned over to Will and muttered under his breath, “We need to talk. Now.”

Will blinked, but before he could argue, Dustin grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the hallway. Max raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything as the two disappeared around the corner.

Inside the downstairs bathroom, Dustin shut the door behind them and turned on the faucet—probably for noise cover—before whirling around.

“Dude!” he hissed. “Are you serious right now?!”

Will winced. “Dusty, I—”

“You’re Spider-Man!” he whisper-yelled, eyes bugging out. “You’re literally the guy he’s obsessed with and you’re just—just letting him crush on you without even knowing it’s you?!”

Will looked down, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this…”

Dustin ran a hand through his curls, pacing a tight circle. “I mean—okay, yeah, I get it now. The abs. The weird reflexes. The whole disappearing act. I should’ve seen it sooner! But Mike, Will? What’s your plan here, huh? Just keep being both his best friend and his superhero crush until your entire life collapses in on itself?”

Will groaned. “I know! I know it’s a bad idea, but I didn’t plan this, Dustin. I never wanted him to find out. And now that he’s into Spider-Man—into him—I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Dustin’s expression softened, though his voice stayed sharp. “You love him.”

Will froze.

The water kept running. His throat felt tight.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Since forever.”

Dustin exhaled and leaned back against the counter. “Okay. Okay. I get it now. But this? This is dangerous, Will. You’re walking a tightrope and Mike’s in the dark.”

Will nodded, jaw clenched. “I just needed… a little more time.”

Dustin stared at him for a long moment, then nodded too.

“One more screw-up and I’m telling him myself.”

Will let out a breath. “Fair.”

Dustin shut off the faucet, gave him a long, knowing look, then opened the door.

“C’mon, Spider-dork. They’ll get suspicious.”

Will followed, heart racing, chest heavy—but somewhere in the mess, a small part of him felt lighter.

Because someone knew now.

And they weren’t running.

As they stepped out of the bathroom, Dustin paused in the hallway, eyes still wild with adrenaline. He turned to Will, this time with a determined glint.

“Okay. So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he said, arms crossed. “If you’re gonna keep doing the whole secret identity thing, then you need someone watching your back.”

Will furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about being your guy in the chair, dude,” Dustin said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The tech guy. The brains. The support system. I’ve seen enough movies. I got this.”

Will blinked. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Dustin jabbed a thumb at himself. “I’ve already got the walkie setup, I’ve been learning coding for fun, and you know I’m a genius when it comes to tech. I could help with your gear, your schedule, even monitoring police scanners—everything. You need backup, and I’m not letting you go this alone anymore.”

Will stared at him for a second, completely stunned.

And then—he smiled. Small, overwhelmed, but grateful.

“Thanks, Dusty,” he murmured.

Dustin grinned. “Just don’t get squished out there. I have a reputation to uphold.”

They shared a look, the kind that only comes from years of friendship—and then headed back toward the living room like nothing had happened.

But everything had changed.

And now Will wasn’t alone.

Will and Dustin stepped back into the living room, pretending nothing had happened—though Will’s pulse was still racing from their conversation. But whatever tension lingered in his chest quickly gave way to confusion at the chaos in front of them.

Lucas and Mike were in the middle of a full-on wrestling match on the floor, limbs flailing as they tried to pin each other down. The LEGO box had been shoved aside, half-built pieces scattered across the coffee table and rug.

“Tap out, Wheeler!” Lucas yelled, laughing as he tried to get Mike in a headlock.

“Never!” Mike grunted, wriggling free and lunging for Lucas’s leg.

Max stood off to the side, arms crossed, a huge grin on her face. “Get him, Lucas! He insulted your layup!”

“I did not insult it!” Mike shouted, muffled against the carpet.

“You said it was ‘decent,’” Lucas grunted. “That’s insulting!”

Max howled with laughter, cheering louder. “Break his pride, babe!”

Will blinked. “What did we just walk into?”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “This is what happens when you leave these idiots unsupervised for ten minutes.”

Will laughed despite himself, standing just inside the door. His gaze flicked to Mike—his messy hair, the way he was laughing breathlessly, face flushed from the exertion—and something warm bloomed in his chest again.

This was normal. This was home.

And for the first time in a long time, Will felt like maybe—just maybe—he belonged right here in the middle of it all.

Chapter Text

Will stood in the doorway of the living room, feeling more normal than he had in days. The soft clatter of LEGO bricks spilling out onto the coffee table filled the room like background music, grounding him in the moment. Max sat cross-legged on the floor beside Lucas, who was already sorting bricks into color piles with militant focus.

Mike was the last to plop down on the carpet, sketchbook in hand.

“Okay,” he said, already flipping it open. “Before we get into this—look at this. Seriously. Will’s sketches? Insane.”

Will’s heart nearly stopped.

Dustin raised an eyebrow. “Is this the same sketchbook from lunch?”

“Yeah, I looked through more of it after school. He’s basically designing suits. For Spider-Man.”

Will stiffened but tried to play it off, grabbing a handful of blue bricks and busying himself with them.

Max leaned in, whistling low. “You got a thing for him or something?” she teased.

Mike flushed, but he didn’t deny it. “I just think he’s cool, okay? And Will’s drawings are—like, they’re actually helpful. He’s thought through insulation, web cartridges, even aerodynamics—”

Dustin side-eyed Will, smirking knowingly. “And how do you know Spider-Man needs all that, huh?”

Will shot him a death glare.

Mike didn’t notice. He was too busy gushing. “I don’t know. Spider-Man just… he said something to me. That night. About feeling seen.” Mike trailed off, smile softening. “It stuck with me.”

Will swallowed hard, pretending to adjust a LEGO base plate.

Dustin glanced between the two of them, biting back a grin.

Lucas held up a half-built section of the set. “Okay, are we actually gonna build this thing or just keep talking about your new boyfriend, Mike?”

Mike rolled his eyes but laughed. “He’s not—whatever, give me the manual.”

As the group settled into building, the room buzzed with idle chatter and laughter. Will kept sneaking glances at Mike, who kept sneaking glances at the sketches.

“Hey,” Mike said quietly after a while, nudging Will. “These drawings? You ever think of, like, showing Spider-Man himself?”

Will blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You always draw him like you know him. Like… you get what he needs.” Mike shrugged. “I think he’d really appreciate it.”

Will’s face turned bright red. He quickly looked away. “Maybe.”

The doorbell rang suddenly, and Joyce called out from the kitchen, “Pizza’s here!”

Max jumped up with Lucas right behind her. “Dibs on the pepperoni!” she shouted.

Mike stretched, standing too. “You coming?”

Will nodded, but lingered a second as everyone filed out. He picked up a stray LEGO brick, holding it between his fingers.

Piece by piece, he thought.

Maybe he was getting there.

The kitchen was filled with laughter as the group gathered around the table. The pizza boxes sat in the middle, now open and steaming, as the kids dug in with enthusiasm.

Mike, having already claimed the biggest slice, grinned at Lucas. “I swear, Lucas, every time we play a game of Dungeons and Dragons, you get the best rolls. How is that possible?”

Lucas smirked, taking a bite of his pizza. “It’s all about strategy, man. You gotta know when to play the odds.”

Max, rolling her eyes, shot back, “Strategy, sure. You’re just lucky. You’ve been rolling like that since we were 10.”

“Oh, please,” Lucas teased, “It’s a gift. I’m just naturally talented.”

Dustin snorted from across the table, “Gift? The only gift you have is annoying the rest of us with your ‘lucky rolls.’ I should’ve known better than to let you be the Dungeon Master.”

“Hey, I’m great at it!” Lucas protested.

Will watched the banter, his eyes lighting up at the familiar sight. They were all so comfortable together, falling into their usual rhythms. It was a feeling he didn’t always get to experience when he was wrapped up in his own thoughts, but now, surrounded by his friends, it was like everything felt just right.

“Alright,” Max interjected, holding up a breadstick triumphantly. “Enough about your D&D nonsense. Who’s up for a real challenge? I’m taking anyone down in a race to the couch after this. I’ll even let you get a head start.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely,” Max said, grinning wide. “I’m faster than all of you, and you know it.”

“Hey, not fair!” Dustin whined, “I’m the fastest. I should be the one challenging everyone.”

“You can barely run a mile without collapsing,” Lucas teased, nudging him playfully. “You’re not the fastest, Dustin.”

“Excuse me,” Dustin said, holding up a slice of pizza for dramatic effect. “I’ll have you know I’m secretly a professional athlete.”

“Oh yeah?” Max laughed, “Since when?”

“Since… forever,” Dustin said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The whole table erupted in laughter, including Will, who finally felt the weight lifting off his shoulders. For a moment, he could just be with his friends, no secrets, no worries. Just them, joking around like they always did.

Mike looked around at everyone, his heart feeling fuller than it had in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d all just hung out like this—no drama, no stress.

“Alright, alright,” Mike said between laughs, “I think Max is about to beat us all in that race, but first, who’s going to be my teammate for the next round of Mario Kart?”

Dustin instantly raised his hand. “Me! I’m amazing at Mario Kart.”

“Yeah, and you’ll be out first round,” Lucas snickered.

Mike shook his head, grinning. “If you say so. But you’re on.”

The night went on with more playful banter, trash-talking over Mario Kart, and endless laughter. There was something magical about moments like this—when everything felt right. And for Will, being surrounded by his friends, laughing and enjoying the moment, was the best feeling in the world.

⸻

The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the night outside. In Will’s room, the group had finally settled into an unexpected peace after a day full of excitement and laughter.

Max had fallen asleep sitting up, her head resting against Lucas’s shoulder. He was half-leaning against the wall, one arm draped over her, both of them a tangle of limbs.

Max’s sneakers were still kicked off at the foot of the bed, and her hoodie was haphazardly slung over the back of a chair, a sign of the comfortable chaos they had all embraced.

Dustin had claimed the floor, his back pressed against Will’s dresser, his legs sprawled out in every direction.

He still held the remains of his pizza slice like a treasure in his hand, though it was now a forgotten relic, cold and untouched.

Mike was sprawled across Will’s bed, the covers twisted around him like a cocoon. His face was relaxed, lips slightly parted as he breathed steadily, completely at ease. The night had been perfect, and the exhaustion was evident in the way his body had melted into the mattress.

Will sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his friends in the dim light.
He leaned back slightly, his heart still racing from the excitement of the night. But now, in the silence, he couldn’t help but feel a gentle warmth spread across his chest. Everything felt… right.

For once, it wasn’t about Spider-Man, or secrets, or wondering what would happen next. For the first time in a long while, it was just about being with the people who mattered most to him.

His eyes lingered on Mike, who was the closest to him. Mike’s face was relaxed, calm, and Will felt a strange comfort in the way his best friend looked, unaware of the inner conflict that Will had carried for so long.

The tension between them that had been there for months seemed to dissolve in the quiet of the room.

Will’s fingers twitched, and he couldn’t help but inch a little closer to Mike, as if drawn by some invisible pull. He reached out slowly, his hand hovering near Mike’s, before it gently brushed against his.

Mike’s fingers twitched in his sleep, and Will froze for a moment, unsure if he should pull back. But Mike remained unaware, and Will took a deep breath before his fingers curled around Mike’s hand.

He smiled softly, the warmth of their connection spreading through him. There, in the dark, it felt like everything he had been yearning for was finally right in front of him.

No secrets, no hidden fears, just this simple moment where they were together.

Will let out a quiet breath, and slowly, his eyelids began to grow heavy. He rested his head on the pillow beside Mike, his hand still intertwined with his.

He didn’t know what the future would bring or when—if—he’d ever be able to share his secret.

But for tonight, for this quiet, peaceful moment, Will let go of everything else and just held onto Mike’s hand as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The early morning light filtered through the cracks in the blinds, casting soft, golden streaks across the room. The peaceful calm of the night before seemed to fade with the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Will! Mike! Dustin! Get up, you’re gonna be late!” Joyce’s voice cut through the quiet like a sudden storm, and the door to Will’s room burst open with a loud creak.

Will groaned, still half asleep, his hand instinctively tightening around Mike’s, who was still lying next to him, curled up in the bed. Mike stirred, blinking at the sudden onslaught of noise and light, his hair still tousled from sleep. It took a moment for both of them to process the urgency of Joyce’s command.

“Oh, crap,” Will muttered, his heart racing as he realized what time it was. He pulled his hand from Mike’s, though he hesitated for a moment before quickly sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Mike, now fully awake, shot up as well, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?” he asked, rubbing his face and glancing over at the others.

“Nothing’s wrong, but we all need to get up. Everyone’s coming over here to hang out, and you’ve got school in an hour. Get moving!” Joyce was already rushing out of the room, but not before calling back one more time. “I swear, you kids are like herding cats in the morning.”

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the room, and Will sighed, standing up and stretching. He glanced at Mike, who was now rubbing his eyes and yawning. Will bit his lip for a moment, not sure if he should mention anything—about last night, about the way they fell asleep with their hands intertwined—but the moment seemed too fleeting to bring it up.

Dustin had already begun stirring, groggily getting up off the floor with his pizza crumbs still scattered around him. “I swear, Joyce has a sixth sense for when we’re all knocked out,” he grumbled as he shuffled to the door.

Max and Lucas were already up too, their voices faint as they passed by in the hall, both still half-asleep and muttering something about breakfast.

“Come on, let’s go. You guys can’t sleep all day.” Dustin’s voice broke Will’s thoughts, and he turned to face his friend, his face flushed. They all needed to get dressed quickly.

Will quickly grabbed some clothes from his dresser, changing in the speediest way he could manage. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth creeping in his chest as he thought about the night before—the way everything had felt so right. But now wasn’t the time for daydreams.

His mind wandered to Mike as he dressed. Mike had been different last night, more open, more… Mike. Will wondered if he could find a way to talk to him about how he’d felt—how close they’d been. But those thoughts were interrupted by the frantic scrambling of the group as they hurried downstairs, out the door, and into their respective cars.

Will could still feel the remnants of their brief, quiet moments together, and he hated how the day was starting to pull them apart. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep hiding things from Mike—but for now, he’d have to.

The group finally made it to school, groggy and still adjusting to the hectic start to the morning. The normal bustling of lockers slamming and students rushing to classes filled the air as they all congregated by their usual spots. Will, Mike, Dustin, Max, and Lucas all met up by the entrance, gathering their things and talking amongst themselves.

Mike still seemed a little out of it from lack of sleep, but he was as charming as ever, smiling at the others as they all swapped stories of the previous night. Will could only half pay attention, his thoughts still lingering on last night’s strange, undeniable connection with Mike. His heart raced at the thought of their hands brushing again—he wanted to feel that warmth again, but he didn’t know how to act.

The bell rang, signaling the start of their first classes, and everyone scrambled to their separate classrooms.

But something felt different. Will didn’t know if it was the way his thoughts kept returning to Mike or the fact that he’d been getting more nervous as each minute passed. Maybe it was because he was starting to notice things—like how his heartbeat seemed to quicken whenever Mike was nearby. It wasn’t something Will had thought about much before, but now, the feelings seemed to be becoming undeniable.

As he walked toward the school entrance, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden chill down his spine. Will froze for a moment. Something didn’t feel right.

Across the parking lot, there was movement—a shadow in the corner of his eye that he couldn’t quite place. He turned, his heart picking up speed. It was just a flash of something—or someone—but Will couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that settled over him. He couldn’t explain why, but he had a strange, creeping sensation that something was about to go down at school.

He could hear his heart beat faster as Mike looked at him, their eyes meeting for a split second before Mike glanced away, running a hand through his hair nervously.

Will was about to say something, but then he felt it—the slight prickle at the back of his neck. His senses were on alert.

His spidey-sense.

It was faint, but unmistakable. Something was off. A danger, somewhere nearby. Will’s breath caught, but he forced himself to remain calm, not wanting Mike to notice. His hand subconsciously reached for the strap of his backpack, pulling it closer to his side. He felt the suit underneath, a reassuring weight, but he couldn’t act on it yet. Not here. Not in the middle of school.

“Mike,” Will said quietly, “I think we should head to class. I—uh—I think I left something in my locker.”

Mike glanced over, eyebrow raised. “Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Will lied, offering a small smile. “Just need to grab something.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Will walked off quickly, weaving through the crowded halls. He could hear Mike call after him, but the noise of the hallway was starting to fade as the tingling in the back of his neck grew sharper. Will’s thoughts were a jumble. The spidey-sense never failed him, but he hated how it made him feel. The weight of responsibility was pressing on him, harder than ever.

By the time Will reached his locker, he was already checking the hallway for any sign of trouble. He wasn’t sure what was coming, but something about the way the tension in the air had shifted made him uneasy. He quickly slid the lock open, pulling out his suit, just in case. But he couldn’t bring himself to go full Spider-Man just yet—not with Mike so close, not with his friends around. He couldn’t risk them finding out, especially not now when everything felt so fragile.

Will was about to close his locker when the feeling spiked again—closer this time. He spun on his heel, eyes scanning the hallway. He could feel it. Someone was watching him. Someone was close.

“Will?”

Mike’s voice, soft and concerned, cut through the noise of Will’s thoughts. He turned to find Mike standing just a few feet away, looking at him with that same furrowed brow.

“Is everything okay?” Mike asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. “You’ve been acting weird since we got here.”

Will hesitated for a moment, then nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just… got distracted.”

Mike didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he stepped closer. “You sure? Because you’ve been acting strange since last night too.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Will’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The truth? That would give him away. The lie? He hated keeping secrets from Mike, but what else could he do?

Before he could answer, the bell rang again, signaling the start of class.

“I guess we should get going,” Will said, his voice slightly strained as he pushed past Mike, making his way down the hallway. His senses were still on high alert. Something was coming. But for now, he had to ignore it. He had to pretend everything was normal.

But deep down, Will knew the truth. There was no ignoring it forever.

The hall buzzed with students getting to class, lockers slamming and chatter echoing through the corridors. Will and Mike walked side by side, their conversation light and quiet—trading stories about their latest D&D ideas, the kind of magic items Mike wanted to introduce, and Will shyly talking about how cool it would be to illustrate them all.

Mike gave a small laugh. “I still think your mind’s wasted in Mr. Miller’s class. You should be working at Marvel or something.”

Will flushed, giving a shy smile. “You think so?”

Mike grinned, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I know so.”

The bell rang, and the two had to split off. Mike shot Will a lazy wave before jogging off down the opposite hall. Will watched him go for a beat too long before shaking his head and turning toward his own class. Dustin waited at the door.

“There you are!” Dustin whispered, grabbing Will’s arm as he stepped inside. “Okay, okay—so, do you stick to walls with your hands or feet or both?”

“Dustin—” Will hissed, glancing around.

“Do the webs come out of your wrists or is it like, those homemade shooters from the sketchbook?”

Will groaned and yanked Dustin toward a back corner desk as their teacher started pulling up the slides for their lesson.

“Would you shut up?” he muttered, voice low and tense. “We’re in class!”

Dustin held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I just—dude, I’ve always wanted to ask Spider-Man this stuff, and now I can. Come on, you have to throw me a bone.”

Will shot him a sideways glare, lips twitching despite himself. “One question,” he whispered. “Just one.”

Before Dustin could pick the most epic one, a thunderous CRASH shook the classroom. The windows rattled. A shriek rang out from the hallway, and the lights flickered as something exploded nearby—followed by what sounded like a robotic snarl and the hiss of overheating tech.

The teacher jolted. “Everyone under your desks! Now!”

Will’s stomach dropped.

His senses screamed, like a fire alarm blaring in the back of his skull. He barely had time to think—he was already moving.

Dustin grabbed his arm. “Will—?”

“I need to go,” Will said, eyes scanning the room, chest heaving. “Cover for me.”

“What—now?!”

Will ducked low and slid toward the classroom door just as a second, louder boom shook the school. Screams echoed from down the hall. From the windows, dark smoke curled against the blue sky outside.

Will’s heart pounded. Whatever this was, it wasn’t small.

And this time, he had a feeling it wasn’t just a random mugger or petty thief.

No, this was big.

This was Gearshock.