Chapter Text
The next morning, Will broke a mirror.
He’d been standing in the bathroom under a dim light, which threatened to burn out at any time, wavering every few minutes and leaving Will with less illumination than he would’ve been comfortable with. Will had never been a fan of the dark, which he blamed the Upside Down for. He supposed he blamed the Upside Down for much too many of his faults.
Will was looking his reflection over, leaning over the counter to properly see in the dim light, and messing with his hair before he went out to join the others. He hadn’t interacted with anyone today other than at breakfast, so he assumed he’d been vision-free so far and was glad for it.
Then, as Will lingered on a splotch above his nose, he caught motion from behind him in the mirror: A dark figure standing over him.
With a sharp inhale, Will whipped around, grabbing a pointed comb from the counter to defend himself against the intruder. The intruder, who, to Will’s own horror, had been shaped so familiarly.
Will was met with nothing but the blank wall, shadows cast upon it in the wavering light. He took a cautious step forward, comb held tightly in his fist. “Who’s there?” he asked, but gained no response but the small bounce of his own voice on the tile floor.
Will sighed in relief. Surely, the figure he saw had been a trick of the light. These long shadows definitely seemed like they could be mistaken for living things. Will was just paranoid because of the past few days. He was suspicious of everyone and everything he saw, but he needed to let down his guard. Vecna was physically gone. He couldn't hurt Will. Not in the real word, at least.
Then, with a final flicker, the bathroom light went out, blanketing Will in a cover of blinding darkness.
The panic kicked in a second time. Will’s eyes shifted in the dark, and he held the comb out in front of him like a blade. He couldn’t make anything out, but he could swear there was something in there with him. Something was watching him from the unseen corners of the room. If he squinted, he could imagine Vecna’s veiny form bearing down on him, his foggy, blue eyes piercing Will’s soul. For a moment, Will felt like he was eleven years old, shivering in the blue darkness of another world, hiding from that awful creature.
The light flickered ever so slightly on, and Will could see the shadow cast on the wall: Vecna standing behind him, overtaking Will’s own silhouette. He couldn’t stand the sight of it.
Without thinking, Will closed his eyes tight, turned, and lunged, driving the pointed comb at Vecna’s neck.
He heard a sharp noise and cautiously revealed the damage to himself. Vecna was nowhere to be seen. Will’s comb had chipped into the surface of the bathroom mirror, leaving a long, diagonal crack that distorted Will’s own face.
He stumbled back, appalled by the nasty trick. Vecna was trying to frighten him.
“Will, is everything alright in there?” Will heard his brother call from outside the door, knocking lightly with the tips of his fingers.
“Fine,” Will said in return, eyes fixed on the crack in the mirror. He threw the comb down on the counter with a groan. He couldn't even get ready in the morning without suffering from Vecna’s influence. “What are you playing at?” he wondered aloud, and was again met with no voice but his own.
Will felt a shiver run down his spine as his split reflection seemed to gape at him from inside the broken mirror.
A long while later, Will sat alone in his room, staring at the pages of the journal Mike had started writing for him. He scanned over yesterday’s events, written out in Mike’s scrawl:
Day 1/?: First Entry Ever!!
Morning: You woke up around 7:30 and had toast with jam for breakfast. El joined you and you played cards together and talked about your mom and Jonathan. I joined you both in the kitchen and realized we were out of cereal and needed to make a supply run. Dustin, Lucas, and Max came over shortly after and all of us discussed our game plan for the day. You talked to Jonathan about whether or not to join the supply-run team and convinced him you needed to get out of the house.
Mid-day: You, me, El, and Dustin went to the supermarket. While El and I ran inside, you stayed in the car with Dustin, who told you all about the release of Jaws: The Revenge, which he CLAIMED was a good movie, but he’s wrong. DO NOT WATCH IT! I know you love Jaws, but it’s not worth it. Once we got the groceries, we started recounting your memories and decided we needed to start this journal for you, so we stopped by my house to pick up a blank notebook from my basement. You stole chocolates from the jar on the counter. While we were in the basement, my mom came home and caught us, so we had to explain the situation to her. We think she won’t tell, but she informed us that Pennhurst called about you. When we got back to your house, Jonathan said he’d gotten a similar call. We all had a conversation about what we would do if Pennhurst came looking for you. If they come, we’ll warn you and you can escape with someone back into the woods so they can’t find you.
Evening: Monopoly with Max, El, and Lucas while Dustin and Jonathan worked on dinner (spaghetti). Max won Monopoly, but you came in at a close 3rd place. Lucas lost. Shortly after, you came outside and we talked about parents. I wiped an eyelash off your cheek (which you are INSISTING I include), and then we decided to go inside. We sat in the kitchen and started writing this, interviewing multiple people about their interactions with you. Then, everyone had dinner. You and El played cards again. After this, you returned to your room to do some drawing and went to bed.
Will sighed and held the journal to his chest. While the events in the book didn’t line up exactly with the events in his head, he was so grateful to have this stable lifeline. He was even more grateful that Mike had offered to take on such a task. Surely, recounting all of Will’s day-to-day actions couldn’t be easy. It would require effort, and Will felt bad that Mike was being forced to expend such effort, but the boy had insisted he do it, so Will couldn’t argue.
The thought of Mike caring that much made Will’s heart flutter a little. Usually, he’d tell himself to let it go and press down his feelings for Mike, but last night was giving him foolish hope.
Will had decided that if he wanted anything to happen between him and Mike, after years and years of just passively waiting for things to magically evolve, he had to do something to test the waters. So, out on the back door stairs, he’d made a subtle move. It wasn’t really a move at all, but he just wanted to know how Mike would react, so he rested his head on his shoulder.
The worst Mike could do was shove him off, and then that would confirm that Will probably had no chance and could stop hopelessly pining over something he’d never get. Mike had done pretty much the opposite. Not only had he let Will rest his head, he stared him in the eyes and brushed a hand across his cheek. The hand brush had been sensually slow, in Will’s opinion, and Mike claimed he’d been brushing away an eyelash, but Will had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t the case.
Final verdict: Will’s plot had gone over even better than he expected. Not only did Mike allow the contact, he furthered it. Will didn’t want to build up hopes too quickly, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about what all of this could mean. Could it be that Mike really did love him in the same way?
He shook this dim-witted assumption from his head. It was much too early to tell something like that. Will would just have to keep making subtle moves and see if Mike kept playing along. Surely, that would get him further than any passive pining ever had. Will was finally taking initiative. It felt good to have control over something in his life after the past few days.
Will shut the green journal with a sigh and hoisted himself up from his bed. He needed to find someone to talk to. After this morning, he feared being alone for too long. Who knew what he’d end up doing if left alone with the tricks of Vecna making him believe outrageous things. Even confessing to the group what had happened with the mirror had gained him some concerned looks, and he knew they were warranted. Will was a walking disaster at this point. He figured some company would keep him from too much trouble.
Then again, finding someone wasn’t definite. There was always the possibility that whoever he found could be another mirage. He had plenty of experience with that.
That’s why, when Will saw the whole group gathered around the kitchen table, he was extremely relieved. Logically, Will had figured out, it would be much harder for Vecna to create a fake memory with lots of people, since it would then be more likely for Will to see any one of those people in reality and break the illusion. He deemed groups safe for now, if only for his own sanity.
Although the size of the group had initially calmed Will’s nerves, he started to tense again as he studied them further. Everyone was speaking in hushed tones, gathered around the table and making worried expressions at each other. Whatever update they had, it couldn’t be good.
This was unsurprising, though. It felt as if nothing had been good from the moment they’d first broken Will out of Pennhurst. Whatever the group was worried about, it was surely something that was all to do with Will. Will was at the source of every problem lately. They grew from him like the branches of the tree he’d always painted under at Pennhurst.
“Will,” said Max, noticing him entering the room with a sharp turn of her head. The tone of her voice confirmed that this was about him. “Hey, come sit down.”
Will made his way further over, trying to peek at what the group was gathered around with such tension. When he finally saw it, he recognized it as some sort of paper, but Will couldn’t make out what for. As he approached a chair on the right side, between Mike and Lucas, Mike held out an expectant hand.
“You’ve got the journal, right?” he asked, his concerned face warming when he spoke to Will. “I need it back so I can start writing today’s entry for you.”
Will gave up the small book as he took a seat, eyes stuck on what he now recognized to be a newspaper. “What’s that?” he asked, small. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know.
“Today’s news,” Lucas said grimly, looking around the table. “Max and I went out to get El some tea, and we found it. You better take a look.” He reached over and pulled the paper down the length of the table until it found a place in front of Will’s seat.
Will was met with a picture of his own face, and a bold, black-lettered headline that labelled him an escaped mental patient capable of great violence. “Oh,” he said, even smaller. So much for what Karen Wheeler had said about his disappearance being under wraps. No doubt the entirety of Hawkins knew now: there was a bloodthirsty madman on the loose, and his name was William Byers.
“Yeah, it’s bad,” said Mike from beside him, leaning forward in his chair to take another look at the paper. His hand skidded over Will’s printed face as he spoke. “But good news is they didn’t connect El and I back to your escape, so they have no reason to believe you’d be hiding out with us.”
“Even so,” Jonathan spoke up, hands cupped around a mug of coffee, “I think it would be smart to lay low. No more going tagging along to the supermarket. The Karen scare was bad enough, but now everyone will be on the lookout for you.”
This was definite. There would be no debating the risk of going out with the others anymore. Will felt his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands as he listened.
Dustin scoffed in disgust at the situation, stealing his own glance at the paper. “Jesus Christ, this town just loves to hate people for no proven reason. They have a ridiculous mob mentality.”
“Their reason is that Will violently assaulted a Pennhurst worker on his way out,” Max said shortly, pointing to the paper. “Did you read that? They think he tried to kill a woman.”
“Yeah, sounds awfully familiar.”
“Whatever they think,” El cut in, “It doesn’t matter. We will just keep Will hidden until we defeat Vecna. Then we will not have to worry about any of this. If we solve our Vecna problem, we solve all our problems.”
This statement seemed to soothe the table, if only in the slightest, but Lucas looked antsy next to Will, eyes moving back and forth between the paper and his friends. “And are we sure it’ll be fixed?” he wondered aloud. “We’re sure that everyone will go back to normal once Vecna’s out of Will’s head?”
“Positive,” said El. “We don’t have enough resources to rely on anything else right now. Will is Vecna’s last grip. Once he’s gone, it’s all gone.”
“So everyone’s just gonna have their memories dropped on them all at once?” Lucas asked hesitantly. He looked around the table, trying to find others with equal concern. “I mean, speaking from experience, it’s not exactly pleasant to get that all back. Imagine if the entire town had that big ball dropped on them all at once. It’d be chaos. And do we really want these people to have those memories back?”
Will could see the validity of this concern, but there was really no other way to solve the problem, unless they decided to keep Vecna’s power alive.
The weight of this point lingered in the air for a silent moment as everyone at the table fidgeted and looked around the room, no one wanting to admit the truth in what Lucas said.
Finally, Mike frowned and said, “Well, everything will end when Vecna’s out of Will’s head-”
Will cut him off. “So the only way the rest of the world can be happy is if we keep Vecna inside of me,” he spat. After even just experiencing what he had this morning, he couldn’t believe anyone would be considering such a thing. “Great, that sounds like an awesome plan.”
Mike gave him a stern look. “That’s obviously not what I was gonna say. We are going to remove Vecna from you, that’s non-negotiable. I mean, who cares if everyone has to remember? They should remember. Like, my sister, for example. She can finally have closure on Barb’s case if she remembers. Barb’s parents could too.”
“And everyone will remember that Eddie wasn’t a serial killer,” Dustin added. “And we could all play D&D without getting burned at the stake for once.” He laughed breathily to himself, unbelieving. “Are you guys seriously contemplating this? They need to remember.”
“I get that,” said Lucas. “I just think… is there any way we could do this where we’re not sending the entirety of Hawkins into immediate chaos the moment Vecna’s gone?”
“It would be different if I was not limited on power,” El said, looking down. “But, I think this is the only way.”
“And we should be willing to take that risk for Will’s sake,” Jonathan added quickly. “So it’s okay, El. You’re doing just fine.” He smiled in his sister’s direction, trying to cheer her up from her obviously guilty mood. She did not look back.
The entire group was losing momentum and Will could feel it in the air. There was only so much his friends could do to feel like they had any control over this situation. At a certain point, they must’ve realized that their main roles were to sit there and pretend like they could do anything to actually solve this Vecna problem while they all watched Will flounder around like an idiot, taking to walls and breaking mirrors. Of course they were questioning their established plan now. From their perspective, this was all a stalemated hell. Will was surprised no one had suggested they all take the easy route and kill him off, hopefully taking Vecna with him.
Despite the apparent feeling that Will’s friends knew they could do nothing, they still hurt for him. He felt a tinge of guilt every time he saw a concerned face from Lucas, or El stressed and tired. These people didn’t owe him anything, nor did they have any immediate stakes in the situation, and yet they persisted in showing up and taking the burden of some of the pain. Will hated that these people were stressed, tired, and scared over something that should have, in a perfect world, only affected him. He hated knowing that all this suffering was happening because of something that was solely dependent on him. Will was the source of this awful energy, and he could hardly stand it.
“When are we going to go back into my memories?” he blurted as the others were still quietly discussing the logic of their end-scenarios. Will needed this to be over, and soon. He didn’t know if he could stand the feeling of being responsible for all of this chaos for much longer.
The group collectively turned heads to El, who shrank further back in her seat.
“Soon,” she said.
“Soon as in today?” asked Max.
El shook her head tentatively. “Soon as in tomorrow. I will try to be good by tomorrow.”
Will sighed. That meant he only had to survive maybe 24 hours more without getting somewhere. If he was lucky, this next memory would be Vecna’s final grasp. If he were smart, he’d know not to let that sort of idea fester. Vecna was stronger than that, and he had a long-term plan, Will just had yet to figure out what. The group had been right when they said that first memory had been too easy to overtake. It was as if Vecna was making the memories easy on purpose to instill a false sense of victory in the group. If Will knew anything about Vecna, he’d guess that he was so confident in his end goal that he didn’t even care about the group breaking through this first memory. The second would be a show if this confidence went further.
Once the kitchen conversation finally broke up, Will couldn’t shake the feeling that all his friends felt trapped, like they were obligated to be here with him and live out this awful, almost-average day-to-day, littered with bits and pieces of a mind game they had no pawns in. Sometimes he could feel them looking at him, sometimes he saw resentment in their eyes. He wondered, if they were given the option, if anyone really would consider killing him. It would certainly be a logically quick solution to Vecna’s infestation. Kill the host, kill the parasite. If things went on like this much longer, all of them cooped up in here, just waiting for the next memory-breach, there was no doubt that they’d be at Will’s throat.
Will felt trapped too now. More and more, this house was starting to feel like a second purgatory. At points, as he tried to figure out the things he’d just done, or the people he’d just talked to, he almost wished for the white walls of Pennhurst.
A while later, while Will was tracing out vague memories in his sketch book on the living room couch, he laughed out loud. This house was Pennhurst all over again. He wasn’t allowed to leave, the people all looked at him like he was going crazy, he was stuck with nothing to express his unexplainable experiences but his art, and he was surrounded by the most suffocating cloud of hopelessness. It reeked from his friends, the sheets of his bed, from the cracks in the floor. Will had truly escaped one prison only to enter another curated by Vecna.
Jonathan had been sitting on another chair in the room, and turned his head up quickly when Will let out his laugh of realization. “What?” he asked quickly, his face riddled with concern. “What’s so funny?”
Will had shaken his head in return. “Nothing’s funny,” he said. “Nothing’s funny at all.”
Will tried not to speak to anyone for a while after that. If he simply sat on the couch with his sketchbook, certainly nothing could go wrong, and his friends wouldn’t have to deal with him.
Jonathan had left a while ago, so Will had the living room to himself.
This was until Mike popped his head in, clutching his notebook and pen like they were extended parts of his own body. He registered Will on the couch and frowned, walking closer. “Hey, something’s wrong with you.”
Will didn’t look up. “I know.”
Mike sighed and sat down quickly beside his friend. “That’s not what I meant. I meant you’ve been sitting here for hours. Everyone’s wondering if you’re alright.”
Will tried not to let the boy’s gentle voice break through his walls. “That’s all anyone ever has the chance to wonder about me.” He leaned back and closed his eyes tightly. “Aren’t you all tired of this?”
Mike’s voice shook with uncertainty. “What?”
“Aren’t you all tired of sitting around and watching me lose it? Doesn’t feeling sorry for me get old?”
“Hey.” Mike’s hands found their place gripping Will’s arms, making Will's eyes shoot open. Mike stared at him with a careful seriousness, his grip not softening. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up. You’re stronger than that.”
Will turned his head down, not wanting to meet Mike’s eyes. “I’m not giving up. I just… I hate that everyone feels trapped in here with me.”
Mike took his hands from Will’s arms, but while Will assumed he was retreating, he placed them instead on Will’s face, turning him and forcing him to make steady eye contact. The touch made Will want to collapse forward, his troubles already receding into the corners of his mind and being overtaken by a feeling of warmth.
Mike’s dark eyes pierced like daggers, and he spoke with conviction. “Listen to me. Nobody feels trapped, Will. We want to be here. We want to help you.”
Will blinked at the other boy, whose face was inches from his own. He wanted to say a million different things to him. Mike wouldn’t understand half of them, but he wanted to say them anyway. In a realistic world, Will would accuse him of lying and back away. Nobody could truly want this. No matter how much someone cared, there was no way they could stand this stale wait for the inevitable end.
In a dream world, Will held Mike’s face in return and talked so softly that he could barely even hear. He said that what he needed more than anything was Mike. When Mike held Will’s face, his doubts wanted to melt away. If Mike’s hands on his face could work such wonders, Will couldn’t begin to fathom how more of Mike would cure him.
In reality, Will froze, looking directly into Mike’s eyes. His own started to well with a settling frustration.
Mike didn’t draw back at the sight, though. Instead, he quietly leaned in and moved his hands along the back of Will’s shirt, so that they embraced him entirely. His head moved past Will’s own so that he was now looking over the other boy’s shoulder.
Will melted into the embrace and threw his arms around Mike like a drowning swimmer clawing at the surface. He buried his face in the familiar smell of Mike’s shoulder and let his tears flow freely down his face. He needed this so badly. He needed more than this so badly.
Mike was Will’s best friend. He knew him better than anyone in the world, he knew him more deeply than anyone in the world. Mike could take one look at Will’s face and know if he was tired, or scared, or sad. Mike could smile and it would turn the gray clouds in Will’s head to vibrant sunshine. Mike and Will had trudged through 12 years of life at the hip. Mike knew Will’s worsts and he knew his bests. Mike knew Will like the back of his hand, and Will couldn’t imagine feeling anything other than love towards him. He loved Mike so, so much.
At some point, Mike pulled gently back, and Will tried not to look like he was desperately grasping for more as his hands slipped from the knit of Mike’s sweater. He didn’t want subtle moves any longer, waiting patiently for something to click. He wanted to put his hands on Mike’s chest, he wanted his lips at Mike’s mouth, he wanted to feel the air the boy breathed out on the back of his neck. Will felt like he was going crazy, but Mike could make him sane.
Finally, Mike spoke, seemingly unfazed by his display of affection and unaware that Will was craving something more. “No more sitting out here alone,” he said quietly. “I think too much time alone with your mind is a bad thing, in your situation.”
Will couldn’t argue with that. He had certainly left himself too much time to contemplate today. Perhaps with company, he wouldn’t have reached such unruly conclusions about the state of his situation or the minds of his friends.
“Dustin and Lucas are out back,” Mike continued. “You should talk to them.”
Will thought Mike might’ve suggested that he would stay with Will, and tried not to seem surprised to hear otherwise. It wasn’t like talking with Lucas and Dustin was a bad thing. They were two of Will’s best friends after all. He nodded to Mike and pushed himself up from the couch, feeling like he was breaking free from a malicious trap after sitting there for so long by himself. Mike was right, being alone with himself was an awful idea, as much as he wished to keep his friends out of his problems.
Will could feel Mike’s eyes on him as he started to make his way from the room. When he reached the kitchen doorway, he turned back quickly, overwhelmed by a desire to see him once more. “Thank you,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Mike. “Yeah, of course.”
Will let himself foster a small smile as he walked away and towards the back door. After last night, after that hug, and after seeing how much Mike cared, Will’s hope for something continued to rise. Finally, it felt like things were building towards something bigger. Will had never thought he had any chance of getting through to Mike, nor even of being loved by Mike at that. Now, things felt different.
When Will walked outside, he could hear Dustin and Lucas somewhere deeper into the woods. Following the sounds of their playful banter, he finally spotted them looking over the ruins of Will’s once-loved fortress: Castle Byers.
It had been a very long time since Will thought of Castle Byers. He’d torn it down in a storm in the summer of 1985 and his family moved to California shortly after, so there’s been no use in coming back to it. After the Byers bought back their house last year, Will had never thought to check on what remained of the aged pile of wood, but apparently it was still there, and much to Will’s content. He’d be devastated to lose it.
“Will!” Lucas called out from the distance, having spotted Will through the trees. He motioned for him to come over.
Will ran to his friends, and took in the broken pile on the ground as he did. There were certainly pieces of the mess that had disappeared, taken by animals or some curious wanderers. He could barely make out the yellow words on the sign that had hung from the entry, as the paint was peeling after being left so carelessly to nature. Will felt a small sadness for the childhood he had left to rot here.
“I remember Castle Byers,” Lucas said, hands on his hips as he surveyed the pile. “This was the domain of Will the Wise. Got knocked down by a storm, right?”
“Yeah,” said Will, remembering that his friends didn’t know about what had actually happened. Even Lucas, who had come to Will’s aid shortly after, had not witnessed the rage Will had shed in his destruction of the old fort.
“We considered putting it back together,” Dustin said, kicking at the wood. “But I think it’s probably too rotted and weathered.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a point either,” Will said softly. “We’re too old for magic forts.” At 13, he’d tried to convince himself the same. Four years later, perhaps it was finally true. Will didn’t see much use in the little structure now. All it held were memories. Still, it was comforting to see that remnants of it were still living.
“Right,” said Lucas, and he took something from his pocket: a black slingshot. “Well, Dustin and I came out here because we found some slingshots and marbles in your old shed back by the house. We were gonna try to shoot some cans. Wanna join?”
Will looked over and realized Dustin was holding a large variety of used cans and bottles. He blinked. “Oh, sure. Yeah, I’d love to.” It couldn’t hurt him to fool around for a while.
While Dustin set up the cans a couple of yards away, Will stood by Lucas. The fear that these people felt trapped was sneaking slowly back into his head. Certainly, Dustin and Lucas wanted to do better things than shoot tin cans in the woods over Spring Break.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Will caught himself saying aloud to Lucas.
Lucas was studying the yellow marble that he rolled between his fingers. “Hm?”
“You don’t have to stay here with me,” Will tried again. “I mean, Max just woke up and I’m sure you’d rather be spending time with her than sitting around here and waiting for El to charge up again. I just want you to know that you can leave if you want to.”
Lucas frowned, putting the marble back in his pocket and looking at Will. “Why would I want to leave?” His tone was innocent.
Will sensed an underlying bite. “This shouldn’t be your problem to solve,” he said. “Whatever Vecna’s doing, it pertains to me. I don’t want to make you stay here and worry about something that has nothing to do with you.”
Lucas blinked. “No one’s making me do anything, Will. And this does have to do with me. Me and Dustin.” He pat Will’s back. “We’re your best friends, man. Of course we’re gonna be here for you.”
Before Will could respond, Dustin came back from his setup, another slingshot in hand. “What’s up?” he asked.
Lucas smiled at him. “Will’s trying to convince us to abandon him.”
“That’s not-”
“Abandon him? That’s bullshit,” Dustin laughed to himself. “Like that would be a good idea right now.” He turned to Will with an earnest look. “We just got you back. Don’t think you’re getting rid of us now.” He handed Will the slingshot. “Here, you take the first shot.”
Will clasped his hand around the slingshot and picked up a marble from the bag Lucas had left on the rotting pile of wood beside them. He studied the sphere in his hands, clear with a streak of black through its middle.
Dustin was still speaking. “I’m just glad Mike and El broke you out of Pennhurst. I mean, it must’ve been like the Seventh Circle of Hell in there.”
“It was the Seventh Circle of Hell out here without you,” Lucas added. “I think Mike said this once to me, but the party just isn’t the same when you’re not there.”
Will had definitely heard Mike say something about nothing being the same without him before. He focused in on an empty cola can and pulled back the string of the slingshot. “You think so?” he said, releasing the marble. It sailed over the can, nowhere close to hitting it.
“Sure,” said Lucas, loading his own slingshot.
Dustin nodded along. “I could barely keep this guy and Mike from each other’s throats while you were in there. Your absence was driving us all crazy.”
“That’s a gross exaggeration,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. “We didn’t fight much. We just… didn’t talk. It was sorta sad.” He pulled back his own slingshot and sighed. “I haven’t shot one of these in a long time. Don’t laugh.” He sent his marble flying, and it hit a can in its middle, sending it backwards from the mound on which it stood.
Dustin gawked. “Holy shit, you’ve still got it.”
Lucas crossed his arms, satisfied with himself. “I’ve still got it, baby!”
Dustin ripped the slingshot from his friend’s hands and picked up his own marble, readying himself to try and beat Lucas’s shot.
“Anyway,” Lucas continued to Will. “The point is, it’s a good thing you’re back. And don’t think for a second that we don’t care about helping you.”
Will smiled, but he wanted to retort. That wasn’t what he was trying to say. He knew Dustin and Lucas cared, and that was the problem. He felt awful about the fact that his problem was causing distress in everyone.
Dustin’s marble missed a can too. “I was distracted,” he muttered, giving the slingshot up to Lucas in defeat. He turned his head up to Will, lightening. “Will’s turn. Come on, we gotta beat Lucas.”
Will laughed softly. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He figured that at least Dustin and Lucas were still finding ways to have fun, despite being barred into this dreary place. Will took another marble, red, and lodged it into the bed of his slingshot. He set his eyes on the same can as before. He let it go, and it missed, if only by a few inches. “Jeez, I know my aim’s better than this.”
Lucas shrugged, already pulling back his own marble. “We’ll cut you some slack since you’re being haunted by an interdimensional demon.” He let the marble fly and again hit a can, but this time just lightly enough that the can stayed upright. “Damn,” he said. “Imagine the likelihood of that.”
Dustin laughed like a mischievous goblin, and snatched the slingshot in the same manner. He placed his marble, pulled back, and released in such quick succession that Will barely registered it. The sphere bounced off a tree in back of the cans, completely missing its targets.
Finally, it was Will’s turn again. He retrieved a marble from the bag and studied it: Deep blue, but not in a way that reminded him of other dimensions. The marble held weight as Will surveyed it in his palm. He embedded it in his slingshot and his eyes found the cola can once more. He pulled back, felt the small, blue thing in his grip, and took a deep breath, releasing it. Before he could even figure out what the marble’s trajectory had been, he watched the can fall back from its place.
Lucas hooted, clapping a hand on Will’s back. “Nice one!” he said. “I didn’t take you for a sniper.”
Dustin groaned, face towards the sky. “How is everyone better at this than me?” he asked to the universe.
Will smiled to himself, looking at the tipped-over can in the distance. “That’s not true,” he said, though he couldn’t help but laugh at Dustin’s display. He had so much missed this kind of banter with his friends during his time in Pennhurst. Shooting at cans with Lucas and Dustin was exactly what he had needed right now. He was thankful Mike had told him to join them, or else he might still be sitting in the living room, mulling over his entire life. Pennhurst tried to make him forget the little joys of being alive, and now Will could find them again.
Will handed his own slingshot to Dustin, a smile still wide on his face. “Come on, try again. We’re gonna have you missing no targets in an hour.”
The rest of Will’s day was turning out just fine. By sunset, Dustin was hitting cans without problem and Will’s stomach hurt from laughter. He hadn’t laughed this much in a very long time. Pennhurst wasn’t exactly a place that brought out his joyful spirit. Neither were the horrors of the Upside Down in the years before.
He was most glad to have shaken himself from whatever mental state he’d been in for the first half of his day. Will supposed he’d been in a particularly bad mood since his morning had started with the mirror incident. It set the tone for the entire day, and Will was only seeing the negatives afterwards. He was still guilty about the involvement of his friends in this situation, but sitting alone and pondering it was hardly helping. Mike and Lucas and Dustin had been exactly what he needed. He wanted to leave the people he loved out of his problems, but today had proved he needed them badly if he wanted to overcome whatever Vecna was trying to accomplish.
This positive energy followed Will up until halfway through dinner. El had just told a joke about different kinds of fruit, and now everyone was recounting their days at Mike’s request. The hungry-eyed boy had the green journal out over his own plate, pen ready to record anything that might involve Will. He treated what Will thought was a dull chore like a passion project, making Will flush with a small admiration.
Will chimed in at some point with his own story of his time outside an hour earlier. “Lucas, Dustin, and I shot cans up by Castle Byers,” he said. “We made Dustin a professional.”
While Will assumed this would be met with more smiles and knowing laughs from his friends, he watched Dustin and Lucas exchange a glance and his energy deflated.
“Castle Byers?” Lucas asked. “Is that old thing still standing?”
“Not really,” Will said, quieter now. “I mean, the remains of it are still there. It’s just a pile of old wood and stuff. Didn’t we talk about-”
“We messed around with the slingshots,” Dustin cut in. “But I don’t think Castle Byers was involved. Last I checked, there’s nothing left of it. I think they cleared it out after you moved to California.”
Will shook his head. “I saw it there. We were standing by Castle Byers,” he insisted, feeling defensive about it. “Don’t tell me I imagined that.”
“Hey,” said Jonathan, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look, that’s just a little detail. At least those hours you spent with Lucas and Dustin were real. Why does it matter where it was?”
And Jonathan was right. It shouldn’t have mattered, and Will should’ve been happy with the fact that his time with his friends was not fabricated, but something still chipped a hole in his chest. Was Castle Byers really gone?
He spent the rest of dinner more quietly than before, his lightening mood now dripping from him like he’d sprung a leak.
When the meal was over, he was walking back into the cold evening, creeping through trees under a pale moon until he found the spot where his childhood fortress once stood.
Dustin had been correct. Nothing remained of Castle Byers. Not even the pile of rotting wood was there to mark its existence. Castle Byers had vanished from the face of the earth. Years and years of memories: Building it with his brother, lying here with comic books and colored paper, playing pretend with his friends, even hiding in its comfort in those cold days in the Upside Down, even bashing it to pieces as retaliation to his own growing older. All of this was gone.
Will probably wouldn’t have even thought of this loss, though, if Vecna hadn’t made it seem like the remains were still there. He was playing with Will’s emotions, trying to highlight the places in which memories– and memories that Vecna now had some control over– had been lost forever. Will still didn’t know what Vecna was playing at, but he knew he was playing well.
After coming in from the cold, Will went to his room, where he planned to stay for the rest of the night. His day had been far too unaltered, aside from the mirror and Castle Byers. He had no doubt that Vecna would try to pull something more if he spent the rest of the evening with his friends.
Instead, Will sat on the floor with his sketchbook, scribbling out the various things he remembered from today. This activity had almost become mechanical for him, but it was a good test for himself. The more hazy a memory appeared in his head when he pictured it to transfer to the page, the more likely that element had been fabricated. Other than Mike’s journal, this sketching was his best defense against Vecna’s tricks.
Will didn’t ever check the time, but he must have sat there for an hour or two at least, hunched over his book and making more scribbled drawings. Now, he was shading in the unliving ruins of Castle Byers, drawing the rot and moss and the bag or marbles that he thought had sat nearby. Quietly, he hummed a song from Jonathan’s collection to himself, not recalling the title.
There was a knock at his open door, and Will looked up suddenly, pausing in his drawing.
Mike stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and an unsure expression across his face. “Hey,” he said. “You seemed off at dinner after the Castle Byers thing. Is everything okay?”
Will shrugged up at the boy. “Not really,” he said, not bothering to lie. He knew Mike would see through anything. “But it’s really no big deal-”
“It is,” said Mike softly, but serious. “You seemed like you were doing better for a while. Something’s on your mind now.” He took a cautious step into the room and tilted his head at the floor. “Can I sit?”
Will nodded and watched his friend lower himself down to sit beside him, leaning back on the side of Will’s bed. The two hadn’t talked alone since Mike had hugged him in the living room. Again, sitting beside him, Will’s foolish hopes seeped into his head, swimming among the doubts and fears instilled by Vecna. Hope about Mike stood out like a shining light. Will felt warmed by the weight of that thought compared to his others.
Mike stared down at Will’s sketchbook and frowned at the messy scribbles. “That freaks me out,” he admitted. “It’s very… Children of the Corn. What are you drawing for?”
Will looked out over the pages that littered the floor, filled with various tangled renditions of his memories. “It helps me,” he said. “I can visualize which memories are hazy.”
Mike considered this with a small smile. “I guess that makes sense.” Then his gaze dropped down to the ground again, and he traced a pattern on one of Will’s drawings, the paper crinkling beneath his touch.
Will stared at his friend in the silence. He wanted to say something, but he had no idea what. Half of the things his mind landed on would hardly be acceptable. This evening had been difficult for Will, but he knew Mike would fix it.
“I hope you don’t think I’m useless,” Mike said eventually.
Will tilted his head, the statement catching him off guard. “Useless? Why would I think that?”
“I don’t know, I just… You’re just going through all of this awful shit and I feel like all I can do is sit here. I feel useless.”
This was absolutely unacceptable. Mike was the biggest help he could possibly be. Will took Mike’s hand in his, not about to let this slide. Small moves. “You’re not,” he said, looking Mike in the eyes. “You’ve been so much help. I mean, writing your journal alone has been one of my biggest lifelines. I’m so grateful that you’re doing that for me. And not to mention…” Will trailed off, not exactly sure what words would have escaped his mouth next.
Mike traced his thumb back and forth on the side of Will’s hand as he held it, sending a wave of tense energy through Will’s arm. “Not to mention what?” he asked in a low tone.
Will felt his face starting to flush and he looked sheepishly downward. “Well, I don’t know. I was just going to say… I appreciate that you bring me comfort.” It was a statement that was innocent enough. Will certainly wouldn’t interpret it with any deeper intent in Mike’s shoes unless he was looking for deeper intent.
Mike shifted himself closer, enough so that if Will tried to lean back, he was stopped by his nightstand. Mike’s folded leg was sitting against his own. Their faces were a foot apart at most. “I bring you comfort,” Mike repeated, looking Will in the face.
Will turned a deeper red, but he couldn’t help but look back. Mike was beautiful, his dark hair framing such a familiar face. Will wanted to reach out and take it in his hands. Instead, he said, “You’ve been the best thing in my life since I was five years old. Of course I feel comfortable around you. It’s like… Vecna can do whatever he wants with my day-to-day memories, but I’ll always know I had you from the start. That means a lot to me.” His hand was still in Mike’s, and he tried not to look nervous. Whatever was happening right now, he could see a variety of outcomes, and all of them made his stomach tight.
Mike’s gaze was steady. “You mean a lot to me too,” he said. “I’ve always-” He faltered, his eyes finally dropping. “I shouldn’t say this.”
“Say it,” Will urged him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I bet I’ll like it.” He could hardly breathe.
Mike hesitated for only a moment before his eyes found Will’s again. “I’ve always felt like you were different from Dustin and Lucas to me. They’re my best friends, yeah, but you’re… something more. Does that make sense?”
Will’s heart beat strongly in his chest as he managed a nod. “A lot of sense,” he said. He tensed as he realized Mike’s hand was moving slowly up his arm. He could hardly believe what was happening.
“You’re special,” Mike continued, and his fingers were at Will’s shoulder, then his neck.
Will felt a shiver all through his body. He felt the wood of the nightstand at his back and Mike’s warm hands before him. He thought maybe his own hands were shaking from nerves, but he could hardly tell much of anything. Mike Wheeler was inches from his face. “Special how?” he managed.
Without another word, Mike closed the gap between the two, pressing Will against the nightstand as he placed his mouth on his.
Will almost gasped in surprise, but he didn’t shy away from the advance, instead falling into it. His own hands found their place in Mike’s soft hair and he tried to keep up with Mike’s movements, though he’d never actually kissed someone before. He went along for another few moments before an awful realization came to mind, splitting the warm feeling in his stomach in half.
Will tried to pull back from Mike, but his head met the nightstand. “Mike,” he managed through kisses. “Mike, where’s your journal?”
Mike only seemed half-invested in the question, but he parted in the slightest from Will, his hands still around him. “Must’ve forgotten it,” he said lazily, and returned his lips to Will’s own.
Half of Will’s mind screamed at him to let this awful feeling go. This was exactly what he wanted. Forever, he had wanted Mike in this way. Why try to taint it with doubts of foul play? Wouldn’t Will just let himself have a good thing?
He couldn’t do it. Something was wrong. Mike’s warm hands, his dark eyes, his soft lips. They all seemed like a dream to Will, and too much so, when he thought about it. Will tried to turn his head away. “Mike, stop,” he said.
“Hmm?” Mike wondered softly.
Will held Mike’s face back with his hands, staring him in the eyes for signs of fabrication. “You’re not real,” he accused. “You’re not actually here right now.”
Mike let himself lean back, keeping his eyes on Will as he laughed to himself. “Of course I’m here, Will,” he said. “Don’t be crazy, I’m sitting right in front of you.” He leaned in again, bringing a hand to Will’s chin before placing another kiss on his lips. “Isn’t this what you want?” he spoke softly.
It took everything Will had not to melt into the gesture. He shook his head from Mike’s grasp. Surely, Vecna was trying to find his weakness, and Will wouldn’t let him have it. “Of course I want this,” he said. “But this is too easy. It’s Vecna trying to trick me. You’re not real.” With this, he shoved away from the spot where Mike had cornered him against the nightstand and retreated, standing from the floor.
Mike retracted his head and scrunched his nose, annoyed. “Really?” he asked, hoisting himself from the ground. “This is how you’re gonna react?” He reached forward and took Will’s hand again. “Even if I was fake, isn’t this what you want either way? Does it matter?”
Will ripped his hand away. “I want my best friend,” he spat. “Not some fabricated echo of him.”
At this, Mike’s face seemed to soften. He took slow steps toward Will. “Come on,” he said quietly. “I promise you, I’m not an echo, Will. I’m real. I’m Mike. Can’t you trust me?” This shade had already done far too much to prove that this wasn’t true.
Will looked up to the ceiling. “Stop trying to give me what I want,” he said into the space, and he hoped Vecna could hear him, though he knew he wouldn’t oblige.
Mike’s hand was on Will’s cheek again. His face was gentle, and Will tried not to look at it, fearing he might give in. “Will…” he said, and the voice wanted Will to break so badly.
Will slapped Mike’s hand away from him. “Go away.” he said definitely.
“Don’t you-”
“Go away!” he said, louder. “You’re not real. Get out of my room.” He pointed to the door, not willing to take any more words from this shadow of his friend. He shook as he watched Mike turn his head to the doorway.
Mike sighed slowly. “Fine,” he said, gravel in his voice. If you really want to be like that.” He walked swiftly to the door and took the knob in his hand before turning back. “But don’t expect this to blow over tomorrow when you realize you’re wrong.”
“Get the hell out of my room!” Will yelled at him, and with that, Mike slammed the door and was gone.
Will felt hot tears start to stream from his eyes. This wasn’t real. Nothing that had just happened should have held any weight, but he felt Mike’s hands on him still. He felt the warmth of Mike’s mouth on his own. He felt desire and fear rolled into one awful emotion, eating at him like a virus. His legs shook when he thought of Mike’s face, unsure whether he was imagining his real friend or a vision of him.
Will collapsed onto his own bed and held the sheets to his chest, gasping for air through quiet sobs. He closed his eyes tightly and pleaded with his mind to let him find sleep as fast as possible. He wanted this night to be over. He wanted this entire nightmare, all the past few days, to be over. He prayed to wake up in a bed in Pennhurst, all of this having been a dream.
Even with his eyes closed, Will could make out the silhouette of Mike before him in his mind.
Of course I feel comfortable around you. It’s like… Vecna can do whatever he wants with my day-to-day memories, but I’ll always know I had you from the start.
And now Vecna was trying to take this from him too.