Chapter 1: Psychologist Eleven
Notes:
Hello! Welcome! I'm, despite my better judgment, back.
I came up with the idea for this fic, like, 3 years ago and I never wrote it, but I'm rewatching Stranger Things in preparation for the new season, and I decided it needed to happen.
I think it's gonna be a crazy ride. I mean, I have so much I want to do with this and I'm so excited to be putting it out here.
This first chapter is a little less action-packed than the rest of the fic will be. I promise the craziness and the story and the Byler will start soon. But we need our setup too!!
But it'll get crazy (but we'll all go crazy together so it's okay... right????)
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“My name is Michael Wheeler, I’m 16 years old, and a year ago today, my best friend lost his mind.”
A complete monotone. Mike leaned back on the stiff blue couch, crossing his legs. He stared intently at the man across from him, looking for any reaction. There were usually two types of reactions when Mike said something like this to a new psychologist. The first was forced sympathy. The psychologist would lean their head to the side and frown. It was never a very genuine frown, but a frown nonetheless. Then, they’d say ‘Good God, that’s awful,’ and Mike would roll his eyes because he didn’t need a psychologist to know that much.
The second type of reaction was confusion. If Mike went to a psychologist out of town (he had tried a couple in the cities), they usually wouldn’t have heard the story of Hawkins’s very own youngest and newest lunatic, the boy broken by a tabletop fantasy. They’d take a long, hard pause and say ‘Really now?’ as if Mike was making things up. Which, of course, he was not. His best friend had truly lost his mind.
This psychologist frustrated Mike the most because he had neither reaction. He wrote down a few words immediately after Mike spoke. His wrinkled eyelids leveled and he sighed, as if Mike’s statement was nothing to bat an eye at. As if losing your best friend to some awful trick of the mind wasn’t the worst thing in the world. That frustrated Mike. At least the others had acknowledged him. Even if their sympathy was constructed, he didn’t mind the validation of the awfulness of his situation.
“Alright, Mike,” the man finally said. “It seems to me like you’ve done this whole introduction thing before. Have you?”
Of course he had. Mike had been to ten psychologists in the last year. That’s why he already knew this one wasn’t going to work out. He didn’t like his attitude. He didn’t like the way his office had bare walls. At least some of the others had tried to give the illusion of a cheery environment. This office made Mike feel like he was the one who’d lost his mind. An endless grey void.
“Have you?” the man asked again.
Mike sat up, snapping out of his own thoughts, and breathed deeply through his nose. “Yeah, I have. You’re not my first psychologist, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Mike’s mother placed a hand on his back and sat forward from beside him on the couch. “He’s had trouble connecting with a few of the people we’ve brought him to,” she explained. She looked quickly to Mike, who didn’t return the gesture, and then back. Mike seriously didn’t know why she insisted on being at his initial session every time. Maybe she was the reason he couldn’t connect. “My husband and I heard good things about you from a friend, though. We were hoping you’d be different?”
The man raised his greying eyebrows. “I have a reputation,” he mused. Setting down his clipboard. Then, he stuck out a wrinkled hand for Mike to shake. “Well, Mike, my name is Dr. Flinn. You can call me Rodger. I have a feeling we’ll get along well.”
Mike simply glared at the hand. He didn’t make any move to take it. Why would he? He already knew this psychologist wasn’t going to be a good fit. His mother might as well start looking for her next supposed miracle worker.
Noticeably off-put by Mike’s lack of response (Mike admitted to liking when the psychologists were caught off guard by him), Dr. Flinn retracted his hand and leaned back in his own seat, picking up the clipboard again. “Well, anyway, Mike, you said your friend lost his mind. Would you mind explaining that for me? I just want to use this session to get a comfortable grasp on what we’ll be dealing with. I’m sure you know that by now.”
Mike nodded. “Well, yeah. It’s exactly what I said. He lost his mind.” He looked down at his hands in his lap and then back to the psychologist. “Will.” A year later, and he could still hardly say the name without breaking down. “He was my best friend of 12 years. Then, one day, he just woke up and started spitting out all this nonsense about monsters and other dimensions and stuff. He was so freaked that they had to put him in Pennhurst. No one saw it coming.” That was the strangest part. Mike felt like he knew Will so well. It had never sat right with him that he hadn’t noticed any signs of Will becoming like that. He should’ve seen something, but one day he was normal, and the next he was screaming and running around like a maniac.
“Will Byers?” Dr. Flinn asked. “Is that your friend? I remember reading about him in the paper.”
“Yeah. That’s him.” Mike crossed his arms. “His mom didn’t want that article written and they published it anyway.” He remembered reading it. He remembered Joyce calling the newspaper and cussing them out while he and Nancy were over for dinner a day after Will went away. He could remember everything so clearly.
Dr. Flinn wrote down a few sentences in silence. Mike took this opportunity to look at his mom and try to give her some sort of sign that he didn’t think this was working out. He made a helpless face at her.
His mother gave a silent sigh. “Give him a chance,” she whispered.
Dr. Flinn, oblivious to the mother-son interaction, looked back up. He clicked his pen in his hand as he spoke. “Now, Mike, are you allowed to visit your friend at Pennhurst?”
Mike listened to the click of the pen a few times before answering. “Yeah. But I haven’t visited in months.”
“Now, why’s that?”
“I don’t like how he gets.”
“How he gets?” The pen continued clicking.
Mike thought of Will’s tear-stained face. He thought of his millions of drawings. He thought of him practically yelling in Mike’s face, trying to convince him there were alternate dimensions, that Mike had a superhero ex-girlfriend, that Will had gone missing when he was twelve. He thought of the sheer disappointment in his eyes when Mike said it wasn’t true. The desperate need for someone to validate his crazy ideas. How hopeless Mike felt knowing he could never help him.
“How he gets,” Mike repeated. “Just… It's too much. He’s hurt and I don’t want to see him like that.”
Dr. Flinn wrote that down. He asked without looking up, “How do you think halting your visits has affected you?”
Mike had to think about this one, the continuous sound of the pen loud in his mind. “It has its benefits.” That much was obvious. Of course keeping yourself from seeing someone you care about in an awful place is good for you. “...But also its downsides.” Mike missed Will with his entire heart, crazy or not. He wanted his friend back. “I don’t know, it’s just different.”
“Different,” Dr. Flinn repeated. He wrote that down too, then resumed his pen clicking. Click. Click. Click. “Now, Mike, have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? Not like Will’s, of course, but-”
Mike interjected. “The last psychologist suggested I had depression," he said quickly.
At this, his mom leaned forward and put a hand on Mike’s knee. Damage control time. “We really don’t think she knew what she was talking about,” she said to Dr. Flinn. “There’s nothing wrong with Mike.”
Mike rolled his eyes, brushing the hand from his leg. He’d heard this a million times. Nothing was wrong with him. Just the fact that his best friend was gone and it was eating away at him every day. “Then why am I in therapy, Mom? Is it supposed to be a fun pastime for me?”
Now his mom looked at him, her brows struggling not to furrow together. “Honey, you know this has nothing to do with your… mental state. Your father and I just think you should talk to someone about Will.”
How could they talk about Will and not his mental state in the same sentence? “Mom, I-”
“Mike,” Dr. Flinn said, placing a hand in the air between them. “Look, if your mom says there’s nothing wrong, we’ll continue under that assumption. If I come to any conclusions in our sessions, I’ll make sure to update her, and we’ll set you up with a psychiatrist, how about that?”
Mike couldn’t believe this. He sat back again. “Fine.”
There was a long silence in the grey room before Dr. Flinn cleared his throat and continued. “Now, you say Will’s insanity came on suddenly? How did that affect you?”
“Obviously not well,” Mike responded. “He was fine one day and… crazy the next. It’s not like I was anticipating it.”
“Yes, and do we know how Will became like that? Was there a cause?”
Mike shrugged. He wanted this to be over. “Not really. The doctors theorized he just wanted so badly to have something important happen to him, or maybe to feel normal, that he took his stupid D&D world and convinced himself it was reality.”
Mike’s mom cut in, “A lot of people suspected he was a queer-”
“Which is irrelevant,” Mike shot back.
Dr. Flinn raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment on that. “Dungeons and Dragons? Do you play this game?”
Mike wished. He’d really loved that game at one point. The escape from reality, quality time with his friends. But he couldn’t bring himself to go back to it now. “Not anymore,” he said. “I never used to believe it messed kids up… but then Eddie Munson turned out to be a serial killer, and then Will… Well, you know, all of us just felt like we shouldn’t play anymore.” He didn’t know why any of this was relevant. Who cared if he played D&D?
“All of you? Who is-”
“My friends Dustin and Lucas.”
“I see.” Dr. Flinn wrote a couple things down and thought some more, clicking his pen again.
Mike couldn’t stand the clicking. It was making him tense. He didn’t like the clicking, he didn't like the walls, and he didn’t like Dr. Flinn. He didn’t know why he was asking such stupid questions. Mike didn’t want to talk about Will anymore. Not today of all days. He wanted this to be over.
Dr. Flinn persisted even so. “Alright, Mike,” he said. “You said Will was your best friend, right?”
“Yes?” Mike didn't know why that mattered. Of course Will was his best friend.
The pen clicking also persisted. “Now, would you still consider him your best friend?”
Mike had been looking absently around the room, but snapped his head back to look at the psychologist. “What? I- Pass. I don’t like that question.”
Dr. Flinn leaned in, pen clicking even faster. “Why? Why don’t you like it, Mike?”
Mike looked away again. Each click was bringing him closer to letting loose the ball of frustration building in his chest. He could see his mother’s big eyes on him too. The room felt smaller than it had been, the grey void closing in. “I don’t see why it matters,” he muttered, eyes on the wall, fingers kneading palms in his lap.
Dr. Flinn was even closer, the stupid pen still clicking away. The room was even smaller. “Come again?”
Mike turned back as something in him snapped like a rubber band, his voice raised. “I said I don’t see why it fucking matters, sir.”
Dr. Flinn backed away, the noise of the pen finally stopping.
There was a light impact on Mike's sleeve as his mom nudged him. “Mike!” she said, also raising her voice a few tones. “Don’t use that foul language with your psychologist. Apologize to him. Now.”
Mike simply leaned back again. “Maybe he should’ve respected that I didn’t want to answer that question.”
Now his mother’s lips were pursed, eyebrows furrowed. She sat up straight on the couch and stared down her son. “I don’t care, young man. You will not talk to him like that. Apologize.”
The psychologist looked between the mother and son. “Mrs. Wheeler, it’s really alright. Perhaps we can-”
Mike stood up abruptly, decidedly done with this train wreck of a session. He didn’t need a psychologist who just got on his nerves all the time, that wouldn’t help him. “You know what?” he said, looking from his mother to Dr. Flinn, raising his arms in surrender. “I just don’t think this is gonna work out. I think we should just go now, Mom.”
He watched his mother put her head in her hands. “Michael, please do not walk out of this room.” This wouldn’t be the first time Mike had.
For a minute, Mike tried to search for something to say, some way to explain himself, but he couldn’t do it. Defeated, he simply said, “I’m done, Mom.” With this, he turned from her and the psychologist and swung open the door. Walking out, he slammed it, trying to let go of his festering emotions. He was going to run, but curiosity got the better of him and he placed his ear to the wood, listening for just a second.
“I’m so sorry, doctor,” his mom was saying. “Really, he’s a sweet boy. He’s not usually like this. I-”
“It’s no problem, Mrs. Wheeler. I assure you I’ve dealt with much worse than angry teenage boys.”
An angry teenage boy. That’s all these people ever saw in Mike.
Mike heard his mother sigh again. “It’s just… I don’t know. I should’ve picked another date to make this appointment. I think he’s having a lot of trouble since it’s the one year anniversary of the event. His friend’s birthday is tomorrow too. It all just piles up on him, I don’t know-”
“Mrs. Wheeler, it’s alright.”
Hearing this, Mike turned and walked swiftly down the hall. He pushed another door open and walked onto the sidewalk without looking back. He was so done with the psychologists his mother found. They never listened, they didn’t understand him, they asked questions he didn’t want to answer. If he couldn’t connect with the first 11, why would he even keep looking? It was useless. These people couldn’t give him what he wanted. No psychologist could give him anything close. He wanted his friend back. He needed a miracle for that, not a doctor.
Mike opened the door to his mom’s car, parked outside the building, and slumped into the passenger seat with a defeated shudder. Quietly, he waited for his mom to come out and give him his latest talking to. He knew what he did was wrong. He just couldn’t imagine doing anything different.
Would you still consider him your best friend?
Mike couldn’t believe Dr. Flinn would ask such a thing. How was he possibly supposed to answer a question like that? Could Mike still consider the boy his best friend if he hadn’t truly connected to him in a year? He wanted to say yes. With all his heart, he wanted yes. Of course Will was his best friend.
Still, something in the back of his mind told him the answer was no. Mike couldn't stand that.
Truly, Mike had no idea what to think. The only thing he knew for sure is that he missed Will. He wanted his bike ride partner back, his walkie talkie talker, his novel artist, his emotional support, his Halloween duo costume, his head, his heart, his cleric. People always said you didn’t know what you had until it was gone, but Mike knew damn well how much Will meant to him. Even before he slipped away.
A full year. How had it possibly been a year? It felt like it had been seconds, days, decades, and ages all at once. Mike simply didn’t know what to think anymore.
And then he was crying. Like an idiot, he was crying in the passenger seat of his mother’s car, burying his face in his hands. People were probably walking past, wondering what was possibly so difficult for this teenage boy to understand. It wasn’t like he’d never cried before. Mike cried more times than he cared to admit, but he never felt less idiotic.
“You are my best friend,” he sobbed into the empty air of the vehicle. Nothing responded, nothing happened. He hated how he couldn’t tell if it was even true.
Then he heard his mother knock on the window, peering in at the sad sight of her son. She frowned and got in on the driver’s side, starting the car before she said a word. Once they were on the road, going at a comfortable speed down the main street, she finally said, “You can’t just keep doing that, Mike.” Her voice shook with fragile gentleness. “I know you’re hurting. I know you want to feel better. I want you to feel better so badly. But if that’s going to happen, we need to find someone you won’t walk out on. You understand that, right?”
Mike wiped his tears away and slumped down in his seat. The heat on his cheeks let him know he was still blotchy. “I know, I know. I just… I didn’t like him.”
“You don’t like any of them, Mike.”
“I did once!” he argued. “I told you I liked the last one! She was different from the rest.” The last psychologist Mike had was one from the cities, but she was kind and gentle. She understood Mike’s emotions. She wanted to help him, truly help him.
“She didn’t know what she was saying,” his mom said, turning into their neighborhood.
“You just made me stop going because she suggested I might have depression.”
A forceful turn of the wheel. A long sigh. “You don’t have depression, Mike. Nothing is… wrong with you.”
Mike slammed his hands down on his lap, trying not to raise his voice. “How would you even know? What if I do have it, Mom?”
“You don’t.” And that was final. Mike’s mom pulled into the driveway without saying another word.
Holly was already waiting outside on the front steps, dressed in her soccer socks and holding a shiny new ball. She waved excitedly as she watched her mom and brother pull in, unaware of their serious conversation.
Mike’s mom sighed before she opened the door. “Look, we can talk about this later, if you really want to. I have to take Holly to her soccer practice now.” She blinked a few times, drumming her hands on the wheel. “Just think about everything, okay? I think maybe this psychologist could be a good fit for you. We’ll talk later.”
Mike opened the door without saying a word. Once he’d left and shut it again, he muttered, “No we won’t.” His mom always said they’d talk later. They never did.
“I only want what’s best for you, honey!” Mike heard his mom call. He didn’t look back.
Holly passed him without much recognition and ran to the seat where Mike had been before, too excited for her practice to think about much else. He listened to his mom greet her as he made his way to the front door of the house.
Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and made the mistake of making eye contact with his father, who sat, as usual, in the living room. Eye contact meant he had to get involved in yet another unwanted conversation.
“So? How was the new guy? Do we actually like this one?”
Mike shrugged, looking down. “No. We weren’t connecting.”
“Eh, I could’ve called that.” His dad looked back down to the paper he was reading. “I tried to tell your mother she should just give up. You know, back when I was a boy-”
“You would’ve had to deal with this stuff on your own. I know.” Mike had heard this a million times. Maybe his dad thought it was helping him feel better, putting his situation in perspective, but it definitely wasn’t.
“Exactly,” his dad continued. “I think we oughta just leave you to yourself. I don’t wanna pay for another glorified scam artist just for you to say it’s not working.” Ted Wheeler, of course, did not believe in therapy.
“Maybe we oughta,” Mike said under his breath, and he made his way for the stairs, ready to be back in the solitude of his room.
“Hey! Your sister’s coming home for spring break, remember?” his dad called up after him. “Your mother said she wanted your room clean. And the bathrooms up there too, alright?”
“Yep.” His response was too quiet for his dad to hear, only a little more than whisper, but Mike didn’t really care. He didn’t feel like cleaning right now.
He was, however, admittedly excited for his sister to come home. He hadn’t seen her since Will’s initial breakdown, since that had happened during her last spring break. He had a feeling she’d be able to understand him a lot better than their parents and all the psychologists could. She’d once lost a best friend around his age too after all. Barbara, who skipped town and never looked back to give her old friend an explanation. After years and years of friendship, she just left. He knew the whole case had never sat right with Nancy, just like Will’s had never sat right with him.
What did the universe have against the Wheeler siblings? It was anyone’s guess.
Upon entering his room, Mike jumped face-first onto his bed and just laid there for a moment, listening to the clock in the hallway tick. He didn’t count how many minutes he stayed in that position, but the sky darkened at some point, casting a shadow over the bed. Mike didn’t care. He didn’t even turn on the light.
At some point, Mike thought he heard something. At first he brushed it off. It was probably just the wind outside, blowing branches against the house. The weather had been stormy all day, so that wouldn’t be a surprise.
But the noise persisted. It was coming from inside his room.
Mike sighed and stood up slowly from his bed, looking around in the dark for possible suspects of the sound. He listened harder.
The noise was static.
Mike furrowed his brows in concentration. Surely it wasn’t what he thought it was.
Slowly, Mike kneeled down beside his bed and stuck his hand into the dark space under it. He pulled out his old walkie talkie, the one he used to talk to his friends on. The noise, sure enough, was coming from the old box. A consistent static, like someone was trying to say something.
Then, the box spoke. A girl’s voice said, “Mike?”
Mike nearly dropped the walkie talkie in surprise. Who could possibly be trying to talk to him on this thing? It didn’t sound like Lucas’s sister, nor any of the women in his other friends' houses. Still, something about the voice gave Mike deja vu. Where had he heard this before?
Mike slowly lifted the antenna, his hands shaking. “Hello?” he asked timidly into the speaker. “Hello? This is Mike, over.”
No one responded.
He tried again. “Who’s there? This is Mike, over.”
Just as Mike was about to give up, he jumped as a voice spoke back. Unfortunately, it was not the voice he was looking for. “Mike? Why are you on this channel right now?” Dustin’s voice spilled through the box.
Mike sighed in defeat. “Nothing. I thought I heard something. My mistake. Over and out.”
Perhaps he really had imagined someone saying his name, or maybe it was just some trick Dustin was playing on him.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this had happened before. Even though it hadn’t. Mike obviously had never spoken to a girl on a walkie talkie. Except for Max, that was, but she’d been in a coma for over a year now, so this obviously wasn’t her. It didn’t sound like her anyway.
Rolling his eyes, Mike pushed the antenna down and shoved the walkie talkie back under his bed. Surely all the emotion of the day was just making his mind play tricks on him. It was ridiculous to think some random girl was contacting him on his childhood walkie talkie.
It’s just a weird day, he thought. The anniversary of Will Byers going insane.
A weird day it certainly was.
Notes:
These therapists are thera-pissing my guy off.
But yes! That was chapter #1! I promise I'll try to write chapter 2 soon. I have the second and third chapters outlined, though, so hopefully it won't take too long!!
Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed and perhaps even a comment! They make my day!
See you soon!
Chapter 2: Happy Birthday
Notes:
Happy Stranger Things Day Eve!
Yes, I know I said updates would be slow... but I had the first three chapters insanely well outlined from when I first was drafting up the idea for this fic in 2022, so... this chapter didn't take too long. I'm guessing the next won't be too long away either, but after that... we'll see.Also I want to get more out to help you guys get the gist of what's going on!! Ahhhhh I'm so excited!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
High school was torture because there was never anything to do anymore. The D&D club was obviously disbanded, and nobody wanted to talk to the kids who had been in it before the fall. There had been rumors upon rumors about what exactly Dustin, Lucas, and Mike got up to in their free time. Devil worship, rituals, drawing plans for another mass murder. In the minds of Hawkins students, it was all on the table. Of course, Mike had told people a million times he had no idea Eddie Munson was a psychopath, but that didn’t matter. For all his peers knew, they were at the top of Mike’s hit list.
Mike had tried to join the school newspaper team a few weeks ago to give himself a different image. He had proposed a new section where kids could write short stories and have them published, and the team reluctantly let him on to run it. Still, no one talked to him at meetings, and other kids had barely submitted any stories for this month’s edition. Usually, Mike would have a problem with that, but it just meant there was more room for his stories. He’d originally written a lot of fantasy stories for the paper, but kids on the team complained that he was basing them off of his devilish D&D (which he wasn’t, because they were obviously more Lord of the Rings inspired to anyone with a brain), but now he stuck to science fiction.
Mike read the newest edition of the paper at his locker. His story this week (about a crime-fighting alien organization on Venus) was in the very back. They’d actually had the nerve to cut off the last sentence, too. The sentence where it was revealed that the ‘aliens’ were humans all along. It was genius. It was also not on the paper.
As Mike considered if this was worth complaining about, Dustin and Lucas popped up beside him, neither one very enthusiastic. Lucas was a head taller than Dustin, and the two looked very different, but Mike thought of them like twins these days. Their friend group had always been very close, obviously, but there were times when Mike thought there were tighter dynamics within that. Mike and Will had always been one of the tighter pairs, stuck at each other’s hip even outside the group, and now Dustin and Lucas were the closest, making Mike feel like a bit of a third wheel.
He knew he and his friends were an inseparable trio, but Dustin and Lucas spent more time together. They’d been able to lean on each other when Will slipped away, and Mike just lost motivation to keep up. He realized he lost motivation to do much of anything, actually. Usually, Will would be the person he’d lean on in a situation like that. So, he knew it was his own fault that he felt distanced from his friends, since he hadn't put in as much effort, but it still made him sad.
Lack of motivation. That’s another reason he joined the paper: to feel like he was doing something. But, seeing how his stories were being treated, he thought he might drop that too.
“Alright evening last night?” Lucas asked, leaning against the lockers.
Mike shrugged in return, shoving the school paper into his backpack. “Eh, it was fine. Holly had a soccer practice, and we’re just getting the house ready for Nancy to come home.” He hadn’t told his friends about the whole psychologist thing. He wasn’t sure why, but he just figured they didn’t need to know.
Now Dustin raised his eyebrows, alerted by the name of his childhood crush, even though he had a girlfriend of his own now. “When’s Nancy coming?”
“A day or two. Not sure.” Mike shut his locker and sighed, wheels turning about his friends’ unusual small talk. Most of the time, they met Mike with some crazy story or outlandish theory for the day, their casual conversation was out of character. “Something’s up with you guys. What’s going on?”
Dustin and Lucas looked subtly at each other out of the corners of their eyes and then back to their third friend.
“We were just talking about how it’s weird that it’s Will’s birthday today,” Lucas said cautiously. He, of all people, knew Will was a sensitive subject with Mike. Just like Max was a sensitive subject with him– in a completely different context, that was. “I don’t know, we’d just normally be celebrating with him. And we’re not.”
Mike knew very well it was Will’s birthday. He wouldn’t forget something like that. “Yeah. It’s weird,” he responded, raising the end of his sentence to invite more explanation.
“We thought maybe we could do something?” Dustin tried. “Like, go to the arcade in his honor or something.”
“Okay…”
Lucas looked down at his feet. “Or we could… visit him?”
“What?”
Will was sent to Pennhurst four months after his initial breakdown. He’d been there for eight months. In the beginning, the four months prior, Lucas, Dustin, and Mike tried to see him often. They’d listen to his tales, they’d try to help him. Nothing worked. Every time they saw him, they just lost a little hope. Will was so devastated when they wouldn’t give into his fantasies, and it was awful to see him in such a way.
When he moved over to Pennhurst, it was suddenly a drive to see him. Pennhurst was just far enough out of the main part of Hawkins to make it inconvenient to visit. On top of this, high school was busy. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all took hard classes, Lucas had intense basketball practices, Mike had to take his little sister everywhere, and Dustin was getting involved in the newly founded robotics club. They had less and less time to see their friend, and every time they did go, it just ended in disaster. The doctors weren’t convinced their presence was helping Will either.
The trio officially decided to stop making regular visits three months into Will’s time there. What Lucas and Dustin didn’t know was that Mike continued to go until well into the fifth month. He had thought maybe it was different with him, that he could connect to Will on a level the others couldn’t. If anyone was going to make Will okay again, it had to be him. And he was determined to an unhealthy extent. He’d tried so hard to connect with Will, to bring him back to some reality. It got to the point where it was all Mike thought about, and both boys were so frustrated about the loss of each other that every time Mike visited, it ended in senseless argument. Mike was (unofficially) red-listed from the building, his parents decided it wasn’t good for him, and that was that.
And now, after all that, Lucas said this.
“You want to visit him?” Mike asked. The very thought of it drained the color from his face. They couldn’t do this.
Lucas opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well, I don’t know. We haven’t seen him together in such a long time. We just thought-”
“And what do you think he’ll think of us?” Mike interrupted. “Look, we stop visiting him for months on end and you expect he’s just gonna be fine with us walking in there to celebrate his birthday together?”
Dustin retracted his head. “Well, maybe-”
“He might be crazy, but I know he’s got mind enough to think that’s shitty.”
Saying that was a mistake. Now Lucas stood up straight, pushing himself off the locker. “I wasn’t trying to be shitty. You know that. Maybe he’d appreciate us actually making time for him. Making it look like we actually give a shit, which I do, Mike. And so does Dustin.”
There was a silence in the air as Mike refused to respond, continuing to look disapprovingly in his friend’s direction.
Lucas hit harder in return. “Now the only question is, do you?”
Mike dropped the silent act immediately, mouth open in shock as he took a step forward. “Don’t you dare ask me that question, Lucas. He was my best friend. You know damn well he was my best friend.”
“Was or is?”
Now Mike faltered.
Would you still consider him your best friend?
He shook his head. “Is,” he corrected himself. “Is. He is.”
Lucas crossed his arms, unconvinced. “Yeah? ‘Cause it seems like-”
“Guys!” Dustin stepped in between the bickering friends, trying to cut their tension. “Seriously? You’re gonna fight about this right now? How do you think Will would feel about that?”
Lucas and Mike both snapped their heads to Dustin, their expressions changing as they realized how ridiculous they probably sounded. Will’s absence had definitely left space for a little tension every now and then in the group. He’s always been their best peace-maker.
Mike looked around the hall, trying not to make eye contact, still soaking in what Lucas had asked him.
Dustin continued. “Look, maybe Mike has a point. Will might get the wrong idea if we only come to visit on his birthday. But, Lucas is right too! We have to make time for him because we all care about him. All. Of. Us.” he gestured erratically, trying to get to his point. “I think we should visit, just not today. Let’s go sometime over spring break, right? We’ll all have free time then, right?”
Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose before he nodded silently, leaning back against the lockers again. “Okay, yes,” he said, his tone completely changed. “You’re right, Dustin. That sounds like a good plan.” He tilted his head forward, staring at Mike with what he could only describe as a certain distaste. “Mike?”
“Sure, yeah. I can do spring break,” Mike said, trying to fight the urge to combat it. The mere thought of visiting Will activated his fight or flight mode.
Dustin nodded. “Good.” He put an expectant hand up in Mike’s direction. “Now, you drew first blood.”
No way. He was trying to get them to do the gross spit handshake they did as young kids when they got in fights.
Mike shook his head slowly. “Lucas drew first.”
“What do you mean? I was obviously-”
“Son of a bitch, guys!” Dustin said, putting his head in his hands. “Just apologize! Are you 12?”
Lucas sighed and placed a hand (not spit on, thankfully) out for Mike to shake. He tried for a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry I got aggressive. I guess you had a point. And I know you care about Will.”
Mike accepted his hand and shook it. “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”
Dustin looked satisfied enough with this interaction and nodded. “Good job, guys.” He put his hands on his hips. “Well? Let’s talk later about when we can visit, okay?”
The bell rang from somewhere above the three, and Mike looked around. “Yeah, let’s,” he said, already making his way off to class.
The rest of the day, Mike couldn't stop thinking about the fact that it was Will’s birthday. Something about what Dustin and Lucas suggested rang true. It was strange not to see Will on his own birthday.
It would be weird to go as a group, he caught himself thinking, but what if it was just me? It had been so long since Mike saw Will. Surely Will felt the same way in return. Maybe it had been idiotic to think he could connect with Will on a level the others couldn’t before, but now he felt the same idea growing slowly in his head. Could it really hurt to visit him? What was the worst that could happen?
Mike knew the worst that could happen. First of all, they probably wouldn’t let him in. Second, even if they did, he could already hear Will yelling at him.
But, then again, it had been three months. The frustration from before had probably died down since then. For all Mike knew, Will would be happy to see him again.
As he biked home at the end of the day, with no plan made to do anything with Dustin and Lucas that evening, he tried to forget about the whole idea. He stared down the road, trees passing. It was stupid. Why would he go see Will now of all times?
And then he was in his room, folding a blank piece of paper and writing ‘Happy Birthday’ on the front. And then he was writing a card, more like a letter, to his best friend of 12 years. And then he was telling himself to give up. And then he was staring at his old walkie-talkie, waiting for it to speak again. And then he was signing the card with his name, sealing the deal.
It wasn’t his best work, nor was it appropriate subject matter for a birthday card, but Mike had a lot to say.
Dear Will,
Happy birthday! I know it’s been a long time since I’ve visited. I know it’s shitty of me, and I know you’re probably upset. I’m upset with myself too, so I get it. I should’ve come over more often. It just got hard for me. I know you know we don’t see eye to eye as much as we used to. I know we both want each other to believe something so badly, and it’s been frustrating for both of us to have that divide, especially as best friends who used to think so much of the same.
I think Lucas, Dustin, and I are going to visit you together soon, too. So hopefully that’s something to look forward to. I guess I should mention Dustin and Lucas wanted to come today too, but we decided that might be overwhelming. Still, our party isn’t really complete without you, right? We all miss you.
Hawkins isn’t the same without you either. Neither is school. Or life. Or anything, really. I don’t know if you’ll ever come back, but I hope you do every day. I just feel a little lost without you, I guess. Like it’s a part of myself missing rather than a friend. I don’t know if that makes sense.
And you’re still my best friend, even if I’m not yours anymore.
Well, that’s all I have to say except, I guess even though we probably both think all of this seems hopeless now, I promise I won’t give up on you if you promise you won’t give up on me.
Your friend,
Mike
It was hardly a card, but it was the least Mike could say to Will. All the words he couldn’t say in the moment. He hoped it at least meant something.
He borrowed the car, telling his mom he was going to go pick a couple things up for a science project. She believed him, maybe just relieved at the prospect of her son doing something normal.
Then Mike was on the road. It was Will’s birthday, a year after he went crazy, three months after Mike had seen him last, and he was going to visit.
Many times on the drive, Mike had second thoughts. Something in the back of his head kept trying to convince him this was wrong. Another part kept telling him it was right, though, and that part was, for however much of the worse, stronger. Mike continued down the road. 10 minutes out, the voice trying to convince him to turn back went silent. The card stopped burning in his pocket. He was going to visit Will.
Pennhurst was dreary as always. From the outside, it looked like an old English college, one of the ones Mike used to dream of attending. The trees were blooming for spring, bright and cheery against the blue sky. The prospect of Will being trapped inside overshown all of this. Mike hated how Pennhurst looked.
He parked in the near-empty parking lot and took a deep breath before walking slowly inside, to the front desk, where a younger woman was working.
She regarded him with a blank expression, bright lipstick on her mouth. “Here to visit someone?”
Mike nodded slowly, swaying on his feet in anticipation. “Will Byers?”
The girl raised her eyebrows. “Well, isn’t he popular this week? First, his mom, and she’s pretty regular, but then his brother, who is not a regular, and now you, who I’ve never seen before. Name?”
“...Michael Wheeler.”
The girl flipped through a book on her desk and stopped on a page. “Michael…” she repeated. Then she looked up. “You’re red-listed.”
Mike sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He looked around the room, feet still swaying. “I just… it was three months ago. It wasn’t anything official either.” He stopped this movement and walked closer to the desk, a serious expression. He needed to get in. “Look, he’s my best friend, and it’s his birthday today. Surely you could let me in.”
The girl thought about it for a moment, dragging her tongue along her upper teeth as she drummed her pink fingernails on the book. Then, she finally took pity on Mike's woeful face. “Fine,” she said. “I think he’s out back right now. You can follow me.”
Mike muttered a quick thank you and followed the girl into the hall, giddy to have passed the first complication. No matter what had happened, he knew he couldn’t take a no for an answer from the front desk. He at least had to see Will.
He looked around at the blank walls of the hall, wondering how many times Will had walked this way in the past eight months.
“You probably don’t know this, but they recently had to move him to a different area,” the girl was saying as she continued forward, getting Mike’s attention. “A little altercation with one of the workers or something… I don't know, but I think he’s fine now. I believe he’s out by the pond.” She shook her head like this wasn't normal. “He’s always painting under this big tree back there.”
She turned and pushed open a large door, leading Mike into the sunlight that was cast over a large green area outside.
Mike let his gaze fall on a large pond towards the back. Sure enough, there was a big tree at its bank, still missing leaves, and–
Will. Will Byers, three months later, and still all the same. Mike wanted to run to him. He also wanted to run away. If let loose at the moment, he didn’t know which way he’d turn.
“There he is,” the girl said unceremoniously. “At his easel again. He’s made some… interesting works to say the least. I mean, brilliant artist, but it’s quite the world he’s made for himself.”
Mike nodded mindlessly, eyes stuck on the figure that he knew so well in the distance. “Uh-huh, he’s really creative.”
The girl almost laughed. Mike could see it from the corner of his eye. “If you want to call it that, sure.” She made a ticking sound with her mouth before speaking again. “Do you want me to come over with you, or can you take it from here?”
Mike shook his head very slowly. “I… I’ve got it. Thank you.” He waved the girl off and turned again to face his destination. Will Byers was 50 feet from him.
Mike felt the card in his pocket and a sharp wave of anxiety coming on. What was he doing?
He inhaled once deeply and walked swiftly to the tree, passing various other patients without much regard. When he was almost to Will, the boy still hadn’t noticed Mike. He was fixated very deeply in whatever it was he was painting, eyes following the smooth strokes of his brush.
Mike had no idea what to say. Here he was. He was visiting Will, Will was right in front of him.
Stupidly, all he could manage was a weak, “Hey.”
Will almost jumped at the noise, and his eyes darted up to see who had said that. When they landed on Mike, they widened quickly. Will said nothing. Nor did he smile, he just stared at Mike.
“Hi,” Mike tried again, a little louder this time. He took another step forward. “It’s… well, it’s, uh, me.”
“Yeah, I know.” Will returned his focus to his painting.
At least quietness was a better reaction than frustration. Mike would take this. He moved forward again, trying to grasp for any conversational straws. “I’m, uh, I’ve been seeing psychologists.”
Will didn’t look up, unimpressed. “Yeah, me too.”
Right. Mike sighed at himself, closing his eyes. That was a stupid thing to say to a literal mental patient. He tried again. “What are you painting?”
“Him.”
“Who?”
Now Will sighed, stopping his painting to look at Mike again. “The Mind Flayer,” he said. “But you don’t know what that is, so it doesn’t matter.”
It took everything in Mike not to look disappointed. Will was still stuck in this fantasy world. Mike knew he would be, but it still hurt to hear it said out loud.
He continued to talk anyway. “Can I see him?”
Will shrugged. “Yeah. Fine, whatever. Maybe it’ll jog your memory.” Will stepped aside, inviting Mike to stand beside him on the other side of the easel.
Mike slowly walked around and took in the painting. It was an awful thing. Well, it was beautifully curated, but Mike couldn’t help but feel chills down his spine as he took in the large, swirling shadow creature that dominated the canvas, backed by a sky of dark blue clouds and vibrant, red lightning. The creature, although it had no eyes, looked like it was staring into Mike’s soul, like it was going to consume him. He tried to avert his gaze. “It’s… really realistic.”
Will nodded from beside him. “It’s almost like I saw it with my own eyes.”
Again in his own world. Mike tried to connect. He had to connect. “There are mind flayers in D&D, remember? We encountered them a couple of times in our campaigns. Is it possible that you’re thinking of-”
“I know there are mind flayers in D&D, Mike,” Will snapped back, not taking any of Mike’s attempts at peace. “That’s what we named it after. We-” He stopped himself, looking thoughtfully at the painting. “Forget it,” he said, more quietly this time. “I just sound like an idiot trying to explain it.” The wind blew his hair, and he shook his head. “Why’d you even show up, Mike? It’s been… well, probably months since the last time I saw you. Why now?”
Mike felt the presence of the card in his back pocket again. “I was just… thinking about you. You know, since it’s your birthday and everything.”
“It’s my birthday?” Will asked, eyes angled up towards his friend. “So, it’s been a year since this all began, then. It’s been a year, and not a single one of you has thought just maybe I might not be making all of this up? Are you serious?”
Now Mike turned to him, face red, and he tried to place a hand on Will’s arm. “I want to believe you, Will. I really do, but-”
Will yanked the arm away. “But it’s not possible. I know. I’ve heard it a million times, Mike. Alternate dimensions don’t exist, kids don’t have powers, possession isn’t real. That’s all I’ve heard for the last year.”
So we’re doing this again. Mike was struggling to keep up. He didn’t want to argue with Will, but here he was. “And you disagree? Do you really think all of that sounds logical?”
“No! Of course it doesn’t! It’s not logical, Mike. But it’s true anyway.” Will looked from the painting to Mike, so pained that his friend could hardly bear to look at him. “Somehow, Vecna made everyone forget any of it ever happened. I don’t know how or why, but he did something to all of you except me, and now I’m paying for it. And El’s been in the Upside Down alone for an eternity now, taking him on by herself. I don’t know if she’s even still alive, and no one even remembers enough to care!”
Vecna. The name made Mike cringe. All of Will’s stories revolved around this villain he’d created based on the D&D character. It was Vecna who ruined his life, Vecna who put Max in a coma, Vecna who actually killed all those people in 1986, and Vecna who was making it so no one believed him. A magical reason he’d dreamed up for all the troubles of his life.
Will’s sudden volume had attracted the attention of people around them, and Mike didn’t want to get kicked out again. His eyes darted nervously to check if anyone was coming to take him away.
Will must’ve noticed the commotion too, because he lowered his voice. “Look, Mike, thanks for thinking of me on my birthday, I guess, but I think it’d be best if you left now.” He picked up his brush again and returned his focus to the easel. “If you’re just gonna stand here and pity me because I lost my mind or whatever, then I’d rather you just leave. Goodbye.”
Mike retracted his head, shocked. This was how his visit was gonna end? “Will, I- I just- Come on! Could you please let me off the hook for once? It’s your birthday and I just wanted to see you. I just want to talk again.”
“And we talked,” Will said shortly. “Congratulations. Now go. If you’re not gonna believe me, I don’t wanna hear it.”
Will wasn’t letting him speak. “You’re being unreasonable.”
“And I’m insane, right? Aren’t I supposed to be unreasonable?” Will shook his head, letting out a small, breathy laugh. “This is ridiculous, Mike. Thank you, again, but just leave.”
Mike felt like he could cry. He just wanted to see his friend again. He’d come all the way out here, even when his mind was trying to convince him not to, and now Will wasn’t even accepting him. “Fine!” he said, taking the card from his packet and throwing it at Will’s feet. “Happy birthday, Will. I hope you’re having the time of your life.”
Will looked quickly at the card, but returned to the painting without a word.
“I was just trying to do something nice for you,” said Mike, using all he could not to break down in tears in front of his mindless friend. When he didn’t gain any other response, he turned on his heel and swiftly made his way back into the building, not looking back to see if Will’s eyes followed him. He didn’t even look to see if Will picked up the card. He assumed he’d probably just throw it away, based on how Mike had left him. He’d been foolish to come here today. Why had he ever thought it would turn out well? In what world did that turn out well?
Mike walked back past the girl at the front desk without acknowledging her. He thought maybe she had put a hand up to ask him something, but he was out the door before she could say a word.
Once safely in the car, safely on the road going back towards Hawkins, he finally cried. He wasn’t even sure if he truly thought the visit would turn out any differently. There was always a small hope, three months could make a big difference. Unfortunately, he failed to acknowledge that the difference could be for the worse. Will was angry with him and rightfully so. He’d given up on him. Mike was frustrated too, if it meant anything. He knew it wasn’t Will’s fault, whatever was wrong with him, but it was still ever so frustrating.
Mike tried to pass the rest of the ride without thinking of much at all. He was tired of always having this on his mind. He just wanted to be released from this painful limbo he found himself in throughout the past year. Yes, maybe he was just an angry teenage boy, like the last psychologist had suggested, but that still hurt.
When he pulled into the driveway, it was already dusk, the sun just under the horizon, painting everything a similar blue to Will’s painting. Mike could guess well enough that he was almost late for dinner.
He tried to look unaffected as he walked into the dining room.
His mom raised an eyebrow as she set a plate of chicken on the table. “You were gone for quite a while,” she said, fishing for answers. “All for your class assignment?”
Mike shrugged, slumping into his seat. “Yeah. It was a big project.” Big project, indeed. “I don’t think it’s gonna work out.”
Half past 10, Mike was the only one left in the living room, which was strange, because his dad would usually still be in his usual position in the armchair, reading a paper or simply mindlessly watching the TV. Tonight, Mike’s father was at some late meeting, which meant it was Mike’s turn to do the late-night living room shift.
He wasn’t really doing much of anything, just thinking about all the things he’d done today. All the things he’d done wrong, specifically. Fight with Lucas, visit Will, expect things to change, write that stupid card.
He shook his head and tried to let it all slip from his mind. Surely this couldn’t be as bad as he was making it out to be.
But it had been at least an hour since he sat down to think about it, so obviously it was holding some weight.
The windows showed nothing but blackness outside as the night climbed slowly toward its peak. The moon had been obscured by clouds, so the only light was other houses on the street, but most had turned their lights off by now. No one was stirring. Mike would’ve thought that with spring break starting tomorrow, more kids would be out and about still, but the world seemed silent.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Mike nearly jumped from his seat on the couch. Who could possibly be outside his house at this hour? Had his dad lost the key and couldn’t get in? Possibly, but Mike thought he wasn’t going to be home until after midnight. And if not him, then who?
As the knock came again, Mike rose slowly from the couch, aware of each footstep as he walked to the entry.
He’d seen people in horror movies get killed like this. He had half a mind to ignore the noise. The other half couldn't care less.
A third knock came as Mike’s hand reached the doorknob and he took a deep breath before swinging it open.
The door opened to reveal a girl no older than him, a dirtied face, and unevenly managed hair. Her fingernails were long, and her eyes were somehow so wide and so tired at the same time. She stared for a quiet moment, a knowing look that Mike didn’t understand, before speaking in the same voice Mike had heard over the walkie-talkie.
“It is over. He’s gone.”
Notes:
Omg who is that
Recently rewatched season 1! Perhaps you can see some inspiration in the Dustin/Lucas/Mike interactions!!
Oh- Also, a thought on Michael Wheeler: Can he be defended at this point in the story? No. But I feel like we also need to consider that although he's avoided Will for 3 months, there were outside influences that caused that to have to happen. Also, as mentioned, he had convinced himself so strongly that he could cure his friend out of this powerful desire to have him back. Like, specifically that HE was the only one who connected with Will well enough to help him. He was so persistent and determined in this hero complex mindset that when he reached point where 9 months had gone by and nothing had changed despite his persistence (which, given the fact that Will CAN'T be cured bc secretly he's right, probably just strained their relationship even more), it completely burned him out to the point where he couldn't even THINK of visiting Will without feeling this overwhelming sense of dread and disappointment in himself.
I said this all in the chapter, but just putting it in more concise words here bc I can see how people could read this chapter and assume Mike was just being an awful friend.
Chapter 3: The Stranger
Notes:
Hi! I told you chapter 3 was really well outlined already! Like, I literally had most of the dialogue already there. It was crazy. After this, though, I actually have to plot chapters in real time. So... perhaps my speedy release times end now.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter! And check out my tumblr (https://www.tumblr.com/rainypebble07) to see the illustrations I make for the chapters!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“It is over. He’s gone.”
Mike blinked at the girl in his doorway. She was so disheveled that it looked like she’d been living in the woods for her entire life. Her face was scarred, her hair was a rat’s nest, and dirt gathered under her long and jagged fingernails. The only tidy thing about her was her puffy red jacket, from which there hung a price tag on the sleeve, as if she’d snagged it straight from a department store– perhaps without paying. Really, she looked like a wild animal more than anything, with her wide, darting eyes and her feral stance. But what was she doing at Mike’s door?
“He’s gone?” Mike echoed her, trying to wrap his head around the visitor.
The girl simply nodded. “Vecna is gone. I defeated him. We are finally free.” She gave a small smile, which she retracted upon seeing Mike’s disgusted face.
Vecna? Mike glared at her at the mention of the name. “Is this supposed to be some sort of prank?” Now he understood. Someone had set this girl up to come and pretend to be a part of Will’s story to mock Mike. Well, it wasn’t funny, that was for sure. He seethed at the girl in the doorway, resisting a strong urge to push her down the stairs.
She acted lost, tilting her head innocently. “What do you mean, Mike? Of course I’m not pranking you. I defeated Vecna like we planned. I was in the Upside Down-”
“Go tell whoever set you up to this to fuck off.”
“Mike, I-”
“Go to Hell.”
Mike slammed the door before the girl could further her sick performance. He didn’t want to put on any more of a show for whoever was watching from the bushes, laughing their heads off at Mike’s face. Probably some lame jocks with nothing better to do than keep beating Will’s condition like a dead horse. Mike imagined it now, the dirtied girl was obviously the girlfriend of one of these guys who’d they’d convinced to dress up like some fantastical character to get a reaction from Mike. Because it was the anniversary, and, for whatever reason, guys like that thought mocking the horrible parts of people’s lives was funny.
There had been a lot of people who joked about it in the first month after Will went to Pennhurst. Mike and his friends could barely go down the hall without someone yelling at them.
Look out, I think that’s a… demogorgon!
Hey, Mike, when are you due to be shipped off to join him?
Watch it! I don’t wanna catch what Will has!
There were whispers in every class, people waiting for them at the bike rack with newly curated insults, people had even shown up outside Dustin’s house one night, making noises outside his window until his mother came outside and threatened to call the cops. It was awful for a long while.
After the first month or so, though, people lost interest. Once in a while, people would whisper a loose rumor about Will, but Hawkins students were always onto the next big scandal. Once Freddie Palmer slapped a teacher, Will Byers and his wacky mind and his wacky friends were old news.
But apparently not old enough. Someone had it out for Mike. Maybe they’d overheard him and Lucas arguing in the hallway today, or maybe someone had even spotted Mike driving out of town and knew he went to Pennhurst. Whatever it was, Mike refused to let these stupid kids gain any entertainment from their harassment of him. This wasn’t supposed to be funny. It made Mike sick that Will ended up how he was, and some people thought it was okay to joke about. They hadn’t visited him. They hadn’t seen how he hurt.
Mike closed his eyes and tried to shake the interaction from his mind. He looked out the window once more, just to see if anyone was stalking around in the dark night. When he didn’t see any movement after a few minutes, he headed upstairs to try and get some sleep. This wasn’t worth his time.
In the morning, his mother asked about it over breakfast.
“I heard a knock on the door pretty late last night,” she said to her son after everyone had found their place at the table. “Did you answer it?”
Mike’s dad looked up from his paper at the mention of this, eyeing Mike for some sign of dishonesty over his reading glasses. Holly looked too, though seemed to have less concern for the subject, stabbing at her eggs simultaneously.
Mike's eyes glanced from member to member of his family, and he shrugged lazily, not fully awake after a night of restless sleep. Thoughts of snickering kids and crazed best friends had kept him tossing and turning well into the latest hours. He was feeling tired and irritable this morning, and definitely not in the mood to talk about last night’s doorway interaction. “It was no one important. Just some kids from school trying to mess with me.”
Mike’s dad rolled his eyes. “I figured. Your generation just walks around thinking they can do whatever they want. No respect for our private property. I’ve been telling your mother we need to put in a fence for years.” He sighed heavily and went back to the paper, tuning out as fast as he’d tuned in.
Mike’s mom just frowned across the table, not yet done with her interrogation. “Were they friends of yours? What did they want?”
Mike wasn’t sure why this mattered. “It was nothing, really. They just wanted to… I don’t know, get my goat or something. It’s not a big deal.” He looked back to his own plate, trying not to go red in the face. He really, really would’ve rather not have to think about this anymore.
His mother didn’t deter. She’d latched onto a potential imperfection. Her kid was being picked on like a loser. “Do these kids do this a lot? Tease you?”
Fine. Mike felt another ball of frustration rolling up inside his empty stomach. “Well, I don’t know. I think it was just the whole Will thing? Right? ‘Cause it’s sorta the anniversary of that, and for some reason people love to make jokes about it. ‘Cause, like, they didn’t have to go through it, and-” Mike stopped himself, realizing that he was rambling. “Really, it’s not bothering me.”
This was unconvincing, obviously, because his mother’s nose was still wrinkled in distaste. “Well, we should call the school, shouldn’t we? If there are kids making fun of you, and they’re going so far as to come to our house-”
“Mom, seriously. It’s fine. I don’t even know who they were. We don’t need the school involved.” The last thing Mike wanted was more attention on himself. He’d had enough when Will first got sent off. Meeting with the principal, school counselors, talks with teachers, an assembly, whispers in the hallways. He’d rather just fade into the background now. That way, he wasn’t forced to think about it all the time.
His mom looked like she might say something else, but took a breath and put on a smile instead. “Alright, well, if that’s what you really think. But if these kids are giving you trouble-”
“Yes, I’ll tell you. Fine. But, really, it’s not important.” Mike picked up his fork and stuffed a bite of eggs into his mouth, ending the conversation. How many times did he have to say it didn’t matter?
His mom stared at him for a second longer, just trying to think of something else to say before returning attention to her breakfast, defeated. Then a moment later, once Mike finally thanked the universe it was over, “You know, maybe you could talk about this with the next psychologist. I think you should-”
A rubber band broke. Mike stood quickly from his seat. “Holy shit, Mom! Can you drop it? I said it wasn’t important. And I don’t wanna see another one of your stupid psychologists. I’m done!” Tired and irritable. This was the fault of that stupid girl.
Now the whole table was looking again.
“...Michael, language,” his mom chided shakily, shocked by her son’s outburst.
Language. Mike had told her the truth about how he felt, and all she could think about was his etiquette?
Holy shrugged from her own seat, unfazed. “I’ve heard the word shit before. Everybody says it at school.”
“Honey, you don’t say it either. It’s not a good word.”
Mike’s father’s eyes were up from the paper again. “Apologize to your mother, Mike. You don’t speak to her like that. And if she wants you to see another psychologist, you’ll see one. Do you understand?”
Mike shook his head. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The frustration was back and strong. Something he was missing, something not clicking. Everything made him angry. “No! Nobody in this house ever cares about what I want! I- I tell you how I feel, and you don’t listen! You don’t even care about helping me feel better, you just want a normal son.” He looked around again, searching for words to explain himself. “You know, I went to visit Will yesterday. And it sucked. And I was so upset, but I didn’t even tell you because I knew you wouldn’t care about how I felt. You’d just scold me for not following your rules. ‘Cause who cares if I’m hurt about it, it was probably my fault for going there in the first place, right?”
No one at the table spoke back, just staring at Mike as his words hung in the stiff morning air. His parents didn’t even have a trace of sympathy on their faces. His mom looked at her son like he had lost his mind. His dad was emotionless. No apologies, no understanding, no nothing.
Mike pushed his chair in. “You probably wouldn’t even care if I died, at this point.” With this, he turned his back and walked swiftly away from the dining room and didn’t stop until he was back in his room, slamming the door behind him.
Frustrated, he sat down on his bed and took a few large, deep breaths, closing his eyes. He’d just been so angry lately. And at everyone, too. He snapped at Lucas, he got irritated with Will, cussed out the girl at his door, and now he was yelling at his mom and dad over the breakfast table.
Nothing made sense anymore. Mike’s entire life had gone off the rails after Will lost his mind. He couldn’t even describe it, but it was like he was missing something. Like, deep down in his soul, he knew something that he couldn’t remember, like it had been ripped from him. Something that would make everything make sense.
Until he found that something, he was simply lost.
About 20 minutes after the breakfast outburst, a knock came at Mike’s door. He could tell it was his mother from the sound of the hand against the wood, gentler than his dad and stronger than his sister, and the bounce of her manicure. He didn’t respond even so.
“Mike? Hello?” His mother called from outside. “Honey, can you come out?”
Mike turned on his bed to face the door, but didn’t make any effort to answer.
His mom was silent for a moment. Then, “Look, Holly has a soccer game, and we have to go. It’s okay if you don’t feel like coming with us, I just…” She trailed off.
Another silence. Mike could almost hear his mom breathing on the other side. He almost said something, but kept his mouth shut.
She was quieter now. “I want to talk later. Please. Really talk to you. You’re my son, and I want you to know I will always care. I know…” Another trail off. Mike heard her sigh and place a hand on the wall. “Just take the trash out while we’re away, okay? We’ll chat when I get home.”
With this, there was the sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Then Mike’s father muttering something about children, then a call for Holly to hurry up, shuffling of squeaking shoes, and the front door shutting. Then silence.
Mike laid in bed for a moment more.
Finally rising, he slumped downstairs to collect the trash to take outside, like his mom had said he should. He figured he might as well be useful. Maybe as an apology for his attitude at breakfast, if that even warranted an apology. He supposed he’d gone a little overboard with his emotions, so taking out the trash it was.
Going out the front door, Mike looked nervously around at the block, searching for any signs of more kids who might want to pester him.
Perhaps he was being paranoid, but he had a small suspicion that he was being watched. At one point, while hoisting the trash bag into the large can, he even thought he heard someone in the bushes across the street. A quick whip of his head, though, and he realized nothing was there. He was simply getting himself worked up. No one cared that much about messing with Mike that they’d hang around and stalk him all day. The girl at his door had been a one-time occurrence.
This was believable, of course, until the girl appeared in his living room.
Mike had finally convinced himself he was being unreasonable, trying to think of anything else as he stepped back inside. He looked at his feet as he walked through the front door and kicked off his shoes. Then, he decided, he might as well watch something mind-numbing on the TV. What better did he have to do anyway? It was the first day of spring break, and Mike surely needed a break.
As he turned his head to the living room, though, he yelped in surprise, jumping back so far he almost hit the wall.
There, standing with an expectant expression, was the same girl from last night, still dirty and tired. She tilted her head as she observed Mike’s freak-out.
“What the hell?” he yelled at her. “Get out of my house! What are you doing here?”
“Mike,” she said sternly. “You are being very strange. Didn’t you hear me last night? I defeated Vecna.”
Mike narrowed his eyes. “I’m calling the cops.” He dashed swiftly for the phone, reaching his hand up to the wall to grab it.
Somehow the girl got there before him, faster than she looked with her scrawny limbs and wide eyes. She took the phone from the wall and simply held it to her chest, like she was guarding a small creature, and there was a good chance she’d put up a fight if Mike tried to take it back. “No,” she said plainly.
Could kids from his school really be so invested in a prank that they broke into his house? Maybe Mike was dreaming, or maybe Will’s crazy stories had finally got to him and he was also going crazy.
“I came here because Will is not home,” the girl continued. “I went to our house, and there was a strange man, but no Will. And so I came here, but now you’re being very strange to me.” She sighed and her voice trembled. “Everything is wrong.”
Mike decided to play into her little game, hoping eventually she’d give up the phone. “You know Will?” he asked, crossing his arms.
The girl retracted her head, scrunching her nose. “This is not funny, Mike. I have been gone for a very long, but I haven’t forgotten anyone! Of course I know Will, I am his sister.”
What? Mike squinted his eyes at the intruder. “Wait, wait, wait. What’s your name?”
Now the girl squinted back. “I am Eleven. But you call me El.” She paused. “Is this some sort of quiz?”
“Eleven,” Mike repeated. He remembered the name because it was a big character from Will’s story. “Right, my crime-fighting ex-girlfriend." This was ridiculous.
“Yes!” Eleven said, pointing. Then, she frowned. “Well, no. I don’t fight crime.”
Mike put his hands on his hips, just waiting for the right moment to grab the phone. This was a truly invested bully, but Mike wouldn’t put it past some of his peers, and the girl did seem familiar in a way. He must’ve seen her in the hall before. “So… you’re telling me we were dating.”
Eleven nodded. “Yes- Do you really not know who I am?”
“I have no idea who you are.”
Drumming her fingers on the phone, she swayed on her feet. “Why don’t you remember?” she asked (as if Mike would have an answer for that). “Do you remember the Upside Down? Demogorgon? Mind Flayer? Vecna?”
“Yeah, they’re D&D monsters.”
She shook her head. “No. Well, yes. But they’re also real. You named the monsters from the Upside Down after D&D ones, remember? Like, the demogorgon? The one that took Will when he went missing? You had that little metal statue with the… heads. Multiple heads.”
Now Mike was starting to feel himself sweat a little bit, but tried not to show that he was becoming nervous. Not only was Eleven reciting exact details from Will’s stories, but the demogorgon figure seemed to be an awfully personal detail to recall. “Look,” he said, eyes darting from Eleven’s face to the phone. “Please just tell me if someone put you up to this. It’s not funny anymore.”
“Why would I lie about the Upside Down? Friends don’t lie, remember?”
Mike put his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know! I just… bet you’re someone’s girlfriend and he’s having you come to my house to mess with me about Will. It’s not funny. His… situation isn’t a joke.”
Now Eleven’s expression faltered. “Situation?” she asked, taking a step towards Mike, who promptly backed up. “What situation? Is Will okay? Where is he?”
“Pennhurst,” Mike said, rolling his eyes. “Is that what you want me to admit? My best friend has been at Pennhurst for a year?”
“...What is Pennhurst?”
Mike couldn’t believe the girl was making him go through all of this. “The mental hospital outside of town. He went crazy a year ago, talking about all the stuff you’re saying right now. I’ll admit it! You’re a great actor. Congratulations, but you can drop it now and go tell whoever put you up to this to fuck themselves, okay? This is anything but funny. This is sick. Will’s a real person… He’s not some joke.”
“You think Will is crazy,” Eleven said to herself. “But, does Lucas remember me? Dustin? I’ll talk to them instead.”
“No, of course they don’t remember you. You don’t exist.”
“Well, what about Max? Max would know me. She is my best friend. Where is she?”
“In a coma. She’s been like that forever. Drop the act.” Mike was really tired of this, now.
Eleven put a thoughtful finger to her mouth, eyebrows furrowed as she muttered to herself. “Still in a coma… How? I- Vecna is gone now. She should be okay… And why does nobody…”
This girl was way too invested to be a Hawkins student. She must have, Mike theorized, been an escaped patient from Pennhurst, inspired by hearing Will’s fantastical stories before breaking out and coming to torment Mike.
Whatever she was, she looked awfully pale, standing there with the phone, her dirty fingers shaking as she thought to herself, wrapped in her big, stolen jacket. Mike thought she might pass out.
“Look, do you need a glass of water?” Mike asked. “Let’s get you something to drink and then we can talk.”
Eleven nodded slowly. “Yes. Fine. Water.” She slowly put the phone back on the wall and walked with Mike as he led her to the couch and sat her down. She crouched a little, looking down at her hole-filled tennis shoes, soiled with dirt and– was that blood?
Mike shivered at the thought of where that blood could have come from. “I’m going to go to the kitchen,” he said, trying to level his voice. For all he knew, this girl could smell fear. “I’ll get your water and be right back.”
Eleven just nodded, still looking down.
Mike backed slowly into the kitchen, not taking his eyes off of the girl until he was safely in the other room. Supporting himself on the counter, his mind raced and he took a few shallow breaths of air. What was he going to do? There was an escaped mental patient in his living room, and one most likely capable of violence based on her blood-stained shoes. If Mike didn’t act fast, he’d probably be killed.
He walked slowly to the sink and turned the tap on, leaving it running as he tiptoed to the kitchen phone. He’d just call someone and have her returned before she even knew what was going on. Everything was going to be fine.
Once his hand was on the receiver, Mike sighed with a victorious relief. He started to dial up the sheriff’s office.
Then, he saw Eleven standing at the entrance to the room from the corner of his eye, and his heart dropped into his chest. He had only made it to the second number, so he tried to dial faster.
“NO!” Eleven stuck out a fierce hand, pointed straight.
Mike had trouble explaining exactly what happened next. First, the phone flew suddenly from his hand. Then, it was as if some invisible force pushed him backwards, and the wind was nearly knocked from him as he was thrown into a dining room chair.
Quickly, Mike tried to get up from the seat, but realized he couldn’t move his legs. Something unseen was keeping him trapped right where he was.
Eleven slowly walked toward him, hand still outstretched, and he watched a small drop of blood fall from her nose.
“Who the hell are you?” Mike yelled at her, still struggling to move.
“I am Eleven,” she responded. “You found me in the woods with Lucas and Dustin. You kept me in your basement. I helped you find Will when he went missing. You contacted me every day on your walkie-talkie after I left. Do you remember?”
Mike was almost in tears with fear. “I don’t know you!”
Eleven sighed and walked forward again.
“What are you-”
She swiftly grabbed Mike’s wrist.
Then, everything was black. Mike thought for sure he had been killed. A crazy girl broke into his home and murdered him. He was dead and his family would find him bleeding out on the dining room floor.
In the black void where he found himself trapped now, he screamed bloody murder, waving his limbs around like it was going to save him from this awful fate. He was in Hell. Mike had died and now he was in Hell.
Then, he looked to his side and saw Eleven staring at him, concerned.
So, maybe this wasn’t Hell. Whatever it was, it was insane.
Mike gestured erratically. “Where are we? Are you some sort of illusionist or something? What did you do to me?”
Eleven shook her head, ignoring Mike’s questions as she walked around in the blackness, water rippling under her feet. “This isn’t right,” she said. “I was trying to go to the memory where you met me in the woods. But… something is blocking our way.” She took Mike’s wrist again and concentrated.
The blurry figures of a dark woods started to appear around them, but it was too fuzzy to even make out. It was like a low-quality image, and it kept fading to black and back again.
Mike blinked. “You’re telling me we’re in my memories?”
“We are trying to be. Something is keeping us from them. It’s like they are off-limits.”
“So, my memories are locked like some video game level?” None of this was making sense to Mike.
Eleven didn’t seem to understand the comparison, but she nodded even so. “Yes, like… that.” She paced back and forth as the void flashed in and out of the blurry woods. “We should be seeing you right now. You should be 12 and in the woods and then you find me. I wanted to show you, to prove it to you, but your mind is barring it off.”
Mike still stood there, his entire perception of reality crumbling before him. “Wait, so are you… actually named Eleven?” There was no way… Will’s stories, could they possibly be true? It didn’t make any sense. No one remembered; there was no evidence. How could that be possible? Mike thought he’d probably be aware if another dimension had overtaken his hometown at some point.
“Of course I’m actually Eleven,” Eleven snapped, still trying to figure out her locked memory predicament. She paused and pointed a finger at Mike, which he backed away from, out of fear that she might send him flying backwards again. “And you took far too long to realize it. You are very stupid, Mike.”
“I’m-” Mike scoffed, defensive even despite his lack of comprehension. “Well, even if this is all real, which I’m not convinced it is, can you blame me? Obviously, my memories are blocked off or something. That’s not my fault. Wouldn’t you be skeptical if a girl showed up and told you all this supernatural stuff was real if you didn’t remember it?”
“Maybe,” said Eleven, but she stopped the debate there. “You are still stupid.”
Mike gave up on fighting back. He instead turned to thinking about the implications of all of… this. Hypothetically, if Will was right, that meant he’d been trapped in Pennhurst for eight months, even though there was nothing wrong with him, and he just had to sit and watch all his friends as they forgot everything that had happened to them in the last years. If that was really true, Mike felt terrible. He thought of all the times he’d argued with Will, all the times he didn't believe him… Could it possibly be that he’d been wrong? Was Will the only one with a full mind this whole time?
“And you’re sure I’m not hallucinating right now,” he said aloud, less to Eleven, and more to the universe.
Eleven answered anyway. “You are not hallucinating, Mike. I know it is crazy, but everything Will told you is true.”
“Well, then why the hell don’t I remember?” If this were real, Mike felt horribly robbed and full of a great emptiness. If he was supposed to have had all these crazy supernatural experiences, where were they? He could barely think about the fact that he could have all these thoughts and feelings that he simply couldn’t remember.
This was it. This was what he was missing, the reason his life made no sense anymore. He needed back his memories. He wanted them now. “How do we get them back?”
Eleven closed her eyes and suddenly she and Mike were back in the dining room again. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know why you can’t-”
“Vecna,” Mike said suddenly, remembering his last visit to Will. “Will said something about how Vecna had made everyone forget. Do you think it’s him?” Mike shivered at the prospect of a supernatural villain powerful enough to erase the memories of so many people. Will always talked about how evil Vecna was, how terrifying he was, how disgusting, but could he truly do this?
Eleven pursed her lips. “Maybe… but I defeated him. That means everything should be okay now.”
Mike got up from the chair and crossed his arms, starting to pace as he thought. He couldn’t believe he was actually theorizing about interdimensional monsters right now. He was hallucinating. He had to be dreaming or hallucinating. “Well, what if this was, like, his final stand, right? Like, he used the last of his powers to do this?” Then Mike bit the inside of his cheek, a realization dawning. “But that doesn’t make sense, does it? You said you defeated him recently, and Will’s been the only one with memory for an entire year.”
“No, it makes sense,” said El in return. “His final stand in this dimension. A year ago, our plan was to confine Vecna. We wanted to trap him in the Upside Down. I was going to be in there with him, fighting him from that side, and you were all going to try and help me from the other side. But then you all stopped contacting me after a while... Maybe that’s why. He used the last of his hold on this world to take all your memories so you wouldn’t be able to help defeat him.”
A shiver went through Mike’s spine. He didn’t like the fact that somewhere, deep in his mind, he knew this villain and his evil ways, but he couldn’t recall it. “But why not Will?” he asked quietly. “If he really wanted everyone to leave you, why not just take the memories of all of us?”
Eleven thought for a moment, a large frown playing across her face at whatever hypotheticals were coming to her head. Then, finally said, “An anchor.”
“Anchor?”
“Will was always… different for Vecna. They’re connected, somehow. Their minds. Will has always been able to sense Vecna, and Vecna has always been able to… I don’t know. Will’s like… a host. For a parasite.”
The thought of this also made Mike shiver. He couldn’t believe he couldn’t remember any of this. His best friend was a host for some evil being and he simply couldn’t recall it. The more he heard about Vecna, the more he wanted to stomp his face in. “What does that have to do with an anchor?”
“Well, maybe Will is acting as an anchor. To keep some control over what happens in this world, Vecna needs some recognition. Someone who will keep his presence alive. A grasp on this side of reality.”
Mike raised an eyebrow. “But if Will is… somehow keeping his presence alive by acting as an anchor… doesn’t that mean-”
“He’s not gone. I defeated him physically in the Upside Down, but some amount of Vecna, no matter how small, is here, in this world.” Eleven dropped her head to her chest, her eyes shut tight as she took a deep breath and then looked back to Mike, an intense worry in her face. “Vecna is alive.”
Notes:
Gasp.
Annnywayyyyy, speaking of Vecna... Season 5 is coming out soon... which poses a problem for me because I'm writing a story that takes place after the end of the show, without having the knowledge of what happens at the end of the show, and we're all gonna know what happens soon enough, and then I'm gonna look back at my plot plan like 'oh shit, this is wildly inaccurate now and I still have yet to finish it'
Unless, by some miracle, my fic ends up being compatible with the conclusion of season 5, let's just all pretend it never happened, right??? RIGHT???
Chapter 4: Escape from Pennhurst
Notes:
Ah! Hello! I did so much plotting this week!!! And then I wrote a chapter! Woohoo! I'm genuinely so excited for the places this fic is gonna go! Some of the future chapters... let's just say we've got a lot in store for us.
Well, anyway, enjoy chapter 4!Also I made a tumblr for the fic! Come over and ask questions or just stay up to date! https://www.tumblr.com/memorymaster07
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next course of action for Mike and his newfound (or, found again, he supposed) accomplice was obvious: Rescue Will Byers.
Mike couldn’t stand the thought of him locked up in Pennhurst for no good reason, with all the people he cared about having suddenly forgotten everything they’d been through. He couldn’t stand the memory of trying to convince Will that what he said wasn’t true. He finally understood why it made Will so mad.
Mike also couldn’t stand the fact that five years of memories with his best friend had been ripped from him. What had they done together? Mike couldn’t remember any of the moments, but he knew all his feelings were the same as before, and he cared deeply for Will, that was for sure. He’d always cared deeply for Will, ever since they were kids, but why still? What in the last five years had kept them so tightly bonded?
He wanted all of this back.
Eleven climbed into the passenger seat of Mike’s car with urgency, waving her hands as if to hurry Mike up.
“I know, I know,” Mike muttered, digging for the keys in his pocket. He was lucky that Nancy hadn’t taken this car to college, which meant it was usually available for his use. Technically, it was still Nancy's car, and Mike hadn’t had his license for that long, so his parents usually made him ask before he took it, and he just biked to school to avoid the fuss. Today, though, he couldn’t care less about asking for permission.
Once Mike found the keys, he climbed quickly into the driver’s side and started the car. He was still putting on his seatbelt by the time they were out of the driveway.
The drive wasn’t all that long, but long enough for Mike to think. A lot. And this was good, because he had a lot of pieces to put together.
“So… we were actually dating?” he said at one point. Mike still couldn’t wrap his head around that. In his altered memories, he’d never had a girlfriend. He’d never even liked a girl before. Actually, he was quite frightened by the prospect that he’d never like a girl. Hearing that he had a girlfriend was a relief, sure, but something felt off about it.
Eleven rolled her eyes dramatically at Mike’s question. “Yes. Will you stop asking that?”
He’d only asked three times now. This was a blatant overreaction.
Mike clenched his jaw, still not convinced about the whole thing. “Why’d we stop?”
Now Eleven was silent for a moment, considering this. She kept her eyes on the road ahead of the two. “Just… differing visions. For our futures. Or… different goals, maybe.”
This was vague. “Really?”
“Really.” Eleven sighed and laughed a little under her breath, leaning back in her seat. “Mike, I was raised in a lab and was speaking fractured sentences at 14. I think… I need to find myself before I even think about finding boys.”
Mike considered this. “Fair. That makes sense.” Still, something seemed off about the whole thing. Mike drummed his hands impatiently on the steering wheel, and he looked at Eleven as they stopped at a red light. “What about me, though? Was I an okay boyfriend?”
Now Eleven rolled her eyes again, but with less frustration than before. “You had your moments. But, again, different goals.”
Mike raised an eyebrow. “Well, what the hell was my goal?”
Eleven shrugged. “Mmm… I just think we are better as friends.” She pointed forward. “The light. It is green. That means go.”
Mike returned his focus to the road, putting his foot down steadily on the gas. “That didn’t answer my question.”
“It is just… hard to explain. Maybe when we get your memory back, you will figure everything out for yourself.”
It was Mike’s turn to sigh. “Well, that clears everything up. Is there some giant awful truth about me that you’re keeping a secret?”
Eleven shook her head vigorously. “No. No, not that. I don’t know what the truth is about you. And neither do you, maybe?” All of this seemed difficult for her to articulate. Mike had a feeling they’d had a very similar conversation in the past, and one that was just as uncertain. “I just think… We both need to find ourselves. In other places.”
This answer still didn’t satisfy Mike, but he decided to let it go, turning to a different subject before he could give his brain time to think on this one any longer. “So… you care a lot about Will?” He also found it strange that he wouldn’t remember someone who obviously cared so much about his best friend.
“Well, yes, of course. He is my brother.”
Mike retracted his head at this. He’d never even heard of Will having a sister, nor was this fact mentioned in any of Will’s Pennhurst retellings. He thought maybe Eleven had said something about it earlier, back at the house, but it was before Mike was taking her seriously enough to actually consider anything she said. “You're actually his sister? Like… paternally, or something?”
Eleven made a face that suggested the meaning of this word was lost on her.
“Like, from the same dad,” Mike explained.
Eleven shrugged. “I do not know Will’s dad. Joyce is our mom, though.”
Now this seemed implausible. “Joyce had another kid?!”
“No. No, no, no. She took me in,” Eleven explained. “I am from the lab. Mama is in Illinois. But Joyce is my mom now.” She paused, a melancholy look growing across her face. “Or, was. I guess she does not remember.”
“But she will,” Mike asserted. “We’re going to restore everyone’s memories. We have to.” This was a given, he supposed, but he liked to say it out loud, just in case. Mike wanted his memory back more than anything.
He was silent for a while again, just thinking about the task ahead. Of course, the closest issue was somehow getting Will out of Pennhurst. The plan was sort of up in the air and rocky. It involved a lot of… I don’t know. We’ll figure it out when we get there, which stressed Mike out because he liked to plan. That’s why he’d always liked being a dungeon master. At least he knew what was up ahead. Unfortunately, the time to plan was short, and Eleven was insistent on Will getting out as soon as possible (which Mike, of course, wouldn’t argue with– it was about time Will left that place). Also, unfortunately, this might be a hard task without a fully developed plan.
Then Mike almost laughed with realization. He had, apparently, fought monsters before. If he could survive something like that, getting Will out of a mental hospital seemed like nothing. Surely he’d done worse things.
Truly, it was what came after the break-in that scared him the most. Confrontation, that was. He was so scared Will would never forgive him for not believing. Sure, Mike felt like he deserved something along those lines, but the thought of Will– real and sane Will– never being able to look him in the eyes again made his chest tight.
“Okay,” Mike said finally, feeling cold sweat build on his forehead. “So… before I see Will, is there anything I should know? Something important that I forgot about us.”
Eleven raised her eyebrows. “So much,” she said. “How about… when he went missing. You wanted to find him very badly. You were so, so worried. And the lab people– the bad men– they placed a fake body in the lake and said it was him. You were upset. You yelled at me because you were so upset he was gone. You didn’t even talk to Dustin and Lucas. You just went home alone.”
Mike shivered at the thought of finding Will’s body. He had hardly been able to deal with Will losing his mind, so Mike couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he lost him in such a definite way.
“Was I the one who found him?”
“No. Joyce and Hopper went to the Upside Down… But you helped from this side.” She straightened her posture in a sudden revelation. “Oh, and you kissed me.”
What? “...Right after you escaped from the lab?”
“Yes.”
Mike shook his head at such a ridiculous thought. “Wasn’t I, like, 12?”
“Mhm. It was very strange. You are very strange, Mike.”
“Thanks.” Mike was silent for a moment, taking in this statement and keeping his eyes on the road. They were almost to Pennhurst now, only a minute or two away. He knew the streets they drove on. He knew the streets too well. The trees and buildings always loomed here, even if they weren’t that tall, and the people on the sidewalks always seemed to stare. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Mike asked quietly.
Eleven furrowed her eyebrows. “Hmm?”
“Will,” Mike said a little louder. “I haven’t… It’s been a year and I haven’t believed him. We haven’t connected in that long, and I left him for three months. Do you think he’ll ever forgive me for that?”
The answer was no. It had to be no. Mike was an awful friend, and Will could see that plainly now. Mike could see that plainly.
Eleven thought the question over, staring intently at passing trees. Passing and looming trees. “Yes,” she finally said. “I think he will. It is like California, right? You were away from each other for a year, and then you were friends again.”
Mike had no idea what the state of California had to do with any of this, but decided not to ask. “You really think he can forgive all of that?”
Now Eleven was confident. “Will is very kind. He is forgiving. Sometimes to his own detriment, and especially with you. I think he will accept your apology.”
Mike frowned, not sure how he felt about this answer. It seemed to be implying that, yes, Will could forgive him, but that didn’t mean he should. That seemed wrong, Will forgiving Mike even though he shouldn’t. But, then again, Mike supposed he’d selfishly rather have that than no forgiveness at all. He’d just have to make the forgiveness worth it. Starting today, Mike was going to be the best friend Will could ask for. It was the least he could do.
Mike turned the car into the entryway of Pennhurst’s grounds with a shudder. Here they were, and with very little plan for the rest of this operation. Mike tried to block out all the ways this could possibly go wrong from popping into his head.
As he parked, Eleven reached into the back seat and handed Mike a plastic bag. This bag held his disguise. The two had decided it was best for Mike to look like someone else if they tried to go in to visit. Mike was, of course, red-listed, and there was a good chance someone might recognize him from yesterday if he just gave a fake name.
So, Mike pulled out the things they’d collected quickly from around the Wheeler house: a golden-blond wig from some old Halloween costume and glasses. Hopefully, this would be enough to fool the workers. It’s not like they’d remember Mike’s face that much, and glasses always made someone look like a different person.
Mike grimaced as he put the wig on and looked in the rearview mirror. He thanked the universe he hadn’t inherited a monstrosity like this from his mother.
Eleven laughed at him as she pulled a purse with a second disguise from the back. “This is like when we met,” she explained. “You put me in a wig too. Because my hair was so short.”
Mike huffed and put on the glasses, not in any mood to reminisce on things he couldn’t remember. “Let’s just get in there.”
The same woman was working the front desk, with a slightly brighter shade of lipstick today. And more eyeshadow too. She eyed Eleven and Mike curiously as they walked in, and, fortunately, didn't seem to remember Mike.
“Hello,” she said evenly. “Are we here for a visit?”
“Will,” responded Eleven in a matter-of-fact way, rushing to the desk with wide eyes.
“Will Byers,” Mike clarified, trying to deepen his voice for further disguise.
“Will Byers again,” the girl said to herself. She flipped through her book and frowned. “Unfortunately, his visiting hours are over for now. Maybe if you came back in-”
“No!” said Eleven, putting her hands on the desk now, which startled the girl. “We- We must see him. You must let us.”
“We’re extended family,” Mike added on the spot. “We’re only passing through, and we haven’t seen him in so long! Is there a way we could get in?” Mike tried to look upset, which was not difficult to do in his current state.
“We are cousins,” explained El slowly. “Very far cousins. We are from California.”
The girl chewed some gum in her mouth, unimpressed. “Pretty pale for California, both of you.”
Mike looked down and realized, yes, he was too pale. Eleven didn’t look much better, having been in an evil dimension for the past year. This was going horribly already.
“Look,” said Mike. “Could we talk to someone, then? My sister and I, we love Will very much, and it’s been so long. Surely there’s something you could do for us? It’ll be years before we get this opportunity again. I don’t know if I can live without seeing him that long.” This time, he really played up the emotion in his face, and so did Eleven, although Mike wasn't sure if she was faking the frustrated welling of her eyes or not. He only hoped she wouldn’t send the girl flying across the room.
The girl looked from Mike to Eleven a couple of times with her brightly framed eyes and sighed. “Fine. I guess I could let you see him, but you’ve gotta be quick. And don’t tell anyone I’m letting you do this. If you see my boss-”
“Lips are sealed,” Mike assured her.
This seemed to convince the girl enough, and she nodded before looking back to her book. “Names?”
Mike and Eleven looked at each other in a short moment of panic.
“I am… Angela," Eleven said, pointing to herself with a suspicious lack of confidence. “And his name is Jim. And our last name is Byers, like Will, because we are his cousins.”
However unbelievably this was presented, the girl seemed to take little notice and wrote the names down without any more questions. “I can’t lead you back,” she said. “If the boss knows I’m gone…” She gritted her teeth. “Just- Second floor, door 208, okay? Don’t draw attention to yourselves.”
“208,” Mike repeated. “Thank you so much, miss. Your kindness is much appreciated.” He gave her a forced warm smile and took Eleven by the arm, leading her swiftly back into the halls of Pennhurst. “I can’t believe that worked,” he muttered as soon as they were far enough away. He was starting to like this lack-of-plan thing, though. This was exhilarating. What else was exhilarating: Being moments away from reconnecting with Will Byers after a year of confusion and misinformation. Mike’s hands were literally shaking at his sides as he continued down the hallway and up the stairs, and he removed the wig and glasses, not needing that to be the first Will saw of him today. He didn't speak a word to Eleven. He could hardly even breathe. Would Will really forgive him?
Eleven stopped from ahead of him, halfway down the dimly-lit hall of the second floor, and turned to a door. “208,” she said. “This is it.”
Mike slowly approached, taking in the cold entry. His heart was pounding violently in his chest, and he thought he might pass out. Will was feet from him, and he was coming home.
“Are you ready?” Eleven asked.
Mike swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Will sat on the bed in his room and studied the pills in his palm for a quick moment before bending down to stuff them into the hole in the side of his mattress closest to the wall. His hand felt the touch of the various other pills in the crevice, and he made a mental note to dispose of this load as soon as possible. He couldn’t let his avoidance of the medication become noticeable, especially after keeping it up for so long.
That would just give the doctors another reason to start electroconvulsive therapy.
Will shivered at the thought of this. His mother had always been anti-ECT and made it well-known to the doctors that she didn’t think her son would need any sort of treatment as such. She assured them every week, he’ll come back, I can see it. The unfortunate side of this was that Will wasn’t coming back. He had nowhere to return to. Still, the doctors gave in to Joyce’s great concern, and Will had avoided the treatment thus far.
That was until he’d foolishly pushed the doctors a little too far the other day when he got into a quarrel with a worker. It was, in his defense, so hard not to become frustrated with all of these people when he knew he was right. He couldn’t blame them for thinking he was crazy, no, but he still got frustrated. This frustration had unfortunately built to a moment when he had just finished a very detailed painting of the Mind Flayer, which he was going to show to his mom at her next visit to see if it sparked any hint of remembrance. The worker who had come to tell him it was time to go back to his room was, rightfully, disturbed by this painting and tried to take it away. Will, very tired due to a nightmare-filled sleep the night before, lost his cool and got slightly violent with the worker without thinking. He thought ‘pounced on the man’ was a little dramatic, but that’s how the event was retold. This concerned the doctors, and they decided they couldn’t take Joyce’s excuses any longer. Will was dangerous, and they needed to try ECT.
The news of this was so disappointing. All Will knew about ECT was that it induced memory loss, and he couldn’t lose his memory. He was the only one who still had it. It was imperative that his own mind stayed intact if there was to be any hope of helping El.
He tried to stay unproblematic to avoid the treatment up until that night. No, he wouldn’t pretend he’d been ‘cured’ by the medications and the doctors, but Will tried to stay relatively calm. He’d keep trying to convince his family and friends they’d really forgotten something, but he couldn’t go any further. Trying to escape or fight back, he’d realized, would only land him further into this prison, and he’d be even more useless to El there. As much as he hated it, the best he could do was wait.
But now it had been a year, and El still hadn’t returned. In his moments of great doubt, Will found himself, for the very first time, thankful to have some connection to Vecna, because it gave him a connection to El. If he could feel Vecna’s struggle, then he knew El was still fighting. All Will could do was wait, but at least he could wait knowing there was something to wait for.
This was until a day or two ago (Will often lost count), when the struggle in his mind simply stopped. Vecna’s presence was, as always, still there, but the struggle was gone. Will feared this meant the worst: El had been taken down.
This possibility truly made Will shiver. He couldn’t stand the thought of poor El, cold and alone in the Upside Down for an entire year without the help of anyone, fighting Vecna tooth and nail only to lose it all.
And if El was really gone, then what more was Will fighting for? How long could he keep trying to convince everyone the Upside Down was real? Did it really matter anymore? Questions like these made his head hurt, so he stood up and went to the window, trying not to think any longer. Surely, surely something would happen soon. El would be fine, Vecna would be gone.
Maybe he really was going crazy.
Then, there was a knock on the door, which was strange because nobody usually came to check on Will for a while now. The last nurse had just left, which gave him about three hours before the next. And usually, the nurses just walked in without invitation after knocking. Could it be that they’d finally figured out Will wasn’t taking his medication? Or perhaps the ECT was coming sooner than he expected… Whatever it was, it made Will nervous.
Still, he went to the door and braced himself as he opened it, expecting bad news.
What he saw was the opposite.
Will dropped his hand from the knob and stood in shock as he looked across the doorway, his eyes meeting familiar brown ones, tired and relieved all at once.
“El…” he said, because he was becoming too filled with emotion to say much else. “El, you’re back.”
El’s smile grew wide as she looked back at him, and she nodded quickly.
Will didn’t know what else to say, so he threw his arms around his long-lost sister and hugged her tight, taking in the feeling of her being alive. He’d been so worried, but this, this meant everything would finally be over.
After a moment, he pulled back, his mind racing. “Does this mean… Vecna…?”
El looked down for a moment and then nodded. “Well, yes. I defeated Vecna. But…”
Will already knew what she was going to say. “But he’s not gone.”
El nodded again, now with some difficulty, and a tinge of guilt in her eyes. “I- I don’t know how. I defeated him, which means everyone should be back to normal… but nobody remembers.”
This disheartened Will for only a moment before he shook it from his mind. “Well, what matters is you’re here now and you’re safe. That’s the most important thing. Now we can solve the last of our Vecna problems together. No more splitting up, and no more Upside Down.”
“Together,” said a weak voice to the side of Will and El’s exchange.
Will didn’t have to look to identify it, but he did anyway, and there was Mike. Mike Wheeler, pale in the face and kneading his hands together subconsciously, he looked like he might burst into tears when Will met his eyes.
Will didn’t know what to think of Mike right now. He hadn’t known what to think of Mike for a while. It was hard not to be frustrated with all of his friends, even though he knew it was unfair to hold them responsible for all of this. He knew the stories he spouted out weren’t the tiniest bit believable, so of course everyone thought he was crazy. But he also thought if anyone would believe him, it would be Mike. This was also an unfair standard to hold him too, but Will couldn’t help it, and it made him frustrated. Will had never fought so much with Mike as he had over the past year. He was more frustrated with Mike than with anyone else who didn't remember.
On the other hand, Will had loved Mike. Well, who was he kidding? He still loved Mike, despite everything, and he had since he was young. Maybe it was awful, maybe it was something he would never be able to do anything about, but it was painfully and regrettably true. And even when Mike thought Will was crazy, Will had been touched by how passionately he wanted to make him better. Mike tried so hard to make Will come home, so hard Will contemplated if it would be best to pretend he’d been cured of his Upside Down memories and just go. He’d never seen Mike cry like he’d seen Mike cry over the past year. So, yes, he was extremely upset with Mike right now, but with the way he was looking at him at the moment, Will simply didn’t know what to think.
“Will…” Mike tried, hands still aggressively kneading together. “I- I’m so sorry.”
Will was conflicted. He kept his eyes on Mike, but spoke to El. “Did you help him remember?” Maybe if Mike, the old Mike that was, was back…
El shook her head. “I don’t know how. But he believes you now, at least. He didn’t believe me until I shot him across the room.” She looked around suddenly and took a step forward, her face becoming serious as she put a pale hand on Will’s arm. “Look, we came here to get you out. We should go before anyone notices.” She held up a purse in her other hand. “We have a disguise for you.”
“Okay, yes.” Will took it from her swiftly. It was true, if they were going to break out, they better do it quickly.
Will had dreamed of this day for a long time now. He’d always imagined something similar: El showing up at his door and saying it was all over and she was coming to set him free from this purgatory. In most versions, the world would be cured of Vecna’s power, and Will could walk freely from the building, but he’d always considered the possibility that he’d have to escape. And now it was here.
Mike and El turned away as he changed into the costume, which consisted of a hat, sunglasses, and a sweater and pants from Mike’s closet. Will was initially concerned about how Mike’s clothes would fit him, since Mike was very thin, but Will had lost at least a few pounds of muscle in Pennhurst, so it wasn’t all that bad. The pants were only a bit snug, and the sweater was roomy to begin with, so it all worked out in the end.
When Will was ready, he nodded to El, who put her hand on the door.
“We have to go quickly,” Mike said to the group, keeping his voice low. He had his own simple disguise, a ridiculous-looking blond wig and glasses. “We’ll just walk right back out the front before anyone notices, without any commotion. The car is in the side parking lot, so let’s just get there as fast as possible. Once we’re out of town, we should be safe.”
“No one is supposed to check on me for a couple of hours,” Will said. “So my absence shouldn’t be a problem for at least a while.”
“Good,” said Mike, and he looked at Will for a little too long.
“Open the door,” said El, noticeably antsy. “Let’s just get out. No more talking.”
Mike frowned, obviously worried by this escape plan. “Maybe we should be having a conversation on the way out so people don’t-”
“No more talking, go!” El pushed forward and opened the door herself, looking out quickly to see if there were any witnesses before motioning for the boys to follow her. Mike looked shocked by the sudden initiation of the plan, but blew out through his mouth and turned to follow. Will came out last.
The three walked in silence down the long, colorless hall and stairs, looking nervously at the walls and floors. Will knew this place all too well by now, and he didn’t wish it goodbye as he left. They passed one worker, and Will could feel the collective anxiety build between them as he passed, but he hardly paid them any mind. Will’s disguise was, apparently, working.
When they were at the front desk, Will sighed with relief. He couldn’t believe he was actually leaving this place.
“Hey, you two.” A voice came from behind them, and the group stopped in their tracks. The front desk lady, Gina, was staring at them with a raised eyebrow. “Wait… weren’t there just two of you?”
Mike’s eyes were wide. “Run,” he said under his breath, but nobody moved. The room was stiff.
“Wait,” said Gina, rising from her chair and cautiously making her way around the desk, heels slowly clicking on the floor as she crept. “Is that.. Will Byers?”
Will grimaced, but tried not to show it. They’d been caught. Gina was pretty lazy at her job, but she had a surprising knowledge of all the patients. Of course she’d recognised Will.
Mike turned and put his hands on his hips. “No, it’s not,” he said in a deep voice. “Just… a friend from the area. We ran into him while going to see Will.”
The girl continued forward, but Will saw her hand creeping toward the phone on the end of the desk. “Then what’s his name?” she asked. “I’ve been checking people in since this morning, and I don’t remember him.”
“His name-” Mike stumbled. “Look, I don’t see why it’s any of your concern.”
At this answer, Gina lunged for the phone.
El gasped and stuck her hand out, almost as a reflex, sending Gina flying back. She hit the wall with a loud thump, the force knocking various items from the shelves.
The group stood for a moment in shock, El with her hand still out, Mike with both his hands over his mouth and his eyes wide behind his glasses. Gina stayed unmoving on the floor, and Will hoped desperately that she had simply been knocked unconscious. He could do without a murder being pinned on him on top of the whole going crazy allegation.
El turned around slowly, her hands shaking and blood dripping from her nose. “Run now,” she said with her bloodshot eyes fixed on the door. She stumbled forward and then broke into a dash, to which Mike and Will followed without argument.
Mike made it to the car first, panting as he fumbled with his keys in panic. “Holy shit,” he was muttering to himself. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”
The trio tumbled into the car the moment it was unlocked, El vouching quickly to sit in the back with Will rather than the front with Mike, and closed the doors forcefully. Mike gripped the wheel with white knuckles, breathing deeply into his chest.
“Drive!” Will shouted at him. “Go, go, go!”
“I know!” Mike shouted back, stepping on the gas pedal with so much force that they all lurched backwards. He made a messy break for the exit, running over at least a few curbs before setting off down the street at 20 miles over the speed limit. “Holy shit,” he said a little louder now. “Holy shit, we just killed someone.”
“We did not,” El answered shakily, fishing erratically in the door for a tissue. “I am sure she is okay. What else was I supposed to do? She knew we had Will! She was going to call the police!”
Mike made a sharp turn. “Well- Well, I don’t know! But now we’re gonna go to jail for aggravated assault! So much for breaking Will out, now we’re all gonna get sent to Pennhurst!” His eyes darted. “Do you think they followed us? Is there someone on our tail now?” He sped up even more. “Jesus Christ, they’ve already called my parents, I can feel it.”
“Mike,” Will said, trying to keep his own cool in the back, which was hard to do when both of his accomplices were freaking out. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave him a supportive squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m sure they won’t be onto us for a while now. I mean, you had disguises, right? And I’d assume you gave them fake names. They won’t know you had anything to do with it.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Mike.”
“Where are we even gonna go? I can’t just take you back to my house! I mean, my parents would send Will right back. And the Byers don’t remember either. Or Lucas, or Dustin, or ANYONE, so we can’t just-”
El had her head in her hands. “Mike, pull over.”
“You seriously want me to pull over? ‘Cause right now, I think that’s the worst thing I could do. Plus, you’re the one who-”
“Mike! NOW! Just pull over in an alley or something! No one is chasing us!” El yelled at him, ripping her head from her hands in a burst of desperate anger.
Will wondered with a creeping worry what was happening with her.
Mike said nothing in return to the outburst, but gradually slowed down and came to a stop at the side of the street, all the while looking nervously in the rearview. Will wasn’t sure if these glances were to check for persecutors or to watch El.
El opened her door without a word and stumbled hastily over to the wall of a side alley, using her arms to stabilize herself on it as she took a few deep breaths and stared at the bricks.
“What’s wrong with her?” Mike asked, his voice small.
“I don’t know.” Will opened his own door and got out, keeping his eyes on his sister. He ran over to where El was and put an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” He tried to look at her face, which was somehow even more pale than before.
El shook her head, continuing to breathe deeply. “I don’t know. This is new,” she said. “It’s like using my powers on that girl… drained me. And not like before when I would feel tired after using powers. I feel so weak now. I don’t know.” She leaned her head against the wall. “I used so much power against Vecna,” she said quietly. “I think… maybe it’s all going away. Permanently. I feel it.”
Will frowned as he took this all in. El losing her powers for good wouldn’t be ideal, especially with some part of Vecna still having a grasp on this world. “Are you sure that’s it?” he asked.
She nodded, hoisting herself into a straight position. “I just feel it. It’s different. Like I am emptying. I only have so much left.”
“Only so much left,” Will repeated, the reality of this bouncing off the bricks above them. “Well, we’ll just have to be smart about it. …You’ll have enough to help get us through the last of Vecna?”
El grimaced at the thought of that, gritting her teeth. Her eyes, Will noticed, were exhausted. Will remembered an energetic curiosity sparking El’s eyes before she’d gone to the Upside Down, but it had been replaced with something deeper. “If we’re smart,” she said.
Will nodded. “Well, okay. Then we’ll be smart. The most important thing is for you to be okay. If you ever feel like you can’t do anything more, we’ll just figure out some other way to fight Vecna, okay? It’s gonna be fine. We’re together again, and that’s our biggest weapon.”
Will wasn’t entirely convinced of this himself. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, nor did he want to know what was in store. Despite everything, though, he was finally out of Pennhurst, and that alone made him feel ready to take on the world.
Will was going back to Hawkins.
Notes:
AHHHHH Things are gonna get exciting soon! Well, exciting is one word. Perhaps terrifying would be better. Or what about confusing? The possibilities are endless.
I'm just excited because we finally got some Will POV! I missed him. Much more where that came from. Much, much more. Oh, William Byers, the horrors have not abandoned you just yet.Also Mike is so confused rn. Somebody give this boy his memories back. Dw they're coming.
Chapter 5: Mind Breach
Notes:
WASSUP! I'M BACK! WOOHOO!
This chapter was actually a lot of fun to write. Things are getting gooooood! And it's a little longer than my previous ones, but I'm hoping all future chapters will be a little longer. We'll see. They might fluctuate.
Hope you like it! Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you think, your predictions, emotions, etc. ;)
I love, love, love reading them!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mike slunk hesitantly out of the car about a minute or two after Will and Eleven left in a hurry. He didn’t really understand why Eleven needed to stop so badly, especially since it was very likely they were being chased.
Well, maybe not. Mike admitted, that sounded a little crazy, especially since no one had seen the commotion that happened in the Pennhurst lobby, and it would take people a while to figure out who was responsible. And, even if they found names in the records, how could they possibly trace that back to Mike? He’d, hopefully, left no trace of himself at the scene of the crime.
Reflecting on this in a more rational state of mind (as rational as he could be after learning that other dimensions existed), Mike took a few deep breaths. He was safe. Will wasn’t going back; he’d make sure of that.
Eleven and Will had been crowded together by the faded brick wall of the nearby alley, holding onto each other and saying quick things that Mike couldn’t hear from the car. They seemed so close, both now and back at Pennhurst, which was strange, mostly because Mike felt so alienated from them without his memory. He could only stare at them making big, sad eyes at each other in the alley for so long before he decided he had to go out and see what was up.
As Mike approached, Eleven caught him in the corner of her eye and stood up straighter. Her nose was still bleeding, an after-effect of using her powers, Mike had noted, but she also seemed entirely more drained than before. Not that Eleven hadn’t seemed drained since the moment she appeared at Mike’s door, but now, for whatever reason, it seemed worse. Her eyes were dark and sullen, and her shoulders slumped without meaning.
“What’s going on?” Mike said cautiously, walking forward at a measured pace. He was, admittedly, a little freaked out by Eleven still. Sure, he now believed all the stuff about knowing her for years, he even believed the stuff about dating her, but that didn’t help the fact that she could toss people around with her mind. Mike feared he might make the wrong move and, perhaps to his own demise, get on her bad side.
“My powers,” Eleven responded, wiping the drip of blood from her face. “I think they might be going away… and for good this time.”
“They’ve gone away before?”
Eleven stared at him, a little lost, before she nodded. “I forgot you don’t remember. I lost them, and we thought it was forever after the Starcourt battle. But then I got them back. This time, I can feel they won’t come back.”
Mike took this in. Starcourt, the mall that had burned down in a fire a few years back. Obviously, that wasn’t the truth, if he had to guess. And Eleven’s powers going away forever… “Don’t we need them? If we want to fight…” Mike felt ridiculous saying this. “Vecna?”
Will sighed, coming to join the conversation. “We’ll just have to use them as sparingly as possible. There’s gotta be a way to revert Vecna’s influence without using too much of El’s energy. We just have to find the source… and hopefully taking that out will cut off the rest of it.”
Mike racked his brain for what Eleven had told him of the past few years, sensing a fault in this plan. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but haven’t we taken out a ‘source’ before? And then the Upside Down kept coming back despite this?”
“Yes,” said Eleven. “But this is Vecna. It’s different. He is not just the source of one problem, he is the source of the entire Upside Down. Taking out the last of his hold on Hawkins should eliminate him forever. His physical body is already gone, we just need to find the last piece of him.”
“Okay…” Mike thought again, crossing his arms and swaying on his feet. This all seemed very hypothetical to him. “And didn’t we come to the conclusion, before we went to get Will, that Vecna is using Will as an anchor or something? Could that possibly be the source you’re talking about?”
Now Will frowned, taking in this possibility. He blinked a couple of times before responding. “I would’ve thought… Well, I would’ve assumed the source of all this memory loss would be in the memories of one of the people who it affected… Since- well, since I’m not really a part of that-”
“But Mike is right,” said Eleven. “We did guess that you could be the place he is operating from. You have always been an anchor for him. Why not now?” She stepped closer to Will, studying him. “Do you feel him? Right now, can you sense him?”
Will stammered. “Well, I- I always can, you know? All the time you were in the Upside Down, I could feel him struggle and fight with you. It was constant. But after you defeated him…” Will shook his head, placing a hand to the back of his neck and closing his eyes, as if to feel a pulse there. “It’s not as strong. It’s almost like he isn’t there anymore, and, for all I know, what’s left that I’m feeling is just a phantom of what I’ve sensed for so long. Like, my mind isn’t used to being free of that.”
A silence sat cooly between the three of them, all trying to work out some solution in their heads. Will still had his eyes tightly shut, as if he was searching for something deep within his soul. Eleven stared intently at the bloodstain that she’d made on her grey jacket sleeve, and Mike just drummed his fingers. He wished so much that he knew all that these two did.
“Well, maybe it’s not Will, then,” he finally said, catching Will and Eleven’s focus. “Maybe… there’s a way to manually restore people’s memories.” He turned to Eleven, trying not to make any sudden movements. “Eleven, I know you couldn’t reach my memories when you went into my mind before, but there’s gotta be something in there that’s keeping me from knowing everything. Could we try looking at my fake memories? Maybe there’s a source there?”
Will’s eyes lit up with a spark of an idea, and he stepped closer. “A source,” he repeated. “Everything comes from a source. If you want to find a source, you should go to where it all began.”
Eleven shook her head. “I did. I tried to go to when Mike found me in the woods, and-”
“No,” Will said quickly. “Further. Mike doesn’t even remember me going missing. You have to go back to when it really began. Our D&D game. November 6th, 1983, right? There’s gotta be something there.”
Now Eleven paused, taking this in. “Before, I wasn’t even able to enter the memory… Do you think this one would be different?”
“Well, it was before the memories Vecna blocked off.” Will turned to Mike, who was impressed by his ability to be thinking so rationally only a short time after escaping the place he’d been trapped for almost a year. “Do you remember our D&D game? We were fighting the demogorgon, yes?”
Mike nodded slowly. “You rolled a seven. I remember we could find the dice because it flew off the table, but then you told me it was a seven before we went to bed-”
Will tilted his head. “Went to bed?”
“We had a sleepover. I remember, your mom called mine and said it was okay. I… I don’t remember many details after that.” Mike shook his head, realizing the fog that seemed to cover all of his memories from after that moment. He could remember anything they did that night, or the next morning for that matter. It was… it was a school night, wasn’t it? Were they all at school the next day? Thinking about it too much gave Mike a sharp pain through his head, like a strike of lightning in his brain.
Will turned back to Eleven. “This is it. This is the moment it changes. He remembers everything as it was until after our D&D game. You have to try and go there.”
Eleven looked around cautiously, eyeing the main sidewalk beside them, and various passersby giving them glances. “Further in,” she said quickly, tilting her head deeper into the alley.
Once the group had moved back and around a corner, Eleven took a deep breath, her dark eyes on Mike. “Do you want me to do this?”
“I-” Mike looked from Eleven to Will, not exactly sure what to think. He had half a mind to protest letting this girl invade his mind again, but supposed there were bigger things to worry about. “I want my memories back. If Will thinks this will work, then let’s do it.” He held his wrist out this time, so that Eleven didn’t have to grab for it again, and took a deep breath. He was ready. He was going to remember.
Eleven looked at Will and nodded. “You will be alright out here?” she asked him. “I hope we are not gone long.”
Will shrugged. “I’ll manage. And if anybody happens to stumble back here, I’ll just make something up. I’ll… I’ll be fine.” He said this less convincingly than Mike would have hoped for, but neither he nor Eleven decided to push further. Will was probably in a strange place right now, having only just gotten out of Pennhurst. Mike didn’t want to leave him out here, but he figured he’d be more help to him with a memory than without one.
“Okay,” said Eleven. “Let’s go, Mike.” She reached up and hesitated for only an itching moment before latching her hand onto his outstretched wrist.
Mike’s vision was immediately submerged in blackness, and he felt a wave of chills run through his body, like he’d been thrown into the ocean without warning. His stomach dropped quickly and he shut his eyes as tightly as possible, waiting for it to be over.
When he opened them again, he was in a familiar place: his own basement. The lamp light was warm, and the night outside was dark. He watched the wind blow in the trees and could almost feel the frigid wind of the night on his back. The sprinklers in the yard were creating a steady rhythm, barely audible in the commotion of the room.
In front of Mike were several small figures: his friends and him, gathered around the basement table. They were all so young and lively. Dustin’s teeth had yet to grow in, Lucas’s hair was shorter and his face rounder, and Will’s eyes were big and hopeful as he listened to his friends bicker about what to do next. Young Mike himself was hunched behind his DM screen, eyes darting from partymember to partymember in giddy anticipation. He looked so much different than Mike did now. He was less sullen, for sure, and his features were so defined at such a young age. The meaner of the kids at school had called him ‘frog-face’ for laughs in middle school. That name had always hurt Mike, but he liked to think he’d grown out of the worst of it.
“We made it,” Mike said quietly to Eleven, who stood beside him.
She nodded, looking around the room. “Where is the corruption? Is something wrong that you see?”
Mike looked around himself and noted that nothing seemed out of place. It was definitely a more lively-looking basement than it was nowadays, but that was just a feature of the times. Mike spent less of his time there now that he seldom had his friends over. “Nothing,” he said to Eleven. “Maybe we’ll see it soon.”
Their conversation was cut short. “Something is coming,” young Mike said seriously, eyeing the table still. “Something hungry for blood.”
This statement perked up Eleven’s ears, and she looked with concern at the table. “Blood?” she asked.
Mike held her back from approaching. “It’s just the game,” he explained. “He’s- Well, I’m narrating.”
Young Mike continued, obviously unable to see his older self and Eleven watching him. “A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness. It is almost here.”
The young friends leaned in with anticipation, eyes growing wide and worried.
“What is it?” Will blurted, his voice so incredibly small it made Mike’s heart hurt a little. How he yearned for nights like this back.
Dustin lifted his head. “What if it’s the demogorgon?” he asked, gaining exasperated reactions from his friends. “Oh, Jesus, we’re so screwed if it’s the demogorgon-”
“It’s not the demogorgon,” Lucas cut in.
Young Mike looked from player to player, trying not to crack a smile at their worry. He split their conversation quickly by slamming a miniature onto the table. “An army of troglodytes charges into the chamber!” he announced excitedly.
Dustin smiled. “Troglodytes?”
“Told you,” said Lucas, leaning back in relaxation at this turn of events.
But even older Mike remembered this. The troglodytes weren’t the worst to come. He remembered planning this campaign for weeks on end, working on it for hours after school so he and his friends could play. This surprise attack was his best twist yet. He found himself starting to smile as he watched the old game play out.
Young Mike did not smile, completely into his storytelling. He looked slowly around. “Wait a minute,” he said quietly. “Did you hear that? That… that sound? Boom, boom, BOOM!” He slammed his hands onto the table, making his friends jump and yelp as he bubbled with pride at his brilliant campaign. “That didn’t come from troglodytes, no,” he said. “That came from something else.”
Mike practically said the words along with him at this point. Now he was really missing the days of playing D&D with his friends. These were some of his favorite memories. The ones that were real, at least.
Basking in the anxious silence of his friends, young Mike slammed down another figure, one with many long and twisting heads. “The demogorgon!” he said loudly, and the rest of the group freaked out, shifting in their chairs.
Dustin groaned. “We’re in deep shit,” he decided.
Young Mike wouldn’t hear complaints. “Will, your action!” he commanded, leaning over the screen.
Will’s eyes darted, and he shook his head. “I don’t know!” he said.
“Fireball him!” Lucas shouted.
This seemed bold. “‘I’d have to roll a 13 or higher.”
“Too risky,” Dustin agreed urgently. “Cast a protection spell.”
Lucas rolled his eyes at this suggestion. “Don’t be a pussy. Fireball him!”
“Cast protection!”
Eleven laughed at the bickering of the young boys from beside Mike. “You are so small,” she said. “Your voices are very high.”
Young Mike was slamming his hands on the table again. “The demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering!” he shouted across the room. “It stomps towards you. Boom!”
Lucas shook his hands in panic. “Fireball him, Will!”
“Cast protection!” Dustin yelled over him.
Will looked from friend to friend, overwhelmed by this choice. He cast his gaze down, thinking as all three of his friends continued to yell. Mike watched him slowly pick up his dice and take a deep breath. “Fireball!” he yelled, tossing the die across the table with such force that it tumbled off the other end.
The whole party got up immediately to try and look for it, scrambling around each other in anticipation. They raced to opposite ends of the room, yelling incoherent things as they clawed the floor for any sign of the die.
“Mike!” Mike heard his mom yell from the top of the stairs, catching young Mike’s attention.
Young Mike raised his hands, still in a searching position on the floor. “Mom, we’re in the middle of a campaign.”
“You mean the end?” his mother responded. “Fifteen after.”
“This is it,” Mike said to Eleven. “This has gotta be it.” He watched his younger self run desperately up the stairs to debate with his mom. “Follow him,” Mike said.
Eleven and Mike ran up behind the young boy, making their way to the kitchen as young Mike approached his mom with pleading eyes. “Mom! Wait, just 20 more minutes,” he said.
Mike’s mom turned to him in response, but something looked off about her. She looked discolored in her skin, and when Mike’s gaze reached her face, he saw that her eyes were completely white. “I told Dustin and Lucas’s moms that they’d be out of here by eight o’clock!”
Young Mike tilted his head. “What about Will?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” The corrupted Karen looked down at her young son. “Joyce called. She’s working late tonight and asked if Will could sleep here.”
“This is wrong,” Mike said, shaking his head. “You said he left. And… look at my mom! Something’s really wrong with her.”
“I see that,” said Eleven, bracing herself before sticking her hand out and pointing it to the creature pretending to be Karen. As Eleven focused, Mike watched the mother freeze, her fists tightening and her veins darkening. Finally, after a painful few moments, she opened her mouth wide and let out a terrible noise, releasing a cloud of black smoke.
The scene shifted suddenly, and young Mike was pouting as his mom, who was now looking like her real self, said, “It’s a school night, Michael. I just put Holly to bed. You can finish next weekend.”
The memories hit Mike like a ton of bricks. He gasped and stumbled back as Eleven let go of his wrist, and he was shot violently back into the real world, a thousand moments revealing themselves in his head at once. He thought he might explode with realization, emotion, fear. Everything all at once: bikes, hospitals, farms, cars, Halloween, monsters, dances, the mall, the rain, fireworks, funerals, boxes, letters, paintings, clocks. It was all coming back like an invisible weight over his head.
Will’s hand was on his shoulder, Mike thought. He couldn’t tell because his world was spinning as the truth tried to fit itself into place.
“Are you alright, Mike?” Will asked.
Will Byers. Woods, walkie-talkies, the quarry, the gym, zombie boy, going crazy together, spies, Morse code, abandoned campaign, slipping up, apologizing, moving, going, going, gone, reuniting, fighting, forgiving, confusion, fear, neglect. Will Byers, Mike’s friend of 12 years. How had he ever forgotten all of this?
“Mike,” Will asked again, his grip tighter. “Do you remember?”
Mike blinked, unsure if he could even speak with all this recollected knowledge. “Yes,” he managed. “I’m fine. I’m fine, it’s just… There’s so much that I forgot.” And now his eyes were welling up, darting and overwhelmed. Demogorgon, Upside Down, Mind Flayer, possession, flesh, death, visions, clocks, blood, Vecna. “I’m so sorry,” he said, looking down. The ground was all he could manage to take in right now. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help. I should’ve done something. I should’ve believed you. I should’ve remembered!” Now there were tears on his cheeks, hot and stinging. He must’ve looked like a mess. He felt like a mess. Or maybe he felt like he messed up. He couldn’t even tell.
Will shook him. “Mike, it’s okay,” he insisted, trying to look at his face. “Mike, talk to us.”
“It only matters that you remember now,” said Eleven- El. She also put her hand on his shoulder.
Mike shuddered. El, El, El. Basement, t-shirt, pretty, mouth-breathers, pudding, kissing, missing, dancing, kissing, girl, girlfriend, doubt, shame, letters, signing, lying, desperation, leaving. So many thoughts were creeping into his mind, old internal battles ready to be revived for another round. Mike tried to block them all out. El was right, all that mattered right now was that he remembered, and he could help. Mike could help. Mike was a hero. Mike was the heart. He helped; it’s simply what he did.
“We need to get back to Hawkins,” he said, trying to level the shaking of his voice. Now his mind raced with plans for their next action. “We can’t stay at my place, obviously, but is there a way we could go to yours? How much power do you think you have left in you, El? Enough to get us a safe home base?”
Will and El exchanged a sly glance, the meaning of which was lost on Mike.
“I think I will have enough,” El said. Mike hadn’t noticed it in the moment of his own confusion, but she looked incredibly tired after restoring his memories. Blood ran freely from her nose, a familiar sight now. “I should have enough to restore a few more memories.”
“But not all,” Will thought aloud. “This isn’t a permanent solution. We can’t just bring El to every person in Hawkins. We still need the source. There has to be a bigger source.” Mike had a feeling Will knew the source was most likely himself, but he didn’t want to admit it- to himself or the others. Mike understood that much. He supposed they could wait to find out until something made itself more clear.
“I will have enough to restore a few more memories and find the source,” El said. “If we are smart. I must be sparing, that’s all.”
“And you’re sure it won’t come back?” Mike asked. “Not with the… sensory deprivation? Not with any sort of-”
“No,” said El definitively. “It’s going away. Forever now.”
Mike figured this was something El would quite like, in any other context than the one they were currently in. She wanted more than anything to live like a normal girl. Maybe, after all this was over, she finally would. For now, they needed her.
“Let’s start with our house, then,” said Will to El. “We can restore Jonathan, right? We might want another mind on our team anyway. Mom, when she visited me last, said she was going out of town for work. That's good, right? It means you only have to restore Jonathan. That’s sparing.”
El nodded. “Sparing.”
“Then, Byers’ house it is,” Mike said, grabbing the keys out of his pocket as he turned on his heel. “Come on! Let’s get moving!”
“You see, that’s the problem,” Mike was saying from the driver’s seat as he drove down the highway at a steady yet over-the-speed-limit pace. “I think we’ll need more help than we realize. Or more support at least. We have no idea if Vecna has anything more planned, but I’d guess, since he’s barely hanging on, that he’d make some desperate attempt at more control. A last stand, you know?” He’d been in constant monologue mode since he started driving, talking through his various hypothetical plans for Vecna’s final defeat.
Will couldn’t help but smile at it, even if most of Mike’s words were about impending doom. He kept looking back at El from the passenger seat and exchanging knowing glances with the tired girl. It was such a relief for both of them to have their Mike back. Authentic and awkward and determined. Will has missed him so much over the past year. And, yes, Will was still frustrated, because he simply had to be after a year of no one believing him, but now that Mike was himself again, it made being angry a lot harder. Mike Wheeler, Will always had a soft spot for him, for better or for worse. Mike was so very hard to hate, even at his worst. And now, when Mike was at his best, spewing plans and theories like this was his own campaign, he was impossible to hate.
As the horizon line started to morph into the shape of Hawkins’ downtown, Will felt a tightness in his chest. Here he finally was, after eight months of waiting. Hawkins didn’t necessarily hold all that great of memories for him, but it was still his home, no matter what, so he missed it nonetheless. However many horror stories he’d found himself living out here, he was glad to be back. He supposed anything would beat a life stuck in Pennhurst.
There was a swat at Will’s arm, and Mike pulled his hand back to the wheel. “Earth to Will,” he was saying. “Did you hear me?”
Will shook himself out of his thoughts and looked to his friend. “What? No, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Mike nodded. “I asked if you knew if a lot of your stuff was still at your house. Like, are we going to need to get more of my clothes for you to borrow? ‘Cause you can, that won’t be a problem. I just need to know so we can get it figured out.”
Will pursed his lips. “I’m… not sure. Mom and Jonathan rarely talked about the location of my clothes when they came to visit.”
“Okay, well, yeah. Obviously. I just-” Mike shrugged. “You know what? We’ll just figure it out when we get there. First priority is Jonathan anyway, I guess.”
Will looked back to his sister, who was trying unsuccessfully to close her eyes for a while. “Are you up for another mind-restoration?” He was so worried about El’s powers running out too soon, especially with Vecna still there. If El somehow ran out for good before Vecna was gone, what would they do? Will hated that they had to rely so dependently on El for all of this, but it was simply how things went.
And now, Will’s mind was quieter than it had ever been. He hoped this simply meant Vecna had finally left him. He feared it meant something more. Vecna had held onto Will for five years. Why would he let go now? In his last stretch?
El frowned, opening a single eye. “I should be fine. It’s just one more. I said before, I have enough power for a couple. I might need the night to recharge after, but I can help Jonathan.”
“Good.” Will leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment as well. It must’ve only been an hour or two now since Mike and El came to rescue him, but so much had been flying through his head ever since.
As Mike drove into the downtown area, he nudged Will softly, making his eyes open again. “Hey, I’d keep your head down here. I don’t want anyone to see you and get you sent back. Not now that you’re here. It’s… It’s just a small town. Someone’s bound to recognize you.”
Will looked quickly around. Mike was right. It was the first day of Spring Break, and Will saw many familiar faces out on the streets. Kids from school, neighbors of his friends, he thought he had maybe even seen Dustin’s mom. She’d definitely recognize him.“Okay, yeah.” He slid further down into the seat and tried to cover his face with his hands. “Maybe front seat was a bad idea.”
“No, I’m glad you’re here,” Mike said quickly, eyes still darting at pedestrians passing by. “Just gotta be careful.”
The group made it successfully through downtown without any obvious outings of Will’s presence. There was one close call where a girl from school looked a few seconds too long at the window, but Mike leaned forward and distracted her with a wave before she could set her focus on Will.
Once the car rolled onto Mirkwood, Will sat back up. Looking at the woods, the same place he first saw the demogorgon, he felt shivers roll through him. Then, a sharp feeling in the back of his neck. His hand instinctively shot up.
El leaned quickly forward, wide-eyed, and Mike whipped his head around, slowing the car.
“What?” asked El. “Do you feel him?”
Will took his hand slowly away, trying not to let it shake as he let out a deep breath. Surely he was imagining things. “It’s nothing,” he assured his friends. “Just… weird to be back, I guess.” He hoped with all his heart that was the truth. Vecna was gone. Vecna had left him for good. He couldn’t be there still, he just couldn’t.
Mike seemed to accept this answer enough, returning to his normal speed. “Well, I hope everything goes smoothly with your brother. It was so weird in my mind… El and I got there and… Well, it was like it had been breached, right?”
“Mind breach,” El agreed.
Will sighed and leaned his head against the window. A breached mind sure didn’t sound good, but he figured that’s what he’d been dealing with for the last five years now. A mind breach. That’s really what Vecna was to him.
“When did everything start for Jonathan?” El asked, mostly to Will. “Where will his mind breach be? He wasn’t at your D&D game. It must be something else.”
Will hadn’t thought about this. He frowned, not exactly sure when Jonathan realized Will had gone missing. It would’ve been the night of or the morning after. The morning after, most likely, since Jonathan came home late, he probably assumed Will was asleep by then and didn’t bother to check. “Try the next morning,” he told El. “If that doesn’t work, just go back further.”
“Next morning,” El said to herself. “Okay, I am ready.”
“Good, ‘cause we’re here.” Mike pulled into the grass in front of the Byers’ house and parked. He tilted his head to look at his friends. “Are we ready?”
“Ready,” Will and El said at once. It was time to restore Jonathan.
The group walked slowly up to the front porch, peering into the windows for signs of life. Jonathan was home, from the looks of it, because his car was out front. The yard was also noticeably grown over, the grass longer than Will had ever seen it. He wondered if his mom had stopped trying to take care of the place.
“Should we all be at the door, or would it be best if you guys stood to the side?” Mike asked quietly. “I mean, he’s gonna be freaked out if he sees I have his crazy brother with me.”
El shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll just restore his memory. He can see Will; it won’t hurt. We need Will to convince him we are telling the truth. It will be easier for me to enter his memory if he isn’t resisting.”
“Right,” said Mike. He looked around and took a deep breath before knocking rapidly on the chipped and faded door. “Jonathan?” he shouted. “Are you home?”
For a moment, there was silence. Will listened to the wind in the trees and took in the smell of the old wood that he stood on. This house held his best and worst memories, but it was home. Eight months away, and he was home.
“Jonathan?” Mike tried again, and this time, the door swung open.
Jonathan Byers, hair unkempt and deep, brown eyes baggy, stared at the three figures that greeted him in his doorway with a blank expression, the faint smell of marijuana drifting out from behind him. He was tired in the way that suggested that he had just woken up, despite the fact that it was well after noon. Will’s insanity had taken quite a toll on him, which Will regretted deeply. He knew both his mother and Jonathan hadn’t taken it well. Jonathan had tried to drop out of college in order to stay with his mom after Will was taken away, but Joyce insisted he go. Still, every time Jonathan visited, he mentioned college wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. Will supposed it was hard to focus on education with everything else going on. He felt awful that the mass memory loss had impacted people he loved like this. He didn’t like to think about the fact that he was the reason Jonathan’s life had fallen apart.
“Will…” Jonathan said slowly. He blinked a couple of times, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “I- I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“Jonathan!” Mike said, trying for an enthusiastic smile. “Uhh… So, this is gonna sound so weird-”
Jonathan seemed to wake up suddenly. “Wait. Mike, why the hell is Will with you? What did you do?”
“Broke him out,” answered El.
“Broke him-” Jonathan shook his head, unbelieving. “You broke him out? Why in the world would you do that? And,” he turned to El. “Who are you?”
“I am Eleven,” said El plainly. “We have a lot to tell you. You should sit down. Let’s all go inside.”
“What? No! I-”
“Jonathan, “ Will pleaded. “Please listen. There’s a lot you don’t understand right now, but we’re gonna explain everything. We need your help.”
At the request of his brother, Jonathan finally broke. He tried for only a moment to think of some further argument against this before slumping his shoulders and stepping aside to invite the strange trio indoors.
Once situated in the living room, the group stared nervously from one to the other. Jonathan looked as if he were contemplating running.
El kneeled in front of Jonathan and smiled gently at him. She spoke like she would to a small toddler. “Jonathan, I am Eleven. You do not remember me, but I am your sister. I am here to help you remember everything you have forgotten about the last few years.”
“Everything I’ve-” Jonathan retracted his head. “Is this about Will’s story? Is this some sort of therapy thing that’s supposed to help him?”
“Not therapy,” said El. “This sounds very crazy, but everything Will says is true. An evil monster named Vecna took the memories from everyone, and now you think Will is crazy. I am here to help you take back your memories. Will you let me help you?”
“It’s true, Jonathan,” Will added, seeing his brother’s skeptical expression. “We did the same for Mike. He remembers everything now.”
“I do,” said Mike. “But we need you, too.”
Jonathan looked around again, holding up a shaking finger. “Either I am very high,” he said. “Or very drunk. This isn’t real, you don’t-”
El gave a frustrated sigh and grabbed Jonathan’s wrist suddenly, forcing the two of them quickly into his mind.
Mike and Will looked to each other, now being the only two conscious people in the room. Mike hadn’t had any chance to simply speak with Will yet, whether that was for better or worse. Mike wasn’t sure, now that his thoughts and memories were all coming back. Will Byers was a complicated subject in Mike’s mind.
Will stifled a small laugh as he looked at his siblings. “Well, that went about just as well as I thought it would.”
Mike let a smile play across his own face, and he leaned back on the couch where he sat. “Yeah, I reacted about the same when El came to my door. It was so stupid. I freaked out on her.”
Will got up and sat next to his friend, oblivious to how Mike tensed as he got closer. “You did?” he asked.
“Yeah, totally. I thought she was some kid from school trying to get a reaction out of me.” Now Mike’s expression dropped. “They did that, you know. In the first months after you went away.”
Will stared down at the floor. “Figures. I’d expect as much from our enlightened peers. They sure know how to make someone feel… different.”
“Yeah. Different.” Mike was quiet for a moment, his hands, he noticed, mindlessly kneading each other again. “But, hey, I like different. Imagine how boring our party would be if we weren’t different.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Another silence. Then rapidly, “You said you were seeing psychiatrists? When you came to see me, I mean. You said that.”
Mike laughed under his breath, still embarrassed by the audacity of the statement. “Yeah, that was stupid, wasn’t it? Trying to tell a mental patient about psychiatrists like it was some crazy thing.”
“No, it was fine,” Will said quickly, his hands also fidgeting in his lap as he continued to keep his gaze on the floor. “I just- How was that? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it was more of my mom’s idea than mine. She just… thought I needed to talk to someone after losing you.” Mike perked up, realizing what he’d said. “Not that I lost you. That’s not what I meant. I never thought that you-”
“Mike, it’s fine.” Will lifted his head and instead focused his gaze on his siblings again. There was another long silence. “I wonder how long they’ll be in there,” he wondered aloud.
Mike was still on the psychiatrist subject. “I’m just sorry,” he blurted. “I feel awful that you were there for so long without anyone on your side. I mean, I was being an idiot. I should’ve tried harder.”
“I’m not mad,” Will admitted quickly. “I mean, I can’t blame you for thinking I was crazy. It’s not like it would’ve been rational to believe me. Vecna destroyed all the memories, all the evidence, all the cards were sorta stacked against me.”
“Well, yeah, but you’re my best friend. I should’ve at least considered it, right?” Mike groaned and put his head in his hands. This was hard. He didn’t like having this conversation, and he didn’t like that Will was forgiving him. Will deserved to be angry about this. Mike couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized the truth in Will’s stories.
Will was silent a moment longer before he finally turned to Mike, looking straight at him for the first time since their conversation had begun. “You know why I knew you were still in there somewhere? Under all the taken memories?” he asked quietly. “It’s because you were so determined to get me back. Everyone else, even my mom, gave up after a while. They’d come in and listen to me, they’d even pretend they believed me sometimes. But you never did. Every time, you would come in and try so hard to make me see that I was talking nonsense.”
“And that’s horrible,” Mike concluded miserably.
“No, it means you cared. You wanted your best friend back so badly that you wouldn’t give up until I gave in. I admired that. It reminded me of the real you, the one who stayed with me when I was possessed by the Mind Flayer, or had my back when Vecna was at large. You never give up on me. That’s nothing for me to be angry about.”
Mike’s face felt hot, and he couldn’t name exactly why.
“And, yeah,” Will continued. “I guess I’m a little frustrated. And things are gonna take a while to go back to normal, but I want you to know that I’m not holding it against you. Whatever frustrations I feel, they’re not your fault. They’re Vecna’s doing.”
Mike supposed he could take this. If Will wanted to blame it all on Vecna, that was up to him, but Mike still couldn’t help but feel like the worst friend in the world right now. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said.
Will tilted his head. “Hm?”
Now Mike was really red in the face, and he hoped it wasn’t noticeable. “Just, whatever changed between us in the last year, I’m gonna make it up. From here on out, I’m back. I am Michael Wheeler, and you are my best friend Will Byers, and no matter what happens next, I’m gonna be here. I’m gonna believe you.”
Will smiled sadly. Mike wished so badly that he could read his mind, and Will was about to respond when-
Jonathan and El opened their eyes violently, and Jonathan lurched back in his seat, breathing heavily as he looked frantically around the room like a cornered animal.
“Holy shit,” he said breathlessly, and Mike could see the overwhelming weight of the memories seep into him. Then, Jonathan’s eyes shifted to the couch, and he rose slowly from his seat. “Will,” he said, and ran, stumbling to his brother. He threw his arms around him and embraced the younger boy tightly, as if scared he might fade into the shadows of the room. “We’re gonna fix this,” Mike listened to him whisper. “We’re gonna fix all of this right now.”
Notes:
Jonathan! Yippie! I'm so ready for the rest of this story. It's so exciting, you guys.
And ugh, revisiting the first D&D game. So cuteness.Okay! See you next time! Don't forget to follow the tumblr!!!!
Chapter 6: Something Stolen
Notes:
Hello! I'm back! (THIS NOTE CONTAINS STRANGER THINGS 5 VOL 1 SPOILERS!)
So... post-watching vol 1 of season 5... There are definitely a few places where my story doesn't line up, so I thought about it and I think this fic takes place in a sort of alternate time-line where the Vecna situation became desperate even before the time of season 5 and therefore the final battle was much earlier (still post-season 4) and El was sent into the Upside Down as part of a final plan. In this timeline, Will never has the chance to discover whatever powers he might have access to, and assuming these abilities are tied to the Upside Down, and in this fic the Upside Down is sealed, Will's powers remain dormant, undiscovered, and now untappable.
If you have any other questions, just ask!
Enjoy the chapter!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Will woke early in the morning, after having a seeping nightmare of scenes from the Upside Down. Even as he opened his eyes, in the red glow of early dawn, he thought, for only for a moment, that he was back. His breath hitched as he sat straight up in his bed, ready to run from whatever horror might fling itself upon him, but with a few tired blinks of his eyes, he loosened again. It was only the gleam of the early sun. He was safe.
Mornings had started like this more often than not at Pennhurst. The curtains on Will’s window were dark blue, making the room gleam with the ominous color when the light hit them just right. Everything else at Pennhurst had been pure white, from the sheets to the walls to all the clothes they gave to Will, so he thought it seemed like a very cruel joke for this one splash of color to have such an awful effect.
He put the lingering anxiety he felt aside as he looked at his alarm clock and realized it was already eight-thirty. He could smell breakfast cooking.
With a sigh, Will pushed himself up from his bed. As his feet hit the floor, he felt a small shock in the back of his neck. The ever-present proof of Vecna hiding away within the dark corners of his mind. Will had hoped desperately that he was gone for good, but these feelings seemed to be coming back, and that meant nothing but trouble. Perhaps Will really was the anchor that they were looking for, but he wasn’t ready to consider that possibility quite yet. There was, after all, still a chance these feelings were simply phantoms of the ones that had been there before. It had been so long since Will had been free of Vecna’s mangled grasp, perhaps his mind just wasn’t accustomed to letting it go.
Deep down, though, even if Will wouldn’t admit it to himself, he knew positively that Vecna was still there.
After putting on a hastily-chosen outfit (luckily, Will’s things, including his wardrobe, were still in his room, exactly as they had been before he left), Will walked out into the main part of the house to find El and Mike already at the kitchen table, and Jonathan making eggs nearby.
“Not really,” El was saying, mid-conversation. “I did not fight him constantly. There would be long times when I would hide. Or he would hide, and send his monsters after me. The Upside Down is a large battlefield. A lot can happen there.”
“Did you ever try contacting us? Or seeing where we were?” asked Mike, tracing a lazy finger around the rim of his coffee mug.
El shrugged. “Once or twice I tried, but with the gates closed, it was almost impossible. And Vecna was blocking me whenever I tried. Interference. I gave up after a while. I needed to put all my energy towards fighting.”
“A year in the Upside Down,” Jonathan said, contemplating this as he scooped the eggs onto a large plate. “That must’ve been rough, El. I’m sorry we couldn’t be there to help.”
Will walked tentatively into the room, causing everyone to snap their heads in his direction. He had a sneaking suspicion that they’d had a conversation about him before their one about El’s battle. He wasn’t sure if he liked that possibility.
“Good morning,” Will said, walking to the kitchen table and taking the open seat next to Mike.
Jonathan smiled warmly at him. Will knew he was so relieved to have his little brother back in his life, especially now that he had his memories restored. Yesterday, after waking from El’s mission, he had barely left Will’s side for the rest of the day. Will was glad to have his brother back too. Even in his darkest moments, Jonathan always believed in him, always supported him. He was the best brother Will could ask for.
“You slept late,” El said.
“Not that late. It’s only eight-thirty!”
“We were all up an hour ago.”
Will shook his head. “Well, I didn’t think we were leaving until ten. That’s what you told me last night, at least.”
This statement seemed to change the mood of the room, somehow. El paused, studying Will with intent, like he’d said something wrong. “Leaving?” she asked. “For what?”
Now Will was confused. They’d just discussed this. “Last night, before we went to bed. You told me you wanted to go to Max and try to wake her today.”
El exchanged an uninterpretable glance with Mike and turned back to face Will again, a serious expression. “I did not talk to you last night,” she said. “And I had no plan to see Max either. Are you sure this happened?”
“I remember it… clear as day.” Will’s mouth felt dry. How did he remember a conversation that El didn’t? Were her memories also going away? Or could it be that Vecna was messing with Will’s memories now? He didn’t like the sound of either option. Swaying in his chair, his vision blurred as a tense wave of panic washed over him.
“Will, is everything alright?” Mike’s hand was on his shoulder, but his voice sounded distant as Will considered the potential meaning of his faulty memory.
Both Mike and El stared at him from across the table. Even Jonathan had stopped what he was doing to study Will’s expression. It was just like when Will had put his hand on the back of his neck in the car yesterday. To everyone he knew, he was a harbinger of bad news. He hated having that role.
Will shook himself out of the balling worry that had started to build in his chest, and the blur that had gathered in his eyes receded. Again, he was probably looking too far into it. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he insisted, and hoped it sounded convincing. “It was probably just a dream. No big deal.”
Mike released his shaking grip on Will’s shoulder, and El slowly let her gaze fall. The moment was over. No bad news. Not now. Not when things were just starting to go right again.
Jonathan set a plate of eggs and toast in front of Will, two more in front of Mike and El, and then one for himself as he sat to Will’s other side. “Well, breakfast is ready. And, even if Will’s conversation with El was just a dream, it brings up a good question. What’s your plan for today?”
Will sighed, relieved that the subject was being changed.
El stared at her plate with a blank face, head resting on her hand. The light in her eyes had yet to come back, as if she’d left it somewhere in the Upside Down. Perhaps it wouldn’t return until Vecna was gone for good, giving the group yet another motivation to end this all quickly. “Well, Max isn’t a bad idea. Mike, you said she is still asleep?”
“Yeah, still in a coma. Ever since Vecna… Well, you know.” Mike lowered his own gaze to his plate and he picked slowly at his toast.
Will couldn’t believe it had been so long and Max was still in the same condition that she had been put in on that Spring night of 1986. He thought about this and said, “Well, we theorized that it was Vecna keeping her asleep, right? Like, he was trapping her somewhere within her own mind so she couldn’t help us. But if El defeated him-”
“She should wake up now,” El finished. “If we go to her, I think I could finally wake her. It won’t be like before when I couldn’t get inside her mind. Vecna does not have enough power to keep her asleep anymore.”
Mike’s eyes widened. “And what if Max is the source, or the anchor, or whatever? Maybe she’s the place where Vecna’s rooted, right? I mean, it makes sense, since she’s a constant, dormant factor in his plan.”
El squinted at him. “If she is the anchor, then waking her up might be harder than we think. If it is her, Vecna will guard his last grasp on this world heavily. I hope she is not the anchor. I want to wake her up without trouble.” She took a definite bite of her breakfast and leaned back in her chair, not willing to support any further theories on the matter. “Where is she? The hospital?”
“Her house,” said Mike. “They transferred her to her house at the trailer park a while back, once they realized her coma was gonna stay constant. Sometimes nurses come in to check on her, but her mom is her primary caretaker.” He sighed, half an eye roll. “Well, more like Lucas. More often than not, it’s him that’s staying with her while Ms. Mayfield’s passed out on the couch or something.”
The thought of that, however depressing, made Will smile. He couldn’t believe how constantly Lucas had stayed with Max, even so long after she’d first been admitted to the hospital. He never gave up on her. He was determined she would wake, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. If Will ever wanted an example of real, authentic love, he needed only to look to Lucas. Lucas, undoubtedly, loved Max. He was sure the poor boy would be thrilled to know El was back with a hope to wake his sleeping love.
“How much of your energy is it gonna take to wake her?” Mike asked El. “I mean, is it smart?”
“It is essential. If I do not wake Max before my powers drain, then she might never wake,” El said plainly. This was a subject on which she would not debate. “I do not know how much it will take, but it is worth it. I said yesterday, I still have enough power to do a handful of things. I’m sure I can do this and have more than enough to still drive out Vecna and restore the memories of a couple more of our friends. I can get Dustin and Lucas back. Then we will have a team.”
“A party,” Mike corrected her. “We can defeat Vecna with the party.”
“Party, yes,” said El, setting down her fork with a defiant dignity. “But I don’t care what we defeat Vecna with, as long as his slimy, noseless face is gone. For good.”
This, Will couldn’t help but agree with.
Max’s trailer looked even more dingy than it had before Will went away, showing signs of neglect prominently. Will also noted that the large tear in the earth that had once split straight through this trailer park was gone without a trace. Where it had been, new grass grew and new people had parked their homes. To see the evidence of everything that had happened covered up like this was suffocating, in a way. Will could understand why his stories had seemed like the ramble of a madman. There was nothing to show for it anymore. All the evidence of his existence, his struggle, his fight, it had all been erased. There was little in the world that could make a boy feel smaller than that, smaller than the feeling of being erased.
With the car parked in front of Max’s resting place, Will, El, and Mike turned to each other, eager for action.
“We can’t just walk in,” El said. “Max’s mom will see Will and freak out. I don’t have enough energy to restore her. I say we go in the back, through a window-”
“We won’t have to,” Mike said, shaking his head, his gears turning again. “Max’s mom barely knew Will. I doubt she’d recognize him if she saw him. I say we just knock on the door and say we’re friends who want to visit.”
El seemed unconvinced by this, her eyebrows furrowing. “And if she does recognize him? Then what do we do? I said, I cannot use any of my power on her. She will call the police and Will will go back to Pennhurst.”
“She won’t! I promise you!” Mike sighed and draped his arms on the wheel. “Look, even if we went with your plan, don’t you think it would be just as hard to explain why we broke into her house if she were to catch us? She might call the police either way at that point.”
“You said it yourself, she is always passed out on the couch. If she is passed out, she won’t catch us.”
“And if she’s not?”
“And if she is-”
“I just think-”
“Guys!” Will leaned towards his friends, gesturing to them with a disappointed expression. Both Mike and El were grumpy this morning, and Will wasn’t a fan of their bickering. He hoped there wasn’t something larger going on between them that he wasn't seeing.
El huffed and crossed her arms. “Sorry, Will. What do you think? Whose plan is better?”
Will rolled his eyes. He didn’t want this to be a ‘pick-your-favorite’ scenario. “I think you both have good plans,” he said. “Here’s the compromise: We knock first, just lightly enough to see if she’s awake, but not wake her up if she’s sleeping. If we don’t get an answer, we assume we’re probably safe to go in the back. Satisfied?”
El’s arms did not uncross, but she shrugged, glancing sideways at Mike. “Half-satisfied.”
Mike raised his eyebrows at her, his lips curved in a way that suggested he thought he’d won, and he left the car with a slam of his door.
“What the hell, you guys,” Will complained aloud.
“Should’ve left him without his memories,” El said. “I forgot he was difficult with his memories.” With this, she also left the car.
Will, with another roll of his eyes, followed his friends.
Mike made it to the door first, and glanced back only once before knocking four times, carefully with the back of his hand.
The group waited impatiently for some sort of movement on the other end, El tapping her foot and Will swaying nervously on his feet. Will hoped, whatever happened, that this did not result in anything more chaotic than planned. Somehow, things always ended in chaos for this group.
Fortunately, Ms. Mayfield did not answer the door.
Unfortunately, Will was still recognized.
Standing in the entryway to Max’s trailer was Lucas Sinclair, tired in the eyes and holding an unfinished novel in his dropped hand. He didn’t look too much different than when Will had seen him last, but, as was seemingly a trend among all Will’s friends, he was more exhausted than ever. Even so, his eyes widened as he stammered, “What the- Will?”
Will backed up. He hadn’t even considered that Lucas could be the one to worry about in this scenario. Maybe it would be better if Will just stopped coming along on these mind restoration missions. Then there would be no reason for anyone to be confused.
“Lucas!” said Mike, obviously caught off guard by this turn of events as well, but trying to play it cool. “You mind if we come in and see Max?”
Lucas cautiously stepped forward and out the door, closing it behind him like a warden. He didn’t want them getting in. His expression was set and serious. “Mike, could you explain to me why Will Byers is standing here?”
Mike blinked, a nervous waver in his voice. “They… they let him out. We came to tell y-”
“Mike, I know that’s not true because Dustin and I went to visit him yesterday. And he was gone. They told us he escaped with the help of some unidentified relatives.” His eyes narrowed. “Was it you? Did you break Will out?”
“Yes,” said Mike. “But you have to listen, Lucas. Everything Will has been saying, all of it for the past year, it’s all true. We need you to help us. We need to see Max.”
Lucas shook his head immediately. “I’m not letting you near her. You- you’re crazy! I mean, just the other day you were telling us why it was such a bad idea to go see him and now you’re… you’re breaking the law!”
“For a good cause,” Mike insisted. He stepped slowly towards Lucas with his hands up. “We should restore his memory,” he suggested quietly to El.
“Can’t,” she said back. “I don’t know how much energy I’ll need for Max.”
Lucas didn’t understand any of these statements, and he looked concerned at the thought of whatever this unknown girl and his friends had planned. Will could see how this could seem like a bit of an ambush to him.
“Look, we just want to help,” Mike said as he continued forward. “You’re going to need to trust us, though. You’ll understand everything soon enough.” He cautiously started to put his hands down.
Lucas perceived this as a threat of violence. With a quick darting of his eyes, the boy took off down the stairs and started to run across the trailer park, pushing the crazed trio out of his way.
El instinctively put out her hand to stop him and then hesitated, sighing at her need to conserve herself. “We need to get him.”
Will nodded and figured if El couldn’t do anything, he might as well take this into his own hands. He was, surprisingly, a fast runner, trained by escaping from interdimensional horrors so often. He took off after Lucas, sprinting to catch up with him.
Lucas looked back a few times, surprised by Will’s pursuit. This was his first mistake, and also his downfall. The taller boy slowed just enough for Will to gain ground on him and within a moment, Will was at his back. He grasped onto Lucas’s shoulders and sent the both of them to the ground.
Lucas struggled as if for his life under Will’s grasp. “Get off of me!” he cried.
“Lucas,” said Will, strained as he tried to keep Lucas down while the others caught up. “We are seriously here to help. You need to trust us. I know, I know better than anyone that it sounds crazy.”
“How the hell are you gonna help?”
El appeared behind the two, and she crouched down to look at Lucas. “Because I am Eleven.”
Lucas blinked at her. “Like, the girl with magical powers from Will’s story? Yeah, right.”
“The girl with magical powers that can wake Max up,” El corrected. “We need to see her. I am here to help. I think I can finally free her from her sleep.”
This line of argument seemed to hit a soft spot, and Lucas stopped struggling, enough that Will felt confident in releasing him. Lucas looked from friend to forgotten friend. “You really think you can wake her?”
Will nodded. “Worst case scenario is we really are crazy, but don’t you think it’s smart to at least give it a chance?”
“Give it a chance,” Lucas repeated. He brushed himself off and rose to his feet, the others following him as he gave a shaky breath. “I still don’t know what's going on here, but if you say you think you can wake Max, I’m on board for anything.”
Lucas led the group inside the trailer, bypassing Max’s mother, who was, as theorized by El, passed out on the couch. Max’s room was at the end of the trailer, and Lucas led them all inside gingerly, as if not to disturb her.
Max lay on her bed, orange hair resting on the pillow and spread like a lion’s mane. She looked peaceful enough on the outside, but Will could sense a great deal of pain and suffering going on somewhere within her mind (how he could sense it, he decided to ignore). He couldn’t imagine being trapped like this for so long, even longer than he had been in Pennhurst, or El in the Upside Down. Max had missed the final battle, the closing of the gates, the moment everyone forgot. Now, to the world, she was not the victim of some awful wizard, but of an earthquake, miraculously holding on for so much time.
El walked towards her slowly, taking in the sight of her sleeping friend. “I am here to rescue you,” she said to her in a low voice, sitting on the bed beside her.
“What is she going to do?” Lucas whispered to his friends, eyes glued to the bed in front of them.
“She’s gonna go inside Max’s mind,” Mike said, as if this wasn’t anything unusual. “She wasn’t able to before all of this, because Vecna had control, but now she defeated Vecna, and he’s weak, so we hope she can actually get Max out now.”
“Vecna, the evil monster from the other dimension,” Lucas recalled. “I hope you understand how little sense this makes.”
“I do, actually. I was in the same boat before El restored my own memory.”
El looked back to the group, a hand hovering above Max’s wrist. “I am going in,” she said. “Stay here. If something goes wrong somehow, just be ready. I don’t know what I will find in there.” She shuddered after this statement, as if expecting something terrible waiting for her on the other end.
“We’re here if you need us,” Will responded, giving her a nod. The best he could do for her was to hope his faulty confidence was contagious.
El nodded back and took Max’s wrist, sending her sharply into whatever maze Max’s mind had become in the last years. It was probable that this extraction could take a while, which meant a lot of waiting around for Will, Mike, and the unknowing Lucas.
“Holy shit, she’s actually doing something.” Lucas walked towards the bed in a cautious curiosity. He waved his hand slowly in front of El’s closed eyes. “So… she’s in Max’s mind? Like actually?”
“Actually,” said Mike, walking further into the room and taking a seat against the wall across from the bed.
“How does that even work?” Lucas felt the empty space around El’s head, as if he might find invisible gadgets and strings that were helping her to perform her trick. “Is Max gonna be okay?”
“Better than she is now, I’d guess,” said Will, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. “It’s about time she woke up.”
Lucas gave a saddened laugh and sat in what looked to be his usual chair beside the bed. It was a wooden one, pulled from the kitchen “Yeah, it really is.” He frowned, then, taking a look at the drawing on Max’s wall, a crude illustration of Max and Lucas in a movie theatre, he asked, “So, if you’re all telling the truth, does that mean Max was really the victim of this evil monster guy and I just don’t remember it?”
Mike jumped to respond first. “I know it’s hard to understand. Vecna, the evil monster guy, somehow blocked all our memories so we couldn’t help El defeat him in the Upside Down. At least that’s our theory. It was hard for me to conceptualize how I could forget something so large either. It’s crazy what he did.” He glanced at Will, who averted his eyes nervously for fear Mike would catch him in the act of staring. “I’m glad I’m back, though. All that matters is that I know now.”
Will looked back again once Mike had turned his eyes away. Why had he looked at him? Why then? He rolled his eyes at himself. Why did it matter?
“And she’ll restore my memory?” Lucas was asking Mike.
“Yeah, soon. It just depends on how much energy she uses up with Max. Her powers can be kind of draining and she needs to charge back up before using them again.” He grimaced. “And she’s also losing them forever.”
Lucas, despite his lack of knowledge, could tell this was bad, based on his changing facial expression. “Forever? What do we do when she runs out?”
“Vecna will be gone for good by the time she runs out,” Will said insistently from the doorway. This had to be true.
“Okay…” said Lucas, his eyes turning back to Max, where they stayed glued, and his mouth silent, for a whole minute.
“Focused,” Mike mouthed at Will, and motioned for him to come sit beside him.
Will didn’t have to be asked twice, and took a seat beside his friend, facing the bed and looking for signs of struggle in El’s dormant face.
Mike, on the other hand, looked straight at Will, which was excruciating. The bad thing about having the real Mike back was that it was much harder to deny how much Will loved him. Before the memory wipe, Will had simply given up on ignoring his utterly forbidden feelings for his best friend of 12 years. Mike was kind, he cared, he smiled and it made Will feel happy. Will thought he might want to be with this boy forever. As a young child, this simply meant Mike was his bestest friend. As he got older, though, Will realized it was something more. He was, for lack of any other term that might describe it, in love. This was awful, and he knew that. Plus, Mike obviously liked girls. He’d dated El for two years after all. Will’s hopes of Mike ever liking him back were slim. In Pennhurst, it was easier to forget about the problem. There were so many other hopeless futures on his mind that this one took the backseat, and, besides, the Mike he’d known and loved for so long was locked away beneath a cloud of Vecna-curated amnesia.
Now that Mike was back and whole, though, forgetting was impossible. And, even worse, the whole conversation yesterday about Mike being there for Will no matter what gave Will hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope never turned out well, especially for Will.
That was until he hoped El would return from the Upside Down, and hoped there would be a way to bring back his friends as he knew them. If he could hope for these things and have them appear, then perhaps hope with Mike wasn’t all that bad.
One day, he was finally going to work up the confidence to just tell Mike how he felt. That day was not today. He was so scared it would do nothing but ruin their friendship, and that was the last thing Will wanted to happen. If there was anything more important than Will’s love for Mike, it was his friendship with him. For now he’d just keep stupidly hoping something would click, and Mike would love him back and there wouldn’t need to be any confessions made. They’d just know. That’s how it worked out in Will’s most unbelievable dreams.
“You think it’ll be long?” Mike asked. “El rescuing Max?”
Will let his running thoughts slip from his head. “Might be,” he said. “I can… well, I can tell Max is struggling in there. It’s not all peaceful now that Vecna’s lost most of his grasp.”
Mike’s mood changed immediately. “You can tell?” he asked, tone becoming quieter. “How? Is it-”
“I don’t know,” said Will, drumming his fingers nervously on his knees. The prospect of Vecna still being inside him made his stomach churn. “I just don’t know.”
Mike frowned, almost sympathetically. A flat frown and big eyes. “You think he’s still with you,” he said. “You don’t want to admit it, but you do.”
Will sighed. Mike could read him like a book. It was a wonder the boy hadn’t realized Will’s awful feelings for him. “I guess,” he said. “It’s possible he’s still inside me.” He didn’t even like to say it out loud. He wanted more than anything in the world to be free of the evil monster who had corrupted him for so long. He was tired of being a toy, a tool, of being invaded and controlled and used, of feeling the grime of the Upside Down flow through his veins like lead, like he was no longer of this world, like he was a stranger in his own body, a monster as sickly and horrifying as all the others.
“We should tell El,” Mike insisted. “If he’s still there, she can knock him out of you.”
Mike didn’t understand. If Vecna was still a part of Will, even after all these years, then he wouldn’t leave without a fight. Will had a sneaking feeling that if Vecna was in his mind, there was a whirlwind of chaos to come. He could almost feel it now: Confusion and blood and tears and loss and an overwhelming sense that he was alone. Even now he could feel this future. It shut him down.
“He can’t be there,” Will said, convincing himself more than anyone. “It just… doesn’t feel right. There have been no obvious signs.”
“Well, you said you could feel that Max-”
“It was just a feeling. An instinct. Nothing more.”
Will felt like this didn’t convince Mike, but the boy decided to drop the conversation anyway, maybe picking up on the fact that Will was not ready to talk about that possibility.
“You and El,” Will said, trying to change the subject. “Are you okay?”
Before Mike could explain himself, or even react to the question, Max shot up in her bed, making Lucas jump back from his chair in surprise. Mike and Will got quickly to their feet, ready to greet their old friend, or help El if needed. Their enthusiastic stature changed when they took in the full sight of the waking girl.
Max Mayfield, hair messy and ratted from lying in bed, donned a fearful expression, looking frantically around the room. Although she looked, Will assumed she could not see, for her eyes were still foggy and clouded over, like Lucas had described them on the night she was taken by Vecna.
“Where am I?” she spoke in a rattle. “What’s going on?”
“Max?” Lucas asked quietly, half a smile growing across his face, as if he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or scared out of his mind.
“Lucas?” Max turned her head toward the voice.
Lucas nodded, getting up and carefully walking toward his awakened lover with his hands outstretched. “I’m here,” he said. “It’s okay.”
Then Max frowned, and recoiled from Lucas’s approach. “No, you’re not,” she said. “Don’t try to trick me. Lucas is dead. You are some… some phantom of him. You’re Vecna’s doing.”
Will and Mike exchanged a confused glance. Something was wrong.
“I’m not dead,” Lucas said slowly, also caught off guard by this reaction. “Max, I’m here. I’ve been here, waiting for you this whole time.”
“Shut up!” Max yelled at him. “You can’t trick me. You’re not Lucas. Go to Hell.”
“Max,” El tried, reaching a hand out and taking hers. “You are okay. I released you from your sleep. Vecna had trapped you, but now I brought you back.”
Max also recoiled from this voice. “Eleven,” she said, taking a defensive stance on the bed. “Stay the hell away from me.”
El blinked, releasing her grip. “What?”
“Oh, don’t ‘what?’ me. You know perfectly well what you did, you traitor.”
El kept her gaze stern and looked back to Mike and Will. “Something is not right. I think Vecna has corrupted her memory… similar to how he erased everyone else’s.”
Max continued to frantically look around, now perched on her pillows in a threatening manner. “Who are you talking to?” she urged. Then to the unknown receivers, “Don’t listen to her! Whatever she says, don’t listen!”
“I will have to go back in,” El continued.
Will didn’t like the sound of that. “Will you have enough energy?”
“Waking her up was easy. This is the challenge I anticipated. Somehow, I need to figure out what Vecna is doing to her. It might take a while, but I will have enough energy.”
Mike nodded, soldier-serious. “We’ll be prepared to help if needed. Do you need something? A drink? Battery?”
“Just help her!” Lucas wailed, eyes wide and terrified as he witnessed Max’s blinded outburst.
El turned back without another word and placed her hand again on Max’s struggling wrist. The two fell still and silent.
The room was completely quiet for a moment, apart from the sound of Lucas’s labored breathing and frantic pacing.
“So, did I forget that I died?” he asked finally to Mike and Will. “What in the world was that?”
“You didn’t die,” Will assured him. “It seems like Vecna has… changed her memories for some reason. El is trying to fix it. It’s gonna be okay.” He hoped to himself that the things he was saying were true.
Mike and Will spent the next several minutes trying to explain the whole Upside Down/Vecna situation, in all its complexities, to Lucas. They briefly covered the events of the last five years and even answered a few clarifying questions before Lucas, after what must have been half an hour, once again became focused on the sight of Max and El deep within Max’s mind and stopped responding to his friends’ explanations. Will figured this was understandable. El had been in there for a long time now, and he wondered if everything was going alright. No doubt Lucas was worried out of his mind.
Lucas’s lack of attention meant Will and Mike could resume their earlier conversation, in which Mike had never gotten the chance to answer Will’s question.
“I was asking about you and El?” Will prompted as they both stared at the bed.
Mike raised his eyebrows and broke his focus. “Oh, that? Jeez, it’s stupid, really. I think we’re just both on edge about all this. That’s all. I should apologize for being an idiot about the thing in the car, I really should.”
“Is something up?” Will asked. “Well, other than the fact that Vecna is still haunting us, that is.”
Mike seemed to find the question difficult to answer, pausing for several moments with a rather sour look on his face. “Guess we’re just both thinking about a lot,” he finally said. “I mean, obviously, El would be on edge after a whole year in the Upside Down. I get that. And me?” He looked down, like a scolded dog. “Well, it’s just confusing. All my memories and emotions and everything coming back after being dormant for so long. I almost feel like there are things that make less sense now that I’m whole again, you know? Like, things I forgot I was even struggling with in the first place. So that’s why I was quick with her.” He shook his head and looked up at his friend. “I know it sounds stupid. You can tell me I’m stupid.”
“You’re not,” said Will. “Surprisingly, I get it.”
“You didn’t lose your memories.”
“But I lost the people I cared about. And now they’re back. And it just makes everything a whole lot more complicated. So, I get it.” Will’s abysmal feelings. He wondered what was bothering Mike.
Mike clicked his tongue and gave Will a sideways look. “Well, I hope I’m not making things more complicated for you.”
Well, wasn’t that funny? Will tried not to react in any criminalizing way to the statement. “No, I’m glad to have you back. I really am.” Will looked forward, trying not to make any unneeded eye contact. “I missed you,” he said quietly.
There was a new silence in the air after that. It was suffocating to Will, but Mike seemed to be comfortable in the lull, simply thinking. Will could tell when he was thinking deeply, because he’d get a certain look on his face. This was the benefit of being best friends for so long, you could pick up on things like this. It was like a secret code.
“I missed you too,” Mike said finally. “But, I guess that doesn’t count anymore, since you weren’t really missing. You were just right.” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I still can’t believe I ever forgot all that. It’s… just so hard to explain. It was all just gone.”
Will nodded, more understanding than Mike might’ve thought. “Vecna is scary like that. He can manipulate you so seamlessly that it doesn’t even feel like anything’s wrong. But then when you realize what happened…” Will shivered to himself thinking about it. “Then it all just feels awful. Like-”
“Like you had something stolen from you,” Mike finished.
“Yeah, exactly.” Will still remembered when he’d been possessed by the Mind Flayer (or at least what he thought was solely the Mind Flayer) a year after he went missing. He remembered it taking over his brain, he remembered struggling to remember his mother’s name, he remembered being able to do nothing but watch as it spoke with his own mouth.
He also remembered this morning, learning that his memory from the night before was completely fabricated, how it had thrown him off-kilter.
But that couldn't be Vecna. It was just a dream.
The feeling remained familiar.
“I’m just still so sorry about all of it,” Mike was saying.
Will couldn’t help but give the boy a shove in return. “We had this conversation yesterday,” he said. “I don’t blame you, remember?. You don’t have to feel bad about anything. And plus, you said you’d make it up to me, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Mike said, a small smile inching onto his face. “How am I holding up so far? Just like old times?”
“Oh, just like them. You’re so old times I can practically see your freshman year pimples.”
“Pimples! I did not have acne freshman year. I did not have acne. No.”
Now Will let himself laugh. He loved that he could let himself laugh around this Mike. After years of interdimensional horror, he was so much more thankful for times like this. “You did!”
Mike’s mouth was open in mock offense. “Well, you’re one to talk. Don’t think you’re so high and mighty. I see acne on you right now.”
“You liar.”
“I do! It’s right there.” Mike stuck a lanky finger out and poked the side of Will’s nose.
Will giggled like an idiot as he shot his hand up to his nose and felt around. Dropping it, he shoved Mike in the chest. “You’re so full of shit. There’s nothing there.”
Now Mike was laughing too, struggling to get his words out. “It’s just starting to form. You’ve gotta trust me.” Then his eyes widened. “You have more.”
“I don’t!”
Mike was trying to hold in another fit of laughter, but let it go as he grabbed Will’s face and examined it, rotating his head from side to side like a doctor in the office. “Both cheeks. And your forehead.”
Will was practically splitting his sides, and his face hurt from smiling. “Absolute bullshit!” he declared through another cackle.
When he finally recollected himself, Mike’s hands were still holding the rim of his chin. The dark-haired boy’s smile had lessened to a more contemplative form, as if he’d become lost in thought in the middle of his ploy. His eyes lingered on Will’s with a wistful disposition. The two stared at each other for a moment too long and Will gave a short and slightly nervous laugh.
When Mike realized what he was doing, he lowered his hands, stepping back from Will. “Sorry,” he said. “I-”
“It’s fine,” said Will quickly, still smiling despite everything, still smiling like the idiot he was. “It was fine.” Who was he trying to convince?
Mike seemed like he didn’t know how to respond to this, and his face became instantly duller. He turned away, looked back three consecutive times, and was about to say something when he noticed movement from Lucas.
Lucas stood up from his chair, gaze glued still to El and Max.
El had opened her eyes, and was also looking intently at Max, who was still in her own mind.
“Max,” El said. “You are back.”
Like El had spoken a magic spell, Max’s eyes shot open. The fog that had covered her sight before disappeared, leaving her pale, blue eyes, wide and blinking.
El spoke again. “Welcome home.”
It was already evening by the time El felt well enough to come out of her room and speak to the group. Waking Max, restoring her memory, and restoring Lucas’s had drained her astronomically, but she insisted that she could now at least sit and talk about it. So, Jonathann was helping her walk gingerly over to the living room, where Will, Mike, Max, and Lucas waited for the update. They were all curious about what El had learned on her mind mission, and what it meant for the future of their plans.
Max had recited what she could, but was still in a state of shock from her long-awaited rescue, and the events were blurring together in her head. What the group had gathered from her was that Max had been trapped not within her own memories, but within Vecna’s, and she had been living there, or in some strange world created by them, for all this time. An elsewhere.
After Vecna was semi-defeated in the Upside Down, the world disappeared abruptly, and Max was trapped in a void of nothing for the past few days. At first, she thought she had died, but she could still feel Vecna’s presence, however small it was, and had hope that an escape was still to come.
El went in to rescue her, and that’s when things got muddy. Max wasn’t exactly sure what to describe from that point on.
Lucas had also needed to recover from his own memory restoration, and had reacted in a similar way to Mike and Jonathan when the awful truth of his situation came crashing down on him. Now, though, he couldn’t leave Max’s side, obviously both thrilled and terrified by the fact that she was awake, alive, and speaking. He looked at her like she was a statue of glass, ready to shatter at any given moment.
Now, Max and Lucas sat on the couch, hip to hip and knee to knee. There hadn’t been any confirmation that they were still in a relationship, but Will figured this positioning spoke a multitude for that.
He and Mike sat slightly further from each other, if only by an inch or two. Will was worried that their exchange back at Max’s had given the wrong idea to Mike, as he’d barely said anything specifically to Will since. Whatever hope Will had been building in that light moment when they’d been laughing was quickly leaking from him.
After a minute of waiting, El entered the Byers’ living room, leaning dependently on Jonathan for support. She was so exhausted that simply walking was difficult for her, and would be until she’d properly charged herself up again. This intensity of the energy drain, Will noticed, was so much stronger than it had been before. This was probably to do with the fact that her powers were slowly leaving for good.
Jonathan helped El into a chair, where she leaned back and took a moment to breathe.
The whole group eyed El with ravenous curiosity. What was the verdict?
“El, Max explained up until you woke her up,” Lucas said, starting the conversation. “What the hell happened after that? Why were her memories all messed up?”
El furrowed her brows. “It was hard to say at first. But I think I understand. Vecna still had a small grip on Max’s mind. All he could hold onto was a strong memory of hers, something big enough for him to easily grasp.”
“I could sense that,” Max said, nodding slowly. Her voice was still small, as if she was only learning how to make noise again. “Even before you came to get me from that stupid void, I knew Vecna was still in there somewhere.”
“But what about when she thought Lucas was dead and stuff?” asked Mike, like an impatient child.
“Rooted in such a strong place,” El continued, “he had just enough power to corrupt her memory, just in the slightest way. He altered only two things. One, Lucas had died, and two, I had betrayed her before she was put to sleep. It seems like a lot, but since she had been in that memory world ever since, Vecna didn’t have to make any alternate memories for her after that. His grasp on her was, fortunately, small. That is the good news.”
Jonathan grimaced, his leg bouncing nervously. “That means there’s bad news?”
El nodded. “It means that Max was not Vecna’s anchor. I knew it when Lucas’s memory was not automatically restored after she awoke. Vecna still has a hold on someone else.”
“He has a hold on almost everyone, doesn’t he?” Max said, leaning forward. “You said everyone has their memories blocked, right? Doesn’t that mean anyone could be an anchor? Because then the anchor could take forever to find.”
“Well, no,” El said quickly. “I have a theory after restoring a few memories now. I think that the blocked memories… they are of the past. Vecna isn’t currently holding onto all of them.” Seeing everyone’s confused expressions, she tried to explain further. “It’s like… when Will paints a picture. If he paints a dot on a canvas and leaves, the dot stays.” She tried to visualize this by painting an invisible picture. “I think the memory block is like a dot that Vecna left in everyone’s mind. The anchor is a different canvas. One he’s working on currently, and continuing to add to.”
This gave Will the chills and he took a sharp breath in. He knew what El was saying. She was saying that he was the anchor. But nothing had happened that would prove it yet. Until something happened, it could just be Will’s imagination. He didn’t want to send El on a wild goose chase, especially since her powers were limited.
But it seemed obvious, and apparently the rest of the group thought so too, because several heads turned to Will.
“So if everyone with a memory block is a deserted canvas,” Lucas said. “That implies the anchor is the person who didn’t have a memory block.”
“It’s a theory,” said El. “And until we have more solid proof, that is all it is. But, Will,” and she looked him dead in the eye, a sympathetic face. “Keep an eye out for anything. We have no idea what Vecna is planning, but I would guess it is nothing good.”
Will tried to spend the rest of the evening as normally as possible. His friends wouldn’t stop looking at him like they’d all just learned that he was set to die in three days, but he was determined to seem like the prospect of Vecna in his head wasn’t scaring him as much as it actually was. He could scream and cry and claw at the walls all he wanted within his head, but on the outside, he was calm and collected.
El had quickly gone back to her room after speaking about her theories with the group, and everyone else had a semi-happy dinner. Perhaps they were trying to take their minds off the impending doom awaiting them, but this was impossibly difficult. Of course, it was thrilling to have Max back and Lucas was glad to be back and in the game for good, but the looming sense of dread above the group often overtook their feelings of hope, making laughter thin and far between for the rest of the evening.
When Max and Lucas finally left, deciding they had better explain themselves to Ms. Mayfield, the house was quiet again, and everyone wanted nothing more than to escape the ominous guesses of what could come next by entering their own dreams.
Within an hour, Will was the only one awake and still in the main living area, just quietly contemplating. He shut his eyes tight, trying to sense the possible evil soaking through his brain. His knuckles were white as he searched his memories. Where would Vecna be hiding, if he really was there?
Miraculously, the feelings that Will had been so sure were shooting through his head before were almost unnoticeable now. This let him relax. Maybe he was right, all of this was just a big case of overthinking. Vecna had left Will when he was defeated. Surely, the monster would’ve acted by now if he was still within him.
“Still awake?” A familiar voice echoed into the room, making Will’s eyes shoot open. Mike leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt. Will hadn’t heard him walk over. It was as if Mike had simply appeared out of thin air, like a ghost.
The boy eyed Will with a gentle curiosity, which made Will nervous, since Mike still had yet to talk to him alone after today’s interaction.
Will shrugged. “Just not tired yet. How about you? I thought you went to bed already.” He’d actually seen Mike retreat into the spare room about half an hour earlier, and assumed he was in bed.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Mike responded. “I guess there’s just too much to think about right now.” He pushed himself casually from the wall and walked over, taking a seat next to Will on the couch. There was, fortunately, no sign of any subtle rejection from him.
“Tell me about it,” said Will, rolling his eyes. “I think I’ve got too much on my mind to ever sleep again.”
“You’re scared about Vecna.”
Will could hardly tell himself otherwise anymore. “Terrified.”
Mike seemed less concerned about this than Will might’ve guessed he would be, tracing his feet across the carpet in a mindless fashion. “I would be too,” he said. Then, “You want to talk about earlier.” It wasn’t a question. It was like Mike could read Will’s mind, he just knew.
Will tensed at the subject, unsure what point Mike was trying to make. Either this conversation went very well, or very badly. “I guess,” Will decided to say. “If you think there’s something to talk about, that is.”
“I do.” Mike reached suddenly out and grabbed Will’s face, like he’d done before. His hands were warm, letting any fluttering worries of his bluntness escape Will’s mind. “You liked this, didn’t you?”
Will could hardly stop himself from leaning into the warmth of Mike’s touch. He didn’t know what to say. “Why?” he asked, cautiously placing a hand on Mike’s wrist. Perhaps this was it. This was the unspoken moment Will had been waiting for… but something was off.
Mike continued to cup Will’s face in his palms, and he looked him in the eyes, but his bewildered smile from before was gone. Mike’s face was blank as he looked down at his best friend, no gleam in his stare, no signs of life, even.
Will realized this cold energy and backed hesitantly from Mike’s hands, which lingered in the air. “Mike?” he asked, now becoming frightened. “What’s going on?”
Mike opened his mouth, but no words escaped him. His blank stare bore into Will with the force of a boulder. Something was terribly wrong, Will could sense it.
“Mike?” he asked again, louder. He reached out and shook the boy’s shoulders, trying to gain any reaction from him. “Mike, talk to me!”
Then, with a blink of his eyes, Mike was gone, as if he’d never been sitting on the couch. The cushion was not weighted down where he had sat, and Will’s hands were grasping at nothing in the air in front of him. Still, the lingering feeling of Mike’s hands on his face remained. It felt real.
Will retracted his hands, which started to shake as his mind spun with implications of what had just happened. The walls felt tall above him and the couch seemed to want to swallow him whole. For a moment, Will thought he might lose consciousness as the room swirled around him.
Like you had something stolen from you.
This was the work of Vecna. There was no doubt now.
Notes:
Aaaaand that's Act 1 (of 3)! Things are about to get craaazzzzzyyyyyy! I'm so excited for, like, literally all of the future chapters. I love this fic.
And hey!! If you are liking it, or have questions, or just wanna talk, leave a comment!! I really, really love getting them and responding to them! It's seriously what keeps me going! No pressure, but I'd love to hear you!Okay! See you next time! Happy December!
Chapter 7: The Connection
Notes:
Hello (finally)! What a chapter this is! I'm even more excited for the next! Hope you like it... and talk to me in the comments!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Will’s morning started much like the morning before. He awoke suddenly and sat up straight in his bed, frightened by a nightmare that reeked of the Upside Down. When he finally registered that the monsters he heard screeching were only in his imagination, he calmed himself with a few deep inhales through his nose, and his heart rate returned to its normal, steady beat.
He looked at the alarm clock at his side, only to realize it was six in the morning. No one would be up except for him, and he had half a mind to return to sleep after a restless night before, but knew better than to close his eyes. If he did, he’d only be greeted by more unpleasant scenes. Now that he was up, he might as well embrace it.
Therefore, Will got up with a reluctant sigh and decided to start his morning early. He didn’t bother changing out of his pajamas and strolled quietly out into the hall. The rest of the doors were still shut, which meant he was the only stirring creature in the house.
He entered the main living space, where he went to the kitchen and mindlessly brewed himself a cup of coffee, feeling his bare feet meet the cold floor. The sensation was small, but it grounded him. This was no dream, and it was definitely no nightmare. It was reality. Will loved nothing more than a reality where he could take time to notice his feet on the cold floor and the dawn starting to creep its light into the windows.
The coffee was steaming when he took it from the pot and poured it into a mug that read “Best Mom Ever.” Some junky gift Jonathan and him had gotten Joyce for Mother’s Day years ago. Will poured milk into the mug and watched the dark coffee dilute to a satisfying tan. Taking the mug in both his hands and feeling it warm his trembling fingers, he sat at the counter and breathed in the morning air. The dark images of whatever terror had been chasing him in his sleep started to fade from his vision, and he let himself take in the light of dawn. Will had a quiet morning.
Wait.
Will woke from a surprisingly peaceful sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times before he realized he was even awake. It had been a long while since Will had awoke like this, of his own accord. The feeling of it almost made him smile. A night without nightmares. Maybe things really were getting better. Maybe the whole Vecna scare of last night was all in his head. There was certainly nothing wrong with him now.
The alarm clock read nine o’clock, which was late, but Will hardly cared. Sleeping in was rare for him.
He didn’t bother changing into an outfit for the day just yet.
No, that wasn’t right. He exchanged his pajama pants and t-shirt for something more presentable and combed through his hair.
After a quick tidying-up, he went into the hall. All the other doors were closed, except for El’s, which meant she was probably already in the kitchen. Will was surprised not more people were awake by now.
Or, wait. Jonathan’s door was open too. Jonathan was awake. Jonathan and El.
When Will entered the kitchen, El was leaning over the toaster, fishing for the Eggos that had just popped up. She turned to her brother with a smile as she held the golden waffles up in the air. “Good morning! Do you want breakfast?”
“Sure,” said Will.
No, that wasn’t what happened.
“Oh, I’m fine,” said Will. “I’ll just have some cereal." Will wasn’t hungry for anything sweet this morning. He’d rather have a bowl of Cheerios and a cup of coffee.
Jonathan was at the table, sipping a glass of orange juice and reading the news.
That was wrong. Will remembered that he was reading a book from his room. Or maybe he was writing something?
It didn’t matter. He was sitting at the table, doing something.
“How are you doing?” Jonathan asked, looking up. “Did you sleep alright?”
Will continued to prepare his bowl of cereal as he spoke. “Just fine, actually. I’ve never slept so well.”
Will was having a fine morning.
Wait.
Will woke up to the sound of a blood-curdling scream, and he knew immediately that something was wrong. He didn’t bother to check his alarm clock for the time, but it was light outside already. He shot out of his bed and ran down the hall and into the main living area. No one was there to claim the shrewd noise.
Will breathed heavily as he looked around the room. Who had screamed so terribly?
Hearing the noise again, this time from what he assumed was outside the house, Will ran out the door and into the front yard.
“Who’s there?” he called into the morning-soaked trees, but no one responded. Will stood in the chilly air for a moment longer, feet aching to run after whatever was calling. He wished he could tell whose scream he had heard. Perhaps, though, it was just some playing kids in the distance, and not one of his friends. He hadn’t recognized the voice anyway.
Will shuddered and went cautiously back inside after a moment longer. The house was quiet, and Will wasn’t sure what time it was, but judging from the light outside, he would have assumed someone would be up by now. Despite this, everything was still, as if Will was the last person on Earth.
Trying to calm himself, Will returned to his room to change out of his pajamas. Surely he was just working himself up over nothing. Who would have screamed? And for what? The Upside Down was sealed, and nothing could harm his friends.
Then, just slightly, Will heard something coming down the hall: slow and heavy footsteps, falling second after second, getting louder and louder as they approached Will’s half-closed door. A shiver ran down his spine. Whatever was approaching, it was coming for him.
In a rush of panic, Will threw himself inside his closet and shut the doors, backing himself into his hanging shirts as he tried not to breathe too loudly. He could hardly stop himself from shaking now.
The footsteps continued to grow louder until they were right outside Will’s door.
Will shut his eyes tight and held his breath as he heard a creak and whatever creature was there entering the room.
Then, came Jonathan’s voice. “Will?” he asked. Then, “He’s not in here.” With this, Will heard his door shut again and the footsteps receded back down the hallway.
Will blinked to himself as he slowly opened his closet and stepped out onto the floor with a soft thud. Hadn’t he just been in the living room, and it had been empty? How could it be that Jonathan was there now?
Wait, Jonathan was there. Will had awoken and joined El and Jonathan in the kitchen. Or had he been out there by himself, pouring a morning cup of coffee and milk?
No, he was here. He was hiding in his room from an ominous noise after searching for a scream outside.
Will’s head started to ache with a dull pain. His mind spun with contradicting stories, like a chorus of voices all trying to speak over one another. Why did he have so many conflicting memories of this morning? What had really happened?
Something dropped in Will’s stomach as he remembered the night before, stumbling back and catching himself on the post of his bed: Mike, blank-faced and unspeaking, disappearing before his eyes.
Vecna was messing with his memories; he was sure of it.
Half-staggering, Will made his way slowly out of his door and back down the hall, which seemed longer than it ever had been. His footsteps felt far away when the sound hit his ears and he thought maybe his knees would give out if he didn’t sit down soon. All he could think of was his lying memories and the image of Vecna stained his vision.
In the distance, Jonathan and Mike sat on the couch in the living room, and both shot their heads quickly in Will’s direction when they heard him stumble against the wall. The two clocked immediately that something was wrong and stood up, ready for action.
Mike walked over first, mindfully approaching his doubled-over friend. “Good morning,” he said, in a way that implied he was asking how Will was doing.
As Mike got close, Will grasped onto his arms for support, his head still spinning. “Mike… What did I…” He could hardly speak, his words coming out as jumbled as his thoughts. “What did I do this morning?”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked, his eyebrows raised with concern as he helped Will over to the couch, where Jonthan joined them, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder and trying to look him in the eye.
“I mean,” said Will. “What did I do? Or…” He figured this was too abstract. “What did I have for breakfast? Was it…” He inhaled sharply as a million possible answers came to his mind. He had coffee and milk, he had cereal, he had an Eggo, he had nothing.
“Will, you’re scaring me,” said Mike. “What’s going on?”
“Just tell me,” said Will shortly. “What did I have?”
Mike and Jonathan exchanged a quick glance before Jonathan answered. “El made Eggos for everyone.”
Eggos. So there was something real within his memories. Will nodded. “Okay… and I was in the kitchen, with you and El. Mike was asleep.”
“I was awake,” said Mike, now holding Will’s arms, almost sweating with worry and his grip tightening by the second. “I was in the kitchen even before you.”
Now Will sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Just tell me everything.”
Jonathan nodded, obviously confused, but went along with his brother. “You came into the kitchen around eight, had Eggos with the rest of us, and then went back to your room to change.” He looked down, and noticed Will was still in his pajamas. “That was the last we saw of you. It’s been an hour or so.”
Will took this in with a heavy stare. “And did we talk last night, Mike?”
Mike shook his head. “Will, please tell us what’s going on. You’re freaking me out.”
Will tried to collect his thoughts, but his mind was still racing, and dots danced in his vision, his consciousness threatening to give out under the weight. “I feel like I’m going crazy,” he said. “Like, my mind is all messed up. I can’t remember anything right from this morning. I’m remembering a million different versions at the same time.”
Mike’s grip tightened and his eyes got wide. “Do you think it’s…”
“Vecna,” said Will definitely. “Vecna is trying to do something to me. This is it. I’m the anchor, we know it for sure now. He’s still inside me, and he’s messing with my memories for some reason.”
This seemed like the last thing anyone in the room wanted to hear, judging from the dense change in the air. Jonathan looked down and put his head in his hands, Mike opened his mouth and couldn’t close it, trying to come up with some response.
“Well,” Mike eventually said. “Well, Eleven is with Max and Lucas, and they’re restoring Dustin’s memory right now, but they’ll all be back soon. We’ll just do what we did with Max. El will go into your mind and-”
“No, this is different,” Will insisted, shutting Mike down. “This feels stronger than Max’s was. El said it herself, Vecna’s grasp on Max was small. He’s stronger in me, I can tell.”
Jonathan shook his head, keeping a steady hand on Will’s shoulder. “We don’t know that,” he said.
“I do,” said Will. “He has the power to alter my recent memories. He’s making me think things are happening when they’re really not.” With a chilling thought, he recoiled from his friend and brother. “How do I even know this is real?”
Mike shook him, making Will look him in the eyes. “You trust us,” he said. “I’m real, and so is Jonathan. El is going to be back any minute and she’s going to help you. It’s going to be okay.”
Will tried to resist giving in, for fear this might be something fake, but then he sighed. So far, it had been relatively easy to tell when a memory had been created by Vecna. In the invented conversation with Mike last night, Mike hadn’t been acting like a real person. And this morning, Will had too many memories of the morning for any of them to be real. This conversation with Mike and Jonathan was different. There was no sign of anything wrong, so Will let himself relax, if only a little.
“Do you need anything?” asked Jonathan, baggy eyes darting with concern. “You’re pale. I’m getting you water.” He backed slowly away from his struggling brother, keeping a careful eye on him before disappearing around the corner.
Will squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make the ache in his head go away. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted to Mike, who was still kneeling on the floor in front of him, watching like Will might keel over at any moment. “This morning, I felt so strange. I was… I was hiding in my closet from some monster that wasn’t really there. I mean, that’s… that’s crazy. I’m going crazy.”
“Hey,” said Mike. He got up and delicately took a seat next to Will on the couch. “You’re not going crazy. You’re stronger than that, remember? You’re Will the Wise! You’ve got too high of constitution for that, and if Vecna’s the one doing all of this to you, you can’t let him win. I mean, we’re so close to defeating him.”
Not close enough. Will shuddered at the thought of El’s draining powers. The process of weeding Vecna out of his mind could be long and gruesome. And there was always the awful possibility that El’s powers would disappear before Vecna was defeated, and Will would be stuck with him forever.
“Will, come on,” said Mike. “You’re stronger than Vecna. I’ve seen that much before.”
Will looked into his friend’s eyes, but was plagued with an awful vision of last night. He remembered Mike’s blank stare, his open mouth, his ghoulish complexion. This present Mike, he was real, but Will couldn’t stop remembering otherwise. “I just don’t know,” he said, trying to keep himself together. This was becoming harder by the moment, though his spinning head was starting to subside.
Jonathan entered the room with a tall glass of water and placed it in Will’s shaking hands. He watched woefully as Will put the glass to his lips and drank, his eyes big with fear. Will hated that he did this to people. He wished no one had to worry over him anymore. Will was like a magnet for negative emotions. They infected everyone he touched.
“Let’s start again,” said Jonathan, taking a deep breath and squatting down so that he was at Will’s level. “Tell us what you remember about this morning.”
Will shook his head. “That’s the thing,” he said. “I remember different versions of memories from this morning, and all at once. I… remember waking up at six, but also nine. It’s like…” This was as hard to explain as he might’ve guessed. “If Vecna is trying to create fake memories that he wants me to believe, he hasn’t mastered it yet. Even last night, he created a fake conversation.” Will decided not to mention whom with for fear of further questioning from he himself. “But it was all off. I could tell it wasn’t really happening.”
Mike and Jonathan took this all in with a silence. Will could tell it wasn’t easy for them to comprehend. Of course it wasn’t. Will could barely describe it, it was so unusual. Luckily, he had a lot of practice explaining unbelievable things in the past year. This wasn’t the first time he’d been crazy.
“Well, that’s a positive, right?” asked Mike. “If you can tell what’s fake, then he can’t hurt you.”
“They seem real in the moment, “ Will recalled, thinking about how he ran outside with such panic at the sound of that scream. If he’d even done that, that was. Will tried to level his quivering voice amidst his confusion. “What if he gets better? I have no idea what Vecna’s trying to do, but what if he gets to a point where he can create fake memories that I can’t tell from the real ones?”
“We’ll defeat him before he gets to that point,” Mike said, though he didn’t sound as confident as Will would’ve liked.
Not that any amount of confidence would make Will believe that statement. If Vecna’s goal was to make his crafted moments inseparable from reality, Will could see him accomplishing that very soon. Even aspects of his memories from this morning seemed real. It was only their overlapping that gave the game away. If Vecna were to take away the conflicting elements, there would be no way for Will to tell what was constructed.
Before any further discussion of the issue could occur, there was a knock at the door, and Will couldn’t help but whip his head around with a tense panic.
Jonathan rose from the ground, putting his arms out to calm his brother. “It’s just El and the others,” he insisted. “They must be back from Dustin’s. Hopefully it went well.”
“I could care less right now,” Mike muttered, also rising. “We’ve got bigger problems to deal with.”
Sure enough, when Jonathan opened the door, El was there, along with Lucas, Max, and a shock-stricken Dustin, who stared blankly into the Byers’ home.
“Holy shit,” he said. “I put a demogorgon in your freezer once.”
El grinned at this revelation, but caught the wall as she stepped a foot inside, causing both Max and Lucas to grab an arm to support her. “We got him,” she said breathlessly. “I just need a moment.”
“We don’t have a moment,” said Mike, rushing forward to meet his friends without any merriment for their successful return. “Something’s up with Will. He’s the anchor. We have proof now. Vecna’s messing with his reality.”
Now El frowned, shoving Lucas and Max from her shoulders as she walked forward, passed the pleading Mike, and made eye contact with her brother. “You’re sure it is Vecna?” she asked him in a low voice.
Will nodded slowly. “I’m positive. He’s still here, and he’s deep. I can feel it.”
The others started to gather around. Poor Dustin was slightly lost, looking from friend to friend for an explanation. “I thought Vecna was defeated,” he whispered to Max. “Isn’t that what El said?”
“Yeah, and she said that doesn’t mean he’s gone,” Max whispered back. “He’s holding onto this world. We were trying to find his anchor, or the thing keeping him tied here, and I think we just discovered it’s Will.”
“I should’ve said something earlier,” Will admitted regretfully. “I think I could always feel him… I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”
El took the spot on the couch where Mike had been sitting and grabbed Will’s hand in her own, ignoring the chatter of the gathering group. “Do you think you have a source like the others did? A memory where this is all beginning?”
Will shook his head. “Just last night, and this morning. I’m not forgetting things, like everyone else. I’m just… remembering things… or experiencing things that didn’t happen. I don’t know what the source would be for that.”
“Can’t you go in and root Vecna out?” Mike asked. “Like with Max?”
El gave him a sharp glance and returned her focus, tightening her grip around Will’s wrist as she closed her eyes.
Will felt a small lurching sensation in his brain, but while he expected to be thrown into the depths of his mind, he stayed right where he was on the couch, fully conscious.
El released her grip, leaning backwards to rest herself, her eyes wide with surprise. “I can’t do it,” she said, distressed. “You won’t let me in.”
Will tried not to let the implications of this rush up on him too quickly. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Your mind is barring me from entering, somehow,” El explained with a quiver in her speech. “I’ve never felt such a powerful resistance from anyone else. It must be Vecna.”
“Guarding his last stronghold,” Dustin offered.
“Wait.” Jonathan was crossing his arms, eyebrows furrowed as he stepped forward. “Doesn’t that mean…”
“I can’t help you, Will,” El said quietly, her own hands starting to shake with a building confusion. “I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s gotta be a way to bypass the barrier,” Dustin was saying, tossing a pencil he’d been taking notes with back and forth in his hands. He, Max, and Will had been coming up with potential theories for the past ten minutes, to no avail. Will’s situation seemed helpless. “It’s not like Vecna’s invincible. We have to find a way around the barrier.”
Max sighed, putting her head in her hands. “It just doesn’t make sense. How has El had absolutely no trouble getting into everyone else’s mind, but Will’s is conveniently blocked?”
“Well, Will’s connected to Vecna on a deeper level than the rest of us, isn’t he?” Dustin asked. “I mean, he’s always been able to… sense him and shit. Maybe this is part of that.”
Will was half-involved in the conversation, tracing a pattern on the kitchen counter. He appreciated this theory-making, but too much thought on his seemingly hopeless situation made him feel sick. “I guess that makes sense,” he said dully. “His connection to me is making it difficult to enter my mind.”
El sat at the opposite end of the table, and she hadn’t said a word for quite some time, obviously horrified by her inability to help her brother. Will knew this was affecting her just as much as it was affecting him. She didn’t want to let people down. Usually, she was the hero. This was a new situation.
Now, El shook her head. “Something is off about this,” she said, inserting herself finally into Dustin, Max, and Will’s discussion. “I can’t explain it… But it was almost like Vecna wasn’t the one blocking me from Will. I said before, you won’t let me in.”
Max tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it felt like Will was blocking me from his own memories.”
Will sat up straight, caught off guard by this statement. The very notion of it seemed ridiculous. “But I wasn’t,” he said. “I mean, first of all, I can’t, obviously. And second, I want more than anyone to get Vecna out.”
“Yeah, it’s not like Will has abilities like you do,” said Dustin to El. Then he looked around the table quickly. “Right?”
“Right,” Will assured him. The last thing he felt was powerful.
“He doesn’t have abilities like me,” El said, her eyes fixed on Will’s, bearing into him like she was searching his soul for further answers. “But he has a strong connection to Vecna. If you can feel what he feels, why not do what he does?”
Now Will almost laughed. This was getting out of hand. “That last thing I’d want to do is whatever Vecna does.” It was bad enough to be so closely connected to the evil villain. Will couldn’t stand the thought of himself being capable of such monstrous things.
“I’m not saying you can… snap limbs and possess minds. At least not now, not that Vecna is so weak. But maybe you could let us into your mind. Somehow…” El leaned forward. “You can channel Vecna’s power to help us.”
Will was speechless. When he thought of Vecna’s grasp on him, it felt anything but empowering. Will felt awful and alienated and stolen from. He felt like Vecna had left an awful stain in his mind. This was not a power. This surely could not help them.
But still, something about El’s suggestion intrigued him. What if, after all this time being nothing but the distressed victim, spending the last five years waiting to be rescued by his friends, Will could finally do something for them? No matter how wrong it felt to channel whatever vile thing Vecna was, if it could make Will a hero for once, perhaps it was worth it.
“This all seems like a stretch,” Max was saying, noticing Will’s conflicted face. “Maybe we should drop it. I-”
“No,” said Will. “I want to try.”
Mike probably looked like an idiot, pacing around in the Byers’ backyard, but he couldn’t help it. He had too much nervous energy to be inside with the rest of the group right now. The moment he’d tried to enter a conversation, he’d realized this. His uptight energy was just making everyone else uptight. He was the most useful if he just stayed out for a while.
He had a lot to think about anyway. There was simply too much on Mike’s mind, and most of it had to do with Will Byers.
Most importantly, Will was being targeted, once again, by Vecna. Mike was still shaken from the way the boy had stumbled into the room that morning, shaking and grasping for signs of reality. It reminded him, most prominently, of when he believed Will was crazy. The Will who had stumbled into that room was a Will known well by a Mike who’d forgotten the Upside Down. He had the same wide eyes, and the same desperate rattle in his voice. Thinking about it too much gave Mike the chills. He just wanted this all to be over. Hadn’t Will suffered enough at the hands of that awful interdimensional creature?
And through it all, Mike couldn’t help but feel like things had changed between him and Will. On the surface, Will said that he forgave Mike for the year that he didn’t believe him, but Mike found that hard to accept. Will wouldn’t admit it, but things had changed ever since then. Things had been changing for years and years now. How could Mike ever come back from a place like that? How would their friendship ever be the same?
El had mentioned that this distance couldn’t be that different than when Will was in California. Sure, they hadn’t talked much then and were still friends afterwards. But even then Mike had sensed something changing in their dynamic. It was clear that the Will and Mike standing here today were not the same ones who had met each other in kindergarten. They weren’t even the same ones they’d been in middle school. Everything was different. They still talked, sure, but the feeling was new. Even their conversations from yesterday had been off. Their last interaction, especially. Mike wasn’t sure what had come over him, but in the midst of teasing his friend (and feeling like everything was right again), he’d simply lost his ability to even speak to him, and just stared like an idiot. This was frightening. It felt terrible to admit, but Mike realized that he was losing Will, and fast. Things were so far from the place they were once, and Mike had a hurtful notion that they’d never go back.
All of this was Mike’s fault, of course. He’d been pushing Will away since the summer he moved to California. Why he would do such a thing was difficult to comprehend, but he supposed Will scared him, in a way. Something about the boy made him queasy and giddy and plagued with his mother’s normal family ideals all at the same time. What exactly Mike was feeling, he preferred to leave up to imagination, and he preferred not to give it a name. At the end of the day, no matter what it was, it was confusing and it was alarming. And now, his friendship with Will would never be the same and it was all his fault.
Mike was practically pacing a hole into the strip of ground on which he walked at this point. He kept glancing up and into the window, where Will, El, Max, and Dustin were talking about various crazy solutions to their hopeless-seeming Vecna situation. No one had any idea what their next step would be if El truly couldn’t find a way into Will’s mind. Their day, although it started with the hopeful success of Dustin’s memory restoration and the full reinstallation of the party, was quickly going downhill.
“Everything good out here?”
Mike stopped and turned to the back door, where Lucas was coming outside, his eyes fixed on Mike with a knowing concern. Damned best friends and their abilities to tell when something was up.
Lucas came closer, crossing his arms as he stopped in front of Mike. “You’ve been out here for half an hour,” he said. “Something’s going on, and not just the new Vecna situation.” He let his expression become softer. “Is it the whole memory thing? Because if so, I feel it too. It’s so weird to be back, knowing that I just… didn’t have all of this for a year.”
Mike gave a short laugh, which indicated no amount of happiness. “Yeah, it is pretty weird. And so hard to explain.” He was glad he wasn’t the only one who had experienced this jarring restoration.
“Yes!” said Lucas. “I feel like Max doesn’t get it when I tell her. Like, she was going through her own thing, obviously. And probably a worse thing, too. But when I try to tell her what it feels like to have my memories back, it just doesn’t come out right.”
“It’s like things make less sense now that you know everything again,” Mike offered.
Lucas clapped him on the back. “See, this is why we’re friends. You get me.”
Mike stumbled a little at the sudden gesture, but steadied himself with a grounding thought. “Hey,” he said. “I was sort of a dick to you during the past year.” It was true. Mike was distant with Dustin and Lucas after Will was pronounced insane, and often short-tempered, which led to arguments like the one they’d had the other day.
Lucas shrugged off this statement. “Yeah, maybe. But I get it, you know? I mean, you were dealing with the loss of your best friend.”
Mike’s mouth curled with a confused smile. “So were you.”
“But not the same.” Lucas looked up, pondering this. “Like, I feel like Mike Wheeler losing Will Byers is a lot different than Lucas Sinclair losing Will Byers. Not that I love him any less. He’s one of my closest friends, but you and him always had something way deeper than what Dustin or I did with him, so I sorta understood why you’d be a dick about it, even if it did piss me off.”
Mike was quiet for a moment, taking this in. Will and him really did have something special, didn’t they? At least before Mike ruined it all, that was.
“How are you feeling now that he’s back?” Lucas asked. “I mean, isn’t it such a relief to have him out of Pennhurst?”
“Yeah,” said Mike, only half present. Then, “I feel like I’m losing him.”
“Hm?”
Mike could hardly hold his anxieties in any longer. “I mean, you said it yourself, we were really good friends. But then I lost my memory and we didn’t even connect for so long… Just, how do you come back from that? Like, I know I’m the same person I was before all that now, but he had to live through it as the same person the whole time. He probably doesn’t even know what to think of me anymore.”
Mike looked at Lucas for some sort of sympathy, but was surprised to find the boy was smiling and shaking his head.
“Just like I said,” Lucas laughed. “You get me. I’ve been feeling something really similar with Max, if it makes you feel any better. I mean, she was asleep for two years, and of course I loved her all the while, but it all feels different now. We hadn’t had a conversation since freshman year. Isn’t that weird?”
Mike hadn’t really considered this, too caught up in his own difficulties. “That is really weird.”
“I just don’t know what we are anymore,” Lucas admitted with frustration. “I mean, are we still dating? Do we just need time? What if she doesn’t even love me anymore?”
Mike rolled his eyes at such a ridiculous thought. “Of course she does,” he said. “You guys are the Lucas and Max.” Mike had never seen such a perfect pair.
Lucas laughed at this, his mood lightening. “Well, then, how about you and Will are still the Mike and Will?”
Mike shoved his friend playfully. “So different.”
“Maybe…” Lucas still looked sincere, despite his jesting. “Bottom line is, you guys are closer than any two friends I’ve ever seen. I doubt anything could change that.”
Mike laughed along, but then he frowned at a darker thought entering his mind. “Maybe,” he said, “but I was super shitty to him. You know, even before all the memory loss stuff. When I broke up with El, especially, I kinda pushed him away. Maybe I was just upset over that, but I feel like something has changed between us. I just haven’t been good to him for a while.” Mike swayed nervously on his feet, not sure why he was telling Lucas all of this, but he needed it off his chest. “It was just sorta… shocking to remember all of that at once when I got my memories back. Sort of eye-opening. I’ve just been a jerk for no good reason.”
Well, really, Mike knew damn well why he’d been awful. It was this strange and lingering feeling within him. This feeling wouldn't go away no matter what he tried to do. It was a feeling that wasn’t right, and there was no way Will felt any of the same after how terrible Mike had been to him. So, this unnamed feeling was simply a lost cause. It shouldn’t have been there to begin with, and certainly nothing good would come of it, so Mike’s only solution had been to push it away. The only way to push it away was, unfortunately, push Will away. He was the source of this lurking feeling.
And now Mike had ruined it all. Over some stupid feeling. Looking back, Mike wished he could slap his younger self squarely in the face.
Lucas seemed like he didn’t know how to respond to this either. This was obviously not something he’d experienced with Max. “I get that,” he said eventually, but Mike could tell he didn’t mean it. Of course he didn’t get it.
Luckily, any further conversation was cut short as both boys turned to see Max throw open the back door and call to them. “You guys better get in here!” she yelled to them. “We think we found a way into Will’s mind.”
No sentence could make Mike happier.
“Really?” Lucas asked, stunned as well. Just this morning, it had all seemed so hopeless.
Max gave a semi-shrug. “We think so. I mean, we’re pretty positive. It’s hard to explain. Just… come in already, will you?”
Lucas and Mike hardly needed to be told twice. If there was a chance at beating Vecna and releasing Will from his grasp, of course his friends were on board. The two rushed in and followed Max into the living room, where the rest of the group was gathered around El and Will. Will sat on the couch with his eyes closed, nodding as El asked him questions.
“If we are both breaking this barrier together, I think we can get in,” El was saying. “Can you tell what memories Vecna might be inside?”
Will’s eyes stayed closed, but his mouth twitched and he nodded slowly. “Maybe… I can sense something that feels off. It’s sorta vague, though. Could that still be it?”
“If that’s the best we’ve got,” said Dustin, leaning forward on the carpet, where he was watching the two siblings. “I think it’s worth a try.”
“Did we break the barrier?” Mike broke into the conversation, trying to get some context as to what exactly was going on with this group. All heads except Will and El’s turned to him. “What’s the plan?”
Will’s eyes popped open, and he looked to the two new attendees of this living room gathering. “Well, it’s a little hypothetical,” he said. “But… El thinks that I can use my own abilities to help her get inside my mind.”
Lucas's eyes bulged. “Your what?”
“Abilities,” Max repeated, shoving him playfully. “We think Will’s got powers.”
Will frowned at this. “Well, no,” he said. “I don’t have powers. Not like Eleven’s, at least. But we think I can… manipulate Vecna’s abilities in some way, since he’s so connected to me. I’ve been able to see what he sees, think what he thinks, and now, hopefully, do what he does… sort of.”
Now Mike’s eyes bulged too. This was the last thing he was expecting to hear, but he supposed it was a welcome surprise if true. Will the Wise, he thought. Mike told him he was stronger than Vecna, and this just went to prove it. Mike couldn’t help but smile at his friend on the couch. “That’s awesome,” he said.
“It’s hypothetical," Will said shortly. “Don’t get too excited just yet.”
It was too late for that. Mike was mentally jumping up and down with giddy enthusiasm. He could only think of a young Will Byers, ten years old and running around in a blanket like it was a cape, chanting fake magic spells as a young Mike chased after him. If those two could hear this, they’d be bouncing off of the walls.
So, yes, maybe many things were changing about Mike and Will, but this just went to prove that it wasn’t always a bad thing. This just went to prove that there was still hope. Mike had to put everything in perspective. He was living in a world where gates to other dimensions opened and ordinary people could do magic, and he was worried about the realism of friendship? It seemed a little ridiculous now.
“Look,” Jonathan was saying, nervously rocking back and forth in his chair. “Let’s just try it, okay? The sooner we start getting rid of Vecna, the better.”
“Right,” said El. “Are you ready, Will?”
Will sighed. “As ready as I can be.” Then he tilted his head, a frown growing across his face, and a hint of fear in his voice. “What do you expect to find in there, El?” Mike could tell a confrontation with Vecna was the last thing Will wanted.
There was a silence as El considered this, and her face suggested it was nothing good. “I’m not sure,” she said finally. “You are Vecna’s last grip on this world, so he probably won’t be taken out without challenge. I could find anything in there. Hopefully I won’t need to use too much energy, but I probably will…”
Max left Mike and Lucas’s side, her eyes brightening as she walked to El, an idea forming in the gleam of her eyes. “Well, what if you had some extra support with you?”
This confused El, and she retracted her head. “Support? How?”
“Well, what if we came with you?”
“I cannot do that,” said El plainly. “My powers-”
“Your powers can’t do that, but what about Vecna’s?” Max asked. “I mean, speaking from experience, Vecna’s got no problem gathering multiple consciousnesses in one mind. If you and Will are working together, could there be a way to get us all into his mind?”
El blinked, considering this possibility. “I guess… I guess we could try.” Then she put her hands on her hips and looked at Will definitively. “Yes. Why not try? We could use friends.”
Will’s mouth remained flat. Mike figured this possibility intrigued him, but he could also see how it would make him nervous. Having Eleven enter your memories was vulnerable enough, Mike knew that much. Having your entire friend group in your memories? The thought of it gave Mike the shivers.
“We don’t have to come,” Mike suggested quickly, trying to ease any of Will’s discomfort. “I mean, if that feels like it would be invasive.”
A moment more, and Will finally opened his mouth to speak, however hesitantly. “El’s right. I mean, who knows what Vecna has waiting for her in there?” He nodded to his sister, returning her look. “I say we try.”
Max nodded, approving this decision. Then, she clapped her hands together, looking around with anticipation. “Okay, what do we do, El?”
Within a minute, the entire group was sat in a circle on the floor, each holding the hands of the people next to them. Mike had Will to his left, and Dustin to his right. He could feel nervous energy from Will, though. His hand was practically shaking in Mike’s.
While the rest of the group theorized nervously about what awaited them beyond this circle, Mike whispered so only Will could hear. “We don’t have to do this,” he said.
A smile, however small, grew on Will’s face. “Thank you, but we do,” he said back, and his face became serious again. “I don’t care what happens, as long as it gets us a step closer to killing Vecna for good. We have limited time.”
This didn’t convince Mike, but he agreed with the goal. “Well, if we’re in there, and… Well, if we arrive at something you don’t want us to see-”
“Mike.” Will shook their intertwined hands with distaste. “It’s fine. Really. I think everyone here has probably seen me at my worst at some point over the last five years. I doubt anything you see in here could be much worse than how you’ve seen me already.”
Mike supposed this was true. And it wasn’t like Will hadn’t also been present for a good handful of terrible moments for his friends. After five years of interdimensional trauma-bonding, it was hard not to be an open book experience-wise. “Okay,” he said, defeated, and painfully let the subject go.
It was good timing, though, because El, on Will’s other side, turned her head to him. “Are you ready?” she asked.
Will took a deep breath and hesitated for only a moment, his eyes angled upwards. “I think so,” he said. “I guess I don’t know how to- Do I just… will something to happen?”
“You will figure it out,” El assured him. “I don’t know Vecna’s powers like my own, but I can still help you. I am sure that it will be easier with my support.”
“Right,” said Will. “Okay, I guess I’m ready, then.” He shook himself out and took another deep breath, though the shaking in his hand did not subside. His face looked incredibly calm despite this. Will Byers had a scary-good poker face. “Let’s find Vecna,” he said to the group.
This was met with a few nervous cheers as the reality of this situation started to set in for everyone. Mike only hoped that whatever they found in Will’s mind, it wouldn’t make matters more complicated than they were now. Vecna worked in mysterious ways, often unpredictable ways. The last thing the group needed right now was the unexpected.
El closed her eyes slowly, and Will followed her lead, trying to navigate whatever he might be capable of in this moment. Slowly, the rest of the group closed their own eyes, until Mike was the last person still looking around the circle, listening to an unbearable silence.
After a moment, his mind started to race about this still silence. What was wrong? Was their plan truly not working? Could Will not tap into Vecna’s abilities?
Panic grew in Mike’s stomach for only a moment before he looked to his friend on his left. He watched Will’s closed eyes with intent, and gave the boy’s hand a quick squeeze of encouragement. If Will felt it, Mike wasn’t sure, but then, Will’s eyes started to shift under their lids in a quick, mechanical motion. This gave Mike the shivers. He recognized the motion not only from when Eleven would use her abilities, but from when Will was possessed by the Mind Flayer.
“Will?” he whispered, worried that something might be very wrong.
Will did not answer this call, but with a jolt of energy, his eyes shot open. To Mike’s horror, they were completely white, like one of Vecna’s broken-limbed victims.
Now Mike was sure something was wrong, and he was ready to jump up and stop the whole operation. Vecna was doing something terrible, and they had to help Will.
Mike had just opened his mouth to shout out when he was suddenly plunged into an icy, dark void.
Notes:
WILL IS EMPOWERED RAHHH (also this note has season 5 vol 1 spoilers)
It was so important for me in this story (when I was planning it before the release of the 5th season) to give Will some agency. I had originally played with the idea of him having some sort of abilities, and I scrapped it in an early version of the plot! But then I watched season 5 and it all clicked! So, I sort of incorporated a season 5-esque genre of empowerment for him. Not exactly the same, since Vecna's not at full power either in this story, and since (I think?) Will's powers sort of stem directly from Vecna, he won't be demolishing any demogorgons, but hey! Still! I'm just happy I could work it in and give Will some much-needed self-advocacy (dw he still gets to suffer despite this. I am literally SO MEAN).
Also omgomgomg I can't WAIT to go memory-diving next chapter!
Aaannnyyyway, I know all this memory stuff is confusing, so tell me if anything's not making sense!! (Well, not everything is supposed to make sense, but you get what I mean)
Chapter 8: No Errors
Notes:
Woah! Hey! CONTENT WARNING for Lonnie Byers. AKA for physical violence/abuse.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When the darkness and the shock of the lurch had cleared, Mike’s vision revealed that he was still in the Byers’ living room.
Well, yes, it was the Byers’ living room, but definitely not the same Byers’ living room that stood today. The place had completely different furniture, for one, and it was much less tidy. Joyce liked to keep her place a little more cohesive these days, but this living room, though lit with warm light to combat the rainy evening outside, looked dark. There were crumpled papers scattered in the corners, an ashtray sitting promptly on the coffee table, and a few abandoned beer bottles hidden here and there. The place also smelled much more prominently of smoke than it did in the present day.
Mike blinked as remembrance of this place struck him. This was the Byers’ house from when Will was much younger. Back when Joyce smoked regularly, and his dad was still around to leave bottles and papers where he pleased. They must’ve entered an early childhood memory.
As Mike blinked again, studying the room, his friends were revealed beside him, also looking around for signs of Vecna as they got used to their bearings. Most of them didn’t know this place like Mike did, but Jonathan took it in quickly, his posture straightening, and Lucas and Dustin seemed to recognize it too.
Max was smiling with a certain pride at her own plan. “It actually worked,” she said, in awe. “This is a memory, right?”
“And it’s definitely distorted,” Dustin added, taking his own look around. “I mean, am I crazy, or does this place feel big?”
Dustin was right. Starting to get used to the details of the room, Mike noticed a few things were off. The walls, for one, were taller than they ought to have been. The room was much bigger too, gaining about three feet of square footage on each side of the floor. Mike was unsure exactly why this size distortion seemed to be happening, but assumed it must be Vecna’s doing. He was here, somewhere. Lurking in the shadows, ready for a fight.
The most prominent feature of the room, though, was a large and blazing fireplace on the wall, making the space uncomfortably bright and unbearably hot, like they were all trapped in a furnace. Flames curled up around its edges, threatening to spill out. Surely, the effect of this fireplace was also exaggerated.
“Where is Vecna?” Lucas asked cautiously, reaching out and touching a nearby lamp to confirm its solidity. His fingers grazed its wobbling shade. “I mean, if we’re supposed to fight him, this doesn’t seem like a great battlefield.”
Jonathan spoke next, his voice laced with a growing worry. “Better question, where’s Will?”
At this comment, Mike looked to the group and realized that everyone was present except for the owner of this memory. Will had somehow slipped from the party, and he was nowhere to be seen now. “Will?” he called out into the spacious room, but only received an echo in return, bouncing off the towering walls. The heat of the fire seemed to grow even more.
Then, El pointed to a spot in front of her. “There,” she said. “That is him. Or… was him.”
Sure enough, when Mike looked to the spot, he saw that a young Will had revealed himself, and suddenly the giant room made sense. They were all seeing it from the perspective of this small boy, who must’ve been no more than seven years old. He was lying on the carpet in the middle of the room with a large box of crayons, drawing a cartoonish picture of a green dinosaur with a goofy smile etched across his face.
“Well, he looks like he’s doing just fine,” said Dustin, looking down at the content child. “Why the hell would Vecna be in this memory? Didn’t El say he held onto strong, bad ones?”
Then, a deep and booming voice filled the room as someone called from the kitchen, making Mike and his friends jump with surprise.“William! Where are you?”
The young Will also tensed at the sound, pausing his coloring with a white-knuckled grip on his crayon, and slowly turning his head toward the call.
Mike noticed Jonathan’s face turn into a scowl when he heard the voice, and had a feeling he knew why.
“It’s our dad,” Jonathan said aloud.
The heat of the fireplace seemed to become even more unbearable, making Mike feel a sticky sweat condense on his forehead. The room, despite its ginormous size, seemed to be closing in.
It only got worse as Lonnie Byers appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, a near-empty bottle in one hand. He scowled down at his young son, watching him with a certain distaste that was far from any paternal emotion Mike would’ve expected of a father.
Mike hadn’t ever known Lonnie that well. When he still lived with Will, Will preferred to play games at Mike's house over his own when they hung out. Mike knew well enough that Lonnie hadn’t been a good father, that he loved to yell and push Joyce around when he drank too much, but to what extent this man had affected Will, Mike never had the courage to ask, and Will was certainly fine not bringing it up.
But now, seeing the hunched but towering man in the doorway, Mike felt frightened, and he found himself wanting to tell this guy to leave Will, the small and bubbly child he was, alone. A sickening feeling was growing in Mike’s gut as he realized he might be about to see what to exact extent Lonnie’s awful parenting went.
The young Will himself looked scared too, his eyes bigger now that he was in Lonnie’s line of sight, like a wild animal caught in the headlights of a car. He was far too young to know anything about alcohol, but his eyes glanced quickly at the bottle in his father’s hand, putting the dots together in his head. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen such a sight.
Lonnie spoke again, quieter but still, somehow, just as booming. “Just got off the phone with someone from your school,” he said, words slurring. Then he pointed a lazy, accusatory finger, stepping closer. “You skipped a required assembly. Where the hell were you, huh?”
Somewhere out of this memory, Mike could just barely feel the real world, and Will was squeezing his hand even more tightly than before. This boy on the floor was definitely no shade of the past, but the real Will. He was experiencing whatever memory this was again, through his own, younger eyes.
The group continued watching like the scene was a film, exchanging nervous looks in the moments of unbearable quiet. Jonathan was seething somewhere to Mike’s left, his heavy breath apparent in the stagnant room.
“Get up, will you?” Lonnie said to his son, raising his voice. “I’m asking you a question. Where the hell were you today?”
Will stood quickly from the carpet at his father’s command, still holding his new drawing in his small hands. He spoke in a hushed tone. “There was a boy in my class, Patrick, who was supposed to be in the assembly,” he explained in a small voice. “But he was sad before, and he told me he was too nervous.” Hurrying through his words, the young boy stood very still. “I thought he needed a friend, so I sat with him.”
Lonnie raised his eyebrows. “You sat with this boy instead of going to your mandatory assembly?”
Will nodded, almost defiant. “He needed me.”
“Needed you,” Lonnie repeated. “Oh, yes. I’m sure.” He rolled his eyes then, walking closer and muttering to himself. “That’s ridiculous, Will.” Then his eyes lowered to Will’s hands. “What’ve you got?”
El stepped forward as Lonnie did, her eyes glaring. “Leave him alone,” she said in a threatening tone. Lonnie didn’t react, unaware of the memory invaders that watched him like hawks. Mike and the others could only be observers of this deteriorating scene.
Will looked down at his drawing and held it cautiously up, his little hands shaking. “I’m making Patrick a drawing,” he explained. “He told me he likes dinosaurs.”
Now Lonnie dragged a hand down his own face in mocking exhaustion. “Jesus Christ. I need to stop letting your spineless mother facilitate this.”
Will tilted his head. “Spineless?”
“It means she’s a fucking doormat, and now she’s making you act like a little girl.” Lonnie leaned down, but still towered over Will. “Look, next time they tell you have to do something, you do it, understand? I don’t care if little Patrick’s bleeding to death. You do what you’re told. Understand?”
Will blinked up at his father, confused by this reaction to his story.
“Understand?” Lonnie tried again, louder.
Will shook on his wobbly little legs, but looked his father in the eyes. “I thought I was being nice.”
That word set Lonnie off. He laughed loudly at the notion, but didn’t seem to find it very funny, stumbling on his feet, his beer sloshing in its bottle. “Look, kid. Nice isn’t gonna get you anywhere in this world. It’s about time you learned that.” With a swift motion, he plucked the drawing from Will’s hands, making the boy gasp. “And this,” he said, holding it up and out of Will’s reach. “This isn’t gonna do you anything. Why don’t you go do something of value for once?” Then, he took the drawing in both hands and ripped it cleanly in half, the dinosaur split down its middle.
Will yelped in disapproval, watching the pieces flutter to the ground. His eyes were starting to well up. “That was mean,” he said quietly.
The fireplace was even hotter now. Mike felt like he might melt in its glaring heat, but couldn’t take his eyes off of the scene playing out in front of him like he was watching a car crash.
Lonnie squinted down at his son. “Say that again?”
Now there were tears on Will’s round cheeks. “That was mean,” he said louder. “You’re mean!” In a small burst of frustration, he attempted to shove his father with his flimsy arms.
Lonnie was obviously unaffected by this action, but reacted quickly, hitting Will across the face so forcefully that it sent him to the ground.
The action made everyone around Mike gasp. Max backed away, El glared, and Lucas and Dustin exchanged a panicked glance. Jonathan could hardly stop himself from rushing forward, his fists in balls and his breathing still heavy. Mike had put a shocked hand to his mouth when he saw the awful sight, but he was frozen in place. He knew there was nothing he could do to change this, and it broke his heart.
Will hit the ground with a thud, bracing his fall with his small hands, and he wailed something incoherently at his father.
Lonnie shook his head, looking down at the boy. “You think that was mean?” He reached down, and Mike tensed, assuming he was about to strike again, but instead he picked up the large box of crayons. With a swift motion, he sent the box sailing into the fire.
Will turned on his side, watching in horror as the box went up in flames in the enormous fireplace. “No!” he screamed, crawling towards it. He put his hands out, as if he could salvage the crayons, but realized it was no use as his fingers approached the stinging blaze, and he recoiled, shaking.
“That was mean,” Lonnie finished. “Maybe it’ll teach you to stop misbehaving at school. See this? This is what comes of being nice.”
Will was fixated on the flames, large tears rolling down his face as he watched a dripping rainbow of wax start to bubble on the firewood.
Mike felt a sharp pain in his stomach as he watched the young boy. He hated seeing Will like this, especially such a young version of him. If the opportunity arose, he thought he might break a brick over Lonnie’s greying head.
Lonnie’s arms were crossed as he continued to watch his son. “Oh, stop crying,” he said shortly. “It’s just a box of crayons. And clean this up, will you? Stop acting like a little brat and clean up your mess.” With this, he turned around and walked casually out into the kitchen again, as if nothing had just happened. As if he hadn’t just created a memory for his son that so awful Vecna was using it as a root for his evil power.
Will just wept on the floor, his giant box of crayons disappearing before his eyes. He looked so unbelievably small beside the exaggerated fireplace. The whole thing looked like it could unhinge a jaw and swallow him whole. Then, Will shakily picked up a torn half of his drawing and threw it into the flames with a tiny scream of great frustration.
The flames rose higher, as if this piece of paper was all the fuel they needed to be let wild. Like a flowing liquid, fire started to seep from the hearth, eating away at the carpet it touched and creeping forward.
Mike took a step forward, despite the heat warning him to get back. “What do we do?” he said over the growing roar of the flame. He looked around, desperate for this whole thing to be over. He could feel Will’s fingers clasping tightly around his own in the real world. This needed to end now. “Where the hell are you, Vecna?” Mike screamed, turning slowly around the room. “Come out and get us! We know you’re here!” Nothing responded to Mike’s invitation, and he could only hear the fire and Will’s quiet cries. He couldn't stand this for much longer. It was torture enough to see Will like this; He couldn’t begin to imagine how Will felt reliving it in this corrupted, twisted way.
Max was also approaching the flowing fire, but she leaned down, gaze on Will. “Maybe we have to help him.”
Lucas joined her and waved a hand in front of the young boy. “Will!” he said. “Will, it’s us. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
Will didn’t seem to realize Lucas was there and continued to stare into the wall of fire before him. The flames continued to seep, now licking at the young boy’s knees, threatening to consume him.
“Jesus Christ, he’ll burn alive,” Max muttered, and she put her hands gently under Will’s arms, pulling him back from the blaze.
Will, although he still didn’t seem to recognize her presence, flailed his limbs at this sudden movement, screaming in protest as he tried to claw his way back towards his melting crayons.
Max kept her grip on him and motioned for Lucas to help her. The two knelt on the carpet and each grasped the screaming boy by an arm. The fire continued to move closer, but Will didn’t seem to care. He wanted to go back.
“Will,” Max tried, struggling to keep a hold of him. “Calm down, you’ll kill yourself if you go closer.” And still, the boy couldn’t hear her.
Dustin paced nervously as the fire grew ever closer. It must’ve been across a third of the room now. “This isn’t working,” he said, his voice cracking with panic. “We need to find Vecna and fight him.”
El closed her eyes, trying to sense the presence of Vecna’s evil. “I don’t think we need to fight,” she said after a moment. “Vecna is rooted in a strong memory in Will’s head. He’s feeding off of a strong feeling. We must combat that.”
Dustin stared at her. “Well, how the hell do we do that?”
Mike couldn't help but sympathize with Dustin’s confusion. He looked to the flame, creeping further and further as Lucas and Max pulled the flailing Will toward the opposite wall. They were running out of time. “This doesn’t look like a feeling,” he said shakily. “It looks like a death sentence.”
El squinted at him, her mouth flat. “I can see that, Mike.”
Amidst the panicked shouting of the others, Mike caught Jonathan moving from the corner of his eye. The older boy walked slowly towards his young brother, his face painted with a knowing look. He didn’t try to stop Will from screaming and crying, he simply sat down across from him, keeping the boy locked in his sight.
Finally, Will’s eyes looked up, and he saw his brother in front of him. His struggle lessened as he took in the older boy. Tears continued down his blotched face. “He is right,” he said with a sniffle. “I’m weak.”
The rest of the group had stopped their movements, staring silently as Jonathan connected with his brother, back to the wall of fire. He took Will’s trembling hand in both of his own and held it firmly. “Don’t you dare listen to him,” he said. It was stern, but not in the way Lonnie had been. Jonathan was stern because he cared. “Listen to me, your kindness does not make you weak.” The fire was practically brushing his back, but he made no action to move.
Will shook his head. “I am… I am spineless,” he said through tears.
“That’s wrong,” Jonathan said. “Your kindness is one of the best things about you, Will. It doesn’t make you spineless.”
Mike watched the fire, however slightly, recede, straying away from Jonathan’s back. Whatever Jonathan was doing, it was working. Mike walked over and sat down next to him, eyes on Will. The others followed until everyone sat in a circle around the young boy, just being with him, no words.
Will recognized (or at least saw) them all now, his head turning slowly around as he took in his growing group of supporters. Then he turned back to Jonathan. “Then what does it make me?” he asked.
Jonathan looked him firmly in the eyes. “It makes you strong,” he said. “Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You are strong exactly the way you are.” He shook his brother’s shoulder, finally letting a small smile grow on his face. “Say it, come on.”
Will used his short fingers to rub away a tear. “I am strong exactly how I am,” he said, and his big eyes welled again, but not with despair like before. With a newly found sob, the young boy jumped forward and embraced his big brother, burying his face in his shoulder and staying there.
Jonathan made no move to let him go and smiled as Will continued to embrace him.
Slowly, the fire receded further, and as Mike looked up, he noticed the walls start to shrink, returning the room to its normal size. No longer did he feel as if the place would collapse in on him and eat him alive. No longer did the burning heat make him sweat with fear.
El made a similar observation, reaching out and feeling the air tentatively, her fingers flowing slowly through the cooling space around her. “That’s it,” she said. “We did it.”
Lucas raised his eyebrows. “That was all? No fight with Vecna?”
El shrugged. “We sort of fought.”
“No, I think I get it,” said Max, and this, Mike supposed, made sense, considering she’d spent so much time in Vecna’s own mind. If anyone was going to recognize his plans, it would be her. “Vecna’s latching onto Will’s insecurities,” Max theorized. “I mean, Will feels like he’s weak. You could hear it when he was talking in the kitchen earlier. So, maybe Vecna’s coming into Will’s mind and amplifying these doubts to have more control over him, right?”
“And we have to prove him wrong,” Mike finished. This definitely wasn’t the type of fight he had expected, but he figured it was one he could handle. As Will’s best friend, this seemed like the perfect scenario for him to deal with.
Dustin nodded from across the circle, trying to take this in. “But, is this it? I mean, we proved him wrong. Does that mean Vecna’s gone?”
Suddenly, the young Will turned his head from Jonathan and spoke to the group in a voice much older than his own. “No,” he said.
With this, Mike was thrown back into the dark limbo in between memory and reality.
He opened his eyes and was, thankfully, back in the present-day Byers’ living room. There was no fire, no tall walls, and no lurking fathers.
Mike looked to his left, where El had crumpled over, exhausted by this extended use of power. Max was already at her side and ready to help, so Mike figured he’d leave them alone and turn his attention to other matters.
Will sat very still, his hand still connected to Mike’s. Slowly, his white eyes rolled back, and his pupils reappeared as he swayed in place, face going pale. A drop of blood fell slowly from his nose.
“Will?” Jonathan tried tentatively from across the circle.
Will nodded, trying to catch his breath. “I can still feel him,” he said. “This isn’t over yet.”
While some of the others had made sure El was comfortable, recharging, and in her bed, Jonathan checked on Will.
Not wanting to discuss anything that had just happened further at the moment, Will had hoped to sneak back to his room unnoticed.
Brothers always noticed.
Will’s memory of the revisited memory was hazy, but he knew well enough what his friends had all witnessed.
He had taken a seat at his desk, head in his hands as he tried to navigate the last few hours of his life. Will wasn't sure why, but he had his sketchbook open in front of him. He mindlessly took a pencil and started to sketch rough images of what he could remember, chaotic lines jutting out at the edges when he became too conflicted to figure out what exactly he pictured in their place. He drew the specter of an empty Mike from the night before. He drew this morning: alone, and then with faceless friends, and then surrounded by trees, looking for a scream. He drew memories of an apoplectic father, and a small boy cowering in his shadow. He drew a roaring fireplace and a circle of friends, joined at the hands. Memories, real or fake, he wasn’t sure, flowed from his mind and down through his hands and into his fingers, finally making their way unceremoniously onto the page as indescribable scribbles.
Jonathan was at his door a minute later, and sat down without a word on the foot of Will’s bed. He waited patiently for Will to turn around and acknowledge him.
Finally, Will turned, closing his book and shoving it away with the page only half-filled. “What?” he asked, though he could guess a million reasons why Jonathan was here.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Jonathan said in a low voice. “I wouldn’t want to talk about it.”
Will nodded to his brother. Truly, whatever they’d witnessed in his memory was the last thing on earth that Will wanted to talk about right now. Maybe in an hour, maybe in a day, once it was no longer fresh. But now? He’d rather forget it, and he’d rather forget his friends had watched it all. He hated it when people had to pity him, and that’s all this was going to bring. Even Jonathan was pitying him now, Will could see it in his eyes. He looked at Will like he was some wounded animal, but that wasn’t what Will was. “I don’t,” he said finally.
“Fine,” said Jonathan, and he leaned forward. “I just want to know that you believe what you said.”
“What I said?”
“Yes.” Jonathan’s eyes bore into Will. “You’re not weak because of who you are.”
Will’s eyes slipped to the side as he thought back to this moment. Insecurities that Vecna was trying to cling to. That was personal. Will would rather they had to fight off anything but his insecurities, because if they had to fight his insecurities, then everyone would know them. Who knew what awful things were going to reveal themselves to his friends if this continued?
“Will, please talk to me,” said Jonathan– stern, but nothing like his father.
“You kicked Vecna from the memory,” Will said, eyes still lingering anywhere in the room but his brother. “Isn’t that proof enough?” He tried to hide the fact that tears were forming in his eyes. That would just prove a plethora of things further: He was having trouble believing anything right now, he was pitiful, and, quite possibly, he was extremely weak.
“I have no idea,” Jonathan was saying. “That’s why I’m asking you. I just want to know that you know you’re strong.”
Will stood suddenly from his chair, arms crossed and still staring at the ground. “Well, I don’t know, Jonathan,” he said shortly. He hated being short with his brother, but this whole thing was frustrating him. “This doesn’t look strong, does it? And that memory, did that seem very strong to you?”
Jonathan, surprisingly, nodded. “Yes,” he said, not taken aback by Will’s snappy attitude. “In that memory, I saw a young boy stand up for what he thought was right. I saw a young Will defying the norm because he knew someone needed his help.” Jonathan stood too, walking towards his younger brother. “So, then I’ll ask you the same question: Does that seem strong?”
And then, Will didn’t know what to say. He supposed he could see the truth in Jonathan’s claim, but something within him kept on telling him it was all bullshit. He knew something had clicked back in the memory. He remembered being small, and he remembered listening to his brother's words, repeating them back. He remembered crying relieved tears rather than guilty ones. He shouldn’t feel like he did right now. Jonathan had helped him. “Vecna’s trying to hold onto it,” Will said quietly. It was only a theory, but he knew it was true.
“Then you can’t let him,” Jonathan said, definite. He put his hands on Will’s arms and looked him in the eyes. “You think you’re stronger than him.”
Will nodded slowly. “I do,” he said, and though the doubts in his mind began to recede, he could still feel a lingering something, prying at the edges of his memory to get back in.
After having his talk with Jonathan, Will was informed that the group wanted to get together and talk about their plan going forward. It was still about ten minutes until everyone had agreed to meet in the living room (except El, who was fast asleep), but Will sat there early.
In his head, he played with the ideas of strength and weakness. What really counted as either?
Luckily, Will’s thoughts were cut short by a face he’d been hoping to see for a while now. Mike entered the room with a glass of water in hand, and his face lit up when he saw Will on the couch. All Will could remember was Mike holding his hand in the memory circle, comforting him from the real world, even inside the memory. He also remembered Mike’s astonished face meeting him as his vision had cleared and he reentered reality. Maybe Will was weak, but in that moment, Mike looked at him like he was the strongest person on earth. Will didn’t know how to feel about the idea of using Vecna’s abilities, but Mike certainly thought it was a miracle.
“Hey,” Mike said, taking Will out of his own thoughts. He made his way over and put the glass in Will’s hands. “Thought you might need something. I mean, this is a lot to handle, and you seemed kinda pale earlier.”
Will accepted the glass and motioned for Mike to sit down beside him, tilting his head like an invitation. He drank for a while, not realizing how dry his throat had become, before a cold possibility settled on him. The blank-faced Mike of last night flashed across his vision. “And you’re real?”
“Of course.”
Will did not give up his suspicion as Mike joined him on the couch. As far as he knew, Vecna hadn’t altered anything since that morning, which meant it was about time he made something happen. Will drummed his fingers nervously on his leg. “I guess that’s a stupid question to ask,” he said, realizing himself. “You could say yes in a fake memory too.”
“I could,” Mike admitted slowly, not sure how to combat this logic. “But I am real. Promise. I think therefore I am and all that.”
“Descartes.”
Mike grinned. “You’re such a nerd.”
“Says you.”
So they were back to this. Laughing and joking like the day before at Max’s place. Will supposed Vecna wouldn’t create something so untroubled. And plus, this Mike seemed authentic.
After a pause, Mike asked, “So, are you feeling pretty badass?”
Will retracted his head at the thought. “Why in the world would I feel badass right now?”
Mike shrugged. “I don’t know… maybe because you have powers?” He was obviously thrilled by the very concept of this, much more than Will would ever be.
Will rolled his eyes at the display. “I don’t have powers, we already established this. I’m just-”
“Chanelling Vecna’s abilities, yeah, yeah,” Mike said, goofy with pride for his friend. He shifted in his spot. “It still counts. I mean, you have the whole bloody nose thing and everything. You’re… you’re, like, practically Eleven now.”
Something about this statement made Will’s face collapse. He didn’t want to be El. If Mike was going to love him, he’d want it to be because he was Will. Not because he was another Eleven. “I’m not,” he managed to stutter.
Mike seemed confused by this reaction, his eyebrows raising. “Hey, El’s awesome. You don’t have to be insecure about-”
“Mike, I’m not. Don’t say that. Just don’t… don’t think of me like that.”
While the negative in this comparison was still lost on Mike, he decided to let it go, much to Will’s relief. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, you’re totally different.” His gaze widened with a new wave of excitement as the image of something popped into his mind. “Your eyes. They rolled back and went totally white, like you were some… some deity or something.”
Will wasn’t amused by this either. Quite honestly, the idea of it made him sick to his stomach. He rocked back in his seat, hands fidgeting nervously. “I don’t like being capable of that,” he admitted.
“What?”
Will sighed, unable to keep this in. “I don’t want to be able to do what Vecna does. I mean, he’s… he’s evil. He killed so many people. He’s awful and he– Well, he ruined my life. I don’t want to be capable of something like that.” He tried not to let his eyes well up again. At this point, it was just plain mockery, but recalling his display of power had that effect. Channeling Vecna’s abilities, it just seemed so wrong.
Mike frowned at his friend’s confession. “Will,” he said.
“I feel disgusting.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I do.” Will leaned back and collapsed into the cushions of the couch, shutting his eyes tightly. He didn’t expect Mike to understand what he was feeling.
Mike hesitantly put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Will watched his eyes shift as he tried to conjure up what to say next. “Look,” he finally got out. “If you look at it like that, yeah. I get it. It’s scary to think of yourself being capable of that.”
Will turned his head to look at his friend, but did not respond, silently waiting for further conviction.
“But the way I see it,” Mike continued. “Well, I think you’re making this whole thing your own, right? That’s the difference between you and Vecna. You both have the capability to… kill people and stuff, sure, but you, Will, you choose to use this for something else. I think that’s really powerful.”
Will frowned. “It’s powerful that I don’t kill people.”
“Yes,” said Mike quickly. Then he tilted his head. “Well, yes, but, no, that’s not what I meant. I guess I’m saying…” He reached down and took Will’s hands in his own. “I would’ve been dead by now if I were you.”
Will looked down at their hands, trying not to make too much of the gesture, and then back up with a raised eyebrow. “What?”
“I would have died,” Mike repeated. “I mean, you’ve been dealing with all of this awful, horrific Vecna crap since you were young, right? If it were me, I mean, I probably would’ve just… just given up by now.” And he looked Will in the eyes, his own were big and passionate with the truth of his words. Will could feel the truth of his words. “But you never gave in,” he said, quieter now. “You never gave in, and now you’re completely turning the entire narrative on that magical dickwad’s head.” He smiled, shaking Will’s hands. “I mean, that’s not disgusting. That’s the most badass thing I’ve ever heard of.”
Will, despite his dreary mood, couldn’t help but smile at Mike’s explanation of it all. He thought maybe his cheeks were going red too. “Why does everything make more sense when you say it?” He let words carelessly slip from his mouth, overwhelmed by Mike’s own.
Mike glanced down sheepishly and then back again. “You think so?”
The reality of what Will had said hit him and he ripped himself from this giddy moment, taking his hands away from Mike’s “I- no. That’s not… Well, yes, of course it made sense but that’s not- I don’t want you to-” He sighed, trying to collect himself. This was going swimmingly. “Thank you for saying that,” he decided on. “It meant a lot.”
Mike’s face, although it had become confused in Will’s attempt at a cover-up, shifted into a small smile. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, of course.”
Luckily, before Will had to save himself further from this moment, others started trickling into the room. Lucas, Max, and Dustin, holding a bowl of chips, came in and sat, ready to talk action. Jonathan entered a few seconds later, leaning against the wall instead of taking a seat. Will was comforted by the number of people. He figured it was harder to create a fake memory with more people in it. He hoped this meant large groups were generally safe.
“Well?” Max asked. “What’s our next move?”
The group stared, Will noticed, mostly at him, a cautious energy in the air. No doubt they’d all had some conversation about the memory they witnessed while he was talking to Jonathan or Mike. Now, they treated him like he was fragile. If they really wanted him to believe he wasn’t weak, they’d stop treating him like some glass figure.
Dustin placed a chip in his mouth and sent a loud crunch around the room. “Well, we just keep going into memories, right?” he asked. “Just go in there, figure out whatever thing Vecna’s latching onto, and prove it wrong.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his seat, clasped hands resting on his legs. “Is it just me, or does that seem too easy?”
Mike nodded from beside Will. “It’s not just you,” he said. “I was thinking the same thing. I mean, not to say that what we had to do wasn’t a big deal…” His eyes trailed to Will, and then left just as quickly. “But in the grand scheme of things, would Vecna really let himself be defeated by us… talking it out?”
“Well, maybe whatever we have to do next will be harder,” Max suggested. “Vecna saw that we got through to Will in this first memory pretty easily, so he’s gonna make whatever’s next more difficult. Maybe it was just an error on his part.”
“Vecna doesn’t make errors,” Will said plainly, trying to conceptualize why Vecna had let his grasp on Will’s memory go so quickly.
“You said he did,” Jonathan argued. “Just this morning, you said he made fake memories that you could tell were fake. That’s an error. Let’s just hope this is too.”
A chill ran down Will’s spine as a dark thought formed in his head. It was like he could almost reach in and touch Vecna’s own thoughts. “It wasn’t an error,” he said. “The memories. He did that on purpose.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mike tried to say to him, putting a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. “Why would Vecna want you to know what was real and what was fake?”
“He doesn’t,” Will said, his mind racing. “I mean… he did. The first few times. He wanted to give me a false sense of authority. A feeling like I could tell reality from his creations, so he showed me intentionally messed-up memories. But now…” Will’s hands started to shake and he got up slowly from the couch. His words came out in a rattle. “Mike, we just talked, correct?”
“Yeah,” said Mike. “We talked about how badass you are.”
Will nodded. “Okay,” he said. Then his eyes met Jonathan’s. He was scared to even consider a possibility. “Jonathan, we talked,” he said.
Jonathan stood up straight from the wall. “Sort of,” he said. “I mean, I came into your room. I gave you a hug, but you said you needed to be alone. I wanted to respect that.”
“No,” said Will, stumbling a little where he stood. Surely his conversation with Jonathan had been real. Of anything today, that seemed the least likely to be fake. His brother had even tried to convince him not to give in to Vecna. How could something like that be fake?
“Will, what?” Max was saying. “What’s going on?”
“I have to… I have to check something.” Will ran quickly from the room without responding from the various cries of confusion from his friends. The world felt small as he ran down the hall and to his bedroom door. Surely what he thought was happening wasn’t the case.
Slowly, he approached his desk, where his sketch book still lay. In his memory, he’d stopped drawing when Jonathan came in and abandoned it to go out to the living room when he left. The page, in his mind, was half empty. Scattered sketches littered it, but blank, white space still lived.
Now, to Will’s horror, he took in a completely different page. It was as if Will had never really put down his pencil. The paper was full to the brim with scribbles and rough outlines of memories that pulled from his head. His hands shook as he continued to stare at his own art. He saw a sketch that resembled his conversation with his brother, a faceless figure reaching out to comfort Will in his doubts, but the fullness of this page made it apparent this memory had never happened.
And Will had no idea until now.
The boy dropped to his knees, still gripping the darkened page. He thought maybe he heard his friends rushing in behind him, asking him if he was okay, but he couldn’t tear himself from this horrific sight, and what it meant.
Whatever Vecna was doing, it was no mistake. This seemingly safe and comforting memory, now revealed to be nothing more than a mirage, was a message. Vecna was telling Will that he didn’t get to have any leverage when it came to these fake moments. This was Vecna’s game, and Will was playing by his rules.
Notes:
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT WASN'T REAL!
Craziness. You know, I said psychological horror for a reason. Poor Will, man. Give the guy a break (he will not get one).
Annnnyyywayyyysss.... hopefully you liked the chapter! See you soon hopefully!!!!(and get it??? Why I'm making the tumblr chapter images??? They're like Will's drawings!!!)
Chapter 9: The Mother
Notes:
Hello! Sorta CW bc they discuss Lonnie at the end?? But they super don't go into detail so it should be okay.
Also gifting you a break from the horrors(tm) bc the whole chapter is from Mike's POV so you KNOW it's actually happening! I will not be so kind next time.
Also craving feedback! Pleeeeeeaaasseeee give me feedback! I love to improve/know what NOT to change going forward
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mike ran his eyes again over the brightly-lit cereal aisle, his mind only half-fixated on the question of which brand to buy.
El, on the other hand, had three boxes of sugar-filled breakfasts in her arms, and was currently taking another off the shelf. She displayed her newest find, red cereal bits with blue marshmallows, to Mike. “Ghostbusters cereal,” she read aloud. "Don't you all love Ghostbusters?”
Mike shrugged. “Yeah, guess so.”
El flung the boxes into their cart and turned her dark, leveled eyes to Mike. “Stop being like that,” she said to him.
“Caring?” Mike reworded.
El rolled her eyes and started to push the cart forward down the aisle. “Crazy,” she decided on, throwing the word over her shoulder so it reached her preoccupied friend. “He is with Dustin. He will be fine for ten more minutes, and the quicker we get done, the better.”
Mike couldn’t believe El could be so confident in that. Will, plagued with phony visions from Vecna, was currently out in the car in a public parking lot. There were so many things that could go wrong with that. Someone could see him, first of all, and then he’d be straight back to Pennhurst without question. Or, worse, he could start having some crazy fake memory, run off, and then they’d never find him. “I just think it would’ve been smart to leave him with Jonathan,” Mike said, following behind and picking up a few small cooking items as they passed another shelf.
“He wanted to get out of the house,” El said. “And plus, big groups are better for him than small ones.”
“And you realize he’s out there with only Dustin, right?”
“For 15 minutes.” El continued through the store, not looking back as she spoke. She stopped by the freezer section and took in a wall of frozen Eggos. “Mike. You know he hates all the attention from everyone. He hates being prodded and protected like a little kid. And do you know what he has always liked about you? You do not treat him like he could shatter at any moment. And now look at you.” She opened the freezer door and frowned. “Three boxes or four?”
Mike made a frustrated gesture with his hands, throwing them up and back down in quick succession. “What am I supposed to do, then? Ignore everything? Just pretend like it’s not happening?” He wasn’t treating Will like he was fine china. He was simply showing concern for, arguably, a very concerning situation. Will’s current state worried him, and was that really so unacceptable?
El took this as a sign to grab three boxes, which Mike thought was way too many, but he didn’t say anything. “That is not what I’m saying,” El continued. “You should care. Of course you should care, but Will isn’t a baby. He can fend for himself, and you know it. He spent a whole week in the Upside Down alone. At eleven! I’m sure he can survive 15 minutes without us in the car.”
Mike closed his mouth, taking this in as they made their way further across the supermarket. He supposed El was right, and he was getting way too worked up about this. It would be a disservice to Will to deny that he was fully capable of handling himself in threatening situations, and Mike would know that most of anyone. El was also right about Will hating this attention, and maybe the best Mike could do for him was to be a break from the babying. But at the same time, Mike couldn’t stop thinking of yesterday, and how frightened Will had looked, both in the morning when he’d stumbled into the living room, and after he realized Vecna’s trickery through his sketches. This wasn’t just a threatening situation. This was an entire threatening state of mind for Will. “It just scares me,” Mike found himself saying in the middle of an aisle lined with canned foods. He picked up a can of tomato soup and studied it. “I mean, you didn’t experience it when we all thought Will went crazy.”
“Which he didn’t,” said El.
Mike tossed the soup into the cart. “Right, but I saw him like he did. And when I saw Will yesterday, shaking over that scribbled notebook page on the floor, he reminded me of the Will that I saw when I thought he went crazy.” Mike shivered at the parallel in his mind, an image of both versions of his best friend, wild in the eyes and grabbing out with desperate, clasping hands. He couldn’t tell the two apart.
“So, you think he’s going crazy,” El offered with a leveled look and a monotone drawl.
“No,” said Mike quickly. “No, of course not, I just… Whatever Vecna’s trying to do to him… we can’t let it happen.”
El nodded at this, feet swaying. “I agree.” Then, a sly smile played across her face. “If only you had cared this much about me back when we were dating.”
Mike retracted his head. “I did! I do! You should’ve seen me when you got taken for the Nina Project. I was… I was determined to get you back.” This was not a lie. Mike had genuinely cared about saving El. He'd care about saving any one of his friends.
El looked like she was about to say something else, but promptly shut her mouth and pushed the cart forward, stifling a laugh.
Mike trailed behind her, his tennis shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Now he was a little annoyed by the implications of her snarky statement. “What’s then even supposed to mean?” he asked. “Of course I cared about you! I mean, you were my girlfriend.”
“It was a joke, Mike,” said El. “More funny to me than to you, I think.”
“I think so too.” Mike crossed his arms as they continued along. The whole breaking-up-with-El situation was still a bit hazy for him, despite the fact that he remembered every moment now. Just as it was eye-opening to gain back memories of mistreating Will, he supposed it was eye-opening to see how his relationship with Eleven had been. Thinking about it simply confused him, though. His motives were all mixed up. With a sigh, Mike lifted his head. “You don’t think I’m a pretentious asshole, do you?”
Eleven shook her head. “You are not an asshole, Mike.” She paused, taking in another shelf of food. “Well, you have moments of asshole. But everyone has moments of asshole. Overall, you are not that. You care a lot. About people you love.”
“You also just implied I didn’t care about you.”
She shook her head at him. “Well, I didn’t mean it. But you definitely didn’t-” El stopped again and pursed her lips. “I know you care about me, Mike. It was really a joke. You are a great friend. I am glad we are friends.”
Mike finally put on a smile, figuring he would accept that her intentions had been lighthearted, even if the comment rubbed him the wrong way. That was just the fault of Mike’s own sensitivity. “I’m glad we’re friends too.” Whatever truly had happened between Eleven and Mike, Mike was just glad they’d still come out okay on the other end. Sure, maybe they weren’t fit to be in a relationship, but that didn’t mean Mike didn’t admire the hell out of El, her loving personality, and her awesome abilities.
El picked up one last item, a loaf of bread, and turned. “Well, I think this is everything. Let’s get back and check on Will.” She put her hands on her hips, stern at the subject of her brother’s situation. “But seriously, he does hate all the attention the others are putting on him right now. I can tell, so just… try not to seem as concerned as you’ve been trying to be all morning. He doesn’t need that from you too.”
When the car was finally in his line of sight, Mike let his shoulders relax, and the grocery bags in his hands took on their full weightful impact. Through the closed window, he could see Dustin’s large smile as he told some fantastical story. Will was somewhere ducked down in the back, where any over-curious bypassers couldn’t spot him. Everything was fine.
El gave a satisfied glance in Mike’s direction, but said nothing to commemorate her victory. Instead, she walked over and used her empty hand to open the trunk.
Dustin’s head popped out an opening window, trying to look at his friends. “Did you get more chips?”
Mike rolled his eyes as he dug through their haul. “Must’ve forgot ‘em.” Then, seeing Dustin’s disappointed face, held up two unopened bags. “Of course we did. How was the wait?”
“Oh, just fine. I’m telling Will how he missed the release of the last Jaws movie. He was devastated.”
“Well, did you tell him it wasn’t that good?”
Dustin frowned. “That is simply an opinion. And a wrong one at that.”
Mike shut the trunk after Eleven had loaded the last of the bags. “Don’t tell me you liked The Revenge.”
“It was artistic!”
“It was awful. I thought you, of all people, would have enough common sense to know that.” Mike laughed to himself as he went over to the driver’s side and got in. “But who am I kidding? I’m talking to the guy who watched My Little Pony well into middle school.”
Dustin shook his head. “Who said I stopped?” he muttered.
Then, Will popped his head up from where he was hiding in the back seat, mouth agape. “Wait, the last Jaws was bad?”
Mike looked at him in the rearview, happy to see that he was far from the state he’d been in yesterday afternoon. As far as Mike knew, today had been vision-free. He hoped it stayed that way. “What were you expecting after Jaws 3-D? None of the sequels were as good as the first one. The writing really fell off. So many inconsistencies.”
“Oh, yeah.” Dustin leaned back in his seat with a playfully annoyed look across his face. “I forgot you’re Michael Wheeler, the writing snob of Hawkins Cinema. Don’t think you can be all hoity-toity about it just ‘cause you get your stories published in the school paper now.”
This caught Will’s attention, and he leaned forward from his seat, sticking his face into the front half of the car to look at Mike with a wide smile. “You seriously publish stories in the paper?”
Mike felt his cheeks flush, and he kept his eyes on the wheel. “Barely. I’ve only published one. And they cut off the last line, so obviously I’m not actually all that respected because of it.” He still couldn’t believe they’d cut off his beautifully poetic ending like that. He was as far from respected as someone could be.
Will didn’t seem to care about the cut-off humiliation. He looked bewildered. “That’s so cool, Mike.”
Mike’s grip on the wheel tightened as he felt himself redden further, looking anywhere but his friend. Why did Will make him so nervous? “Yeah, right,” he managed. “Put your seatbelt on. We’re going.” He shifted the gear and put his foot on the gas pedal, starting to maneuver his way out of the parking lot and allowing time for the heat in his ears to recede. For a while, he just drove, drowning out the idle conversation of his friends, still on about Jaws. When El mentioned Will’s situation, Mike tuned back in.
“So, Will,” El said, looking into the backseat. “Any further action from Vecna today?”
Will shrugged, which Mike watched from the rearview mirror again. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “You tell me. We have yesterday all figured out, right? We went into my memory, the Jonathan conversation was fake, Mike was real, our group discussion was real…” He paused, frowning. “Was the movie real? We watched a movie last night, right? Because Max thought it would be good to take our minds off of all this.”
“Right,” said Dustin, nodding to his friend.
“We watched The Empire Strikes Back.”
Mike shook his head. “Return of the Jedi.”
Will raised an eyebrow, obviously taken aback by this mistake, but Mike watched him shake it off. “Right. Yes. We watched that.” His smile returned as something dawned on him. “I love the ending, when Anakin’s ghost appears. I remember that from last night.”
Now it was Dustin’s turn to break the news. “You fell asleep halfway through. Couldn’t keep your eyes open for the final battle, even.”
Mike certainly remembered that part, mostly because the sleeping boy had somehow found the means to use his shoulder for a pillow.
“Shit. Yeah, okay.” Will deflated again. “So, last night was a little off. Nothing big.” The shake in his voice suggested he felt otherwise. “And what about this morning? I woke up around seven, had toast for breakfast, played cards with El…”
El nodded, confirming this. “We played War. I won.”
“Yes,” said Will, but then he looked down at his feet. “Okay, I’m not so sure about this next part. I think it might be wrong, ‘cause no one has mentioned it since.”
“Hit us,” said Dustin. “Only one way to find out.”
Will inhaled sharply, bracing himself. “People from Pennhurst came to the door. They were asking you if I was here. They’re out looking for me.”
Mike shared a confused glance with El and shook his head. “No, yeah. That didn’t happen. Don’t worry, no one’s after you.”
El clicked her tongue. “I would not say that,” she said slowly. “Chances are, there are people looking for Will. We can’t forget about that. We have to be very careful about answering that door. Just because it has not happened yet does not mean it won’t.”
The reality of this settled in a wave of silence over the group. Mike focused on passing traffic signs, not wanting particularly to think about how this could all work out. He’d be devastated if Will somehow got sent back, and no doubt the rest of the group would find themselves in deep trouble too, as accomplices to his escape. And if they were all in custody, how would they defeat Vecna?
“We’ll deal with them if they come,” El continued, realizing the gravity of her statement. “We have to deal with them. Will won’t go back.” She looked back to her brother with a firm nod, waiting for him to return one.
Will didn’t nod. He looked straight forward, eyes reflected in the mirror in a way that made it seem like he was staring at Mike, but Mike could tell he was really somewhere deep within his head. “We’ll see about that,” he said at last. “With all these fake memories, I really do feel like I’m going crazy.”
Mike’s hands tensed on the wheel again, his mind flashing back to the same parallel from before. “Don’t say that,” he said rigidly. “You’re not.”
“I could be. I can’t even tell what happens in my day-to-day life anymore. For all I know, everything from this morning, every single word I said was fabricated!” He put his head in his hands, seething with frustration. “I can’t live like this. I hate it.”
El laced her fingers together in the front seat, looking longingly out the window. “We are going to get him out of you. I just… I’m sorry I can’t do it faster. I would. I promise I would if I could. I want to help.” It wasn’t apparent as Mike glanced over at her a few times, but he thought maybe her eyes were starting to water.
Will softened. “It’s not your fault, El. I know it’s not your fault. Please don’t think I’m frustrated with you.”
In another beat of silence, Dustin’s contemplative face caught Mike’s attention. He looked up, putting together an imaginary puzzle in his head. Dustin Henderson, Mike thought, could probably solve any problem in the world if you gave him enough time to ponder.
“You need a failsafe,” he said finally to Will. “Something fool-proof that’ll signify what’s real no matter what.”
“I don’t think anything would work,” Will said glumily in return. “How it seems, Vecna doesn’t leave holes big enough for us to fit a failsafe in.”
Then an idea popped suddenly into Mike’s head, and he sat up straighter. “What if we kept a log? We could have someone keep track of what you do everyday and then you can read that whenever you feel confused.” He drummed his fingers, liking the sound of his own plan. “I mean, it won’t prevent anything, but it could at least help you feel more grounded.”
El raised her eyebrows. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“I’d do it,” Mike continued, rambling more than anything now. This whole idea sort of made his chest tight. “If you want me to, that is. I’m pretty good at keeping track of things. And I write.”
Will tilted his head, a guilty frown growing. “Oh, Mike, that’s sweet, but I don’t want to make you have to-”
“No,” Mike blurted, again red in the face, though he hoped no one could tell. “No, no. I want to. I can.” His eyes darted up, and he realized he was about to drive past his neighborhood with a smile. “Here, I have a ton of extra journals at my house. We can just stop by quick and I’ll get one. No one should be home right now, and I should probably leave my parents a note anyway.” Mike had been gone for a few days now without telling his parents where he was. It wouldn’t be the first time, since extended sleepovers had been known to happen in the past year between him and Dustin and Lucas, so he doubted his parents were too worried, but he was definitely pushing it on the acceptable timeframe of absence.
“I say we do it,” said Dustin. “I mean, it sounds like the best thing we’re gonna get for now.”
Mike was already turned into the neighborhood, driving down the street until he was outside his own house. As he’d guessed, there were no cars out front, so they’d be free to go in, take what they needed, and leave without getting caught by Mike’s skeptical parents.
Once they were in, Mike tried to write his explanation note to his family as fast as possible, leaning over the kitchen counter with a pen while his friends looked around. Dustin had already found his way into the fridge, and El was not far behind him, peaking a few sly glances at a potential snack. Even Will had pocketed a few chocolates from a jar by the sink, though he assumed Mike hadn’t noticed.
“What are you even writing?” Dustin asked eventually, peeling himself a banana with his elbows on the counter.
“Just said I was at yours,” Mike responded, writing in the last few words and signing his name. He put the pen down and shoved the note to the middle of the table where it could easily be seen. “There. That’s it. Let’s go get that notebook. I’ve got a ton in the basement.”
Mike herded his friends away from the fridge and hastily down the stairs to the basement. When he entered the room, he breathed it in, recalling the memory that El had stepped into. The basement that stood today was a much different basement than back then, having lost its childhood charm. Most of the toys and movies and books had been sold, donated, or stuffed away into one of the many Wheeler closets and crevices. The space was still primarily Mike’s, since he was the only one who ever had any reason to come down here, but it wasn’t as magical. Remnants of its once fort-like stature scarcely remained, though Mike did realize he still had a few of Will’s drawings taped to the wall above the couch. This was a detail he’d rather not have the others ponder too long on. Then again, it wasn’t that weird to have your best friend's art on your wall. But maybe it was if that best friend had been in a mental institution for the past year.
Mike cleared the debate from his mind and went to work trying to figure out where he’d stored his journals. He had many, since he always asked for them for Christmases and birthdays when he was in middle school. He went through them quickly enough, but had developed a small hoard of unused notebooks over the years.
“Oh, here,” he muttered, feeling around under the couch until he placed his hands on a dusty box. He reached inside and pulled out the top journal. It was small, dark green, and had a nifty elastic strap to keep it closed. This would work just fine.
Mike turned around and was about to reveal his findings to the group, but he stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the front door open somewhere above him. Someone was home. This shouldn’t have been happening. His mother and father both had work today.
“Mike?” his mother’s voice echoed through the main level and down through the stairway, hitting Mike like a blade of ice. “Mike? Is that you in the driveway?”
“Hide,” Mike whispered as quietly as possible to his friends, who also stood frozen where they were.
The three tried to do their best. The basement wasn’t necessarily the best place for a game of hide-and-seek. Eventually, Will decided on a spot behind the couch and gathered the others to join him. If that was the best they could do, Mike would just have to pray his mom didn’t look too far into it.
Her footsteps were already sounding on the stairs, and her wide-legged pants and shiny work flats came into view, making Mike stiffen even more, holding the journal to his form. When her face finally came into view, she registered her son immediately, eyes going soft. “Oh, Mike,” she said. “I thought that was you. I came home because I have to go pick up your sister from the airport, but then I saw your car and-” She sighed and stepped finally onto the basement floor. “Where have you been the last few days? I was so worried, especially after that… that awful conversation at breakfast.”
Mike reddened and looked down at his feet, having forgotten about the things he yelled at his parents. “It’s all fine, Mom,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
His mother pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, Mike. You were right. I was-” She paused and stepped forward again, this time coming directly to her son and taking his face in her hands, examining it. “What have you been up to?”
Mike let her do her concerned-parent-act. “I’ve just been at Dustin’s,” he said. “Lucas and I both. Dustin got this… cool new video game. I should really get back…”
His mom cut in. “You know, we got a very concerning call from Pennhurst.”
Mike felt the color drain from his face at the mention of the institution. He tried to seem unknowing, pulling his face from the motherly grasp. “Pennhurst. What about?”
His mom looked hesitant to confess. “You haven’t heard? Haven’t they called Lucas and Dustin’s houses?”
“No, I have no idea,” Mike lied. “Is something up with Will?” His eyes darted as he tried to listen in and make sure his friends’ breathing wasn’t audible.
“He recently… broke out. Isn’t that awful? I think… I think they called because you were one of the last ones to visit him.” Mike’s mom tilted her head, taking in her son’s expression. “Oh, honey, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? I’m sure this news isn’t sitting well with you.”
You can talk to me about anything. Mike fought the urge to scoff. This was the same woman who refused to admit the possibility of Mike being depressed. He continued his act. “That’s… horrible,” he said. “Well, I should probably go tell Dustin and Lucas-”
His mom took his arms. “Mike, I wouldn’t. I think they might be trying to keep this whole situation under wraps for now, okay? I thought it was only right to tell you, but it’s probably best if we keep this in the family.”
Mike nodded, too quickly. “Okay, yeah. Whatever. I won’t tell.” His gaze flickered around the room again.
His mother’s eyes now took on a curious shape. “Is everything alright, Mike?”
“Yes,” Mike responded. “Yes, fine. I just… Dustin and Lucas are waiting and-” He trailed off as he watched his mother’s expression change, looking not at her son, but past him, her grip tightening. Mike’s blood ran cold. “What is it?”
“Michael, what is he doing here?”
Mike sighed in defeat and slowly turned his head back, meeting Will’s large eyes with his own.
Will looked speechless for a moment. He shook his head slowly, trying to form words. “I’m sorry,” he managed softly. “I thought she was gone. He made me think it was-”
“Mike, answer me!” Karen said, shaking her son. “Don’t tell me… Don’t tell me you had some part in this, did you?”
Mike fought his way out of his mom’s grasp again. “Mom, listen,” he said. “This isn’t what it looks like. We’re helping him.”
“We?”
Dustin and El unceremoniously stood from behind the couch as well now, having no further point in keeping themselves down.
Karen shook her head at the sight, unbelieving. “Honey, he’s crazy. This is crazy. What are you trying to do?”
Mike ran his hands anxiously down his face, completely lost as to what he should do next. “El, is there any way you could just… restore her?”
El’s face remained downturned. “Not if we want to conserve energy for Will. I can’t use my powers right now.”
“Powers?” Mike's mom repeated back. “You’re all talking crazy!” She shook her head again, as if trying to make it all go away. Then her gaze returned to Mike. “Michael, we are going to call your father, we are going to call Dustin’s mother and…” She gestured erratically in El’s direction. “This girl’s parents, and then we are calling Pennhurst and telling them-”
“No!” said Mike loudly. “Will’s not going back. Mom, I can explain this.”
“I don’t believe you can.”
Mike shut his eyes tight and opened them again with a deep intake of breath. “Mom, you need to listen to me right now,” he urged her. “You always tell me I can talk to you about whatever, and here I am! I want to talk to you, I want to explain. Could you please just let me do that?”
His mother looked like she would counter this statement, but then she closed her mouth, looking slowly around the room at the various unexplained intruders in her house, and then back to her son. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll listen to you.”
Now the biggest question was: How in the world was Mike going to explain this all to his mother? “Okay,” he said. “Okay, thank you.” Then, gesturing hesitantly to the couch. “You might want to sit down.”
Once his mom had taken a seat, straight stature as she continued to make nervous glances in Will, Dustin, and El’s direction, Mike sighed. “You’re not gonna believe any of this,” he prefaced.
His mother shrugged. “Try me.” She had no idea.
With this, Mike burst into a long-form monologue, words flowing from his mouth before he could ever really think them out. He tried to stick to the basics, which was sort of hard to do, since nothing was very basic about all of this. The general gist of his explanation, though, was that there was another dimension, an evil mind-power guy who lived in it, and he made everyone forget he existed except for Will, which was why the past year had been so off. Mike’s friends tried to add their own details where they could: El described the Upside Down battle with Vecna, Dustin mentioned the slimy armies of demogorgons, Will explained his own current affliction. Mike actually thought it was turning out to be a pretty well-rounded explanation. He tried to ignore the extremely skeptical look that wouldn’t leave his mother’s face.
By the end of it, Mike watched his mother’s confused expression with defeat. “Yeah, I know it’s a lot,” he said, trying to lighten the blow. “But we’re trying to fix it now, so-”
“That evil thing,” his mother said, cutting him off. Her knuckles were white on the edge of the couch cushion. “The one who– the one who made everyone forget…”
“Vecna, yes,” Dustin chimed in from somewhere behind Mike.
Mike sighed. “I know it’s crazy, Mom. I wouldn’t believe it either. I mean… I didn’t. When Will was the only one who remembered, none of us believed him, so I’m not expecting you to either. But you need to trust me right now.”
Mike’s mom stared blankly for a long while, and Mike had trouble reading her thoughts through her eyes. His friends gathered around him now, though, also anticipating Mrs. Wheeler’s final verdict. Mike felt a supportive hand meet his shoulder, and he knew at once that it was Will’s.
“Are you in danger?” his mom said finally, looking up at her son. “Is this Vecna going to hurt you?”
El took this question herself. “He cannot, for now,” she said, stepping forward. “But if we let him continue to grow, he could. That is why we must fight him, and why we can’t let Will be taken away.”
“So you can’t tell anyone what we told you,” Dustin added. “Or it’s all over.”
Mike felt indescribably nervous that this was all going over his mother’s head. They’d leave her, finally, wide-eyed and shaking on the basement couch, and she’d go straight to the phone to make the damning call to Pennhurst. She’d tell her husband, her neighbors, her friends, everyone in her exercise class, and it would all be too late.
Still there was something genuine in her tone as she asked, “Do you need help? I could help you.”
“No,” Mike said quickly. The last thing he needed was his mother involved in this. It was crazy enough as it was. “No, Mom, we don’t need anyone.” He stepped forward and took his mom’s hands in his own. “Look, the best thing you can do right now is go get Nancy from the airport, make up some story about why I can’t be there, and forget any of this ever happened, okay? Do you understand me?”
His mom shook her head, eyebrows furrowed with distress. “Mike, I-”
“Do you understand me?” Mike tried again, more serious this time. He and the others needed to get back to the Byers’ house. He knew his mom would be the last one to understand anything he said, and that had been proven in the past year, but he needed her to just go along with him right now.
And although his mother looked like she wanted to say so much more, she responded, “Yes,” in a quiet voice.
“Good,” said Mike, backing away. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to the others. “We should be back by now. The others will be worried.” He secured the journal in his left pocket and started walking towards the stairs. He was on the first step when he realized no one had followed, all still looking hesitantly to Mike’s mother. “Come on!” he tried again.
This time, everyone followed him, and they were back in his car before he knew it. Mike put his head on the steering wheel for a moment, completely in awe of what had just had the audacity to happen to him. He tried to ignore how his mother was peeking out from the living room window at his little party. With a deep breath, he backed out of the driveway.
“Do you think she’ll tell?” Dustin asked quietly, not taking his eyes from the Wheelers’ house as they drove away down the street.
No one answered this question aloud, but a collective dread was seeping into the air, confirming their internal thoughts were one in the same.
A small portion of Mike had hope that his mom would really trust him and keep the whole thing a secret. She had looked to be of genuine concern, her crinkled eyes staying on Mike’s own. But Mike’s mom had looked to be of genuine concern when she actually didn’t seem to give a damn many times in his life. Like when she took him to see a psychiatrist and then denied anything was wrong.
When Mike pulled up to the Byers’ house, Jonathan was on the porch, bouncing a knee in a wooden chair with a worried look on his own face. When he caught Mike’s car in his vision, he stood immediately. Something more was wrong, Mike assumed, which was just their luck.
Will was the first out of the car, keeping his face steady as Jonathan came to greet him. “What happened?” he asked, cutting to the point.
The others climbed out behind him, cautiously awaiting Jonathan’s response.
“Pennhurst,” Jonathan said. “Pennhurst called just earlier. They seem really suspicious.”
Dustin turned his head to the sky with a vexed look. “Jesus Christ.”
The others had similar reactions. For the last few days, they’d been so preoccupied with Vecna’s grasp and Will’s memories that they’d pushed the whole Pennhurst conflict to the side. Now, it was starting to creep up on them. Mike didn’t know how it would end up, but he knew dealing with both Vecna and Pennhurst was not going to be an easy feat. As Dustin had mentioned to his mother, Pennhurst knowing about Will meant it was all over. Vecna won if Will went back, because there would be no one to stop him anymore.
“What?” said Jonathan, backing up. “Did you also hear something about Pennhurst?”
“Let’s go inside,” Will offered, already walking to the door. “I think we’ve got a… less than ideal update.”
A while later, after the initial panic of the looming Pennhurst threat had died down, Mike found himself back outside, sitting on the stairs by the back door and looking off into the woods. He thought maybe everyone was inside, making dinner and playing games, since Max had pulled out Monopoly from some closet. Mike had refused to play, simply because he didn’t feel well.
The entire situation with his mom was making him mad. It was almost ironic in his mind. For a year now, she didn’t listen to him, ignored his problems, and ignored the warnings of psychiatrists who gave suggestions of mental illness. And now, threatened by the end of the world, he needed her to listen to him more than ever, and about something much less believable than the state of his own mind. If she, somehow, believed this and not the rest of the things Mike tried to tell her… Well, that was just laughable.
So, because of all this, Mike just needed some time to himself. He flipped through the empty pages of the green journal that he’d taken from the basement, trying to come up with what would be the best strategy for keeping track of what Will did in a day. He supposed he could ask everyone in the house about their own Will interactions and compile them at the end of each day. That, and stay with Will as much as possible as to properly keep track of his actions. Surely, Mike would be a good memory-scribe for his friend, but now the idea of it intimidated him a little. Will’s entire sanity, perhaps, was resting on Mike’s work.
At some point, Mike heard the door open behind him, but he didn’t bother to check who had come out, instead shoving the journal back into his pocket.
Will plopped down beside him, trying to muster up a smile for his friend. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, though he was already sitting.
Mike had wanted to be alone, but he admitted Will might be an exception to that wish. He definitely wouldn’t mind his friend’s company right now. After all, he had to start keeping track of this boy’s day-to-day life. “That’s fine,” was all he said.
Will took in the silence for a moment, rocking back and forth on the top stair. Then, “You’re worried about your mom?”
Mike shrugged. “Something like that.”
Will tilted his head, trying to read his friend. “Tell me.”
That couldn’t hurt. Will had always been a good listener, and a good advice-giver at that. “I don’t know,” Mike started. “I just… I guess I’m frustrated with her. I don’t know if she’ll let our secret out. Actually, I think she’ll keep it, but that’s kinda what frustrates me.”
“You’re frustrated she’s not sending us to our doom?” Will clarified.
Mike exhaled from his nose, trying to figure out how to word his emotions. “No, not exactly,” he said. “It’s just kinda awful. Because I feel like she never listens to me about things way more realistic than this. So, to have her actually believe me about another dimension after all of that? That’s just so frustrating.”
“That makes sense,” said Will quietly. “I’m sorry. That sounds like it sucks.”
“Yeah,” said Mike, trying to hold back the fact that his eyes were close to welling. “I just get so frustrated with my parents sometimes. I mean, you’d think they…” He fell silent as the realization of who exactly he was talking to dawned on him. Now he felt foolish. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m ranting to you about my family problems. You’re probably thinking this sounds like nothing.”
“What?” Will turned his head. “No, that’s fine. It’s not a competition. I don’t mind hearing about it.”
“You should,” Mike said, laughing a little at his own ridiculous display. “I probably sound like an idiot.”
“Mike, you don’t.”
Mike shrugged and went quiet for a little longer, mind now stuck back on the memory he witnessed in Will’s head. The very thought of the young Will, crying on the floor, made Mike’s chest tighten. “I can’t believe I never knew,” he said softly. “All that about your dad.”
“Oh,” said Will, looking down at the grass, now darkened as the sun set below the trees. “Well, I just never thought to tell you.”
“You could’ve. I would’ve listened. I would’ve…” Mike trailed off, not sure exactly what he would have done if a younger Will had approached him with such a problem. He was sure a younger Mike would’ve suggested something unimaginable: moving into Mike’s basement or running away together. Younger Mike wouldn’t have even understood, probably.
“I was fine,” Will assured his friend. “I mean, I had Jonathan after all. I just… You were young too. I didn’t want to make you share that kind of heaviness, or see me any differently than you did.”
Mike nodded. “Okay, yeah. I get it. I just wish I could’ve been there for you.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Will said quickly. “I mean, he didn’t do much worse than what you saw.” This seemed like a lie. “And he was only ever really bad when he was drunk.” Will shivered next to Mike at this thought. “I hate that. How alcohol changes how you think.”
“Do you think Vecna would be able to alter your mind if you were drunk?”
“I’d rather not find out,” Will said shortly.
Mike winced. “Sorry. Poorly timed curiosity. I wasn’t suggesting we actually find out.” He became quiet once again, not sure exactly how he could be of most support to Will at this moment. “Is it fine?” he said. “That I brought your dad up? If you don’t want to talk about this, that’s fine too. I just kinda wanted to understand it better, but if you don’t want me to, I’m fine.”
Will shook his head slowly. “Cat’s already out of the bag, I guess. I didn’t mind you bringing it up. I guess I sort of owed you an explanation after you had to watch that memory play out.”
Now Mike furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t owe me anything, Will.” He shifted a little, his side finding a place against Will’s on the stairs. “But, I want you to know I’m here. If you wanted to say anything more, I’d listen.” When Will didn’t say anything more, Mike smiled lightly, taking in what he could feel of Will’s breathing from their sides pressed together. “Or we could just sit here. I don’t mind just being here with you.”
“I don’t mind it either,” Will responded, and he yawned, leaning his head until it was resting on Mike’s shoulder.
This wasn’t anything special, and it shouldn’t have made Mike’s stomach prickle, but it did. All of a sudden, he was ultra-aware of Will’s cheek resting on his shoulder. He could feel the boy’s brown hair mingle with his own and the flow of breath when he exhaled through his nose.
He tried to unnoticeably shake the awareness from himself. It wasn’t as if Will was doing anything unusual. He was simply tired, and certainly he deserved to rest after all he’d been through. Mike could give him that. He remembered what he’d promised on the day they’d broken him out: he said he’d make it all up to him. He’d be the best friend he could ask for. To deny Will this comfort because of Mike’s own bubbling fears was simply unacceptable.
Still, Mike’s mind was scrambled. Half of him wanted to jump up and run into the woods. The other half wanted to reach up and run a hand through Will’s hair, which was a very strange desire to be feeling at this moment. Or at all, that was.
In the end, all Mike did was look down at his friend, eyes lingering on the tired face that greeted him. See? He told himself, Will needs this. It’s okay. You’re just helping him. You’re just keeping your promise.
Will’s dark eyes stared back up at Mike, and a smile, however slight, played across his face. He blinked heavily, like he might fall asleep if left for too long, and burrowed further into Mike’s shoulder.
You’d think the tired boy was casting a magic spell, because Mike couldn’t break his fixed look. In a trance, he brought his own hand up and ran a thumb gently along Will’s cheek, still lost helplessly in the pull of his gaze. His fingers lingered at the edge of Will’s face, as if unsure where to turn next.
“What was that for?” Will wondered aloud, his voice lazy with relaxation.
Mike pulled his hand back suddenly. “Loose eyelash,” he lied. Surely, he was doing all this for Will’s sake, but it was hard to deny personal appeal.
What was he doing?
“We should get started on your journal,” Mike blurted quickly, making Will snap his head back in surprise. The loss of contact felt shattering somewhere in Mike’s soul, but he pushed the regret from himself, wiringing his mind of these intrusive thoughts like it was a wet towel. “Let’s go inside with the others and piece together your day.”
“Oh,” said Will, and Mike tried not to read his tone as disappointed. The boy put on a smile. “That sounds great. They’re probably about done with dinner anyway.” He hefted himself from the step and stood for a moment, looking outwards. “You coming?”
“Yeah,” said Mike, though he could hardly speak. “Just give me a minute. I’ll meet you inside. Gotta grab a pen somewhere.”
“Cool,” said Will, and he left Mike on the steps without another word, shutting the door behind him with a gentle thud.
Mike let out his breath, feeling as if he hadn’t truly done so in ages. Whatever had just happened, it wasn’t piecing together well in his brain. Again, he’d promised Will he’d be a good friend, so that had all simply been a part of keeping the promise. Will needed comfort, and Mike would give it. It was transactional more than anything.
Except something in the back of Mike’s mind doubted this, and something was scared to think about what he would’ve done next if he hadn’t caught himself.
Mike inhaled deeply. This was a ridiculous internal battle to be having, and he’d settle it. Mike didn’t have a problem keeping a promise. He wanted to be a good friend to Will. This was all for the sake of a promise. Whatever affection Mike might show Will in his time of need, it was just him fulfilling his duty, and nothing more.
Vowing to keep himself to this ideal, Mike rose from the step and put his hand on the doorknob. A less put-together version of Mike might’ve been nervous that he was walking into another conversation with Will Byers, but Mike knew better than to think like that. He had nothing to be nervous about.
There was nothing nerve-racking about being a good friend.
Notes:
My guy is doing mental gymnastics to avoid the fact that he's having homosexual thoughts for his bff
Hmmm... also hope nothing brought up in this chapter comes back later in the story in a very life-threatening way. That'd be so bad!
Also the Karen Wheeler ball is rolling and we love to see it
Chapter 10: A Second Purgatory
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
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.
Notes:
This chapter was SO HARD to write (and so long sorry). Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh. I looooooooooove this psychological horror stuff though. It's so fun to write. Sometimes.
Well, Merry Christmas Eve!! My gift to you, I suppose! Feel free to leave me any comments. I really do crave feedback from you. And it just makes my day when I get an ao3 email 😀
Chapter 11: The Woods
Notes:
Well... the show is over... But that doesn't mean this fic is! Season 5 doesn't exist in this universe, so we're all good here <3 Welcome back!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Even before the sleep cleared from Will’s eyes, he registered the figure at the foot of his bed. The room was only lit by the crack of dawn behind Will’s curtains, but the dark, red, vine-like limbs were impossible to not see. The figure’s cloudy, blue eyes stared at Will like they’d been on him for hours.
In any other situation, Will would have screamed at the top of his lungs and shot from his room without turning back. This morning, though, he felt an unreasonable urge to stay put and face this phantom. As he sat up in his bed, his entire body tensed with fear, but he didn’t let this show outwardly.
“You,” Will said without emotion.
This shadow of Vecna said nothing in response, but his crooked mouth turned upwards at its corners.
Will felt a shiver down his spine, but he didn’t move. “What are you trying to do?” he asked with a bite. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to scare me. You know I know this isn’t real because you don’t exist in that form any longer. You know I’m smarter than that.”
Vecna’s smile did not fade as he ran his left hand and all its long, clawed fingers along the wood at the base of Will’s bed, making a high sound. “You didn’t seem so confident of that yesterday morning, in the mirror.” His voice was deep and disgustingly familiar. The drone of it seemed to fill the room, and leaked into Will’s head unbearably. He hated this voice.
Will sat straighter. “You caught me off guard. It won’t happen again.”
“You don’t sound so sure of it,” Vecna noted.
Will squinted his eyes at the unwelcome intruder. “Can’t you tell? Can’t you… read my mind or something?”
Vecna took a step to the left, starting to make his way around the foot of the bed and closer. “No. I cannot read your mind,” he said. “I live in your memories now, not your thoughts. Surely you know that.”
Will tried to shrink away as the evil figure slowly approached him, his back pressed into his bed’s head with so much pressure that it hurt. He wouldn’t run, though. This was only an invention of a moment, not a real one. This shade had no real power.
Vecna seemed to tower over the subtly-shaking boy, casting a shadow over him. He knew damn well that his presence chilled Will to the bone, however much Will tried to look like he wasn’t affected. “I suppose I could access your thoughts,” he continued. “Soon enough. As long as things continue according to plan.”
“Why are you here?” Will asked again, trying as hard as he could to keep courage enough to stare Vecna in the face.
Vecna stepped forward again, his vine-like form continuously moving and shifting. “I only wanted to talk,” he said. “This is the only way I have to speak to you.” His right hand, the more human one, took Will’s face and turned it, Vecna studying his expression with leveled eyes. “I’m only wondering how my anchor is doing. That’s what your friends called you, yes?”
Vecna’s fingers felt like ice against Will’s cheek. The slimy feeling of them made him want to gag. Will took the villain’s wrist in a forceful hand and threw it off of him. “Stay away from me,” he said, shouting at the monster.
Vecna smiled again as he watched the quaking boy. “You really are scared of me.”
Will had no patience for this senseless toying, for this was exactly what this was. It wasn’t enough to infect Will with fake memories, Vecna also had to come and taunt him. Will felt less fear now, and more frustration. “Tell me what you’re trying to do to me,” he said. “What do you want from me?” Had Will not given enough to this demon?
“That you will certainly find out with time,” Vecna assured in his prickling, low voice. “Not that it will matter. Knowing cannot release you. Not from this.”
Will gritted his teeth. “What do you want?” he asked again, and Vecna remained silent, a steel sneer across his face. “What do you want?” Will asked another time, louder. Then, “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
“Will?”
Will whipped his head toward the call of his name on the other end of the room. Mike had his head in the door, worried eyes fixed on his friend. When Will turned back to where the vision of Vecna had been, he saw that the monster had disappeared. He closed his eyes for a moment, relieved to be out of that nightmare.
Mike had let himself into the room by now, and rushed to Will with outstretched hands. He climbed over the right side of the boy’s bed to sit next to Will and took his arms. “Who were you talking to?” he asked quickly. “I… I heard you shouting.”
Will reddened, unaware his actions in his fabricated memory had been leaking into reality. Hopefully, he didn’t wake anyone aside from Mike, because it was only six in the morning. He let out a shaky breath, checking once more to make sure Vecna was gone. There was no one there but Mike. “It was Vecna,” Will said. He felt no need to lie to his friend at this point. The wide-eyed boy was far too invested in the situation for it to matter.
“Vecna?” Mike repeated with an apparent growing panic. “What do you mean?”
“He fabricated a memory of himself to talk to me.” Will frowned, staring at the place beside his bed where Vecna had stood. “Taunt me,” he corrected himself. The demon’s voice was still echoing in his ears and the prickling feeling in his chest remained. He couldn’t believe a simple mirage of Vecna could do this to him. “I knew he wasn’t actually there. It shouldn’t matter.”
Mike stiffened his grip on Will’s arms. “It matters,” he said. “It matters. Of course it matters. Did he say anything to you that hinted at his plan?”
“Only that he’s confident,” Will admitted. “He definitely doesn’t think we’ll be able to weed him out before it's too late.” He went cold at the thought of Vecna’s sneer when Will asked him what he was trying to do.
It was a moment before Mike responded, looking down as he took in Will’s words. When he brought his head back up, he was intent. “He’s wrong,” Mike said. “Whatever he’s doing, there’s no way we’re letting it happen. You know that.” He leaned closer and asked again, “You know that, right?”
Will tried to fight back the fabricated memory of last night when he looked at Mike. This was his best friend, and he was no shade. Still, something within him recognized that he saw Mike differently now, and he hated that Vecna had that power. He hated that twelve years of friendship could be tainted by a single, clawed hand running its fingers over the surface. He hated that Vecna had tried to give him something he knew he’d never have, only because it would be ripped from him in the morning. A future in which Will could have Mike Wheeler romantically was nothing more than a hopeless dream. If Vecna could see enough truth in that to use its inverse as emotional bait, it was high time Will accepted it too.
Still, acceptance was easier said than done. Will could bring himself to admit he still wanted desperately to throw his arms around his best friend and sink his head into his chest right now. Despite everything, he still wanted this. Will Byers was an awful person, he’d admit that too.
“Will?” Mike said, breaking the boy from his trance as he waited patiently for the answer to his question.
Will shook his flashbacks of a shadow of Mike from his head. “Yeah,” he said. “I know we’ll defeat him.” He even tried to convince himself of this for a moment, which only brought him to the brink of a helpless laugh.
Mike smiled sadly and started to get up from the bed, pulling Will along with him. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get an early start on your journaling.”
Mike skimmed again over the lines he wrote last night in his journal, eyes flicking up every now and then to watch Will pencil meticulously in his sketchbook. His lines looked erratic, but Mike could tell they were all calculated, so he tried not to be concerned by the scene. Even if the whole it looked like it came from a horror movie.
“So my slingshot memory with Dustin and Lucas was real,” Will said, continuing their ongoing recounting of yesterday’s events.
“Yes,” said Mike, checking his notes quickly. “All except the location-”
“Becuase I thought it happened at Castle Byers, but Castle Byers isn’t there anymore.” Will made a few hard lines down his page, his knuckles whitening.
“Right,” said Mike. “Hey, you’ve actually got yesterday down pretty good so far.” Will’s recollection of what was real and what was fake about the day before was almost perfect, which Mike counted as great progress, if progress was even possible in Will’s situation.
For maybe the first time that morning, Will let himself smile. “It’s all thanks to that journal of yours,” he said. “I still can’t thank you enough for doing that.”
Mike reddened at the sentiment. He was glad to be of some help, at least. If this journal was the best thing he could do for Will right now, he’d do it a million times over, no complaint. Writing for the school paper had seemed like a thrill, but writing for Will made it meek in comparison. Mike felt his best when he could aid.
“We had dinner right after that,” Will continued, scribbling tangled lines. “We talked about lots of things, especially our days. And that’s when I realized Vecna had tampered with the Castle Byers thing.”
“Right again,” said Mike. He glanced down at his journal with a frown. “That’s all I have in writing from last night. What do you remember after that?” He set the journal on the table and clicked his pen, ready to record.
Will leaned back in his chair. “Well, after dinner I went out back. Just to make sure Castle Byers was really gone, I guess. I think that was real. I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”
Mike scrawled this out at the bottom of the page with a nod.
“I went back to my room after that and drew for a while,” Will continued. “And then…” Will paused, eyes fixed on where Mike sat. “What did you do after dinner?”
Mike sat up, caught off his guard by the question. He didn’t fully recall his evening, but remembered enough. “I talked to Max and Lucas for a while,” he said. “And I brushed my teeth, I guess. El made me play a game of War. She’s obsessed with that game.” Then Mike sat silent, hoping this was enough explanation. He decided to leave out the part when he almost called his mom on the Byers’ phone, or the part where he almost convinced himself to go to Will’s room, or when he cried at himself in the broken bathroom mirror before retreating to his own bed. Mike’s night had been far too full of thinking.
Will’s eyes did not leave. “That’s all?” he asked. “You didn’t talk to me.”
Mike raised his eyebrows slowly, a chill running down his spine. “No,” he said. Then, his voice starting to shake at the possibility, “Vecna made you think I did?” His eyes caught Will’s drawings again, and he couldn't help but pick out a faceless figure of himself, leaning up against the side of Will’s bed with his shadowy hand out like he was offering a poisoned gift.
Now Will finally looked away, sheepish. “Well, I have a memory of somethi-”
“It’s not real,” Mike said quickly. He felt awful about Vecna using his likeness to mess with Will, his own form being used to say things he’d never say. “Whatever Vecna made me say to you, it isn’t true.”
Will’s expression changed, and Mike almost thought he caught a laugh, however pained. “Believe me, I know. I realized even in the moment that it wasn’t you. I knew you wouldn’t…” Will faltered, then tried again. “I knew you wouldn’t do what he did.”
Mike paled at the thought of whatever this evil version of himself did to Will. Yell at him? Denounce his friendship? Hurt him? He hated the idea of Will witnessing him do something like that, even if it wasn’t real. Mike didn’t want his image connected to Vecna’s scheme in Will’s head. He wanted to help the boy, not hurt him.
“It’s just so confusing.” Will put his head in his hands and groaned, exhausted. He hadn’t slept much, and Mike could tell. “Maybe I should try drinking. You really think it would mess with Vecna’s grasp?”
Mike frowned at the callback to his comment from two evenings ago. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “It was a stupid thing to suggest.” He still regretted bringing up the hypothetical, especially to Will, who was so heavily against ever consuming the same stuff that he’d seen ruin his family. Mike had honestly meant the whole thing as a joke, and he didn’t think it would work. It had been an extremely poorly-timed jest, and now it was obviously floating around in Will’s head. “You know I wasn’t serious, right?”
Will tilted his head. “Yes, Mike. Of course. I was only joking.” And yet something about his tone had suggested he wasn’t. Now his face crumpled again. “I hope I don’t bore you to death with all my misery.”
Mike rolled his eyes at the thought of being bored by Will Byers, the most interesting person on the planet. “I’d never be bored of you,” he admitted heartfully. “And your misery isn’t overwhelming. If anything, I think you need to talk more about how you feel.”
Will huffed, a small smile growing. “More?”
“Exactly. Talk about all your misery right now. I’m listening.” Mike couldn’t help but feel his own face light up at the sight of Will’s bashful grin. “And no smiling! Misery only!”
Will tried his best to suppress his expression. “You don’t seriously want to hear about that.”
“I do.”
Will sighed through his nose, and his smile fully died as he opened his mouth again. “Well, okay. I just…” He fished for words. “Well, fuck. It’s just awful. All of it. And I feel so alone, I’ve never felt so alone in my life. I mean, how do I even know you’re really here right now?”
Mike bit the inside of his cheek. “I am real,” he insisted. Then, he slowly grabbed Will’s hands and cupped them between his own. “Feel that? That’s real, living warmth. I’m right here.”
He’d meant this very genuinely, but it somehow made Will laugh.
Mike leveled his eyes. “What?” he asked, unsure as to how he’d made a fool of himself this time.
Will was still snickering, his fingers feeling over Mike’s own. “Your hands are cold,” he admitted through upwardly curled lips. “You have bad circulation.”
Mike exhaled in mock annoyance.“Oh, come on!” Will would know he did have recognizably awful circulation, and had ever since he was very young. Mike’s hands and feet were cold more often than not. “Well, I’m still real. I promise it. Cold hands and everything.”
Will looked into his eyes, smiling large. “I believe you.”
Mike couldn’t help but blush at the words from his friend. He turned his eyes to his hands, intertwined with Will’s, and was suddenly sheepish about his temperature. “They’re not too cold, are they? I mean, this isn’t uncomfortable, right?”
Will squeezed Mike’s fingers. “They’re yours. They’re perfect.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
Will sighed and gave Mike’s hand one last careful examination. “Just the right amount of cold, I mean it.” He closed his mouth tightly and sat in silence for a moment, looking like he was suppressing another laugh.
The expression caused the urge of laughter to hit Mike as well and could do nothing to stop his upward-turning lips. The silence went on for a moment longer, but Mike broke before Will could, and he started to giggle, though he tried to suppress it.
This broke Will too, and then they were both laughing at each other, and loud enough that someone back in their bedroom could stir from the noise. Mike wasn’t even sure what was so funny, but it was hilarious, whatever it was. Maybe Mike was the one losing his mind. He hardly cared, if this was what losing your mind felt like.
Most of all, it was good to hear Will’s laughter. Mike knew well enough that the tortured boy was struggling to keep his spirits up, and he didn’t blame him. Within the solemn days of waiting for their next move on Vecna, Mike knew moments of lightness were important. It was good to see Will could still feel joy, despite his awful run. His laughter was a better sound than Mike’s favorite song.
Finally, when the laughing died down, Will leaned his face on his hand, still looking at Mike. He’d completely forgotten about his idle drawing, and the pencil had been laid down across the chaotic mess of sketches. “You never told me more about the school paper,” he said quietly.
Mike raised an eyebrow. “School paper?”
“Dutsin mentioned that you got a story published in the school paper,” Will clarified. “In the car, he said that, right?” His expression started to change as he realized he might be remembering something fabricated.
Mike nodded quickly to confirm his memory. “Yeah, he mentioned that.” He felt himself flush again, hot in the face at his interest in writing. “But I already said, it’s no big deal. Nobody actually cares.”
“Right, you said they cut the last line of your story off,” Will recalled with a frown. “That’s shitty.”
Mike couldn’t agree more, but he let out a breathy laugh and tried to play it off. “Yeah. It’s whatever, though. It’s not like-”
“Was the story any good?”
Mike blinked. “Any good?”
Will’s smile had returned. “Yeah. I mean, if it matters that the last line got cut, it must’ve been a good story.”
People hardly made an effort to care about Mike’s writing in the past year, so Will’s genuine interest was intoxicating. Mike adored Will’s paintings, so maybe Will would like Mike’s tales in the same way. Mike gave in. “It was the best story I’ve ever written.”
“What was it about?” Will asked.
“Aliens,” Mike responded, then tilted his head. “Well, not really. I mean, I wanted it to be sort of Vonnegut-like, you know? Like, that dystopian, eerie feeling. The whole story, I described what you could imply were aliens invading planet earth. Then, in the very last line, I revealed it was actually humans invading an alien planet.” Describing the plot made Mike giddy. He’d been so proud when he finished this story, not that anybody had ended up giving it much attention.
Will thought about this, nodding. “That sounds super cool.”
“It was,” Mike continued. “I mean, I wanted it to be sort of symbolic, you know? A message about how maybe we, as the human race, are the real thing we should be worrying about, not other extraterrestrials.” He felt himself become flustered and looked at his hands, kneading again. “Not that it has the same impact when I just say it outright like that.”
Will shook his head. “No, I get it,” he said. “That’s amazing. I want to read it sometime, if you still have it.”
Mike shrugged. Only three copies of seven different drafts. “I guess I could find it for you somewhere. If you really want to read it.”
“Of course,” said Will, leaning forward in his seat. “I’ll read anything you write. You’re an amazing writer.”
Mike blushed harder, but the compliment still fell short. “You’ve never even read anything I’ve written.” Mike was very private about his writing interest, up until this past year that was. Back before Will went to Pennhurst, he’d probably never known Mike wrote stories.
“Your campaigns,” Will argued. “Those are the best. I’m sure your story writing’s just as good.” He looked intently into Mike’s eyes. “I wanna read all of it. I really do.”
Now Mike was downright embarrassed. Half the stories he wrote were not even true works of fully original fiction. In middle school, he wrote a lot about Luke Skywalker's unseen adventures, then freshman year, he’d been obsessed with writing about Superman. He had a couple of Star Trek-centered stories, Lord of the Rings ones, and a large handful about the party’s D&D characters going on various adventures. He doubted Will would want to read any of that. He was about to express this when he caught a strange look in Will’s eyes.
Will had abandoned the smile he’d worn before, and his face had become pensive. He stared at Mike silently, something in his dark eyes giving a sense of unfamiliarity.
Mike leaned forward. “Will?” he asked the distant boy.
Will stared for a second longer, seemingly confused by Mike’s presence, before he blinked rapidly and warmth returned to his face. “Sorry, did you say something?”
Whatever just happened, it felt wrong in Mike’s mind. Something was off about that moment. “Will, did you-”
“There you are!”
Mike whipped his head around to find Dustin standing in the entrance to the kitchen, hands pressed against the wall on either side of him. Mike raised his eyebrows. “You’re here early.”
Dustin shrugged. “Not really. It’s almost eight, and I wanted to get over here as quickly as possible to see if El was ready for another memory.” He smiled. “And turns out she is, so you guys better get your asses into the living room. They’re waiting.”
Will scrunched up his nose at this. “What happened to breakfast?”
“We’ll have victory breakfast afterwards,” Dustin decided. Then his face changed with realization and he stepped into the room and across the floor to the counter. “El did ask me to get her some Eggos, though. As fuel.” He popped a pair into the toaster and stared, waiting for them to cook. “Go on, tell the others I’ll be there soon.”
Mike looked to Will, who still showed no trace of the unknowing expression he’d worn for that short moment. “You ready for another memory?”
Will lifted his head to the ceiling, letting his eyes close, and he took a deep breath of preparation. “More than ever.”
Mike went out to the living room with Will at his back. Jonathan and El were already sitting there, as Dustin described, but Lucas and Max were nowhere to be seen.
Will noticed this too. “Are we gonna wait for the others?”
“Good morning,” El responded, legs bouncing on the carpet. “I think Lucas and Max had something to do this morning. A lot of people want answers about Max’s unexplainable recovery. We are going to do the memory without them.”
Jonathan nodded, a sympathetic smile. “It’s probably for the best anyway. I doubt you like having so many people in your head, Will.”
Will laughed to himself and took a seat beside his brother on the couch, looking up at him. “I guess you have a point,” he said. “It feels a little weird to make you all watch my worst memories.” He turned his head to his lap, lacing his fingers in and out of each other.
“You can always say you don’t want us to come,” Jonathan said quietly. “If you just want El to-”
“No,” said Will. “No, you should be there. You have to be there to… overcome whatever he’s amplifying, right? I mean, if this memory is the same as the last one.”
“Let’s hope it is,” El said grimly. “I do not want more surprises.”
Dustin came in from the kitchen with a plate of toasted waffles and handed them to El. “Complete with syrup,” he said, and took his own seat on the carpet, readying himself for action.
El smiled down at her Eggos before picking one up with her hand and biting into it, melting into the buttery taste of the sweet fuel. “I will be ready for a memory after this.” She took a seat on the carpet by the couch and motioned for the others to join the circle.
Jonathan and Will slid down from their seats. Mike had wanted to sit next to Will again, but he was already in between El and Jonathan, so Mike took the small defeat and sat between El and Dustin instead. It didn’t really matter anyway, he supposed. Or it shouldn’t have, that was.
While El finished up her breakfast, Will closed his eyes tightly and started to search for the memory that the group would be entering. He stayed silent and focused for a few long minutes. All the while, Mike couldn’t help but imagine what of Will Byers’s horrors would become known to him today. His worst fear was that one of these awful memories would involve him. Mike didn’t think he’d ever done something so terrible to Will. but on the off chance there was something he was missing, seeing his own face in Vecna’s corrupted scenes would break his heart.
Shortly after El finished off her last Eggo, Will opened his eyes with a shaky breath. “I think I have it,” he said, and turned to his sister.
El took his hand, the rest of the circle following suit, and she looked Will in the eyes. “Are you ready?”
Will nodded, sitting up straight against the couch. “Let’s do it.” Both he and El closed their eyes again.
And while Jonathan and Dustin closed their eyes as well, ready to make the jump, Mike couldn’t help but peek again as Will silently tapped into Vecna’s abilities. The last time, Mike had been scared of it, but now he knew better. Now he knew that this was no horrible torture, it was Wil fighting back. It was the formidable power of Will’s spirit, a power he’d always contained, finally made visible to the naked eye. When Will’s eyes shot open, pure white, Mike had to stare. He could feel his heart beating strongly in his chest.
Then, he was thrown into darkness. Mike had been passed through the black and damp limbo in between reality and memory several times now, and it never felt less unpleasant. Every time, he was hit with the same shock that he’d feel jumping into an icy ocean. In the moment, he felt like he’d be stuck there forever, but every time, less than a second later, he opened his eyes in a new location.
This time, Mike found himself in the Upside Down.
Despite how much he talked about it, Mike had never actually been to the Upside Down before. For all the years of interdimensional terror, Mike’s role in the party was always on the upside. Seeing the actual place in Will’s memory now, he was grateful for that. Mike had heard descriptions of the Upside Down many times. He’d even seen Will draw it before, but nothing could have prepared him for the soul-wrenching gloom he was faced with as his eyes adjusted to the blue atmosphere. Everything was quiet and dark, and tall, slender trees loomed overhead, wrapped in coiled vines. An eerie fog settled on the ground, making it hard for Mike to see into the far distance. He wondered if anything was exaggerated, as the Byers’ house had been in the first memory. Or, perhaps, the Upside Down required no exaggeration to show its full nature.
The rest of the group, except Will, appeared next to Mike within a few seconds. He looked back to them and watched them take in the scene for themselves. Jonathan, Dustin, and El had all been to the Upside Down before, so he doubted they were as surprised.
“Does it look corrupt?” Mike asked finally. “Is anything exaggerated?”
El turned her head around one more time and frowned. “No. I think it looks normal.” She reached out and batted her hand through the air. “Maybe the fog? I don’t remember this much fog in the Upside Down.”
Looking around, Jonathan suddenly pointed a finger to a place behind Mike. “There’s Will,” he said, and started to move closer.
Mike turned himself around and caught the movement Jonathan was talking about. Sure enough, a young Will Byers was sneaking through the viney woods, a hunting rifle in his small and shaking hands. He was eleven years old now, and wearing a familiar orange vest. As he crept, he quietly hummed a song that Mike recognized as Should I Stay Or Should I Go? by The Clash. This was a memory from his mysterious disappearance in the Upside Down five years ago.
“Will!” Dustin yelled out, confirming the boy couldn’t hear the intruders in his memory. His voice echoed throughout the foggy mess of trees.
Will did not react to the sound, continuing to shakily hum through his song and look around the woods with his wide eyes. He stepped carefully over vines and tangled roots, every step calculated. Mike wasn’t sure when exactly this memory was from, but it must have been at least a few days into Will’s disappearance. The boy’s hair was disheveled, his skin was pale and his lips were blue with cold. Still, he trekked forward through the foggy woods.
There was a small sound somewhere to the left, and Will’s head snapped towards it. He stopped his humming abruptly as his eyes became fixed on something that Mike couldn’t see, creeping softly as he pointed his gun forward. The young boy took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.
In the same direction the noise came from, there was a high wail and the sound of something hitting the ground.
The young Will did not celebrate his hit, but ran in its direction and fished around between the vines until he pulled out his kill with two fingers: a small demobat, twitching as its last life left its small limbs.
“He didn’t tell me he could shoot a gun,” Dustin muttered. “Might’ve explained why he was beating my ass at slingshots yesterday.”
“What’s he gonna do with that thing?” Jonathan wondered aloud, focused on the dead bat in Will’s grimy hands.
Will answered that question fairly quickly. He looked over the slimy creature for a moment, his face painted with extreme disgust as he swallowed slowly. Then, he took one hand to his nose and pinched it, closed his eyes tightly, and raised the bat to his face.
Dustin blinked. “He’s not seriously gonna-”
Will quickly bit into the bat’s slimy side and tore a piece of flesh away from it with his teeth. He held the interdimensional bat meat in his mouth for a moment, attempting with strain to chew, and his face puckered with a sour expression before he swallowed it.
“Holy shit,” said Dustin. “He’s eating a bat.”
Once he’d finally stomached the bite, Will doubled over, coughing and gagging. He sank to his knees and pulled off his backpack, retrieving a metal water bottle and dumping the contents into his mouth. For a moment more he kneeled, shuddering on the ground.
“He must’ve been so hungry,” Jonathan whispered sadly, staring down at his little brother. “I still can’t imagine how he felt. He was so young, and so alone.”
This truth sat in the murky air for a moment. Mike’s stomach felt tight and he couldn’t keep his eyes on the pale boy before him. It brought him back to that night the police had claimed to find Will’s body in the quarry. Mike remembered flashing lights, the small figure being raised from the water. He remembered being livid with El and his friends for not finding Will in time. He remembered biking home alone, feeling like he finally realized what it was like to lose something irreplaceable.
Finally, after a moment had passed, the young Will before the group hoisted himself from the ground, putting his backpack on his back and shuddering. He took a deep breath and trekked off through the trees, starting to hum his song again as he went.
As the group followed him, Mike couldn’t help but think about how hard it must’ve been for an eleven-year-old to survive in the Upside Down for a week. Will always said he was weak, but Mike couldn’t see how Will could’ve survived a journey like this without being undeniably strong. If he tried to imagine himself in Will’s place, he couldn’t see any scenario where he didn’t end up dead.
After a few minutes of walking, Will approached a small fortress between the trees: Castle Byers, his childhood stronghold, which was covered in vines and darkness, like everything else in this nightmare dimension. Still, the crooked fort seemed to comfort the young boy, and he crawled inside without another word. Through the sticks and branches, the group watched him set down his gun and curl up across from it. Seeing him closely, Mike realized he was shivering from head to toe. Still, he continued to hum his song.
After a moment, El looked up from the fort, her eyes darting. “Do you hear that?” she asked.
Mike tuned into the droning hum of the woods to try and figure out what El could be talking about. Finally, he heard it: voices calling from the distance.
“What are they saying?” Dustin asked quietly. “I can’t tell.”
Now Will had noticed the voices too, popping his head out of the entrance to his hideout to investigate the noise. He walked slowly, his humming paused as he continued to listen.
The calling voices became louder, as if the people behind them were closer. It was easy to hear now: they were calling for Will.
“A search party,” said Jonathan once he heard the calls. “It’s one of the search parties that went out looking for him. Will’s hearing it from the other side.”
The young Will looked around frantically at the call of his own name, his feet now fast with energy. “Hello?” he called into the trees. “Hello? I’m here!”
The voices did not respond to Will, and his voice echoed without return in the empty hellscape. Still, the calling continued, louder now.
Will broke into a run in the direction of the voices, continuing to shout out to them with all his might. “I’m here!” he said, face to the dark blue sky. “Help me! I’m here! Somebody! I’M HERE!”
Mike and the group watched from a distance as the boy continued his attempt at contact, screaming for help and acknowledgment at the top of his lungs, waving his arms and reaching for the sky. This continued until the voices, after a minute or so, became softer again and faded away. Will’s voice was raspy from use, and his cheeks were streaked with tears.
“I’m here,” he tried once more, then sank to the ground, collapsing in on himself.
The fog of the woods became suddenly thicker, so much so that Mike couldn’t see more than a foot in front of him. Will was a few yards in front of the group, cradled by skeleton trees, but as the fog thickened, his figure disappeared into it.
Somewhere in the distance, a demogorgon roared into the night, upset by Will’s desperate commotion.
El tensed beside Mike, recognizing the sound. “We need to help Will now. This is Vecna.” She went forward and disappeared into the fog.
Mike and the others followed, but as soon as Mike took his first few steps, he looked around and realized that he too was lost in the misty trees. No signs of his friends revealed themselves. “Hello?” he called out cautiously, trying to send the fog away with swinging arms.
“Mike?” Jonathan’s voice echoed from somewhere to Mike’s right.
“Everyone just focus on finding Will,” El said from the sea of mist. “Whoever finds him-”
“I got him!” called Dustin, several feet in front of Mike, from the sound of it. “Everyone, get over here!”
Mike followed the sound of his friend’s voice, walking through a gray void for what felt like an eternity, listening closely for any sound of his friends, before he finally found the group, in a circle around Will, who was still on the ground. Somewhere in the distance, the demogorgon wailed again.
“Okay, we have to convince him of something, right?” said Dustin, eyes darting in the direction of the noise. “What do we do? There’s gotta be some… insecurity this all represents.”
The group thought in nervous silence for a moment, all fixed on Will. Nobody acknowledged aloud that it sounded like the far-off demogorgon was starting to get nearer.
Racking his brain, Mike finally latched onto something.
I feel so alone, I’ve never felt so alone in my life.
I still can’t imagine how he felt. He was so young, and so alone.
I’m here.
“Alone,” Mike said, looking up at the group. “He feels like he’s alone. He said it to me this morning. We have to let him know we’re here with him.” Mike reached down with a gentle hand and took the young boy’s arm.
Will’s head shot up, and he pulled away frantically, looking with wide eyes to some place behind Mike.
“He still can’t see us,” Jonathan muttered, waving a hand in front of the boy’s face.
The demogorgon roared again, making Will jump. He reached instinctively for a gun that wasn’t there and let out a rasped sob as he realized he was defenseless against the monster approaching.
“We must make him see us,” El said. She reached a hand out for Will’s shoulder, which the boy backed away from again, fearful of the phantom contact. El frowned down at the boy and took a deep breath. She reached out very slowly and placed a hand gingerly on Will’s shoulder. “You are not alone, Will,” she said. “You have never been alone.”
Will did not retreat from the hand this time, and, slightly, the fog around him receded. He looked up at El. “I am alone right now,” he said in a shaky whisper. “No one knows this evil like I do.”
El leaned down, hand steady on Will’s shoulder. “They don’t,” she agreed. “That doesn’t mean they will not listen to you. That doesn’t mean they will ever stop looking for you.”
Jonathan smiled, putting his own hand on Will’s arm. Dustin took his other shoulder. Mike reached down and took Will’s small hand, shaking and grimy, in his own.
Will looked now at all four of his friends, the fog slowly clearing again, then back to El. The demogorgon seemed to be running closer now as he spoke, “No one will ever know me.”
“That’s not true,” said El sternly. She crouched down so that her face was at the level of Will’s and she looked him plainly in the eyes. “And this evil is not yours alone. It is true, I do not know the Upside Down or Vecna like you know them, but I still know them well. Life has been unkind to me. It has been unkind to you. But this does not mean we are alone.” She squeezed the shoulder she grabbed onto. “Know that if you have no one else, you have me.”
“And us too,” Dustin said. “Even if we can’t understand everything.”
The fog faded to almost nothing, but this only revealed that the approaching demogorgon was only several feet from the group now, fixed on Will.
Mike felt the boy shake. “Hey,” he said, squeezing his hand. “Hey, we’re here, okay? This is just Vecna’s trick.”
Will nodded, swallowing nervously. The demogorgon was less than ten feet away now.
“You are not alone,” El said again. “Tell this monster you are not alone.”
“I’m not alone!” shouted Will. He stared the demogorgon down with his dark eyes as it came to him, ready to pounce.
Mike winced, afraid their plan hadn’t worked. If Will was taken down in this memory, Mike had no idea what that would mean for him in the real world, but he doubted it was anything good. He put an instinctive hand in front of his friends, though he knew that it would be little help against the creature.
Then the demogorgon stopped, suspended in time and inches from its target, bony hands outstretched for a kill that wouldn’t come. It gave a shrill cry before fading in a cloud of gray smoke and dissolving into the thick air of the Upside Down.
“Jesus Christ,” Dustin said with a sigh of relief. “I thought we were goners.”
Will did not speak in his own celebration. Instead, he looked to the four people around him with a smile and outstretched his arms, collecting them all in the closest thing to a hug his small form could give.
“You did it,” El said to him, sharing her own smile.
Will pressed his small forehead to hers and closed his eyes in silent appreciation.
“And Vecna?” Jonathan asked over the commotion of the others. “Is he gone?” His tone was hopeless. He knew the answer to this question before it left his mouth.
Will pulled back from the group, looking down in thought. “No,” he said. Then he tensed, freezing for a moment before his eyes widened. “No, he-”
Mike was suddenly sucked away through the cold, black void of limbo, and then plopped into reality. His vision adjusted in time to catch Will’s pupils returning to his whitened eyes. “What?” he asked hesitantly, taking in his friend’s shocked expression.
Will brought up a hand and tried to wipe away the drop of blood that had trickled from his nose. “I know Vecna’s plan,” he said shakily, and crumpled to the floor before he could say anything further.
Notes:
Waaaaaa Vecna's plannnnnnn!
Ugh Mike Wheeler literally can't go a single scene without holding Will's hand. Like I'm not even trying atp, he just does it.
Okay! Well thank you for reading! Next chapter to come soon! We're reaching the end of Act 2 within a few chapters now. I'm excited.Please please PLEASE leave a comment if you have anything you want to talk about at all. I love it when you dissect. I also love dissecting, so ask questions if you have them! Or if you just wanna say hi! I'm also still over on tumblr if you wanna talk to me! Ask box is always open! https://www.tumblr.com/memorymaster07
Love you all dearly and see you next time :)
Chapter 12: An Understanding
Notes:
Very slight TW for violence-- just in the very beginning.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Will didn’t know exactly why he’d passed out upon returning to reality. He had opened his eyes, said a few words, and was immediately yanked back into his mind. He figured it was a combination of many things: he’d barely slept the night before, he was draining his energy by letting the others into his memory and doing whatever he’d done to that demogorgon, and now he felt suffocated by the weight of Vecna’s plan.
Vecna’s plan. The thought made Will shiver. After his friends had helped to weed Vecna from his memory, Will was suddenly hit with an explanation. It was as if Vecna’s loose grip had let Will sneak a glance into the monster’s own mind, and now he knew exactly what Vecna wanted, how he was planning to get it, and that he had no doubt he’d succeed. The plan was something that had crossed Will’s mind before, so he shouldn’t have been as terrified as he was. With Vecna’s apparent confidence, though, it made Will want to be sick.
Will didn’t want to think about that at all. He’d save it for later, when he told his friends. For now, he’d lose himself in the caverns of his unconscious mind.
For a short while, Will slipped into a dream. He found himself with Mike, lying across from him a field of spring grass. The dark-haired boy smiled warmly as he looked at Will through blades of green. The sun shone, the wind blew lightly, and there were sounds of cicadas and birds in the trees. Will hadn’t experienced such a peaceful dream in a very long time. He breathed in the cool air and sighed to himself, thinking this was exactly what he needed after reliving that awful time in the Upside Down.
Mike was still staring after a moment, which made Will blush. He watched the boy’s longing gaze, his subconsciously parted lips, and smiled back at him. “What?” Will asked aloud.
Mike was lost in a dreamy haze. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
Will looked down, his face a shade of scarlet now. “No,” he said sheepishly.
“Yes,” Mike responded. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on Will's cheek. “Will Byers, you are breathtaking.”
Will put his own hand atop Mike’s, tracing the groove of it with his thumb. “You really think that?” he asked through a grin.
“Absolutely. You’re breathtaking, and I love you.”
The words made Will’s chest feel hot. This was all he wanted, his best friend of 12 years in this way. “I love you too,” he whispered, for he could barely manage more. His body seemed to melt into the soft grass. He wanted to stay here forever, his eyes closed as he listened to the sound of Mike’s breathing and felt the warm touch on his face.
There was a sudden cold, and where Will had brushed his thumb along soft skin, he felt a rough and uneven mess.
“Do you really think he’d ever say that?” a voice sounded, half of Mike’s and half of something evil.
Will opened his eyes with a start, only to find, to his own horror, that Mike’s welcome hand had been replaced by Vecna’s. As he turned his head and found that Mike’s eyes had gone milky and blue, he tried to jump up and away from the monster. He started to escape, but the hand at his face moved faster, and pinned him down by the neck. Will strained a scream, though he knew that he wouldn’t be heard in a dream.
The Vecna-like creature rose from the grass, bringing its other hand, the claw, with it.
“No,” choked Will, fighting still to free himself from the demon’s grasp as the clawed hand came closer and closer to his face. He clawed at the hand around his neck to no avail. “No, no, no.”
The creature’s claws reached Will’s skin now. It sneered above him. “You are a fatality of your own foolish nature,” it growled in Mike’s distorted voice. “You cannot win, William. You never have, and you never will.” The claw pierced Will’s skin, digging into the edges of his face with a sharp and burning pain.
Will wailed into the spring air with all he could give beneath the forceful hand at his throat until, finally, his vision blacked and his struggling ceased.
“Hello, brother,” said another voice, echoing.
Will’s eyes shot open again, and now he was standing in a black void, water rippling under his feet. He saw El across from him, looking at him with big and curious eyes. The nightmare was gone. It had only been Will’s imagination.
“Will?” El tried again. “Are you alright?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Will mustered, still finding it difficult to speak as he remembered the horrific face above him and the claws that ripped his skin. A phantom feeling still lingered around his neck. He couldn’t make much of anything in such a state, but he knew El should be resting. “You’re supposed to be conserving your power,” he said. “We need enough to kill Vecna.”
“I know,” said El. “I will rest. And I’m not using more energy than I should. I was already in your mind after the memory. I just chose to stay. I want to talk to you.”
Will tensed at this. “You’ve been here this whole time,” he said, the implications of this sinking in. “Did you see…” He faltered, not sure what he wanted an answer to. There had been many aspects of that nightmare that he’d rather keep to himself.
El kicked a foot through the water. “Not everything,” she said. “I kept losing you. I saw you in the grass with Mike, happy. Then I lost my place. I brought you here after that.”
Will felt sick to his stomach. She knew now, his awful secret, if she’d seen the first part of his dream. She’d seen him and Mike, and what Will wanted. “El, I can explain,” he started, panic bubbling into his throat.
El tilted her head. “Hm?”
“Don’t you want an explanation?” Will couldn’t believe this was happening. El had seen his dream. She knew the sickening things Will yearned for, there was no escaping that. It would be better to just say it outright than talk around it.
El asked, “An explanation of what?”
Will couldn’t help it any longer. His stomach burned with humiliation and he blurted, “Of the fact that I’m in love with Mike.” And though he thought it would taste awful to admit such a thing aloud, Will felt noticeably light with the weight of the statement up in the air now. He stared at El with anticipation of her reception, but was met with a look of confusion.
“Oh,” his sister managed flatly, blinking. She closed her mouth tightly for a moment, as if trying to comprehend the confession, gears turning behind her eyes. Then she said the last thing Will expected her to: “Mike and I broke up a very long time ago.”
Now it was Will’s turn to look confused. “What?”
“You think I will be mad because I dated him,” El provided. “I am not.”
“What? No, I-”
Then it hit Will, and he felt a bit dim. El had been raised in a very different environment than the rest of the people in his life. And, hell, she’d spent the last year fighting an interdimensional wizard in another world. Her opinions on homosexuality were probably the last things on her mind. No wonder she could care less if her brother was in love with his best friend.
Will almost laughed, light at the idea of someone who wouldn’t look at him any differently after his secret had slipped. “Just… forget I said anything. I’m glad you’re not upset.”
El tilted her head, giving Will a playful glare, though the true context of this exchange was still lost on her. “I never would be,” she said, and then her expression was stone. “And I’m not here to talk about Mike. I came here because of your memory,” she said. “You believe you are alone.”
Will looked down at the mention of it. He had known this was why El was here the moment she revealed herself, but had hoped this part of the conversation never came. “Believed,” he corrected her, and tried to sound confident in it. “You kicked Vecna from the memory. You convinced me otherwise.”
Now El gave him a knowing raise of her eyebrows. “I am not stupid, Will. We may have taken Vecna’s power over that part of your mind, but the thoughts that let him in do not just go away.”
Now Will really tried to avoid El’s eyes. Sometimes he wondered if she could read minds when she entered someone’s head. Of course Will believed he was alone. It was hard to see himself as anything else after all was said and done. Every single aspect of Will seemed to separate him from people, and now that Vecna was tampering with his memories, he was, quite literally, in a world of his own. “How can you possibly deny it?” he asked quietly.
El sighed. “I can’t,” she said, flat. “You are different from everyone.”
This made Will look up again. He wasn’t searching for El’s pity, but he also hadn’t expected her to so plainly agree with him.
Now El took Will’s hand. She was fierce, though she meant well. “But nothing good happens if you accept that something like that means you will never find your place,” she said. “I would know.” Then, with a small smile. “I think you and I are more alike than you realize.”
Will took this in. He knew El and him were both victims of a lost childhood. He knew they both had seen a darker side of the Upside Down than the others, even if in very different contexts. Will had felt trapped in a world where no one believed him over the past year, but he supposed El could relate by stepping back into a world where no one remembered that she existed.
“I always admired you,” El continued. She said the sentence quickly, like she was scared to admit it.
Will felt like laughing at something so ridiculous. “You admired me?” Will could not see a world in which the magic-wielding, bloody and battered and fearless Eleven could look up to small, teary-eyed Will.
Still, El nodded. “I always thought you were stronger than me,” she said. “I admired your resilience. I was jealous of it.”
“You’re making this up.”
“I’m not.” El bit the inside of her cheek, eyes slipping to the side as she thought to herself. “After everything with the Upside Down, you never let it overtake you. I never even saw you get angry about it. I handled it worse. When I thought no one could understand me, I accepted it. I let myself believe I was born to be a weapon. I lashed out when I was upset at the world.” She smirked to herself regretfully. “Remember when I hit Angela Stewart with a roller skate?”
Will definitely did remember that. “She kinda deserved it,” he muttered.
El gave a small laugh and shook her head. “Well, I’m saying you had it right. You are isolated. You can’t prove that wrong. But you don’t let it define you. You are more than the things that make you feel alone.” She gave Will’s hand a definite squeeze, her stare resolute. “You helped me see this for myself. Now I wanted you to see it too.”
Will didn’t know what to say. He never knew that El thought of him like that. He’d lived with the girl for an entire year in California, and he knew she admired the way he dressed and talked to others and expressed himself through his art, but something like this had simply never crossed his mind. Will was weak, El was strong. That was the way it had always been, since the moment they’d first crossed paths. She’d seen him first as he was fading into the blue of a cold woods. He’d seen her first taking the life of a furious monster without so much as a blink of her eyes. There was little in the world more telling than that.
Now El said this. She thought somewhat the same of him as Will thought of her. She wanted him to realize what she’d always seen in him: defiance.
Will felt himself tearing up, inexplicably moved by his sister’s sentiment. “Where’d you get so wise?” he asked, a half-laugh.
“I had lots of time to think in the Upside Down. I realized many things.”
Will raised an eyebrow, blinking. “How about the meaning of life?”
“Not that. But I decided Mrs. Butterworth is better than pure maple syrup.”
“That’s so wrong.” And though Will was laughing, there were tears coming down his cheeks now. He didn’t know how to tell El what she meant to him. How much this meant to him. He stepped forward and embraced her in a hug. “Thank you,” he said, though he could think of so much more.
El hugged him back without hesitation. “Remember what I said,” she instructed quietly, then stepped back. “That is all I had to say. Now I should rest. I love you.”
Will smiled. “I love you too, El.” Then, with a prickling realization, he reached out before she could leave his mind, needing one last word. “And about the… Mike thing, just… It’s sort of a secret.” He figured that if El didn’t realize the wrongness of Will’s feelings for his best friend, she definitely wouldn’t realize the consequences of this information leaving the walls of Will’s mind.
El frowned, but nodded in a half-understanding. “I won’t tell,” she promised, then a puzzled look crossed her face, and she retracted her head. “Wait, are you boyfriends?”
“No,” Will said, shutting that down as quickly as possible. He swayed with a wave of awkward anxiety that caught him, unsure how to explain himself. “We’re… He doesn’t love me. It’s not– Well, it’s not usual for a boy to love a boy.” He figured this was the simplest way he could put it.
“Oh,” said El, scrunching up her nose. “Well, that doesn’t seem right. I think Mike loves you.”
Will scoffed at the idea of it. “Yeah, right. But, seriously. It’s a secret. I’m not sure everyone we know would be as receptive as you, El.” Will didn’t like to think too hard about how his friends might see him if he ever admitted himself to them. He hoped they wouldn’t care. He knew deep down that he’d never be looked at the same way if anything got out.
“That makes no sense,” El admitted, “but yes. Of course I will keep your secret.” She backed away, looking around the black void. “I will let you wake up now. I can feel that your mind wants to wake.”
Will readied himself to be shot back into reality. “Thank you again,” he said to El. “I’ll see you soon. I want to talk to everyone.” A shiver shot down Will’s spine. “I know Vecna’s plan now.”
El’s eyes widened, but she kept her composure. “I understand,” she said. “I will be up soon.”
With this, El disappeared, leaving Will alone in the black and shallow pool. A moment later, he was forcing his eyes feebly open, clearing sleep with a groggy hand. When his vision cleared, he found that he’d been brought back to his own bed between the time he passed out and now. At the bed’s foot he spotted movement. For a moment, he panicked, thinking maybe Vecna had come to haunt him a second time.
Then Will realized the voices and his sight was stable enough to make out Mike and Dustin, mid-conversation.
“I get the feeling you’d be awful at summer camp,” Dustin was saying, arms crossed. “Did you ever go to summer camp, Mike?”
Mike was frowning in his signature pouty, offended way. “No.”
“Oh, you’d hate it,” Dustin assured him. “Trust-building exercises would take you out.”
Mike was about to respond, opening his mouth wide to spit some relenting comment, but his eyes flashed to Will and he paused, changing the trajectory of his focus. “You’re awake!” he said, rushing to the boy’s side. “Are you okay? What was that? Vecna?”
Will sat himself upright so that Mike wasn’t leaning completely over him, as if he were the entire sky, with freckle stars. Will had to stop thinking of him like this. “No,” he said. “I think the memory just drained me. I was exhausted.” He decided not to mention that El might have had a hand in it. Their conversation, he wouldn’t mind keeping private.
This seemed to satisfy Mike, and he distanced himself by a couple inches.
Dustin leaned over too, curious. “You mentioned something about Vecna’s plan?” he prompted. It was obvious that everyone had been itching for answers while Will was out. There was a tense energy in the air.
Will supposed it was finally time to come to terms with that. He’d tried to push the revelation to the back of his thoughts while he slept, but he couldn’t hide from this forever. He could still feel Vecna’s certainty leaking through him like a heavy liquid metal. There was a monster in his head, and the monster knew that it would win. Will knew the monster would win. The way things were shaping out, his victory was already apparent. The path forward was slimming before Will’s eyes, and he didn’t want to think about the only options he had left.
“It’s that bad?” Dustin asked, studying the conflicted expression on Will’s face.
“It’s Vecna,” Will said in return. “What more did you expect?” He watched both his friends’ faces melt with despair and quickly moved on. “I think everyone should hear,” he decided. “Including El. We’ll wait until she’s awake and meet as a group.”
His friends, though they looked pained to be kept from the plan any longer, agreed solemnly with Will and left him to rest a while longer. Will was grateful for the quiet moment, for he doubted he’d have many more.
An hour later, once El had forced herself from her own bed and into the kitchen to take a slumped seat, Will found himself at the head of the table. There were a million hungry eyes on him, it felt, even though it was only Jonathan, Mike, El, and Dustin. Everyone knew exactly what to expect him to say, and knew nothing of it at the same time.
“It just came to me,” Will was saying, hands out on the table like he was checking to make sure they were still his own. “While I was in the memory. Like, maybe when he lost this grip on my mind, I caught a glance at his.” Will thought back to this morning, when Vecna had told him it wouldn’t matter what he knew.
“You said he didn’t make errors,” Dustin recalled. “So…”
“He probably meant for you to see this,” finished Jonathan glumly from Will’s left, his thoughtful stare intense as he focused down on the grooves of the table. “And I would guess that means whatever you know won’t help us defeat him.”
“Far from it,” Will said with a sigh. “Really, it doesn’t change anything. It just lets us know what’s at stake.” Which was almost worse than continuing on as they had been.
El propped her head on her hand, leaning on the table. “What is at stake?”
Will felt himself shrink back in his chair. He hated being the sole source of this awful problem, of all this worry and hurt. “He wants a new physical form,” he said. The words had a sting to them, though Will had not hurled them out. It was no untheorized announcement, but it was exactly what Will had feared most. “And with it, his full strength.”
The implications of this statement settled over the table like a graying cloud. Mike shifted in his seat. “And he wants this new form to be… you?”
“Yes.”
Another moment of silence.
Now Dustin sat up straighter. “That’s scary,” he admitted. “But how does messing with your memories have anything to do with it? What’s Vecna playing at?”
Will knew the answer to this very clearly. “Well, he can only take over if I let him,” he said, his feet shifting beneath him. “So he’s trying to break me so that I give up and surrender to him. He's making me believe things that aren’t true, giving me what I want and taking it away again, he’s taking away my sense of reality.”
“He’s driving you crazy,” Mike said quietly from beside Will. “For real this time.” His eyes were fixed on the opposite wall.
Will nodded shamefully. “Pretty much.” He felt as if he could cry again, but wouldn’t let himself. He was a mess enough already in the eyes of his friends. He was a problem. He was becoming a monster.
Dustin leaned back again. “Jesus Christ. So, the minute you give in, Vecna’s back? At full force?”
Will felt even smaller. “Something like that.” He wasn’t sure if the process would be slow or immediate. Maybe a mix of both, but he knew that he would eventually surrender his mind, and then, Vecna would be at the reins. Would Will still have a consciousness of his own? Would his soul be consumed by Vecna’s grasp and cease to exist? He supposed it was only a matter of time until he found out, and by then, it would hardly matter.
“Well, then we just won’t let you give in,” Jonathan tried, mustering faulty confidence. Even he knew this was absurd.
Will could laugh if he really wanted to. He didn’t want to. “Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done,” he admitted. “I can tell I don’t have a lot of time.” Will was the only thing keeping a great evil from taking over Hawkins once again. He wanted so badly to resist; he was trying to resist, but eventually his walls would crumble against Vecna’s force. Vecna knew Will’s mind like the back of his clawed hand. He could play with his emotions perfectly, find the silent, hidden weaknesses and make them loud. It was foolish to think Will could fend this off forever.
El shook her head at this, unable to accept it. “You’ve always resisted,” she said.
Will was ashamed, thinking back on what she’d just told him in his mind. He stumbled for an explanation now. “I know,” he said, trying still to keep his eyes from welling. “I know, and I want to. I just… I don’t know anything anymore. Through all the years of the Upside Down and Vecna, I had one thing. I knew myself. I knew who I was and what I had done.” He was shaking, he could feel it. “But now he’s taking this from me too. I know it sounds easy. All I have to do is outlast him, but it’s hard. It’s been getting harder every single day and I’m scared I won’t be able to do this for as long as you need me to.” He tried so sincerely to keep from crying. He couldn’t imagine what the others thought of him right now. “I’m so sorry,” he said, though it barely came out audibly.
“Will.” Jonathan turned his brother’s shoulder and embraced him, hoping for comfort. “Will, stop. We’re going to figure this out.”
“Let’s find another corrupted memory,” El said. She tried to get up from her seat and was hit by a spell of dizziness, slumping back. “Come here.” She reached a hand out, grabbing at Will’s arm in a daze.
Will shook his head at her. “El, you need rest,” he said. She was in absolutely no shape to go into another memory. Will doubted she’d even be able to get herself into his mind at this point. He only hoped her powers were not draining past the point of ever entering his mind again. Without El, there was no hope of defeating Vecna. If things came to that, Will had very limited options, and none of them sounded pleasing.
Mike’s eyebrows were furrowed, obviously upset by Will’s revelation. “Well, we have to do something. We won’t let Vecna break you, Will. I don’t care how hard it seems.” He searched for more words desperately. “I’ll keep up with the journal,” he said. “We’ll do more entries, we can look at it more often. I’ll- I could stay with you. All the time. I’ll write down everything and-”
“Mike,” Will tried. This was ridiculous.
Mike looked furious. “What? Will, don’t be an idiot! We have to do something. We have to do everything we can.”
“We could try to solidify the whole identity thing,” Dustin suggested over Mike, weary of his friend’s newfound fire and in a slightly more rational mindset. “I don’t know how. I mean… maybe this is stupid, but we could make a D&D character sheet for you.” He gave an unsure smile, but retracted it at a look from Jonathan and Mike.
“Seriously?” Mike asked.
“Maybe,” said Will over his hotheaded friend, giving Dustin a smile in return, as best he could. “I like that.” In reality, Will knew none of these things would bring him any further from the edge than he was already at. His mind trekked forward toward oblivion. There was no stopping it, no slowing it down.
Before any more suggestions, ridiculous or not, could be made, Lucas burst into the room, not looking to see the state of the people inside. He was out of breath, leaning on the wall like he’d run all the way here. “Max and I tried to keep her out,” he panted. “She’s stubborn, man.” And with his head turned to Mike, “I see where you get it from.”
And as if on cue, Karen Wheeler walked into the kitchen, looking around at the group sitting at the table, Max on her heel, trying to reason with her. Karen paid no mind. “I’m here to help,” she said. “What can I do?”
Mike was stressed to the brim before his mother walked into the Byers’ kitchen. After she walked into the Byers’ kitchen? Well, his vision had gone so red that he could hardly tell.
Now, after the initial awkward encounter, he had managed to drag her into the guest bedroom without her asking too many questions. Perhaps she said she wanted to help, but her presence was making things ten times more complicated. The group was dealing with enough without this woman, who didn’t have any idea what was going on, becoming involved.
When Mike shut the door, his mother was crossing her arms at him. “Surely there’s something I can do.”
Mike tried not to lose it. “Mom, I told you to stay out of this.”
His mother didn’t back down. “I know. But, Michael, you can’t just… tell me all these crazy things and expect me to leave you alone! I can’t just accept the fact that you’re out here fighting God knows what while I sit at home and tell the family you’re at Dustin’s any longer.” She put her hands on her hips now, a stern look. “I’m going to help you.”
Mike almost scoffed. He still couldn’t believe she cared about this. “Where was this urgency when I was struggling for the past year? You can help now but you couldn’t help then?” She was such a hypocrite.
His mother frowned. “I did have urgency. I took you to so many psychologists. I tried to get you support.”
“No, you didn’t!” Mike backed away from his mother. “Every time someone so much as mentioned that there might actually be something wrong with me, you shut them down.” He stuck out his arms. “And apparently you’d sooner believe your son is being hunted by interdimensional monsters than accept that he might not be normal.”
“Mike, listen-”
“I’m not normal, Mom!”
Now his mother frowned. “Normal is a very relative term.”
Mike couldn’t stand this any longer. He’d dealt with this flawed logic for months on end. “Oh, shut up,” he said, and couldn’t stop his eyes from watering. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Mike’s mom put her hands up in frustration, but she said nothing further. Her arms dropped and she took in the sight of her son, red in the face and tears leaking from his eyes, for a long, quiet moment. When she spoke again, her voice shook, but it was gentle. “Mike, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry and I know how much you’ve hurt because of me in the past year. I know I may never make that up to you, and I know you think I don’t care.” Tears formed in her own eyes now. “I do care about you, Mike, more than I can say. God, I just- Well, I just wanted so much for you to be alright. I wanted you to be alright to the point that I couldn’t accept any other answer. I know it was wrong. I was wrong, Mike.”
Mike’s frustration did not leave him. He did not walk forward and embrace his trembling mother. He tried to wipe away his own tears. “I was so lost. I was so lost that it felt like the world was ending, and you didn’t even acknowledge it. You said I was feeling what every boy my age does. I wasn’t.”
His mother stepped toward him, mascara down her face now. “I know, and I wish I had been there for you. I’m so sorry, Mike. I’ve been an awful mother. I understand if you feel like you’ll never forgive me.”
“I won’t!”
“Can you try?” His mother was a foot from him now, showing all the emotions she’d hid from him in the past months. “I’m here now, and it doesn’t make up for anything you’ve felt, but it’s the best I can do.” She blinked upwards. “And I think all the things you told me about this evil wizard are crazy, but I believe you. I trust you. I want to help you.”
Whatever Mike’s mother was trying to do, it was working. Mike felt himself melting around the edges. He trembled, looking up at familiar eyes. All he’d ever wanted was his mother to believe him. He didn’t know if he’d forgive her for how she’d ignored him, but he needed her now, if she was ready to be there for him. “And what about when this is over?” he asked hesitantly, keeping himself from giving in too quickly.
His mom sighed with a lightening relief. “Anything you want. I’ll take you back to that psychologist you liked in the city. We can get you help. Real help.”
“Really?”
“I promise.”
And then Mike could not hold himself upright any longer. He stumbled forward and practically fell into his mother’s arms, hugging her so tightly it must have hurt. He sobbed into her curly, blonde hair. He’d missed his mother so badly.
His mom hugged him back, just as fiercely, stroking Mike’s hair with her fingers as she let loose her own tears. “You are my son, Mike. All I want is for you to be happy,” she said softly. “I never needed you to be normal. I couldn’t give less of a… less of a fuck if you’re normal.”
Then Mike pulled his head back to gawk, eyes wide. He’d never heard that word from his mother’s mouth, it almost sounded alien.
His mom laughed slightly at her son’s bewildered expression. “You should’ve seen me when I was your age,” she said.
Mike shook his head slowly. “I thought you’d always been as pretentious as you are now.”
“Pretentious? Michael!”
Mike smirked at the reaction, but was immediately hit by another wave of emotion. He crumpled back into his mother's arms without another word.
“I love you, Mike,” his mom told him. “I love you so, so much.”
It was all Mike had ever wanted to hear, real and true and authentic. “I love you too,” he said, and he truly meant it in return. He hadn’t realized how much he longed for his mother and all her understanding until he’d lost it. Now that she was back, Mike hoped she’d be here forever.
Finally, his mom stepped back from the hug, keeping her arms on Mike’s elbows as she gave him a searching look. “So, will you let me help?”
Mike had forgotten about that aspect. It wasn’t necessarily practical to let his mother into the group in any way, shape, or form. On the other hand, she knew too much now. It would be difficult to keep her away from the problem no matter what Mike said. “We’ll have to talk to the group,” he decided. “You sort of came in at a bad time.” Mike shivered when he thought back to what Will had revealed at the table.
This made his mom frown. “Oh,” she said. “Is everything alright?”
No, definitely not, but Mike wouldn’t admit that to his mother outright. “It’s complicated,” he went with, which was the largest understatement of the century. “And our problem isn’t really all that… universal,” he added. “I mean, it’s all to do with Will’s mind right now, so it might be hard for you to do much for us.”
His mother’s eyes leveled. “Mike, you act like I’ve never met the boy. He practically lived at our house when you were younger.”
Actually, he really did live at their house for a couple of months during Mike’s freshman and sophomore years, but Mike decided not to mention that detail. His mom was dealing with enough that she didn’t remember. He supposed she had a point, though. Will and the others were hardly strangers.
“And you really want to be a part of this?”
“Of course, Michael.” There was no convincing her of anything else, as much as Mike would’ve liked to.
Mike sighed, half-defeated but also admittedly half-relieved to have his mother there. “Well, everyone’s here,” he said. “Let’s go out and talk to them.”
Mike opened the door just slightly and peeked out to survey the area. He could see out into the living room, where it looked like Dustin’s character sheet idea was playing out. Will and Dustin sat on the couch with pencils while Max and El kneeled at the other side of the coffee table, pointing and commenting.
“Give him all the wisdom you can,” Max was saying.
Dustin blinked at her from under his cap. “It’s supposed to be realistic. This thing is actually serving a purpose, thank you.”
Will gasped in mock offense, though slightly less animated than usual. “You think I’m not wise?”
Mike was happy to see he still had the ability to find humor. He’d seemed downright hopeless at the kitchen table, and that was something Mike wouldn’t accept. This battle was not yet over. Will had his sanity, and Mike intended for him to keep it.
Mike still couldn’t believe Vecna’s plan had been dangling in front of his nose this whole time. He’d even thought once or twice that it felt like Will was going crazy all over again. The thought scared him so bad that he’d tried to dismiss it over the past few days, but, obviously, he’d been onto something. Vecna was driving Will to insanity. Mike had already lost Will to the same affliction once, even if it hadn’t been true. He wouldn’t let it happen a second time, and he definitely wouldn’t let it happen for real.
When Mike had stepped fully into the hall, Max was the first to notice him. She nudged the others in his direction and they all looked over, waiting impatiently to hear what had come of him and his mother’s conversation.
Mike led his mother out into the living room and watched her studying his friends by the couch. He noticed that Lucas and Jonathan had entered from the kitchen as well, drawn by the silence that Mike’s entrance had been met with. He wasn’t exactly sure how to approach this situation. “Uh… I talked to my mom,” he said. “She-”
His mom looked back and gave him a look that definitely meant stop talking. Whatever she wanted to prove, she wanted to prove it herself. She eyed the group once more. “I won’t pretend to understand what’s happening here,” she said. “But I want you all to know that I believe what you’re saying.”
Mike watched his friends exchange various glances. He couldn’t believe his mom was doing this right now.
“I hope you realize that I’ve known many of you since you were born,” she continued. “And I can’t just sit at home while I know you’re dealing with something so heavy, so I want to help you in whatever way possible. If that’s simply going to the store and buying you more food, fine. If it’s… I don’t know, going up against some evil creature, I’ll do that too. Most importantly, I want you to know I am here for you. All of you.” She looked satisfied with herself upon finishing this small speech.
Mike’s friends still seemed uneasy about the whole idea. Max was the first to speak, looking to Mike. “I don’t know…” she said tentatively. “Do you really think we need-”
“I think it’ll be good,” Will cut in. He sat up straighter on the couch, looking from Mike to his mother. “I’m sure Mrs. Wheeler will be able to help us.”
“Karen,” Mike’s mom corrected gently. She walked forward with slow steps and approached Will. “Where is Joyce? Is she helping you too?”
Will shook his head, pained. “She’s on a business trip,” he provided.
Mike’s mom frowned. “You must miss her.”
“I do.”
Mike was going to tell his mom to lay off, because the last thing Will needed was more reasons to be unhappy right now, but he stopped himself as he watched the woman place a hand on Will’s shoulder.
“Well, Will, if you need any motherly support, you can always come to me until Joyce returns,” she said with a warm smile at the boy. “You’ve been an honorary member of my household since you and Mike were little, after all.”
This made Will smile back, and he gave the older woman a definite nod. “I will,” he assured her, a quiver in his voice. “Thank you.”
Something about this interaction softened Mike. Maybe it was the genuine gratefulness on Will’s face, or how carefully Mike’s mom had spoken to him, but Mike decided maybe having her involved wasn’t as bad as he thought it might be.
So soon after, it was determined: Karen Wheeler was going to aid in Vecna’s demise.
That night, Will found himself, at some point, alone. It was far into the evening, and everyone had left for the night, aside from Mike, who had chosen to continue sleeping in the spare room despite his mother asking to have him home for once.
This choice had surprised Will, considering how upset Mike had been in the kitchen after Will revealed Vecna’s plan. It was obvious that he resented Will for losing hope. This embarrassed Will most of all. Regrettably, he cared so much about what Mike thought of him. The idea of being weak-minded in Mike’s eyes made his stomach churn.
At least Mike’s mom was in the picture now, and maybe that would talk some sense into the boy. Will had worried after their initial run-in that she might break and tell Pennhurst about his location. Now that she was technically part of the team, he could release at least these anxieties. Will wouldn’t have a problem seeing Karen every now and then either. He quite enjoyed the company of Mike’s mom, thinking back to early mornings when the Byers had moved temporarily into the Wheeler household. They were both early risers, so Will had spent many mornings chatting with her over coffee while she tried her hand at the newspaper crosswords.
This afternoon, laughing with his friends over the D&D sheet and inducting Mike’s mom had sent Will’s spirits up, and that was rare these days.
Unfortunately, reality came back to him with a slamming prominence as he read through his day in Mike’s journal. Almost every memory he had from after Karen’s appearance was fake. He thought he had made dinner with Dustin and Jonathan. He thought he spoke with Max about her own experiences in Vecna’s mind. He even thought Mike had sat by him and confided in him his own worries for the future. None of this happened.
What did that leave to be the truth? The memory from the morning, of course, and the nightmare that came after. The awful confession of Vecna’s plan, too. Will knew the looks he’d gained from his friends were real. He knew the anxiety in the air was real. Will was a problem that needed to be solved, and now everyone realized this. Will was a monster that needed to be defeated. He was a thin, paper wall between them and the looming threat of Vecna’s power.
Overcome by this guilty feeling, and perhaps a little crazed, Will stepped out onto the front porch. It was dark and the night was cold after a gloomy day, but he needed fresh air so badly. He breathed it in like he hadn’t taken a breath in years, like this was the first clear air he’d ever felt enter his lungs.
There was a storm rolling in, clouds on the horizon flashing with lightning. Will listened to the distant thunder crack in his ears. It would be smart to get back inside before too long, but for now, he stood still.
A bold thought came to Will’s mind as he watched lightning spread across the sky above the trees, and it actually made him laugh out loud. He asked himself: Who was he to assume even this storm was real? For all he knew, this was another trick of Vecna, trying somehow to frighten him further with big bolts of flashing lightning. If everything else in Will’s life was so unsolid now, why not the sky? Why not the wind and the rain?
This was why Will knew he’d never win. It was impossible to live a life that had no proven substance. No matter if Will believed or he didn’t, he was always let down. Vecna preyed on Will’s determination, he knew Will would think so hard about what he saw, and it would drive him to the brink of insanity.
You are a fatality of your own foolish nature, the creature in his dream had said. But Will was no fool, and that was precisely the problem. Will simply cared too much.
At some point, the front door opened from the inside. Someone stepped out onto the porch, but Will didn’t look back to greet them. He only identified the figure as he felt a hand slip around his waist. He looked up at Mike’s dark, curly hair and watched the boy study the coming storm. Will could not fathom how badly he needed this boy. Maybe having Mike would fix every problem he’d ever had. That’s how crazy Will felt when he looked at him, especially on a night like tonight, when everything felt impossible.
“What’s going on with you?” Mike asked, turning then to face Will. “You’ve been out here forever.”
“Oh, just thinking,” said Will. He placed a subtle hand on top of Mike’s on his waist. It was warm. For a moment, the hairs on the back of Will’s neck stood straight.
“I’ve been thinking too,” Mike said, his gaze lingering below Will’s eyes, at his mouth. He smiled in an inarguably suggestive manner.
This was only a shade of Mike, Will could see that quite plainly. This was just a ploy, Vecna trying to taunt Will with something he could never have, dangling it in front of him like he was some ravenous animal.
Mike ran a hand through Will’s hair, murmuring affectionate words. It was only a matter of time until he brought his lips to Will’s, however unreal they were. It would feel real in the moment. Even after the shade left, Will would still feel Mike’s touch– a hand on his waist, a mouth on his mouth.
In another state, Will would do what he’d done the night before. He would throw this version of Mike from him and command him to leave. He wouldn’t indulge in some fantasy he could never really have. He imagined Vecna was hiding somewhere in the halls of his mind, waiting with a sickening sneer for this inevitable outburst.
But now, as this Mike’s fingers brushed over Will’s chin, as this Mike pulled him closer and in a world where nothing at all, even the sky, seemed ever truly real anymore, Will was finding it almost impossible to care.
He took Mike’s face in his hands, pulled him sharply down, and kissed him.
Notes:
Will needs to be feral and morally gray more often methinks.
Aaaanyway... see you next time, which will hopefully be soon, but, fair warning, the next chapter is actually the obligatory long fic mega-angst chapter, and so much so that I think I might release the next two chapters at the same time so I don't leave you on that note 😭
And sorry for lack of Byler this chapter. I needed time for WillEl (my beloved) and Karen Wheeler. Byler next chapter i promise.
Okay! Byyyyeeeee! And please give feedback if you have any! Or just drop in and say hello!! And talk to me on tumblr!
Chapter 13: Over the Edge
Notes:
!!TW!! !!LOOK HERE!!
Hey! Sorta a heavy chapter at some points. I'm not sure what all to put in the warning, so I'll be broad.
TW for: Blood, (underage) alcohol use, internalized(-ish) homophobia, and attempted suicide (though it isn't ever explicitly put that way)
If you see anything else you feel I should've mentioned here, please tell me. My priority is obviously that you feel comfortable reading my fics. I promise this is the worst TW you'll see in this story. It's, like, THE mandatory mega-angst + hurt/comfort chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
On the kitchen counter in the dark, Will could only see the silhouette of the tall, glass bottle, hit by flashes of light through the window in such a way that made it glow like it was some magical potion he might find in a D&D campaign. Beside the bottle, Will traced his finger around the rim of an empty drinking glass without paying it much attention. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the taller bottle and the liquid inside, so clear it could be water.
The bottle had come from the furthest right cabinet above the counter, where Will’s mom kept the liquor she swore she didn’t drink anymore. Judging from the half-finished array, Will guessed his time at Pennhurst might’ve ruined the validity of this claim. Just another way his own issues were bringing down the people around him. Will dared the universe to tell him something he didn’t know.
For the past hour, Will had stared at this bottle, an internal battle playing out.
Half of his mind urged him to put the bottle back. A man like Will’s father would lose himself in the release of a drink when emotions proved too heavy, and Will was nothing like his father. Plus, whenever Lonnie Byers drank, it made him a monster, screaming at his sons, cursing his wife. Will was no Lonnie Byers, but he was certainly monstrous enough without the added buzz. All logic pointed to slipping this bottle back into the dark cupboard and forgetting it existed.
And yet something kept Will from doing so.
In the kitchen, blanketed by the shadow of midnight and swaying to the heavy pulse of rain, Will itched. He watched the glass bottle with the hunger of a starving wolf, his stomach reeling and twisting. He was envious of it, frightened of it, and possessed by it.
Will was losing his mind; that much was apparent from the way he’d acted this evening. He was ashamed when he looked back on how he’d been out on the porch, the way he’d laughed like a maniac at the coming storm. And he still couldn’t release himself from the feeling of warm hands on his skin, reddened lips on his mouth.
Will had kissed a shade of Mike Wheeler without remorse. He’d put his hands in the shadow’s hair, on his hips, under the bottom of his shirt. He’d pressed his lips to the mirage of a mouth, to the illusion of a neck, and let himself feel like it was real. This moment did not exist, and this Mike was not the real Mike. Only a night ago, Will had snapped at the same shade that he wanted to love his best friend, not an echo of him.
Had he fallen so far that this no longer mattered? Was his craving so insatiable that it had abandoned the emotions to which it was tied? Will had taken advantage of Vecna’s ploy, and he’d taken advantage of Mike. It was wrong, even if only in a hallucination, to love a boy who didn’t love Will back. Will was an awful, awful person, and he was losing his mind. Both these things were clear.
He yearned desperately now for a release from this torture and the memories that he couldn’t discern.
Several times over the past days, this want had led him to linger on Mike’s words.
Do you think Vecna would be able to alter your mind if you were drunk?
He knew the boy had been joking, but something about the possibility made Will itch furiously. So many other strategies had been tried and failed in attempt to keep Will from losing himself. Why not try this? The worst-case scenario was that it failed too, and Will would never take another glance at the bottle again. In the best-case scenario, he finally freed himself, and in a way that was entirely his own doing. No more of his friends sacrificing their time for a helpless cause. Will would fix this on his own.
As Will continued to study the bottle, he eventually noticed footsteps. This time, he dared to look up.
For a moment, Jonathan was illuminated with a flash from outside. Thunder cracked as he stepped forward slowly, now also eyeing Will’s arrangement on the counter.
“It’s so late,” Will told him quietly, his voice only loud enough to be heard over the rain on the windowpanes. “Why are you awake?”
Jonathan was almost to the counter now. “The storm’s loud,” he explained. “It woke me up a while ago and I couldn’t fall back asleep.” Now he reached Will and took the tall bottle in his hand. “What do you have here?” He studied it knowingly. “Ah. A gift to Mom and Hopper from Murray, I think.”
“Oh,” said Will, turning his gaze away. He felt flustered at the state Jonathan had found him in. “You know, I wasn’t gonna-”
“You should.”
“What?” Will snapped his head back, unsure if he had heard his brother correctly.
Jonathan continued to read the bottle over. “You think it might help, right? If you do, you should have some.” He looked up and tilted his head at Will’s unsure face. “Hey, it’s not so bad. What’s the worst that could happen? Even I’ve drunk this stuff.”
Will leveled his eyes. “Yeah, you’ve also smoked weed for years. I’m not surprised you’ve had vodka.”
Jonathan grabbed the glass from the counter now. “Well, I’m surprised you haven’t.” He unscrewed the cap from the tall bottle and poured the clear liquid. With a smile, he held the glass out, now swirling with the stuff, to Will, an offering.
Will didn’t know what to do. He looked from the glass to his brother and back again several times, unable to say anything.
Then, with a flash of lightning, Jonathan was gone, leaving Will alone beside the counter in the dark. The glass the phantom had held, Will realized, was in his own hands. It seemed, even if unconsciously, Will had made his choice.
Fuck it, he thought, and brought the glass to his lips, dumping the burning contents down his throat.
No matter what he did, Mike could not fall asleep. For hours, he’d lain in the stiff bed, staring at the ceiling and watching shadows dance across the room whenever lightning rocketed through the sky.
The problem was that he couldn’t stop thinking. Now, he found himself pacing the length of the room, up and down and up and down, window to closet and back again. There were a million problems presenting themselves to Mike at once, and he couldn’t make sense of any of them.
Most prominently in his mind was Will, which was no surprise. Mike usually couldn’t go more than ten minutes without his thoughts returning to the brown-haired boy, and now that Will was so impossibly in danger, he couldn’t go five seconds.
He wished badly that he’d talked more to Will that evening, especially after acting so strangely when Vecna’s plan was revealed. The thought of Will going crazy again made Mike panic. He’d been desperate to find a way to solve this as quickly as possible, and maybe even, he admitted, to an irrational extent. He’d even called Will an idiot, which had been completely without thought. He hoped the boy didn’t take it to heart, but knowing Will, assumed the worst.
Unfortunately, with the surprise arrival of his mother, Mike had found himself suddenly occupied for most of the evening, just trying to make sense of what she could realistically do for the group. And while this was an important thing to figure out, it meant Mike had seldom conversed with Will, and had definitely not explained himself.
One of the only times Mike had seen Will that evening, it had been across the hallway. Mike turned a corner, and there was Will, but when Mike looked into his eyes, he found that same unfamiliar trance that had overtaken him in the morning was back. Will’s pupils were large and his face was slack with no sign of recognition for Mike. He seemed like an animal, lost in a vast woods.
Again, it had only lasted a couple of seconds, and then Will shook out of it, no apparent knowledge that anything strange had even happened.
But Mike knew it happened, and it gave him the creeps. Surely it was something of Vecna’s doing.
Mike stopped his pacing to look at himself in a standing mirror leaned against the wall by the door. It was so dark that he could only see the slight gleam of his eyes.
All he wanted was for Will to be okay. Mike knew the boy was hurting, confused, and at a loss for all hope, and all Mike could ask was how to make him feel better. He’d kept a near-perfect journal day after day, he supported him, laughed with him, checked in on him, and let him feel wanted. And still, despite Mike’s strongest effort, Will was inarguably slipping away. Mike simply couldn’t let that happen.
Now Mike broke his stare at the mirror and began pacing again, the sight of himself becoming too much to handle.
A new strain of thought was weaving into the grooves of Mike’s brain. He cared so deeply for Will. Actually, it was quite frightening how much he cared for Will. Mike cared for all his friends. He was selfless, he was the heart of the party, and he could think of nothing greater than the happiness of his companions.
Still, the way he cared about Will seemed different. It seemed deeper. Perhaps this was just due to the fact that he’d known him longer than anyone else in the group. Will was Mike’s first real friend, so of course he’d care for him.
But something about this care was more than that. Something about it was wrong.
Now his thoughts turned to what his mother had said earlier: she didn’t give a damn if Mike was normal or not, she’d said. So, yes, maybe Karen Wheeler could handle a depressed son, for that was what she was referring to, but whatever Mike was feeling now, it was a completely different game. This was worse. Whatever Mike was feeling now reeked of the news on the radio his father listened to in the mornings, warnings of what was really killing the youth. It reeked of Bible thumping messengers standing by the doors of the church with calls to fight the evil infecting Hawkins. It reeked even of the meaner kids at school, whispering as Mike passed about how peculiar it was that he’d miss anyone so much as he had Will. And, truly, it was peculiar. These feelings, Mike was realizing, were inarguably wrong.
But this was not about Mike, so he pushed thoughts of himself from his mind. Will was hurting. Will should come first.
Now Mike shivered to the rhythm of the rain thumping on the thin walls. His mind turned to Vecna’s abuse. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Will had said this morning: Vecna was creating fake memories with Mike to drive Will further to insanity. Mike’s own likeness, as much as he was trying to keep Will stable, was being used to further the breaking of his mind. Mike couldn’t imagine what awful things Vecna was making it seem like he did. Something Will thought he’d never do, he’d said.
Strangely, this paired with something else Will had said at the kitchen table: Vecna was giving Will what he wanted and taking it away from him again.
Now this statement had stumped Mike. It could be Will was talking about many things: sentimental conversations with friends, movie nights, that sort of fluff. But the word ‘wanted’ implied it was something Will could not have.
That side by side with the fact that Vecna was curating late-night conversations with Mike? Perhaps it was a stretch, but now it got Mike’s gears turning.
He’d never truly considered that Will might be gay, but now that he did, it made a lot of sense to Mike. Will had never been interested in girls like the rest of the party. They’d all had girlfriends aside from him, even though girls liked Will much more often than they liked Mike, Lucas, or Dustin. And he’d never been the biggest fan of Mike and El’s relationship. This all made a lot more sense when–
Mike stopped, shaking his head. This was senseless, trying to put such damning labels on his friend with nothing more than hypothetical evidence. Plus, this thing was wrong, and Will Byers was anything but wrong. And if Will loved Mike… Well, Mike didn’t know what he’d do. He couldn’t just reciprocate something like that.
Then Mike had to stop himself a second time, practically slapping himself across the face. He was being ridiculous, worrying about feelings and love while his best friend battled for his sanity against an interdimensional monster in his mind. Mike needed to get over himself. There were much bigger stakes on the table.
He glanced outside at the darkness. There was no clock in Mike’s room, so he wasn’t sure how late it was, but maybe if he just went over to Will’s room and talked, they could sort this whole thing out. He’d apologize for being rash, he’d ask him what he needed most right now. Mike needed to make sure Will was okay, whether he was gay or not.
The hall was even darker than Mike’s room, but as he crept lightly to Will’s door, he could make out that it hung open. With a hesitant peer inside, Mike confirmed that Will was not anywhere in his room. That meant he must’ve been out in one of the main areas. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep on the couch.
Lightning illuminated the living room as Mike entered, and revealed no sign of Will. Mike tried not to let himself start to panic. There were plenty more places his friend could be. It wasn’t like Vecna had the power to make him vanish into thin air.
The kitchen drained Mike’s spirit further. It was empty, though he hoped to find Will sitting at the table. Mike sighed to himself and was about to turn back to check some other room when something gleamed at him.
On the counter was a drinking glass, overturned. Someone had been here.
Mike approached the glass cautiously and picked it up, rotating it in the dark room. Slowly, he brought the thing to his nose and sniffed it. Though he could pick up faint hints of something that wasn’t water, he couldn’t place a finger on what. He was sure Will had used this glass, though. The boy’s own scent came subtly from it.
But where was he?
Thunder rumbled outside, louder than it should have been through the walls, Mike realized. He turned his head quickly and saw why: the back door was open, letting rain spill into the room.
The puzzle pieces were coming together in Mike’s mind now, and he didn’t like the picture they’d arranged. Something was terribly wrong.
And Mike needed to find Will immediately.
Will was stumbling carelessly through the stormy woods, bottle still in hand. He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d come to be in the middle of the woods, but he knew one thing: he was going to save his friends from this terrible nightmare. No matter what came of this midnight walk, it was up to Will. He’d be far from them. Somewhere Vecna couldn’t hurt a soul.
Making his way through the trees, Will groaned. He hated being drunk. He thought maybe it would help him to stop thinking about Vecna, but, if anything, it just made him think more.
The thinking was the worst of it. Will had leaned himself over the kitchen counter on whitened fingers, mind spinning as he stomached more of that disgusting liquid fire, hoping that maybe it just hadn’t kicked in yet, and soon enough, he’d be free. He was never free.
At some point, drowning in the feeling of being a burden, of being a bomb on the edge of detonating and reducing the world to rubble, Will realized he must take matters into his own hands. It was almost inevitable that Will would give in to Vecna’s torture, and it was unlikely El would have enough energy left to make this ending any different.
If the only thing standing between Hawkins and Vecna was Will’s fragile mind, there was only one failsafe way to ensure Vecna didn’t win. If he wanted to kill a parasite, he must first eliminate the host.
Vecna had whipped up that vision of Jonathan to lure Will to drink in hopes that it would make him feel more guilty, more miserable, but still unable to take action. He was counting on Will’s weak mind, driving him further towards insanity.
What Vecna hadn’t predicted was that this drunkenness had given Will exactly what he needed: Clarity and the guts to actually do something about it.
Though he wasn’t sure how, Will had decided in the kitchen that he needed to disappear.
Upon entering the woods, he knew he was right, too, because Vecna was scared. The demon had started giving Will visions of his friends, pleading with him to come home as he trekked through winding trees.
The first had been El by the house. “Will! Come back inside!” She’d called to him over the zipping wind. “It’s freezing out here.”
Will ignored the voice. It was nothing.
“Will!” she’d screamed again, Vecna’s own desperation leaking through. She wailed into the night, begging her brother not to leave.
Will walked until her voice was only a distant hum, almost unnoticeable against the wind and rain. The ground was slick with mud and the trees looked alien in the dark. Will had to keep going. He had to do something.
Max and Lucas came next, pulling at Will’s arms and yelling their pleas in his ear.
At first, Will felt their resistance. Max tugged him by the forearm, and he stumbled back over the wet ground, tennis shoes gripping for stability.
“You’re letting Vecna win by being out here,” Lucas told him seriously. “Come home.”
Then Will laughed at his friend. He pulled his arms free of the grabbing hands, realizing they had no real power. They were only visions, and could do nothing to hold Will back. And the irony of Vecna trying to make Will believe he was letting him win! Didn’t he realize he was only proving Will right?
The trees seemed to become thicker. It crossed Will’s mind that perhaps some of the trees were illusions as well, Vecna trying to make him feel trapped, but Will did not let this happen. He pushed through branches and climbed over rocks and logs.
The vision of Mike came next in Vecna’s arsenal. Will passed a larger tree to find him waiting on the other side, eyes wide with worry.
“Hey,” the vision said, bringing his hand to Will’s shoulder. “Please come back. I need you to come back.” He reached out and placed a light kiss on Will’s neck.
The part that made Will angriest was that he almost fell for it. For only a millisecond, he leaned into the hallucinated warmth of his friend’s body close to his, but tore himself back with a newly-discovered rage when he realized what he was doing. Here he was again, falling prey to some animalistic desire. This was not Mike. He shouldn’t have wanted it.
“You’re not real!” Will spat in the shade’s face, and when it tried to speak again, he brought up his arm and swung the glass bottle at the familiar figure’s head.
Will’s vision seemed to split. In a trance, he watched Mike’s body crumple to the ground against the force of the hit. In reality, he heard the splintering of glass against wood. The bottle, having swung through nothing but air, had met a tree and shattered, spraying alcohol in every direction. Its shards collected rain on the muddy ground.
“Fuck,” Will muttered, unsure if he was more horrified by his fit of rage or unexplainably guilty about having broken something so solid. He dropped the top half of the bottle from his hands and crouched down, overcome with an urge to clean his mess. Sloppily, he tried to scoop the broken glass into his palms. Leaning too hard, a larger piece slit through the skin below his left thumb. He winced, pulling back from the mess to study the damage. Red blood ran quickly down his arm, diluted by the heavy rain. Maybe it hurt, but Will could hardly tell. He couldn’t feel much of anything in his cold hands.
He needed to keep going. Will left the shards of glass by the tree and set off again.
Vecna’s desperation continued, stronger now. A million phony faces gawked at Will and screamed at him to turn back. Suddenly, Will was walking in circles. He passed trees he’d seen before, and was often several feet behind where he thought he’d made it to. Sometimes Will felt trapped in a loop, stumbling over the same five feet for several moments, but he knew he needed to ignore it. No matter what Will thought he saw, if he continued straight, he’d end up somewhere.
And so Will ran. Faces whipped by, the ground altered and shifted, his feet threatened to slip out under him, but Will ran as fast as he could through the woods. He tried to drown out the pleas of familiar voices. His head spun and everything hurt. There was blood on his sleeve and he was soaked to the bone.
At some point, distracted by the moaning calls of his own mother, Will tripped over a root. Pain shot up from his right ankle and he fell to his knees. Frustrated, he cried shrilly out into the night, letting tears fall down his cheeks and mix with drops of rain. He needed all of this to be over, and he needed it now.
Then Will saw it. Just ahead was a clearing, and beyond it, the answer to his problems. He knew this place well. It was somewhere he and his friends had gone when they were young, playing knights and wizards and defeating imaginary dragons beside the rocky cliff. The cliff overlooking the quarry lake was just ahead, and this was where Will would end this whole, awful nightmare. The danger would cease, the torture would cease. He just needed to make it to the edge.
Will tried to get up and yelped aloud as he realized his ankle was in no shape to run any further. Instead, he crawled. Hands in the muddy dirt, Will clawed forward. The visions of his friends were crazy now, shaking him, screaming in his face, pulling him back by the legs. He tried to ignore it all. He was so exhausted that it wasn’t difficult anymore.
Will was ten yards from the edge, then five yards, then only several feet.
Vecna strained harder. Imaginary walls jutted from the ground and shades clawed at Will’s back. Will felt like he was moving through sap and his head was split by all the noise. But now he was within arm’s reach of the edge. Now it would be over.
A flickering thought crossed Will’s mind. Did he want it to end like this?
Yes, of course he did. Anything to stop the chaos. Anything to stop Vecna from getting what he wanted. For once, Will had a choice, and now he’d make it. His fingers gripped the overhang of the stone, shaking with uncertainty and hunger. Will could hear nothing but noise.
Then, a voice cut through the storm, clear and prominent.
“WILL!” it said.
And everything, for the first time since Will had embarked on his mission, went silent.
Mike stood at the edge of the woods, frozen for a moment in time as he took in the distant figure, shrouded by the night’s darkness and heavy sheets of rain. Everything seemed slow for a second or two, but Mike’s mind moved at a million miles an hour.
He knew it was Will, crawling on hands and knees towards the edge of the quarry cliffside, and he knew immediately what the boy was trying to do. His breath hitched.
Mike called out as loud as he could and broke off into a run towards his shivering friend. Will did not look back and continued dragging himself towards a fatal fall. Mike had no choice. When he reached the boy, he jumped out and threw himself onto him, pulling back at his waist until he was sitting with Will tightly between his legs, mere feet from the drop.
Will did not welcome the attack. He thrashed madly and clawed at Mike’s limbs, trying to tear the taller boy from him. “Let me go!” he screamed, though he didn’t direct it to Mike’s face. He looked to be pleading with the blackened night.
“Will,” Mike tried, straining to keep himself steady. His breath was quick with worry. “Will, stop.”
Will loosened an arm and grabbed at Mike’s face, blood trickling down a gash in his hand. “I won’t listen to you,” he spat, his words slurring together under the influence of whatever he’d drunk. “You’re not real. Get off.”
Keeping Will still was harder than it looked, and especially for Mike, who was often described as twig-like in the high school hallways. Now, perhaps, he could see why. Still, Mike persisted. Maybe it was pure adrenaline, but he wouldn’t let Will go. “I am real,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes watering with a mix of overexertion and fear. “And I need you to come home.”
“You’re fake. That’s exactly what all the others said.”
Mike gave a guttural groan, trying to catch his breath as he wrestled his legs against Will’s squirming waist. “Will, come on,” he said. “If I was fake, you’d have fallen from that edge by now.” His voice broke at the last part, the acknowledgment of what Will was attempting proving too much for him to handle.
Will struggled a moment more, then faltered. Slowly, as if considering Mike’s words, he stopped. When he’d completely ceased his fight, his hands crept up and gripped tightly to Mike’s arms, wrapped around his chest. He relaxed into his friend’s hold on him, shivering from the cold night and sobbing. His head leaned back to look Mike in the eyes through the wet hair sticking to his forehead.
Mike sighed with relief as he felt Will’s chest move up and down against him. For a moment, he’d been scared he’d never feel that life again. Now Mike couldn’t help but let his own tears fall down his face, heavy as the rain. He hated everything about what he’d just witnessed. The thought of Will wanting this end, of Will being in so much pain, made Mike’s stomach churn to the point that he felt like he’d be sick.
“I know why you came here,” Mike said shakily, his arms still tight around his shivering friend. “You think this is the best way to defeat Vecna. You’re wrong.” His lip quivered with nervous, frightened energy. “We want to fight for you,” he tried to convince Will. “We want you to survive.” Then, “I need you to survive.” And it was true. Mike was never going to let himself lose Will again.
Will nestled his heavy head into the crevice between Mike’s arm and chest. “I just want it to be over,” he said quietly.
“It will be,” Mike promised. “I swear to God, it will be over soon. I know it will. You just need to hold on. Please, please hold on.” He didn’t know what else to say. He had no idea how best he could help Will right now, when the boy was hopeless and sobbing and unbearably drunk. “Please hold on,” Mike tried again.
“I will,” Will whispered, and a violent shiver ran through his body.
Mike stayed put for a moment longer, closing his eyes and taking in the warmth of Will’s existence, before he started to stand. This was not yet over. Will still needed his help. “Come on, let’s go home.” He tried to help Will up by the arm before he noticed the boy wince.
“My ankle,” Will provided with a grimace, gesturing with a flopping arm. “I… I tripped. I think I can walk. It just hurts.”
“That’s okay,” Mike said, assessing the damage. Luckily, he’d been witness to his younger sister twisting her ankle many times. “You can lean on me for support. Will that work?”
Will blinked, then let himself be pulled to his feet. “Yeah,” he said, throwing an arm around Mike’s shoulder. “Yeah. This'll work.”
Mike nodded and slipped a hand around Will’s waist to help balance him.
The walk back was silent. Will focused always down at his good foot, limping along over puddles and tangled roots to the best of his ability, though Mike did most of the heavy-lifting. Will had stopped shedding tears a while ago, but he looked miserable nonetheless. Mike could tell he was embarrassed by his display, his eyes refusing to meet Mike’s for the entire trek home.
Mike was quiet too, though, still unsure how best he could aid right now. Will called him the heart of the party, always knowing what to say and how to keep everyone up and running. Now, though, he felt a bit useless. He’d done everything he could think of to try and help Will stay together, and the boy had still found his way to this place. And perhaps Will’s rash actions tonight had been the fault of alcohol’s influence, but somewhere, there must have been some rational-minded basis for it.
When they were finally back at the house, Will quietly let Mike lead him through the back door and sit him down on the couch. Mike grabbed towels first and wrapped one around Will’s shivering shoulders. He handed him pajamas from his room next, and led him to the bathroom, standing outside the door while the stumbling boy changed. After that, Mike used another towel to go through Will’s soaking hair, standing behind him and looking in the cracked mirror. He ran his towel over Will’s hair gently, and Will drowsily let his head move in the direction of Mike’s motions. Mike could feel his eyes on him in the mirror, and it made his face hot. Will had yet to speak a word.
He felt the presence of many unsaid things in the air, belonging to both Will and himself.
After sitting Will down again on the couch, Mike left momentarily to change into warm clothes of his own. He took the moment alone to breathe deeply, trying to calm his nerves and anxieties. He was doing fine. He was caring for a friend in need.
A friend who was possibly in love with him, that was.
Mike shook his head. He couldn’t believe Will was in such a state, and this was what his mind decided was important to bring up. Will wasn’t in love with Mike, and even if he was, it was hardly the main concern right now.
But if that was so, why did Mike keep thinking about it?
When Mike went back out into the living room, Will was no longer on the couch. For a moment, this made Mike’s breath heavy, scared he had lost him again to some drunken desire for destruction.
Then, Will limped around the corner, holding the used towels. “Can you help me with the… the laundry machine?” he asked hazily.
Mike stood for a moment before he shook his head, walking forward. “You don’t have to do that, Will. We can worry about those later. You should sit back down.”
Will frowned. “I want to do something,” he said. “You’re doing so much. I-”
“Will, just sit down. You…” Mike’s eyes fell on the towels, one now blossoming with a blotch of red. “You’re bleeding on them.” The gash in Will’s hand had completely slipped his mind. He got Will to abandon the towels and go back to the couch while he grabbed a first-aid kit from the cupboard.
Mike sat down on the floor in front of Will and took his hand, studying the cut with a flashlight. It was moderately deep, but short in length, and surely nothing that would require further medical attention than a good bandaging.
“It was glass,” Will said from above Mike's head, and provided no further context.
Mike didn’t pry further, but took another look with his flashlight, now checking for miniature shards that might’ve stuck in Will’s palm. Sure enough, he saw something glinting in the light above the gash. He fished for tweezers in the kit so he could remove it and brought up the metal tool. Carefully, he pinched at the pruned skin.
Will winced as the shard came out.
“Does that hurt?” Mike asked him softly, feeling a bit like a doctor. He wrapped the small glass in a piece of gauze so he wouldn’t lose it.
“I dunno,” Will said, eyes fixed on Mike’s movements. “I think so.” He stopped talking and stared mistily for a moment before saying, “Thank you for… For everything.”
“Of course.” Mike paused to look up at Will, wanting to communicate the seriousness in his next words. “Just don’t do this again. Ever, please.”
Will even smiled a little, just curving the corners of his mouth. He was delusional. “I’m not gonna,” he said. “I mean… I mean, I can’t.” He laughed a little at himself, swaying in a way the suggested he was threatening to fall over. “Vecna’s gonna consume me before I have the chance.”
This was not nearly as funny to Mike. He doubted it would be amusing to Will either, in any other state of mind. “Don’t say that. Don’t say that. Nothing’s consuming you.”
Will grinned. “Like you’d know.”
“Shut up.” Mike flicked the boy’s arm with his free hand.
Will flicked him back, reaching down and whacking his fingers against Mike’s shoulder, but he obliged. “...Fine.”
Mike ran the flashlight over Will’s hand one more time and saw nothing more reflecting light. “Well, good news, it looks like that’s the only thing we had to pull. Now I’ll bandage it, and you’ll be good to go.”
Will’s mouth hung slightly open as he raised his uninjured hand and wrapped it around Mike’s wrist. “I think you could fix all of my problems.”
“I wish I could.”
“I really mean it.”
“Yeah, right.” Mike softly shook himself from Will’s grabbing fingers so he could get back to treating his wound. He pulled out a roll of elastic bandaging and started to wrap it around the lower half of Will’s hand. He could still feel Will’s eyes above him in the dark room. His stomach was tight, and he wasn’t sure exactly what caused it. He’d give the world to solve all of this boy’s problems, though.
As Will watched Mike gingerly wrap bandaging around his hand, his bottom lip quivered. Finally, breaking the silence, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Mike looked up from his work, not expecting this. “You don’t need to be sor-”
“I’m sorry,” Will said again, definite about it. “This was all so… so stupid. I’m awful.”
“Don’t say that! It isn’t true. You’re amazing, Will.” He wouldn’t argue with the stupid portion, though.
Will groaned, leaning back on the couch. “But I’m not,” he said. “You… You don’t even know half of the awful things I’ve done.”
Mike tore off the end of the bandage and stuck the extra roll back in the kit, shoving it to the side. “Awful things,” he repeated, a small smile playing across his face at such a ridiculous statement. Even now, on such a horrible midnight, Will could make him smile. He got up and took a seat next to the boy. “What, are you a serial killer?”
Will turned his head to the ceiling. “Worse.”
Mike thought, making a display of tapping a finger to his face. “Alright, then you must be… an evil villain hellbent on world domination.”
“Don’t joke about it,” Will said with an innocently frustrated pout, shoving Mike’s arm. “I’m being serious.”
Mike sighed, staring at his friend’s face, his parted mouth, his big, glossy eyes looking back up into Mike’s own. “Well,” Mike said. “What is it, then? What’s so awful about you?”
Will turned his gaze away now, focusing on his plaid-patterned pajama pants with a distant stare. He did not speak for a long while.
Mike’s smile faded in the silence. He placed a hand on Will’s back, which was still cold from the night’s unrelenting wind. “Will?” he asked.
Will dragged his hands down his face with a long groan of discomfort as he slumped against Mike’s side. “I think I’m… I’m really drunk,” he said, as if admitting a secret. He glanced up at Mike. “Can you tell?”
Mike’s eyes leveled. He ran his fingers along the soft fabric of Will’s shirt on his back. He felt the curves of his spine. “Yeah, I can tell.” Now Mike was hyperaware of Will’s leg against his, Will’s arm leaning on his arm, Will’s head nestled on his shoulder, and his dried hair brushing his neck. Mike almost felt himself tremble. “Do you need to lie down?”
“Yeah. That’d be good.”
Mike moved himself to the edge of the couch to make more room, keeping his hands on Will’s shoulders to guide him down to a comfortable position. His head ended up over Mike’s legs, which he seemed much less aware of than Mike, who was finding it increasingly harder to take in air. It was all Mike could do to manage, “Is that okay?”
Will’s head was turned outward, making it difficult to read his expression. “This is okay.”
“Okay.” Mike shifted himself slightly in the coming silence, careful not to disturb Will. His hands felt unbearably awkward at his sides, so, tentatively, he brought them up and started to fuss mindlessly with Will’s soft hair. The boy did not react to his touch, so Mike figured this was okay. After a few moments, Mike guessed his friend had fallen asleep. His fingers brushed across the boy’s bangs. He couldn’t believe he’d been so close to losing him tonight.
Will’s voice sounded into the dark room, confirming that he was certainly not yet asleep. When Mike heard the words, though, he wished he had been.
“I kissed you,” Will said quietly. “That’s… the most awful thing. That’s why I’m awful.”
“Hm?” Mike retracted his fidgeting hands as his entire body tensed. Had he heard that correctly? His stomach was so tight it hurt.
Will didn’t move. “I kissed you. Not the real you, but in my fake memories. I thought you should— you should know. And I’m… sorry about it. I promise I don’t want that. I don’t want some— I don’t want some lifeless echo of you. I don’t.”
Mike had to ignore this. These were senseless, drunken ramblings of someone who wasn’t in his right mind. None of this meant a thing, though it made Mike feel like he’d split down the middle. “You should go to sleep,” he managed. “I think-”
“I love you.”
Mike shut his eyes tightly. This was all a dream. Will didn’t know what he was saying. He was crazed with cold and drunkenness and Vecna’s cruel plot. In the morning, this wouldn’t matter.
“Goodnight, Will,” Mike said, and these were the final words spoken before both boys drifted off into the halls of their minds and welcomed a black and dreamless sleep.
Notes:
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I love writing myself some angst and hurt/comfort. Healing my soul. (jk I just love to suffer). 😀
We are SO CLOSE to the end of act 2, which is the longest of the 3 acts, so sit tight.Also please leave a note (and a kudos!) if you enjoyed (well, perhaps not enjoyed. We'll go with 'felt strong emotion'). It seriously does mean the world to me to get feedback. Writing fanfiction is like working a second job, except I get paid in people saying nice things to me once in a while. I check my email every day when I wake up. It's a little embarrassing. I promise you fanifc authors don't judge you for leaving super long comments.
Also I drew some art for this chapter on the tumblr... so go there if you wanna see it. But don't laugh bc I can't draw.