Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Will should've known. He should've known Holly was being taken, should've felt it in his body as the rift ripped open behind her— Karen described it, after she'd marginally calmed down, as this bright red light, bright and so cold, I felt her fingers grabbing for mine as he took her, and after that, Will felt too guilty to listen, because he should've known.

The house was alive with a flurry of action, but Will was still. He sat quiet and motionless on the back porch's bench swing, slipping past the clamor of Joyce frantically dialing one person after the other and Karen pacing back and forth so he could get some fresh air— and, hopefully, get a sense of where Holly was to at least alieve his guilt a little. Not that he deserved it. Not when he'd known this whole week that Henry wanted him as much as Holly, not when he'd had chance after chance to put himself in her place.

But if he'd taken Holly's place, there would've been no one to protect her when Henry got in her head again. What Will should've done was not try to hold on so tightly to life when the Mindflayer had been burned out of him, or stepped a bit too close to the giant, fleshy limbs of the Mindflayer in Starcourt, or thrown himself towards the wave of bullets that had destroyed his house in Lenora. If he'd died earlier, maybe Henry wouldn't have noticed the power in him, and maybe he wouldn't have tried to find that power— faintly, Will remembered how Henry said Holly had so much love, not power— in other people.

What Will should've done was die in the Upside Down, but no one could turn back time. He did all he could to make things right despite that, though; closing his eyes and focusing on the hum in the ground, how he could feel, faintly, the teeming feeling of ants crawling on his skin as he reached out further into the woods with an invisible hand, how the buzz of the hive mind almost sounded like words, too far-off for Will to hear.

Dawn light filtered through his eyelids, letting orange and pink shapes float across his dark vision. Using his powers like this, reaching out instead of pulling something back, made everything around him hazy. He could hardly hear the noise inside, deaf to the creak of the porch swing and the jerky gasps of his breath. Obviously, this made Mike's hand on his shoulder come as quite a shock.

He nearly jumped out of the swing when he saw Mike standing there. Mike gave him a wan smile, biting the inside of his cheek and making his whole face look more strained than Will wanted to see. They were both on edge without even beginning to talk. Great.

"Hey," said Mike, finally. His hand lingered on Will's shoulder, sending a slow rush of warmth through his cold skin. "You okay?"

"I'm alive," Will answered. Not flinching away from Mike's hand was a struggle— he kept thinking it was an accident, he didn't mean to touch you, get away before he feels how warm you are just from of his hand— but Will kept himself still, barely.

For a long moment, Mike watched Will with a searching gaze; they were silent, except for the shaky breaths Will was trying his best to control. All that effort to search for Holly had left Will dazed and breathless, too out of it to get some sense and walk away when Mike sat beside him on the porch swing. His hand fell from Will's shoulder, only to land a hair's breadth away from Will's thigh. "You're breathing fast," Mike said. Somehow, he hadn't broken eye contact once.

Will broke the eye contact for him, in the hopes that his breathing would calm down just a little. "Yeah," he said, shrugging. "Sorry. I just, uh— had to get out of the house. At least until someone figures out what we're supposed to do."

"I get it." Mike's hand was inching closer and closer to Will's knee. It was getting harder for Will to convince himself this was an unconscious decision. "You know, talking to Nancy almost helped me feel better about Holly. Until all of this." He sighed out a laugh, dry and empty.

The thought of Mike's talk with Nancy made Will's heart start to race again. Just as he was getting it under control, too. "I mean," Mike continued, before Will could interject, "I still think she's more neurotic than level-headed, but I see what you mean. About— really talking to her, or whatever."

"Yeah? What'd you talk about?" Maybe Mike hadn't even though about how long Will had been standing there. Maybe Will had misinterpreted every word out of Mike's mouth, but truthfully, he'd prefer to skirt around the subject forever than know for sure that Mike wanted nothing to do with him that way. And maybe that was selfish, but with Holly missing, Will didn't think he could take one more heartbreak without shattering entirely.

Mike raised an eyebrow, going quiet as Will pressed himself into the back of the porch swing. Maybe, if he concentrated, he could slink through the slats in the wood and disappear forever. "Well," he started, slowly, "did you know Nancy was jealous of me?"

For a moment, the thought didn't make sense to Will. Nancy, straight-A student, jealous of Mike's— what? B averages? Then, he saw Mike's small frown, lips pursed just like Nancy's, and remembered what Mike had that Nancy could never get back.

"She thought I took you for granted," Mike continued, at Will's silence. "She'd lost Barb, and I still had you, and I guess I'd never thought of it that way. I mean, I was always scared to lose you—" and Will thought, as he stalled, whether always included the time he'd let Will slip away in California— "but I never thought Nancy really watched me that closely. It makes sense, though."

"Did you?" Maybe this was too much to ask, but Will's mouth was already forming the next part of his sentence. "Take me for granted, I mean."

While he'd been talking, Mike's eyes had drifted, but Will's question made him turn with a sudden ferocity. "Never," he said, his intense gaze pinning Will in place, "okay? Never. I've been grateful to have you here since I was five years old. Seriously."

A part of Will itched to push, pull apart Mike's words and ask Were you still grateful for me when I was six states away? What about the summer you saw El twice as much as you saw me? Do I disappear from your mind when you can't see me? Instead, he settled for a questioning, murmured "Really."

"Yeah." Mike's face was flushed. Maybe it was the cold air. "I know I'm an idiot sometimes—" and Will raised an eyebrow, to which Mike relented and said "okay, maybe most of the time, but I know how lucky I am for you to still be here. How lucky I am for you to want to be here, really. I don't understand why you still talk to me, sometimes." He laughed a little more, just as humorless.

Despite his words, Mike almost looked hopeful. He was looking at Will with wide, searching eyes, like he wanted to make his vision large enough to take in Will's whole body, curled up on that porch swing. His gaze had Will pinned, but it was a comfortable sort of entrapment, like being held down and breathless after a bout of play-fighting.

Will never let himself stay comfortable. He squirmed away first, hurt himself first, pulled away and hid first before someone else could take that comfort away from him. If he always stayed on edge, no one would be able to catch him with his guard down. So he spoke, attempting to make his tone sound final, pulling hope away from himself before Mike could do it for him. "Mike, you don't—"

Mike set a hand on Will's knee. He knew what would make Will quiet better than anyone. "Just listen, okay? Listen. I know things have been weird, and I've been weird— yeah, Will, I know, I'm always weird, but you know this is different. I think being so close to you all the time, like— it scrambles my brain, or something." He laughed again, eyes crinkling as they stared Will down.

"And yeah, sometimes it's for the worse. I mean, you remember how I was like that summer," he continued, murmuring the sentence about that summer, the one soaked in rain and spoken about in whispers, "but most of the time, the way you mess with my head isn't such a bad thing. It's sort of nice, actually."

Will tilted his head. "I mess with your head? Really?"

"You messed with my head when you were six states away," Mike responded, squeezing Will's knee. "Like a magnet. Scrambled my brain all around."

They lapsed into comfortable silence. Will's head was rushing with different phrases, mess with my head, sort of nice, would've hurt less, maybe. All these words Will thought Mike didn't mean, when Mike had always been so intentional with him. He'd meant even his worst insults, but maybe, they were less aimed towards Will and more aimed inwards, back at Mike.

The silence ended at Mike's inhale, shaky and slow." And— okay. I know you heard me," he said, only faltering a little as he squeezed Will's knee, "back in the kitchen. Did you, uh— understand what I was saying?"

The words made Will's stomach drop, but Mike seemed far past that fear; now, he stared at Will with open want, a soft determination that reminded Will why Mike had always been his heart. "Yeah," said Will, nodding. "I got it."

Mike's eyes widened momentarily; he shook himself, and the shock was replaced with a small smile. "I think, when all this started happening to Holly," he said, tentatively, "I felt like I was wrong for still worrying about you. But I couldn't stop, and that— it messed me up. I felt like I failed both of you."

"Why couldn't you?" Will knew the answer. He saw it in the way Mike was leaning closer, how winded he seemed, how Will couldn't help but lose his breath too; how they sounded like six year olds again, play-fighting in the grass, warm despite the chill in the air.

Mike leaned back against the swing, brushing against Will's shoulder. "You know why."

"Try me," said Will, with a flicker of a smile. "Maybe I'm clueless."

"You sound like Nancy."

Under him, the porch swing creaked while Will adjusted himself. He was fully facing Mike, now, with nowhere to hide away from Mike's gaze. "I said," Will repeated, still smiling, "try me."

They were close enough to brush noses, if Will just tilted his head a little more. The thought made Will's heart flutter.

"You heard me before, didn't you? You're it for me." His voice dipped low, all soft and gentle just for Will. It used to make Will tense, make him feel sick for wanting Mike to speak to him like this all the time; now, it just made Will want to melt, collapse in Mike's arms and stay there forever. "And I— I used to hate it. I felt like I was failing you for feeling this way, but I've never felt so good for failing you."

"You've never failed me," said Will. His voice, on the other hand, was embarrassingly thick with emotion, but Mike didn't seem to mind.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Really? I mean, I think I could list, like, three seperate times where—"

Will interrupted. "It's okay. You're here now, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he said, and oh, he was so close, "I'm here."

Warmth radiated from Mike's face, so close Will could feel the brush of his eyelashes as they fluttered closed. He snaked a hand around Will's shoulders, bringing the other one up to tilt Will's face towards him and setting his fingers just under Will's chin. He could've stayed like that forever, could've gone limp under Mike's hand and let Mike pull him in, but the world wouldn't stop for them.

Holly was still missing. Henry still had her under his thumb, and for all Will knew, she might not even be breathing right now. The house behind them was in utter chaos, full of people scrambling for weapons and a plan that didn't exist. Under Will, the ground was teeming with the hive mind's hum, overwhelming every one of Will's senses as reality came back to hit him. He'd envisioned his first kiss with Mike to be soft, slow and warm with love, but that wasn't something that could happen now.

This wasn't how he wanted his first kiss to go. He didn't want to shake when Mike kissed him, or feel his heart pounding in his chest from fear instead of exhilaration. He wanted his first kiss to be gentle, not harsh, not how his life had always been. And, since Mike might really love him back, maybe Will was allowed to want things to go his way.

So, just as Mike leaned in, Will took the hand he had pinned at his side and placed it over his mouth. Under his twitching hand, Will couldn't help but grin; maybe this was a bit of payback, a way to tease Mike and get him back after years of having no idea Mike felt the same way. Of course, part of him wanted nothing more than to rip his hand away and crash into Mike's mouth, kiss him hard until they were both dizzy and breathless, but there would be time for that later. If his love wasn't so hopeless, maybe Will could hope for them to have hours to themselves, hours for Will to make up for all the time he'd spent far away from Mike's lips, his hands, just— him.

At first, Mike didn't seem to notice Will's hand. His lips parted softly, brushing over Will's fingers with gentle grace, not like he was afraid Will would break, but like Will deserved to be treated with care. Only when Will's hand twitched again did Mike realize; his lips quirked up under Will's hand into a small smile, the smile Will had drawn enough to recognize its shape under his hand, and he slowly pulled away. For a moment, Mike's eyes lingered on Will's hand, brows furrowed in confusion. "You—"

"We'll have time for that later," Will murmured under his hand, trying to reign in his grin. There was a small part of him, that hopeful little boy that had never left him, screaming with joy— Mike kissed me, Mike tried to kiss me, oh my God Mike wants to kiss me— but, hopefully, Will would have time to yell about it into his pillow later. "If we get out of this—"

"When," Mike said, fiercely. "When we get out of this."

He still looked a little dazed, like he would lean back in to Will the second he pulled his hand away. Truthfully, Will was just as dazed as him, so his hand slipped off his mouth and onto his cheek as he tried to come to terms with the fact that Mike wanted him, that Will was it for him. "Yeah," he agreed, "when. When this is over, you can kiss me all you want."

A hand wrapped around his wrist, carefully tugging Will's arm away from his face. He'd forgotten, momentarily, that Mike liked to tease just as much as him— with more theatrics, obviously. So, still reeling from the way he could almost feel Mike's mouth ghosting over his hand, Will hardly registered the light kiss to his knuckles until he saw Mike's eyes flutter shut, smiling against the skin of his fingers with an almost reverent sort of awe. He looked like he couldn't believe this was real, like just kissing Will's hand was all he'd ever wanted. Will could hardly wrap his head around it.

"You have nice hands," he murmured, dark color flushing his cheeks. "Artist hands."

Will was— okay, he was going to die. If he sat on this porch swing one more second, staring into Mike's blown pupils and teasing smile, he was going to die before Henry even had a chance to get him. And, as knight-like as it was for Mike to kiss his hand, this wasn't a fairy-tale; time didn't stop when they kissed, and Henry wouldn't keep his bait forever. Eventually, he'd grow tired of waiting for them.

"We should probably get back inside," said Will. Immediately, Mike's smile fled his face. The air grew heavy and tense around them, but even as Mike stood from the porch swing, he kept his hand on Will's wrist.

Mike glanced to the door. Through the frosted glass, Will could see the vague shapes of dozens of bodies milling about, the blurred silver flash of weapons and the muffled shouting of a voice that might've been Dustin, if Will could've heard him better. "Yeah," he agreed, squeezing Will's wrist softly. "Let's go."

Hope, to Will, had never been a cyclical sort of thing. He lost little bits of hope again and again— hope that his father would love him, hope that he'd ever escape the monster in his head, hope that Mike would ever love him— and once they'd left him, he'd considered the hope as permanently gone as loose change lost in a sewer drain. But Mike— knightly, brave, loving Mike— had brought that hope back to him with nothing more than a kiss, so maybe the hope that they'd get out of this alive could come back around to meet him, too.

At least three people behind Will screamed as the earth ripped open. Whoops.

He couldn't blame them, really; dragging a horde of Demogorgons from the ground was bound to scare even the toughest of soldiers, but Will didn't exactly have the time to explain every event that had led to this moment. Hopefully, everyone would just accept it as a thing he did now and move on with the rest of their plan.

Only a few minutes earlier, Will and Mike had walked into the living room, hands intertwined. All eyes locked onto them at once, and Will nearly pulled away, but Mike's thumb running over his pulse point made Will's heart slow. Sure, maybe three pairs of eyes— Nancy's, his mom's, and Jonathan's were the ones Will had seen— had flicked to their interlinked hands immediately, but he figured everyone had bigger problems than their relationship status, so what was the point in worrying?

Then, Dustin had yelled something about Will's True Sight, somehow bringing the whole room to agreement that Will would be the one to lead the to Holly. Belatedly, he'd realized that yes, he would have to let everyone witness his strange tether to the Upside Down in action, and tried not to groan outwardly as they reached the edge of the woods. He'd hoped everyone would be too worried about Holly to really register the fact that Will was bringing Demodogs crawling from the earth and giving them head-pats, but maybe that was less hope and more of a delusion.

So there were about fifteen people behind him, give or take, all stumbling backwards with startled shouts while Will did his best to concentrate on the buzzing ground below him. That made honing his focus on the hive mind a little difficult, to say the least— especially at Dustin'syell of What the FUCK that nearly destroyed Will's eardrums— but it was either focus or loose a dozen Demodogs on all his friends, so Will wasn't giving himself much choice in the matter.

He took a deep, steadying breath, clenching his hands into fists as he pulled on the Upside Down and knit the rift he'd opened back together again. The horde of monsters swarmed him, circling around his legs and rubbing up against them like cats. One Demodog, about the size of a small dog, hopped up on its hind legs to paw at his jeans. It seemed to have forgotten the sharpness of its claws. "Hey, hey," Will urged, scratching at the creature's head, "calm down. I missed you too." A chorus of voices thrummed in his mind, every creature hissing missedyoumissedyoumissedyou all at once—

A dozen metallic clicks echoed around Will. The hive mind's voice cut off instantaneously; dozens of paws whirled around on the grass, facing his friends with muffled snarls. Under his skin, Will's muscles tensed as the Demodogs froze still.

It took him a few moments to realize what was happening, and when he did realize those noises had come from the muzzles of his friend's shotguns, Will was more annoyed than anything. "I told you to trust me," he sighed, exasperated. "Don't shoot. They're friendly."

"Okay," said Dustin, voice cracking midway, "maybe you didn't hear me last time. What the fuck?"

So maybe Will should've clarified some things before he'd started gathering the Upside Down's hellhounds to take him to Holly, but unfortunately, he didn't have a time machine. Instead, Will tried not to roll his eyes and made sure to keep his explanation as succinct as possible; "My tether to the Upside Down is stronger," he started, "so Henry— I mean, uh, Vecna— has been in my head trying to use that strength, but I pushed against him and started to control it on my own. Okay?" He looked out at his friends faces, expressions ranging from confused to terrified (and, in Mike's case, sporting a dark blush) and nodded to himself. "Okay. Glad we all, uh, understand."

"Understand?" Lucas's eyes were practically bulging out of his sockets. "You just pulled a bunch of Demodogs from the ground like Vecna himself, and we're just supposed to understand?"

"Uhm." Will paused, leaning down to scratch at a nearby Demodog's head. It was becoming a sort of nervous tic for him, really. "Yes?"

Mike, on the other hand, looked really red. Will wondered, absently, if he was coming down with a fever. "Yeah, uh— let's all— understand," Mike said, nodding rapidly. "He's like. . . the leader of the hive mind! Isn't that cool?"

"The leader?" Jonathan sounded vaguely horrified.

Dustin nodded enthusiastically, now fully swayed. "Shit, that is cool," he breathed.

"Can we all just move on," Nancy groaned, running a hand through her hair, "please?"

Unfortunately, Will had forgotten than one, the Party were total nerds that would fawn over creepy superpowers, and two, that his family would lose their minds if he hid anything from them that was even slightly important. So, instead of letting them dwell on said superpowers, Will decided to move on to the next important topic. "Hey, boy," he murmured, crouching down to its height— he didn't have to crouch much— "you think you can take us to Holly?"

It cocked his head. In Will's mind, he could hear the hive mind give a confused hum. "Uh, she's about—" and he placed his hand just over the Demodog's head— "this tall, blonde pigtails, eight years old but she swears she's nearly nine—"

The Demodog cut him off with an excited yip and began sprinting towards the tree line. "Hey, wait," he called as the first monster disappeared behind the trees. "Not all of us are that fast, you know!"

The first monster was already gone like a dog chasing after a stick dropped down a hill, but the rest stayed put. They stared at him in that eerie, eyeless way, something Will was starting to find more endearing than creepy.

The rest of his friends, however, did not share that sentiment. "They're going to lead us to her?" said Hopper. In all the commotion, Will had hardly noticed he was here.

Will turned to the crowd, shrugging. Having all their eyes on him almost felt more unnerving than having a Demodog's attention. "Well," he said, "do you have any other suggestions?"

There were, obviously, no other suggestions. No matter how wary, everyone agreed to follow Will and his pack of Demodogs.

He could feel the ground humming under his heels, growing stronger and stronger as his horde of monsters guided them towards the source. The little thrill of power he got from commanding them so easily never really left him; it made him feel strong, in control and capable. Will held himself higher when he tugged on the Upside Down, because he felt no need to shrink away when he had a network of monsters just at his fingers. Even as they drew closer, as the slow hum turned into a bone-vibrating roar of monsters and vines just under his feet, Will felt entirely in control. Maybe Henry was weakening.

When Mike started to walk beside him, Will hardly noticed he was there until Mike was pushing a shotgun in his hands. "Here," he said, letting his hand linger on Will's wrist. "Safety's on. Do you, uh— know how to use it?"

"'Course," said Will. "Steve and Jonathan gave us those lessons, remember?" That was only the half of it. Truly, Will had known how to use a gun since he was ten years old, since Lonnie had gripped his wrists a touch too tight and said Hey, see that rabbit? Aim just below the ears. Get its brain.

Mike flushed red again. Will knew better than to think it was just the cold getting to him. "Yeah," he breathed. "You, uh— you looked good, then. Holding the gun."

The thought of his father blinked out of his mind. Will nearly stopped dead in his tracks, turning to Mike with a face probably as red as Mike's own. "Seriously? I thought you were staring because you were judging my form."

"I'd be a hypocrite, then," Mike snorted, "because I stood like a dead fish. But you looked— strong. Like you do now."

At first, when Will froze again, it was from Mike's tone; breathless and awed, like Will's power was something to cherish, something to worship. He turned to Mike, unable to hide his grin or the dark color that was definitely travelling down his neck. "You like that?"

Mike glanced away sheepishly. "Well, no shit," he murmured, flushing darker. "It's just— I don't mean physically strong," he continued, as they started to walk again, "you just looked powerful. Confident. Seeing you like that is nice, I guess. You've always been brave, but—"

The rest of his words were drowned out by a low-pitched whine.

Every Demodog had stopped, standing eerily still where a clustering group of trees thinned out into a circular clearing. The branches above were cast in a red glow, lit by the ground that was scored with deep scars like someone had raked their claws through the earth. Flickering light shone through, glowing bright and dim in a pulsing pattern; the rifts were too small to fall through, but by the shake of the ground, Will could tell they were growing wider. He could feel the tugging under his hands, urging him to dig his fingers in and rip the whole world open.

When Will stopped again, he wasn't freezing. He was assessing the situation, because he still thought he had a chance. For a moment, he spotted a flash of blonde pigtails, a red puffer jacket, the ghostly shadow of a smile. Then, the tugging on his hands became a sharp pull, an itch under his skin so strong his whole vision went blurry. The world started to spin under his feet, or maybe he was the one spinning; either way, he stumbled, dropping to his knees as the dizziness climbed up in his throat and brought bile to his tongue.

Someone was yelling. Will couldn't discern who, because the hive mind's hum had become one long, incoherent scream.

A shape skipped up to him, small and pale. Her eyes were closed, as if asleep, and she smiled like one would in a pleasant dream. "Will," said Holly, "you're back!"

From where Will was— shaking, nearly vomiting, hardly upright on his knees— Holly stood at eye level. She smiled again, and for a moment, the world around him flickered.

The sky turned bright, a cloudless, robins-egg blue; the grass turned green, grown back from the dead; Holly's hair went from pigtailed to plaited, braided with little blue bows; her red puffer jacket turned to a pale blue dress, complete with a little black bow. The bright-crayon word around him blinked in and out like a broken television screen, flipping between two channels with dizzying speed. "Will," she said again, lip out in a pouting frown, "get up-p! Don't you want to come with me? To Wonderland?"

Yes, Will, agreed a voice— Henry, Henry, oh God— don't you want to visit Wonderland?

Will spun around, searching for the source of Henry's voice. Instead, his eyes first landed on Mike's; they met for a moment, and Mike started to run forward. Then, the ground under him shuddered, and the look of storybook perfection came to surround him again. Mike was still there, but he stopped running with a sudden jolt. Instead, he whirled around, eyes confused and unfocused like he'd lost sight of Will, but he was right there. Will was right in front of him.

"Mike," he gasped, voice hoarse. "Mike! She's here! I'm here, I'm—"

Poor thing, murmured Henry, stalking out of the tree line with a Cheshire Cat grin. You're with me, now. He won't be able to see you.

This isn't his dream, he continued, coming closer as Will started to scramble back. He couldn't freeze, he couldn't freeze, he couldn't—

This is Holly's dream. In Holly's dream, she gets what she wants. Right, Holly?

Henry towered over him, laughing gently as Will's hands scrabbled for purchase in the plush grass. It felt insubstantial, almost as though Will could shove his hands straight through its strands, too slippery and unreal for him to gain any real hold on. "Holly," he gasped, turning towards her— she stood eerily still behind Henry, head cocked like a doll as her Alice dress swayed in an invisible breeze— "this isn't real. You have to wake up. Please."

But Holly doesn't want that, said Henry, with a mocking frown, does she? She wants to visit Wonderland—

He crouched down to Will's eye, blinking at him with a faux-innocent smile— with you.

Will was trapped between the pages of a storybook. When the wind fluttered its pages, the world around him flickered, exposing him back to the pre-dawn sky. When the book slammed closed, the pages hid Will away, the sky turned its eerie, robins-egg blue, and Mike could no longer see him. You couldn't read the words in a shut book.

This was, at least, the best way Will could describe the trap he and Holly had been caught in. She'd shown him her copy of Alice in Wonderland once; it was a beautiful, brightly-colored thing, all illustrated and detailed with colors Will hadn't been able to make himself until the Party pooled their money together to buy him artist-grade acrylic paints for his birthday. With its pretty pictures and interactive pages— flaps that opened to reveal a white rabbit, a Cheshire Cat's tail that moved at the pull of a string— Holly was quickly enamored. Will understood how a recreation of that fairy-tale world could lure her so easily. It wasn't like he would've gone with a stranger who promised to take him to Gotham City, but he and Holly had experienced very different childhoods. To put it lightly.

And, at the moment, they had very different views on what was going on.

"Look, Will!" In Holly's arms was the cat plush from the attic. Will could see it breathing. "He came back," she said, stroking the plush (though, at the moment, it seemed unsettlingly alive) with the tips of her fingers.

Her eyes, when the world around him was picturesque and perfect, opened to reveal a glazed, milky-white color. The skin around was unharmed, free of blood or marks, but the sight still made Will's stomach turn. "Holly," he said, slipping into his gentle voice before it started to shake, "do you think you could put that down?"

"Put him down," she responded, clutching the cat plush tighter. "The Cheshire Cat isn't an it."

"I didn't—" he sighed through his teeth, because apparently even Holly in a trance was still annoyingly Holly— "look. I don't know where Henry is right now, but we have to run before he comes back. Just hold my hand and follow me, okay?"

The sky hadn't turned back to normal in what was beginning to be a scarily long amount of time. Henry had flickered out only minutes ago, patting Holly's head with a simpering smile and telling her to Stay put, before turning back to Will and having the gall to wink at him. In that moment, Will had wanted nothing more than to send that smug fucker six feet under.

Holly tilted her head, confused. "You know this is a dream, right? That's not the real Henry. He can't hurt us here."

"And who told you that?"

"Henry, duh—" and then her face froze, before falling into dull realization quickly followed by terror. "Oh."

Seeing such pure fear on someone so young felt unnatural. It twisted her smooth face into something unsettling, taking baby fat and turning it hollow and pale, widening little eyes and blowing button-sized pupils. Her voice, too, made Will's stomach go hollow with dread; she kept tripping over her words, voice wobbly and trailing high as she realized her mistake. "He tricked me," she said, lip wobbling. "He— he said we could play, that this wasn't real, that he was sorry and he wouldn't try to pretend to be you— oh, no. Are you even you?"

"I'm me," Will assured her, clasping one of her shaking hands in both of his own. "Do you think Henry would know that your favorite color used to be light pink, until Robin gave you a lavender sprig from her backyard and you changed it to purple?"

"No," said Holly, slowly. She seemed convinced, about ready to take his hand until the ground started shaking.

For a split second, the ground blinked under them, turning cold. The chill seeped through his shoes and into his limbs, and in that second, he spotted the close frames of five figures, worn and haggard-looking. There was his mom and Jonathan, side by side, guns raised and whirling around to face the retreating shadows of monstrous vines; Dustin, a deep red mark blooming on his face, mouth open and panting; Mike, eyes blown wide, gun forgotten at his side as he locked eyes with not Will, but Holly.

"Holly?" He took a few steps forward, like he wasn't sure Holly was real. Then, Holly gasped, and Mike started to run for her, hand stretched out to snatch her away. "Holly!"

Instead of running for Mike, Holly backed up into Will's chest. "It's not him," she said, her voice hollow and small. "That's not Mike. He's tricking us."

Will opened his mouth to answer, but Mike's yell took his breath away. "Holly, shit— Will, oh my God." He was getting closer. Maybe Mike would drag them out of this nightmare, they'd be saved, they'd be saved—

In the fraction of a second before the real world disappeared again, Will saw a vine slam into Mike's chest with a resounding thud. He tried to pull it back, reach into his tether to the Upside Down and tug, but the paint-blue sky overtook him before he could get any real hold. And, just as he'd started to feel that power again, Henry's form flickered back into place again and snuffed out any of his remaining control like pinching a candle flame.

Don't let this turn into a nightmare, Holly, said Henry, tilting his head with a condescending smile. He had his hands clasped together under him, like a conniving hospital orderly. You don't want to feel scared anymore, do you?

Instinctively, Will's arms curled around Holly's trembling frame. "This already is a nightmare," he spat, lip curling. "Stay away from her."

Henry unlaced his hands, and moved one forward in a little, effortless wave. Immediately, Will felt the effect; all the air was knocked from his lungs like he'd been kicked straight in the sternum, and he flew into the grass with his back flat on the ground. He scrambled upwards, propping himself up on his elbows— but he couldn't get enough air, and even standing up felt impossible, so he sat winded on the ground as Henry closed in on the girl he'd promised to take care of.

He set one hand under Holly's chin, tilting it upwards with a little smile. His eyes, beady and dark, stared down at her as he took a small pocket-watch from his front pocket. Do you remember the White Rabbit, Holly? His watch on a chain?

The clock swung slowly in his hands, side-to-side as he looped the chain around his fingers. Holly watched, wide-eyed but not transfixed; she kept taking small steps backwards, glancing behind her periodically to where Will was struggling to push himself up. "Go away," she said, voice rising.

Dawn is coming to a close, isn't it? Will pushed himself up on the heels of his hands, breathing heavily as he got to his feet. It's almost time to go to Wonderland. He lingered behind Holly, watching Henry with a keen eye as his fingers twitched beside him, reaching for the metaphorical wool he'd wrapped over their eyes.

With Henry distracted, focused on Holly, Will could feel the trap he'd woven. It would take time, he thought, but he could get through. All he had to do was hope Henry's attention stayed far away from him.

Now, Holly— the fabric of the Upside Down was just below his fingertips, and if he had a moment longer to focus, maybe he could unravel the thread— do you see where the hour hand is?

Holly blinked at him. "The hour what?"

He wasn't going to get distracted. Until he saw Henry move any closer out of the corner of his eye, he wouldn't let up. Will kept tugging at the fabric, feeling the world below him twitch to life at his fingertips, the distant call of the Demodogs scratching at its seams.

The hour hand, he repeated. You see where it is, correct? How it draws closer to the break of dawn?

It took a concentrated effort for Will not to move at Henry's threat, but he stayed still. He could feel the world ripping under him, like pulling stitches from a wound—

Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Holly's vague blur tilt her head at the clock. "Is that the long one?"

Above them, the sky flickered momentarily to a wan yellow dawn, thin watercolors bleeding through the blue sky. Henry's brow furrowed; his mouth and closed open once, then twice, then for a third time as he stared dumbly at Holly. Are you trying to— joke?

The grass was wilting. Will felt his muscles begin to strain as Henry's carefully-crafted world began to unravel, pulling on his tendons as he found a chink in its weaving; apparently, even interdimensional beings could be taken by surprise. Holly, truly, was more of a Trojan Horse than Will could ever be.

"These clocks are confusing," she said, squinting at its surface. "Do you have one with numbers?"

Henry's jaw wasn't even on the floor. If Will had to guess, it was already six feet under. This has numbers, he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a frustrated noise. Every word came out strained, like Holly had put him on his last nerve with one simple question. Can you. . . not read an analog clock?

"What's that?"

And, with that, the world exploded.

Weak light shot through Will's eyes and seared his retinas. The unraveling of Henry's dream world felt like going from a pitch-black room to a cloudless day, light so bright all Will could see were white stars and blurry shapes. The grass crumpled under his feet, dead with wintry frost, and the earth below him shook with the force of hundreds of animals bounding towards him. The thin fabric separating Will from his hive mind unraveled completely. He could hear their calls again, keening cries of where did you go, what did he do to you, we're sorry we'resorrywe'resorry he made us do it, he made us hurt her.

At first, all Will saw was the rush of monsters swarming him, brushing against his sides and pawing at his legs. Their words fell through his mind like water through a sieve, because all he could focus on was getting to Holly. His eyes were still stinging, but he could see her vague form, small and still, frozen in the wave of monsters.

Her eyes were closed. She was still dreaming.

A vague shout flew through Will's ears, fuzzy from the blood rushing through his head. He whirled around, searching for the source as it yelled again and again. He could see Henry's influence beginning to creep in again, crayon-green trees overtaking his vision, but he couldn't let him win. So he grit his teeth and pushed, shaking the ground at his feet. Flickering light burst through its already broken fissures, and the leaves went dead once again.

"Will!" Two voices called out to him, overlapping. Will spun around to their source, and found Nancy— eyes narrowed at the edge of the Demodog swarm, clutching her shotgun— and Mike— breathing heavy, hands shaking, finger over his trigger. "Will! What's happening to Holly?"

Move, please, Will thought, and the sea of monsters parted for him. He sprinted to the Wheeler siblings as fast as his legs would allow him, ignoring how his legs felt more like twigs than stable limbs. "She's still stuck," gasped Will. His mouth felt cottony, keeping his words muffled. "She's— Henry, he has her in a trance, and she's fighting, but she can't keep it up. I barely got out."

"Can you get to her?" Neither Nancy nor Mike's eyes were on Will; they were on Holly, standing stock-still in the middle of the clearing. Demodogs surrounded her, snapping at things Will couldn't see. Beyond the tree line, a family of rabbits had come to observe.

"If I do, he'll drag me back in," said Will, shaking his head. He could feel Henry trying to tug him back already, slipping his fingers through Will's veins and pulling him along. "I can try to reach her, but—"

A hand on his shoulder made Will's words die in his throat. "Don't you dare," Mike hissed, glancing away from Holly to send him a sharp glare. "I'll get her."

All protests died on Will's lips as Mike marched past the throng of monsters; they parted for him like they did Will, whispering the boy, the boy in his heart, theboytheboytheboy. One brushed its head against Mike's hand, even, and Mike only flinched a little before giving the monster a weak smile. But he kept going, eyes narrowed and concentrated as he stretched his hand out for Holly, teeth grit and shoulders set.

He looked brave. This was the Mike that Will had always known.

"Mike." Will didn't want to stop him, even as Nancy screamed Mike, get back here, what the hell do you think you're doing? He only wanted to warn him.

When he looked back, Mike's face faltered for only a moment. His mouth turned down, brows furrowing in a look Will had seen often, but was only now coming to understand as regret. "I have to save her, Will."

"I know," he responded, breathless. "Be careful." If nothing else, Will still had a hold in Henry's trance; he could feel Henry fighting him in that alternate plane like a bad game of tug-of-war, but Will stayed strong. If nothing else, Will could get back to Henry and get Holly out of there, but he wasn't sure what would happen to himself. He wasn't sure if he was okay with not making it out alive anymore, either.

Mike nodded, steeling himself again as he turned back to Holly. Nancy kept yelling; Will set a hand on her wrist in what he hoped was a comfort, and with a ragged breath, she finally fell silent. Behind them, the rest of the group huddled about in a shaken circle. No one looked too injured, as far as Will could see, but they also all looked like they had no idea what was going on.

There was no time to explain, and Will's hold was slipping. He grit his teeth, pulling that figurative muscle until he could feel the vines of the Upside Down squirm under his hands, hoping Mike knew what the hell he was doing. Right now, despite his brave face, he didn't seem to have a clue.

"Holly," Mike breathed, quiet. He set a hand on Holly's shoulder, squeezing it gently as he crouched to her eye level. "It's me, Mike. I'm here, okay?"

A tremor raced through the ground and up Will's legs. Something was shifting, and Will could see it in Holly's eyes, closed tightly but twitching. One eyelid fluttered open, revealing nothing but white sclera.

There was a brief second where Mike flinched back, going stiff when Holly started to twitch. He looked back to Will, who only nodded— Keep going, he tried to convey, I won't let him hurt her— before turning to Holly once again. Sometimes, Mike and Will understood each other best without any words at all.

"You have to wake up," he said. "Can you hear me? I— I know I haven't been the best brother, lately, but I want you back. I need you back, so please, Hols, just—"

It's not working, Will thought, just as Holly's eyes flew open with a start. She flinched back, scrambling away from Mike with her hands out like claws. Will watched, more observing than frozen, as Holly's shoulders shook with heavy, gasping breaths; he could see himself in all that fear, and it made him want to run forward and sweep Holly away. But a part of him knew this was a job for Mike. In the end, she wasn't his sister. It was Mike who belonged there, pulling Holly back from the brink because he was her sister in every sense of the word, from blood to familial love, from kicking each other under the dinner table to poorly-read bedtime stories.

This wasn't Will's place, but it had always been Mike's.

Holly's eyes were milky white, glazed over in a dreamlike trance. She didn't seem to notice anyone but Mike, but there was no relief in her stare. "I told you to stop trying to trick me," she said, weakly. Her voice shook, and her words stumbled over each other. "You're not Mike. Go away."

"I— what?" Mike's brows furrowed. Holly stared at him like he was worse than a stranger, like he was a monster. Her shaky glare was more terrifying than threatening. "Holly, it's me, your brother—"

"Go away!" Before Will could blink, Holly was pushing Mike, tiny hands just below his shoulders as she gave her best attempt to shove him to the ground. It caught Mike off guard; he stumbled to the ground, eyes flashing with hurt. "Go away, go away—" and she choked, fierce glare turning to wide-eyed terror as she realized what she'd done. Will could see the rest of her words turn to a lump in her throat.

She started to scramble away, but Mike caught her first. "I'm not him," he said, looking Holly dead in the eye. "I'm not Henry. Promise."

Holly met his stare with an equally challenging glare. Her white eyes flickered for a moment, blue iris blinking in before fading out again. "Prove it." She was still trembling, tripping over her every syllable, but she had her shoulders squared the same way Mike's went when he was up against a challenge.

"Prove it—" Mike spluttered, almost starting to laugh before freezing abruptly. He took a deep breath, pushing himself back up on one knee and clasping both of his hands over one of Holly's own. "Okay. You want to know why I'm Mike?"

Under Mike's hand, Holly was still trembling, but she made no effort to move away. Instead, she nodded, slowly. One pigtail bobbed with the movement, the other long gone in her struggle.

"Henry wouldn't know you," said Mike, softly, "not like I know you. Do you think he'd remember that time you got mad at your friends for tearing a hole in one of your stuffed animals, and made them run laps around the house like a—" and he paused, laughing wetly— "a drill seargant? You think he'd know that?"

Holly shook her head. Her free hand had come up to spin the cleric necklace around her finger, its silver cord trembling in her grasp.

"I remember," Mike continued, "because you made me find a whistle for you to blow at them, and I was pissed because I was in the middle of painting minifigures and they'd end up dry while I was gone. I dangled it over your head for, like, five minutes as payback," he finished, laughing quietly.

Her breathing became a little less heavy. Will could see her small shoulders slow their heaving movements, how her chest wasn't puffing out as she stopped gasping for air.

The hands Mike had around Holly's own moved upwards. He brought a thumb under Holly's pulse point at her wrist, stroking it gently. "Would Henry know about the nightmares you used to have?"

Again, Holly shook her head. Her lower lip pouted out, trembling as she swallowed thickly. Around them, the Demodogs stopped snapping, reduced to small growls as they circled around Mike and Holly. Whatever they were fighting was weakening, and Will could feel it in his fingertips, in the way the straining headache behind his eyes began to dim.

"When Will went missing," whispered Mike, so quiet Will could barely hear him, "after the funeral— I remember how scared you were. You were younger, and you hadn't started rolling your eyes at everything, or talking back— don't make that face," he said, at Holly's scrunched-up nose, "I like the person you are now. Okay? You can be a pain in the ass, sure, but you're you. I wouldn't want you to be anyone else."

"Really?" Holly's voice was barely audible. If her mouth hadn't moved, Will wouldn't have thought she'd said anything at all.

In Will's ear, he could almost hear a growling murmur, distorted like the sound had come from underwater. He knew without thought that it was Henry, trying to lure him back, but nothing Henry had could even tempt him anymore. It was impossible for Will to even try and listen when Mike was talking to Holly about him.

A small smile flickered at the edges of Mike's lips. "Yeah," he murmured, "really. You think Vecna would put up with your attitude?" At that, Holly laughed a little, mouthing a silent no. Her eyes flickered again, going blue and teary; one little drop rolled down her cheek, sliding down her jaw and darkening the collar of her shirt.

"Do you think he'd remember how you used to dream about disappearing like Will?"

At that, Mike glanced over to Will, head tilted in a silent question. Will nodded in a silent answer— whatever you're doing, I think it's working— and Mike smiled in response. His eyes were teary, too. When was the last time he'd seen Mike cry?

"You'd come into my room at night," he continued, turning to Holly, "and tell me about how you didn't want to disappear. It scared me, too, but I never told you. You'd refuse to fall asleep until I read you another chapter of A Wrinkle in Time, and you'd ask me a question, like, every other paragraph, because you were too young to know what was going on."

The white, milky glaze over Holly's eyes was disappearing, like frost melting on glass. The sun was rising, warming the world around them and casting Mike and Holly in a warm golden light. With the rise of the sun, Henry's grasp was weakening; dawn was coming as he'd promised, but Mike's words were taking away his hold on Holly. He'd said Holly was loved, that he would drain that love from her and make it his own— but no one could take love, really. He couldn't feed off the love Holly got, because it made her stronger.

"And when I asked too many questions, you'd hit me with your pillow," said Holly, laughing quietly, "and make me forget all about my dream."

They stayed silent for a moment, just looking at each other, Holly shaking less and less as Mike smoothed his thumb under her wrist, over and over again. In the silence, a single bird called out, singing for the rising sun.

The ground was trembling, and to Will, its shakes felt like anger. Henry— no, Vecna, he didn't deserve to have a human name— was furious, and Will could feel it in his bones. But Vecna's anger felt far away, far under the earth with the rest of the Upside Down. He'd been taking Holly's life to feel powerful, and with that almost gone, his hold on the world was fading. Will could see it in how the cracks in the ground were starting to close up, how the light that spilled from them was thinning, how the myriad of Demodogs laid down with their heads on their paws like they were tired from a long walk.

Holly's quiet voice cut the silence. "I— I don't want to disappear, Mike. I don't—" and she sniffled, breathing in a high-pitched, choking sob— "Don't let him take me. If you're really Mike, you won't let him take me."

Another bird called out, warbling a soft song as Holly kept speaking. "I don't want to disappear here. He— he trapped me in this place, and it's so bright it hurts, and I can't see anyone but you. I want to come back and see Nancy, and Mom, and Will—"

This time, Mike didn't turn back to look at Will. Somehow, he seemed to know exactly what to do, exactly how to pull Holly back. And while Will was using all his strength to take Holly from her trance, his own power wasn't enough. She was stuck in limbo, one arm held by Vecna and the other by Mike, pulled both ways by two opposite forces. Will's strength wasn't enough to take her from Vecna, but Mike's?

Mike always had his heart on his sleeve. His strength wasn't physical or mental, but he was still strong— strong when he pulled Will from the floor that Halloween night and said I'm gonna get you home, okay? and strong when he looked Will in the eye, smiled so earnestly and said I missed you, strong when he pulled Holly in for a bone-crushing hug and murmured Come on, Holly, come back, please let this work. Please, Hols, come back. It wasn't like Will thought Mike was the best at handling his emotions— Will knew that for sure— but they were always the strongest part of him. That was why Mike was his heart.

In Mike's grasp, Holly gave one shuddering breath before going still. It wasn't the eerie sort of still from before, or the way Will froze at the first sign of danger; she was breathing softly in Mike's arms, holding him back just as tight without shaking. She was still because she felt safe, even amidst the herd of Demodogs and the way the ground trembled in time with her breathing, shaking furiously for one more moment before becoming calm. The cracks in the ground closed up, going back to nothing but dirt and dead grass. It still looked better than the unnaturally green ground from Holly's trance, because at least it was real.

Behind him, Nancy made a strangled noise, like a choking sob and a relieved sigh all at once. Will had been so absorbed in Mike and Holly, he'd almost forgotten there was a whole crowd of people behind him. The realization that he wasn't the only one who'd watched this scene came when Nancy shoved past him, knocking her arm against his shoulder in her haste to get to her siblings.

"Is she okay?" Nancy hovered at the edge of their hug, hands up like she wasn't sure where to put them. "Mike— Mike, what happened, is she back, is she—"

Holly twisted in Mike's grasp, pulling her head from her brother's chest to face Nancy. "You're here," she said, with an awed stare. That blind, colorless film over her eyes was gone; now, they were blue and glassy, brimming with tears just beginning to fall. She pulled Nancy into her hug and melted in her siblings' arms with a soft noise, half laugh and half sob.

Really, Will wasn't sure how Mike did it. Maybe he'd been half the reason Holly woke from her trance, with all the effort he'd put into keeping Vecna at bay— but, in the end, Mike had been the one to truly bring her back. Maybe it was like music, how a song could pull someone from a trance. Maybe Mike's voice reached Holly's mind in places Vecna couldn't touch.

The specifics didn't matter, not now. Not when Holly wriggled away from Mike and Nancy, murmuring a whiny "Stop, you're crushing me," and turned to Will, who still stood at the edge of the clearing. Her whole face brightened, and she called out, happily, "Will! He did it! Mike saved me!"

A bright flush climbed up Mike's face. His mouth opened and closed, before murmuring, "I guess I did."

"Yeah," Will said, thickly. "Of course you did."

In the early morning, tangled in Mike's sheets, Will realized why he'd been thinking about his father.

It wasn't that Vecna was an exact mirror of his father. Vecna was cunning, conniving; he used whispered suggestions to get his way, putting a drip-feed of fear into his victim's veins until they began to break. Lonnie wasn't cunning, and Lonnie could never be as patient as Vecna— Will remembered, faintly, a time where his father had made him set rabbit traps, only to take him home an hour later because he hadn't got what he wanted right then and there. Will had turned around halfway down the forest trail, arm held too tightly in Lonnie's grasp, and watched a baby rabbit stumble into the snare and struggle with its head twisted in the metal twine.

With Lonnie, Will was the rabbit. When he was younger, Will often felt caught unawares by his fathers outbursts; he always thought he'd been trying to be a good son, trying so hard, and why couldn't Lonnie see it? Why couldn't Lonnie see Will struggling in his own snare, saying I can worm my out, see, I can be a good son, look, I can escape what everyone thinks about me. Can't you see?

He'd thought, at some point, Lonnie would see how hard he'd been trying. If Will wriggled his way out from enough snares, set his crayon drawings aside for baseball mitts and agreed to go hunting with him just one more time, he'd see. He wouldn't want to leave anymore.

What Will hadn't understood, then, was that it would never be enough. He'd been permanently marked by what people thought about him, how he acted and how he dressed, and that stain would never go away. Even if he escaped the snare, there would always be a thin, silvery scar around his throat. Nothing would let it fade, not to someone as keen as Lonnie, someone who wouldn't accept Will unless Will acted exactly like him.

That was what, in Will's mind, tied him and Vecna together; both of them wanted Will to be like them. They wanted Will bitter, wanted him disillusioned and angry, wanted him loud and hateful enough to be their exact mirror. They wanted Will to follow in their footsteps, to set the traps they'd set before. They wanted Will harsh so he'd keep their own harshness going, passed down from generation to generation.

Will wouldn't let that happen. He would be soft, and gentle, and sensitive and passionate, strong and so full of love that it leaked out into his every action. He'd be just who he was, just where he belonged; curled into the arms of the boy he loved, playing with his dark hair, ghosting his fingertips over the warm nape of Mike's neck.

Will had never thought he'd end up here, that he'd deserve to be here. Evidently, by Mike's soft laugh against his collarbone, he was very much here.

"Hey, stop it," Mike murmured, voice heavy with sleep. It went all deep after he'd just woken up, soft and raspy and— o-kay, Will was getting ahead of himself. It was too early in the morning for him to get all flustered by Mike's voice, of all things. "That tickles."

"Your hair's soft," was all Will said, continuing to run his hands through Mike's hair. Then, quietly, he said, "I've always wanted to do this, you know."

At that, Mike smiled. It didn't quite meet his eyes, and his brows furrowed down in that typical sign of regret. "Do what? Annoy me at eight in the morning?"

The quip didn't have Mike's usual laugh. Maybe Mike wished they'd figured things out sooner, too.

"Just being close to you," said Will, snaking a hand over Mike's back and pulling him closer. The words would've set his face aflame at any other time, but it was too early for Will to get embarrassed. He could feel Mike's warmth under the fabric of his sleep shirt; a part of him wanted to ruck it up and set his fingers on Mike's bare skin, just to know this wasn't a dream. He settled for making small circles on Mike's back, quietly reveling in the way his body heat warmed Will's skin.

"Me too," Mike admitted, quietly. He looked lost in thought, face a little flush as he unconsciously leaned back into Will's hand, before his mouth turned into a wicked grin. "You know what else I've always wanted to do?"

Will tilted his head, but he couldn't suppress his own smile. By Mike's tone and the way his own arm was slowly moving, making its way towards Will's jaw, Will was pretty sure he already knew. "What?"

The hand twitching near Will's jaw made its way to his face. "This," Mike said. Will could feel Mike's smile on his mouth when he kissed him.

He'd almost been expecting a fake-out, for Mike to lean in before pulling away as payback for the stunt Will had pulled the day before. He would've accepted it, but then again, Will wasn't sure Mike was physically capable of stopping himself from kissing Will.

Yesterday, the moment they'd found a moment alone, Mike's mouth had crashed into Will's at the speed of a freight train. What happened in that moment wasn't soft; it was desperate, aching and wanting, Mike tugging at Will's collar to pull him closer when there was already no space left between their bodies. Between kisses, Mike would murmur into his ear— can't believe you made me wait, asshole— no idea what you do to me— god, Will, you drive me crazy— and all the while, Will returned his complaints with a teasing smile.

Now, wrapped in blankets and fuzzy sleep, their kisses were soft. Mike stroked his thumb across Will's cheekbone as his other hand brushed the divot of his collarbone, smiling softly against Will's lips as he traced them with his teeth. He moved from Will's mouth and went on to his face, kissing at the soft curve of Will's jaw, under his eyelid, the corner of his mouth where Will couldn't stop smiling.

"That tickles," Will protested, giggling— at least, until Mike's door slammed open so hard, the doorknob hit the wall with a resounding bang.

"Mike, it's ten in the morning," said Nancy, with an exasperated sigh. "Holly says you promised to get up and play with her—" and then she made eye contact with a frozen, terrified Will, still entangled in Mike's arms— "oh, thank God."

In response, Mike took his hand from Will's face and gave Nancy a rude gesture. Will thought it might've been too early in the morning for middle fingers, but— whatever. "Did no one ever teach you how to knock?"

"Please tell me you two were doing what I thought you were," said Nancy, in lieu of answering Mike's question, "because if you weren't, Mike, I swear to fucking God—"

Mike groaned, burying his face in Will's neck to avoid Nancy's question. "Yes, oh my God, we were kissing! Can you fuck off now?"

Somehow, Mike wasn't embarrassed in the slightest as he slung his arms around Will, clinging to him like a disgruntled koala. Will, however, was about five seconds away from bursting into flames under Nancy's knowing stare. When he did lock eyes with Nancy, Will decided he was going to implode and die right then and there— until Nancy's face melted, and she smiled, mouthing a silent You okay? In response, Will mouthed the word Very.

His eyes snagged on someone running in the hallway. Holly tumbled into the room, racing up to the foot of the bed where Mike and Will were still tangled together. She looked between them and Nancy a few times— yeah, okay, Will was going back to his dying of embarrassment plan— before turning to Nancy and asking, far too loudly, "They were kissing?"

Nancy just raised an eyebrow. "Are you really surprised?"

"No." Holly shrugged, then looked back to Will. "Are we still going to play D&D?"

Will relaxed in Mike's arms, then, and Mike let out a pleased little hum. It was one thing for Mike to kiss him, to love him— and by one thing, he meant the most important thing in his life, probably— but for people to look at him and Mike, tangled together, and say Oh, so you finally figured it out? That their love was so clear, everyone else had seen it before they'd realized it themselves?

That was what made Will's heart warm. It proved, if nothing else, that he and Mike belonged together.

"Yeah," he said, giving Holly a thumbs-up with the one arm that wasn't pinned. "Mike just needs to get off me first."

All that did was make Mike hold on to him tighter. "Nope," he murmured, right into Will's collarbone. "Not happening."

Holly wrinkled her nose. "Gross." And Will had heard that in many different contexts before, in many different words about people like him. Coming from someone like Holly, who asked if her cleric could romance the sorceress because it was the easiest option, duh— well, to be honest, it made Will happy.

Sure, being in love used to make him feel sick. He used to think the only way he'd stop feeling gross was by pulling out the nerves in his heart with tweezers and a scalpel. Those thoughts felt far removed from him now, a vague blur in the distance where they used to shadow every corner of Will's life.

Will looked at Holly and laughed at her put-off expression, her crossed arms and annoyed eye-roll. "That sounds like a you problem," he laughed, leaning into Mike's arms.

He'd have time for Holly later. He'd have time to wonder what had happened to Vecna later, time to explain what had happened to his family later. All of that could come later, because right now, Will was using his time to make up for what he'd lost; all these hours with Mike, wrapped in his arms and surrounded by his love. Hopefully, he'd be making up those hours for the rest of his life.

He'd never been one to hope, but— apparently, love really could make you crazy.