Archive of Our Own

Dustin isn’t known for having bad ideas, but there’s a first time for everything. 

It’s not that he doesn’t understand why Dustin suggests they play Truth or Dare. It’s been two weeks since the Starcourt Mall attack and Will can’t recall ever feeling more miserable, which is saying a lot considering the last two years of his life. It’s been two weeks since thirty people died, since Billy died right in front of them, and since Hopper went to be a hero and never returned. 

Death is becoming increasingly familiar to Will. But this is the first time battling with the Upside Down affects everyone. The people who died, the people who got flayed were all people they knew. In a town as small as Hawkins, you can’t miss the fact that thirty lives are gone, just like that. The town paper goes on hiatus and stores return slowly to Cherry Street, short-staffed and struggling in the wake of the mall’s closure. The only place busy is the funeral home. Will hears about every funeral from his mom at dinners and can’t help but feel so guilty for surviving this time. Some of the people that died were kids, just as young as he’d been when he first disappeared. 

He knows their deaths weren’t his fault. But that doesn’t stop him from feeling haunted, wondering if none of this would have happened if they’d just left him to die in 1983. He knows, rationally, that his survival didn’t have any impact on what came next. The Mind Flayer would have attacked either way. The Russians would have found another way to get involved. And if his friends hadn’t tried to find him, then they might not have found Eleven. And without her, Hawkins surely would have fallen a lot sooner. 

He feels like he’s living on borrowed time. He can’t sleep at night, too scared to fall asleep in case he wakes back up in the Upside Down. Whenever he walks into a room that’s too cold, the memory of goosebumps erupts across his neck, alerting him to a threat that no longer exists. The Mind Flayer is dead and they survived. Nothing is going to hurt them ever again.

Except none of this feels like surviving. His old nickname has never felt more apt. Will moves through the days that follow in a daze, dragging himself from place to place as he tries to believe the horror has ended. He can see the same dread in his friends’ eyes. He can see it in the way Max disappears into her head, staring through them rather than seeing them. And he can see it in El, too. She has more reason than any of them to be angry or upset, but she goes quiet instead. She refuses to talk - not even to Mike - about anything from that night. Not a word about losing Hopper, her powers, or anything from before that had once seemed so important.  

No one wants to admit they’re traumatized so they pretend everything is normal.  They meet up most days to hang out as if their lives haven’t been irrevocably changed by what happened at Starcourt. Will is the only one who can see the way the attack strikes a clear line in their lives, one that didn’t exist until now. The weeks leading up to the attack was the before, and now they can only live in the after. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling for him; his after started two years ago. He’d reverse the clock for them if he could, rewind back to their befores and the weeks just before it all went down. Even if it meant that he was the only one hurting, at least they would have been fine. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Lucas sends an anxious look to Max as he speaks. She doesn’t notice, too busy staring into space like she’s seeing something they can’t. Will wonders if she feels the same way he did after they burned the Mind Flayer out of him. He wonders if she has sleepless nights recounting Billy’s death the way he’d tried to figure out everything the monster used his body to do.

“What else are we supposed to do? Just sit here and be miserable?” 

“Dustin,” Will hisses sharply. 

Dustin turns to him with wide-eyed exasperation. “Look, I’m not saying we have to move on. We’re not going to magically get over everything. But it is so crazy to allow ourselves to have fun? Can’t we live a little?” 

He levels a pleading stare at each of them across the circle they form in Mike’s basement. “None of those people died for us to just sit around doing nothing. Can we please just have one night of fun?” 

Fun is practically a foreign concept. Will can count on one hand the number of times any of them have laughed individually in the last three weeks. The silence that follows seems to echo his thoughts; no one knows quite what to say.

Max is the first one to speak up. “I think it’s a great idea, Dustin.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I do. You’re right. We have the rest of our lives to be miserable about this. But we only have three months left together, right?”

The mood turns even more somber. The party has taken the news of the Byers leaving Hawkins particularly hard. Will is pretty sure they’re more upset about it than he is. It’ll be hard to leave his friends behind, but he’s secretly excited at the prospect of starting over somewhere without supernatural threats or government conspiracies. Plus, California sounds like a fantasy world for a kid who’s grown up in land-locked Indiana. If he could pack his friends up for the move, it would be perfect. But if the last two years have taught him anything, it’s that he can’t get everything he wants. 

“Max is right.” Mike’s words grab everyone’s attention mostly because it might be the first and last time he’ll ever say those exact words. “We need to make the most of the time we have left.” 

He’s not sitting anywhere near Will but their eyes find each other anyway, drawn together as if magnetized. Will tenses as they do. Ever since their fight, things between them have been strange. They never talked about it, and though they seem to be operating under some unspoken truce, Will can’t help but feel on edge. Mike, on the other hand, seems back to normal. He’s closer to the version of himself he was before he spent all his spare time moping about El. 

He’d love nothing more than for things to be so easily fixed between them. But then Will remembers that Mike is the one person he thought would never treat him like that. Mike was a chronic liar, but he never thought he’d lie to him. Now, all he can think of are his harsh words in every silence that falls between them. It almost feels like some part of him died that night - the last shred of his childhood, maybe, going out with a whimper. 

Lucas gives Will a wary look, clearly still on the fence. But the decision is made for them when El speaks up, the first full sentence she’s formed in days. “What is Truth or Dare?”

Their collective relief that she’s interested in anything combined with eagerness to teach her something new seals the deal. Soon, they find themselves several rounds deep into the game, trying to out-do each other with increasingly ridiculous dares.

“I dare you to radio Erica and tell her someone kidnapped her Twilight pony.”

“I dare you to eat a jar of Holly’s old baby food!”

“I dare you to drink a glass of hot sauce.”

“I dare you call Steve and pretend to be his mom,” Dustin says. It’s his turn to come up with a dare for Mike. Will doesn’t really understand why they’re all so eager to take on dares. He’d much rather confess to a truth, but maybe that’s because he’s got nothing to hide. But he has to admit that the dares are funny; it’s enough to get El smiling, and she presses her face into Max’s shoulder to suppress her laughter. 

“No way,” Mike protests. “I can’t pass for Steve’s mom! Come on man, pick something better.”

Dustin pauses to think. “Okay, I’ve got it.”

“This better be good,” Lucas warns. Will hides a laugh behind his hand when he notices how keyed up Mike looks. He flexes his hands nervously, an old habit from when they were kids. 

“I dare you to tell someone in this room that you love them for one hundred days straight.”

“What!” Mike’s yell is nearly supersonic. Will watches his entire face flush bright red. “That is not a thing!”

“It is so,” Dustin fires back. “My mom was watching Good Morning America this morning and they talked about it on air. Apparently it’s a great bonding exercise.”

“That’s stupid. I can’t do that! Dares are supposed to be easy.”

“First of all, dares are not supposed to be easy. Second of all, what’s so hard about it? Can you really not tell any of us that you love us? I’ll tell any of you right now.” He turns to his right. “Hey, Will… I love you, man.”

“I love you too, Dustin,” he answers, matching the teasing note in his voice. Mike’s expression darts between them, incredulous, which sends a bolt of satisfaction zinging down his spine. “Hey, El. I love you, too!”

El is basically his sister now, but she still seems surprised when he directs his words towards her. He watches her expression melt into something quiet and warm. “I love you, Will. And you, Max. I love you.”

Max can’ hide her immediate grin, but she makes sure to follow it up with a fake gag. “Okay, we get it. Everyone else can tell each other how they feel. That’s an even better reason to make you do it, Wheeler.”

“This isn’t fair! You’re all conspiring against me.”

“Yeah. Because it’s fun.” Lucas grins wickedly, and it only riles Mike up even more. “Dustin, permission to modify the dare?”

“Permission granted.”

“I think we should decide who Mike has to say I love you to for the next one hundred days.”

Will isn’t sure what’s louder in that moment - Mike’s protests or the chorus of their laughter. Everyone knows that Mike has the emotional range of a teaspoon. He’s much better at showing he cares for someone by jumping headfirst into danger. The only time he’s good with words is on paper, but it won’t help him in this instance. 

“Should we vote on it? Anonymously?” 

“Anonymously?”

“Yeah,” Max says, eyeballing the group. “That way there’s no pressure on whoever gets picked. We’ll all write our choice and leave it up to fate. 

“Wait, do I even get a say in this?” Mike asks, nearly frantic. 

“Not unless you accept the punishment for losing the dare?” 

He immediately falls silent. If a dare couldn’t be completed, the punishment was to spend the night alone in the old Creel house. Rumor has it that it was the scene of a grisly murder in the fifties; ever since, it’s been abandoned. It’s probably just an old wives tale, but it’s always been scary enough to keep the kids of Hawkins from claiming the old property like they had Benny’s.

“Fine,” he groans, dramatically falling back against the floor. “Just vote or whatever. I’ll do it.”

His agreement hardly matters. Lucas is already ripping a piece of paper into strips. “Here,” he says, handing everyone except Mike paper and a pencil. “Write someone’s name on these.” 

The obvious choice is Eleven. Mike had already confessed that he loved her back in Hopper’s cabin, so it seemed stupid to go through the motions of voting when it was clear to Will she’d win. He briefly considers writing Max’s name down as a joke. And it would be funny - right up until they tried to kill each other. Neither one of them would willingly express any level of heartfelt sentiment to the other for even one afternoon, let alone a hundred days. 

They drop their slips into the center of the circle as they finish. Lucas shuffles them around until no one can tell where each vote started. Once he’s done, he reaches for a slip of paper to reveal the results. “Okay… a vote for Eleven.”

Mike’s face darkens slightly. Will looks to El and notices her expression stays neutral. She doesn’t even glance towards Mike. 

“This one’s for Will…

His head whips back towards Lucas. A vote for him? The thought of Mike having to tell Will he loves him for a hundred days is laughable. Inconceivable. He feels warm all of a sudden and pulls the collar of his shirt away from his neck, trying to get cool. 

“Another vote for Will. And another for El. Looks like we’re down to a tiebreaker!”

His friends look eager but all Will feels is a little sick. He can't bring himself to look at Mike now, too nervous about what he might - or might not - see. They watch as Lucas unfolds the last slip at snail speed, drawing out the moment. “And the winner is… Will! Congrats dude, you get a first-row seat watching Mike squirm.”

Will is never letting Dustin decide anything again. 

“Do you accept the terms of the dare?” Lucas directs his question to Mike, eyebrows raised in challenge. 

Will still can’t bring himself to look at Mike’s expression, so he’s surprised when Mike’s voice is steady - if not a little irritated - when he replies. “Fine. I accept.” 

“The dare begins today, July 14th, 1985.” Dustin speaks in a low voice, channeling the energy of a primetime news anchor. “It will last for one hundred days, which means it will finish on…” He pauses to do the math. “October 22nd, 1985. The rules are that you must tell Will you love him once per day. If you miss a day, the dare is automatically forfeit and you have to spend a night in the Creel house by yourself.”

“I’ll be gone before the dare ends,” Will points out.

Dustin considers this. “Mike may write or call you throughout the one hundred days, provided that any written sentiment is correctly dated. If Mike fails to complete the dare at any point, Will is obligated to tell the party so that punishment can be served. Mike, do you accept these terms?”

“I accept,” Mike repeats. “So… what, do I just… say it? Now?”

“What part of it starts today don’t you understand?” Max answers.

“Oh my god, fine,” he snaps. “Will…”

Will hesitates, steeling himself for whatever he might find when he looks at Mike. “Yes?”

“I… I love you.” Mike mumbles the words, eyes trained on the ceiling rather than Will. Still, there’s no trace of anger or disgust on his face, just irritation that isn’t really directed at him.

“Thank you,” Will mumbles back. He feels too warm again and wonders if the Wheelers’ air conditioning isn’t working. “Okay, I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had enough of this game.”

“Agreed.” Mike stands abruptly, breaking the circle. “Can we just watch a movie instead?”

“No can do,” Dustin replies, checking his watch. “I need to be home before my mom totally starts to freak. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Lucas confirms. “Later, loverboy.” 

Mike scowls at the nickname. Will might find it funnier if he wasn’t at Mike’s mercy for the next ninety-nine days. Max and El follow Lucas upstairs. Just as Will begins his ascent, Mike stops him. 

“Hey, Will?”

He freezes mid-step, then turns around so quickly he nearly trips back downstairs. “Yeah?”

“It’s not… um… you’re okay with this whole… dare?” He spits the word dare like it has personally offended him. 

“I-I guess.” Will replies hesitantly. “It’s not really my dare though.”

“Yeah, but you…” He watches a series of emotions pass across Mike’s face, none of which he can decipher. “You’re sure?” he asks, voice soft and brow pinched with concern. 

Will nods. Maybe saying yes is a stupid move. His brain reminds him about the words Mike threw at him in the rain and he shakes the memory off as fast as it comes. Yet another thing he’s trying not to think about. 

“Okay. Goodnight, Will.”

“Night.” Will leaves, taking the stairs two at a time, feeling an awful lot like he’s making an escape.

Despite his apprehension, the first few weeks of the dare are straightforward. It’s not nearly as painful as he’d anticipated. Not for him, at least. Mike is clearly suffering; he gets more exasperated every day. But he never fails to say the words, even if he only remembers after the deliberate taunting from their friends. Will might enjoy all the teasing if he wasn’t directly involved. 

The first time Mike nearly forgets to say it is on day twenty-three. They’d spent the entire day swimming in Lover’s Lake. When they finally drag themselves out of the water, their skin is shriveled and pruny. Will is certain he’s going to have the sunburn from hell tomorrow, but in the fading glow of twilight, he can’t bring himself to care.  

They mount their bikes and race each other home, and for a moment everything feels normal, July 4th a distant memory in their minds. But then they pass the hospital on the way back downtown. Despite the sweltering summer day, Will feels a shiver down his spine when he remembers the disgusting fleshy parts of the Mind Flayer that attacked them there. 

Thankfully, the moment passes. As they near town, the party splits off. Max and El take Cherry Oak, riding the long way around to the Byers’ house. Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Will continue on Maple, headed to the Wheelers’ for a boys only sleepover. They’re rowdier when the girls leave, eagerly talking over each other and reminiscing on their last group sleepover. It had been ages ago, well before Will disappeared. The memory is so far in the past that Will feels like it happened to someone else entirely. 

He can feel Mike’s eyes on him as they bike, heavy glances where he tries to gauge how Will is feeling. Occasionally, Will can see the person Mike has always been beneath the facade of whoever he’s trying to be. It’s moments like these when he remembers that Mike has always been watchful and considerate of Will’s feelings. 

He tries not to expect that these days. It hurts less to pretend that he doesn’t crave that attention from Mike, that he doesn’t need it. But then Mike cares for him anyway and Will finds he’s at war with what he tells himself and what he really craves.

His attention right now is unnecessary, though. He’s not bothered by the reminder of better times. He read somewhere once that the human body sheds its cells every seven years. Theoretically, it means that, someday, the things he’s gone through might disappear. He might feel like an entirely different person. He often wonders if it can happen any faster; in two years, he feels like there’s a lifetime between the kid who was taken and the one he is today. Maybe it means his cells regenerate faster than everyone else’s. Maybe he already lost seven years worth in the Upside Down. Or maybe they were burned away last winter, all the good scorched off his skin until only the bad remained. 

The memories can’t bother him because they don’t feel real anymore. Instead of admitting that, he pretends. If that keeps Mike from wielding his protective instinct then it’s worth the small lie. Anything to keep the itch under his skin at bay, to chase away the goosebumps from his observant stares that feel different from his supernatural second sense. 

They stomp inside and change into dry clothes, and the dare goes forgotten while they settle in and watch a movie. It’s not until they’re laying down, waiting to fall asleep, that it gets remembered. 

Dustin jerks up from the recliner. The sudden movement startles Will from near-sleep. “Guys. Guys!”

“What.”  

“The dare.”

“Oh shit.” Lucas sounds more awake now, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “What time is it?”

Will screws his eyes shut, doing his best to ignore this conversation. The couch springs squeak and he realizes that Mike is awake now, too. “11:57. Shit! Will, are you up?”

For a split second, he imagines what would happen if he pretends to be asleep. If he holds out long enough, maybe Mike would just take the punishment and let the dare go. But he doesn’t seize the chance. Instead, he dutifully opens his eyes and rolls towards Mike. He can’t help himself; he always sacrifices a little bit of himself when it comes to Mike, and it’s a bittersweet realization. 

Their eyes meet in the dim light of the basement. The nightlight in the corner gives off just enough that he can see the contours of Mike’s face, how the swollen apples of his cheeks slowly give way to hard angles. The softness of his baby face disappears a little more every day. He’s surprised to find Mike is already looking at him rather than avoiding his eyes like he’s done since the challenge started. His direct attention causes a funny feeling in Will’s chest, heart beating faster and his breath catching in his throat. 

“I’m awake,” he whispers. It feels like they’re the only two people in the room. It definitely isn’t true; Dustin is snickering in the background and he can hear Lucas somewhere nearby on the floor. And yet in the split second their eyes meet, it’s as if the Earth has been pulled off its axis. He can’t explain why he feels like something has changed, but it’s clear to him that there’s before this moment and he’s barreling into the after. 

Mike’s declaration cuts through the buzzing in his brain, the indescribable feeling he can’t quite place. “I love you.” 

Will’s brain empties of everything except those three words. I love you. It’s the same meaningless declaration Will has heard for the last twenty-two days, any meaning lost in the act of forced repetition. This time, however, understanding strikes. He’s never wanted to know something less than he does now, overwhelmed by the equal weight of his awe and his agony. 

Will Byers loves Mike Wheeler. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. Of course he loves Mike. He always has. But it’s never felt like this. It’s never hurt to think about it, but it also never felt like a revelation rather than a fact. It hurts, and there’s nothing he can do to ease the pain. He looks across the room at Mike and all he sees is beauty where minutes ago he only saw his best friend. He notices entire constellations in the freckles strewn across his nose, stars glittering in his eyes, and it all seems inevitable. He loves Mike. He loves him and it’s a foregone conclusion, a wish on a shooting star destined to burn out. He loves him and he can’t ever have him, not in that way, and there’s nothing in the world that can ever hurt him again quite like this.  

His heart beats so loudly that he can’t believe no one else hears it. “Okay,” he answers, and the word is so inadequate compared to his realization. But it’s the only thing he can say now to Mike and his expression of love, words he’s only ever said to Will because of this stupid dare. He rolls away, forcing himself to stop staring. But he swears he can feel Mike’s eyes on him for a long moment, the weight of them burning against the back of his head. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

His friends fall asleep around him, but Will lies there wide awake, paralyzed by feelings he wishes he could undiscover. He should have pretended to be asleep because now he’s doomed himself to a lifetime of pretending, all so Mike can avoid a punishment that doesn’t even matter. Even if he did stay overnight at the Creel house, it would be another story for him to tell. Some fleeting memory from when he was a stupid kid. 

Will doesn’t have that luxury. Not with this.

Some masochistic part of himself keeps him from sleep, murmuring that he deserves to feel every excruciating second of this night. He knows what the world thinks about people like him, people that love other boys the way they should love girls. If he could ignore it, he would, but nothing about this is that simple. He can’t erase years of intimacy between them just because there’s something fundamentally wrong with how he perceived it. Worst of all, he doesn’t really want this feeling gone. And maybe the perfect punishment for him is to know that these feelings are something he’s going to have to bear alone. It’s a secret he’ll have to keep for the rest of his life.

Eventually, morning arrives and tendrils of dawn streak across Will’s face. His eyes are so dry that it hurts to blink. Instead of lying there waiting for someone else to wake up, he creeps upstairs to the kitchen. The house is eerily quiet but it’s not unusual - he’s never known a Wheeler to wake up before nine on a Saturday morning. The clock lets him know that it’s only seven so he takes a seat at the breakfast bar and enjoys the silence, a brief reprieve from his restless thoughts. 

It doesn’t last nearly long enough. Maybe ten minutes pass before the basement stairs creak, alerting him that someone is coming upstairs. He blinks in disbelief when Mike, a chronic oversleeper, rounds the corner. If he didn’t know better, Will might assume he was a figment of some sleep-deprived fever dream.

“Heard you come up here,” he mumbles. He still looks half-asleep even as he shuffles towards him. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“S’okay, you didn’t.” Mike yawns and stumbles over to the counter. He takes the seat directly beside him. Will stands on pure instinct and puts distance between them. He walks to the fridge and pours himself a glass of water. Then he pours Mike a glass of orange juice without thinking, and he wonders for the first time if it’s weird how attuned they are to each other’s needs. 

“Thanks,” Mike mumbles. He wraps his hands around the glass but doesn’t make a move to drink it.

Will quietly hums in response and leans back against the kitchen counter. If Mike thinks it’s odd that Will doesn’t return to his seat, he doesn’t let on. Frankly, he doesn’t look coherent enough to notice anything right now. A comfortable silence settles between them. Mike is quiet in the way he only ever allows when he’s near Will. 

He allows himself this moment of peace, an illusion of normalcy, and tries to tell himself that maybe his feelings are just a fluke. Some passing thought brought on by the stupid challenge.

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah?” His voice cracks on the single syllable. He doesn’t know if it’s due to puberty or his own nerves.

“I love you.”

The words are quiet as a prayer. Will’s breath hitches traitorously in his chest, dread and elation washing over him all at once. He’s so busy being terrified by the confirmation that his feelings are real that he almost misses what Mike says next.  

“I thought it might be less… y’know. If I said it when we were alone.” Mike pauses. Will realizes he expects him to answer some unasked question, but he can’t figure out what he wants to know. “Is it?”

“Is it what?”

If he’s annoyed at Will’s slowness, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he drags his gaze from his untouched orange juice to Will’s face, keenly observing him despite the trace of apparent exhaustion. “Do you hate it less if I tell you when we’re alone?”

“I don’t hate it,” he blurts, the words out of his mouth before he can think them through. His cheeks burn, a consequence of his unintentional honesty. “I mean, it’s… that’s easier for you, right?” 

“I guess. I don’t know, I just figured it might be easier. And that way I won’t keep almost forgetting, and I won’t have to say it around everyone else.” He smiles awkwardly, and the shape of it seems out of place on his face and even more so between them. 

Will shrugs, avoiding meeting his eyes. If he acts like he doesn’t care then maybe it will start to feel that way, too. “It’s your dare. Do whatever you want.” 

He can tell that his answer doesn’t satisfy Mike. He can also tell that he’s only asking Will because it’s some martyred attempt at protecting Will’s feelings. Or maybe it’s his poor attempt at an apology. This is the first time they’ve been alone in weeks. Things are still off between them, but there’s nothing Will can do to fix that. Mike owes him a bigger apology than sparing him the imagined embarrassment of having to hear a love declaration every day. 

Once Mike realizes Will isn’t going to say anything else, he heaves a sigh. “Okay.”  

It’s a concession that doesn’t provide any insight into what he’s thinking, which makes Will feel a little crazy. It’s only when the frustration surfaces that he realizes he’s been feeling crazy when it comes to Mike for months. He can still feel the sting of rejection when Mike urged him into the arms of that girl at the dance. As they’d danced, he saw Mike pair off with El and some strange feeling had risen up when he saw them kiss. He can still remember how it felt to stand in that swaying sea of couples and feeling like he didn’t fit, his arms hanging woodenly around that girl’s waist. 

He realizes now that he didn’t fit in, and that the strange feeling he couldn’t name then was jealousy. He’d been so used to Mike’s undivided attention only to lose it entirely in a single night. Mike abandoned him slowly but surely after the Snow Ball, increasingly more distant until it all came to a head on that July night, rain pounding on the cement around them almost as loud as the sound of his heart breaking. 

He wishes none of this made sense. Will decides right there in the Wheelers’ kitchen that he’s going to ignore his feelings. He’ll suffocate them until they aren’t real, nothing more than a memory. Mike is his best friend despite everything, and that’s all he will ever be. He’ll repeat that fact until it finally becomes true. 

“Okay.” Will says, finally, repeating Mike’s empty concession. He swallows a huge gulp of water and imagines that it drowns all the things he can’t say.

After that, Mike’s declarations stop happening in public. 

Unfortunately for Will, that’s the worst-case scenario. He hadn’t expected it to be a problem, but he hadn’t accounted for the fact that the jokes from his friends would have made it easier to push his own feelings aside. They never teased Will; all their laughter was at Mike’s expense. But now Will has to deal with Mike’s declaration in quiet, intimate moments. He says it when Will enters a room first. He says it as they’re biking home, Mike taking the long way just so Will doesn’t have to go down Mirkwood alone. He’ll say it over the walkie if he radios on the nights neither of them can fall asleep.

It’s day thirty-one when Mike says it in the movie theater. As the credits roll, their friends race to the exit, but Mike hangs back and waits on Will. Once Will walks up beside him, he swings an arm loosely around his shoulder. The physical touch is a surprise. It takes Will back to Halloween, shaking in fear until Mike’s touch grounded him firmly in reality. It has the same effect now. The cold air of the theater normally makes him anxious until he gets back outside, but the fear evaporates the moment Mike’s arm rests against the back of his neck. 

“I love you, Will,” he states. The words are so casual he might as well be commenting on the weather. He’s using his Will voice, the soft tone he’d adopted after Will once confessed that his dad screamed at him all the time back home. Six-year old Mike promised him that he’d never yell at Will back then. It’s a promise he’s kept; even when they fight, Mike goes out of his way to never yell at Will the way he does everyone else.

Will never knows what the right response is when Mike says he loves him. The best answer is probably no answer, but saying nothing always feels wrong. His go-to reply is usually an “okay,” but sometimes he gets this stupid urge to thank him that he usually represses.

Today isn’t one of those days. “Thank you.”

He can tell it’s weird the moment Mike tenses against him. He stops mid-step, forcing Will to halt at his side since he’s not willing to shrug off Mike’s arm just yet. They stay there like that for a moment frozen just inside the theater. The exit-door window allows a swatch of yellow light to fall at their feet, but otherwise the room shrouds them in cool blue lighting. Will half-expects Mike to let go and race out of the theater. But the opposite happens. Mike’s arm curls tighter around him, unintentionally pulling Will to his chest. “Yeah. Of course.” 

He’s not sure what he means when he says of course. He wonders if it’s only just occurred to Mike that the words he’s been forced to say for the last month actually have meaning. The moment shatters when they step back into motion. His arm falls away when they cross the threshold, escaping the dim room and walking into the bright fluorescents in the lobby.

“What took you so long?” Dustin yells. He and the rest of their friends are waiting impatiently by the entrance.

“We’re coming!” Mike yells, striding ahead of Will without a second glance. He wonders why Mike doesn’t just explain that he was doing the challenge. They couldn’t have been more than a minute behind everyone else. But he doesn’t pry. 

On day thirty-eight, Will opens the front door to find Mike holding a cardboard box. “Mike? What are you doing here?”

“Hey!” He pushes the box in Will’s direction. “I brought tools.”

“Did I… ask for tools?” 

“No,” Mike answers with a smile. “I thought we could spend some time today rebuilding Castle Byers.”

This does nothing to alleviate Will’s confusion. “Why?”

His smile droops but he doesn’t seem deterred. “I know that storm ruined it.” The way he says the word storm makes him think Mike knows that it was never what really destroyed the old fort. “But it seems wrong to just let it fall apart. So I figured we could try and fix it. Together.”

Together reminds Will of last Halloween, sitting in Mike’s basement with a sense of safety he hasn’t felt since. “Isn’t that a waste of time? I mean, I’m not even going to be…” 

He trails off when Mike’s expression completely shifts in hurt. “All the more reason to fix it. That way, when you come back to visit, you’ll still have somewhere that feels like home.”

Will isn’t sure that he wants to leave any piece of him in Hawkins. Even though he’s lived here his entire life, Hawkins isn’t home. His friends and family are home; it’s a feeling rather than a place. But he considers Mike’s words anyway, noting the way his hands are gripping the box of tools like a lifeline. Mike is trying. This is his olive branch. 

“Let me put on my shoes,” he says. He doesn’t really care about the fort, but he does care about fixing things with Mike before he leaves. Mike recognizes the implicit yes in his words and answers with a full-force grin. 

It’s a short walk out to Castle Byers. Their steps naturally halt when the ruined fort comes into view. In the bright light of morning, it seems even more rundown. The wooden sign is split into jagged pieces, and one side of the fort has caved in so far that the structure resembles a tent. Mike moves closer but Will hangs back. It’s only been a few weeks since he first tore it down, beating it apart with the baseball bat his dad sent for his tenth birthday. Just another thing that proved Will failed to be the son he’d always wanted.

“Do you even know how to use the tools?”

Mike turns around, sheepish. “How hard can it be?” He answers with a sense of bravado that Will can see right through. He clearly has no idea what he’s doing, a fact emphasized by the fact that the first tool he plucks from the box is a wooden mallet. “This’ll do, right?”

Will sighs, equal parts fond and exasperated. When he looks in the box Mike brought, he’s not surprised to find an array of tools that don’t pair together. At least Mike had enough sense to pack more than one hammer. “I think this will be better,” he teases, picking one up and watching Mike’s face turn pink. “But maybe that mallet is a good starter tool for you.”

“Shut up,” Mike grumbles, eyes sparkling with mirth.

They spend the rest of the morning clearing the splintered wood, prying out loose nails as they go. They salvage a few pieces but most of the wood is too damp or rotted to reuse. Once they’re left with a bare-bones structure, Will instructs Mike to salvage what he can inside the fort while he forages for sturdy logs to rebuild. 

When he comes back, Mike is settled cross-legged in the nest of old blankets, papers strewn around him. 

“Mike?” When he gets closer, he realizes Mike has been crying. He scrubs at his eyes in an effort to hide it, but he can’t fool Will. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just that some of your drawings got ruined,” he replies, voice forlorn.

Will deposits the logs he’s collected and settles down next to Mike on the blankets. “Well, they’ve been out here unprotected for a while.”

“Right.” His reply is half-hearted, attention still trained on the paper in his hands. Will looks down and realizes it’s an old drawing of them. It’s nothing more than two stick figures in a field; the only way he can tell it’s them is because Mike’s stick figure is wearing a green jacket. For an entire year, Mike refused to wear anything else, which had translated into Will’s art. “I don’t know,” Mike says suddenly. “I guess it’s just sad seeing them damaged like this. And then there’s this, too.”

He hands Will the torn photo of them from Halloween. There’s a clear tear down the middle of the photo, right between him and Mike. They look so happy in that picture, aiming their homemade proton packs into the distance with wide grins. Jonathan even managed to capture Mike laughing despite how much he hates having his photo taken. Will feels regretful staring at it. He shouldn’t have torn it; there aren’t many photos of the four of them. 

“We can fix this one,” he tells Mike quietly. “A little tape right here…” He pushes the two halves together until the seam where they were torn apart is barely visible, erasing all evidence of the rift between he and Mike. “It’ll be like nothing happened at all.”

“It’s not that easy.” Mike sounds pained, and when Will looks up he realizes Mike is on the verge of tears, lips wobbling even though he’s pressed them together in a thin line.

“Why not?” It’s a total role reversal for them; Mike is usually the one comforting Will. 

“Because… because…” Mike hiccups as he tries to speak, tears spilling from his eyes. “Will. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t prompt Mike to elaborate. They both know why he’s apologizing. Instead of bending to Mike’s will, he lets him wrestle with his feelings and form his own apology. But that doesn’t stop him from feeling hurt at the sight of Mike so upset. 

When Mike finally speaks, his words are careful, slowly unraveling in the quiet forest surrounding them. “You were right when I said I was ruining the party. I pushed all of you away for no reason. It was just so stupid. And you didn’t… you didn’t deserve what I… when I said-”

“Mike,” he interrupts, a knee-jerk response. He fixes him with a look and watches as regret flashes in Mike’s eyes.

He swallows and directs his eyes back down the photo, still clutched in Will’s hands. “You didn’t deserve it,” he repeats, firmly this time. “I wanted to apologize back then. But then everything went crazy again, and I pushed it aside because I told myself we had bigger problems. But honestly, it was way easier to pretend like I hadn’t been such a dick to you. God, Will, I just-” 

He cuts himself off in frustration. He’s still holding the old drawing and the paper crinkles when he tightens his grip. “I’ve been trying to make it up to you. Because I’m so bad at all of this,” Mike tells him. “But it’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have made you wait this long. Not when there’s only so many days left before you’re gone.”

“Not forever,” Will assures him. Maybe he’s making a promise he can’t keep but he’s certain that he’ll see Mike again. It would take an act of God to keep them apart. Or, at the very least, an act of Mike Wheeler.

“Maybe forever!” Mike shoots back. “I don’t know, I just have this… this feeling that if you leave you won’t ever come back. And I don’t want that. Will, I need you to know how sorry I am. Really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that this summer. It was so stupid and pointless, especially since me and El broke up anyway-”

This is news to Will. “Wait. You broke up?”

Mike frowns. “You didn’t know? It’s not like we’ve spent any time together since everything went down. It’s definitely over.”

Will can’t understand why Mike thinks he would know. But then he remembers that he’s the one who sees El every day. Wouldn’t he have known if they’d made up? Mike would have been at his house all the time, but that hasn’t been the case. “I guess I didn’t realize. Is that… are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Really, ” he emphasizes, clocking Will’s uncertain look. “I think that’s why you won the vote for this dare anyway. Max didn’t want to force El into it. Plus you know she likes conspiring against me.” 

“You know our friends aren’t always out to get you.”

Mike offers him a crooked smile. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m sorry you and El broke up.”

“I didn’t even mean to bring it up. I don’t want to talk about her. I want to talk about us.” Will ignores the way his heart skips a beat and reminds himself Mike doesn’t mean it like that. “Can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”

“You’re always an idiot, Mike.” He says it so matter-of-fact that Mike’s expression turns wary. But then Will smiles, and his entire body relaxes. “I forgive you. Thank you for apologizing to me out loud and not just in your head.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Once they’re back at the house, Mike turns to him expectantly. “Can I come back? Tomorrow?”

“If you want. But we don’t have to hurry and rebuild. I think it’s going to rain tomorrow anyway."

He frowns. “Can’t I just come to hang out?”

“Oh.” Belatedly, he realizes he shouldn't feel so surprised that Mike wants to come over for no reason. “Of course you can? I’d like that,” he adds as an afterthought. 

Mike’s expression morphs into obvious relief. “Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” As he’s pedaling away, he turns back to Will to yell, “I love you! Bye!” 

Mike comes back the next day. And the day after that. Will comes to expect Mike at his door most mornings. They keep rebuilding Castle Byers, but they also fall back into old habits and spend entire afternoons cooped up in Will’s room. Mike claims his spot on Will’s bed, taking up more space than he used to, while he reads comics or novels. He talks rapidly about whatever’s got his interest lately. Like always, Will listens and chimes in where needed while he sketches.

Mike insists on taking home Will’s latest work every time he leaves. He says that he loves his work and that he loves Will in the same breath. Will doesn’t know what to think about any of it, but he gleefully accepts each compliment and fleeting declaration. He puts them in a mental box marked fragile, do not touch, and when nights seem lonely and dark, he revisits the memories to keep warm.  

Day forty-four is a bad day for Will. 

The bad days aren’t new. But he’s been doing so much better that he thought they’d ended entirely. He hadn’t had one since March, just before his birthday. There had been a sudden cold snap that triggered him, sending him right back to November and making it feel as if he’d lost control of his body all over again. 

On bad days, Will stayed home. He coped by burying himself beneath the weight of several blankets, relishing in the miserable and suffocating warmth that reminded him his body was his own. 

He doesn’t know what triggers him this time. There’s no chill in the air or any real reason to believe Hawkins will find itself in danger again. Maybe it’s just a delayed reaction to everything that happened in July. Whatever it is, he wakes up on day forty-four feeling disembodied. He’s supposed to meet his friends for one last swim at Lovers’ Lake; school starts in just two short weeks and summer is coming to a close. 

But he can’t get out of bed. When he doesn’t appear in the kitchen after his mom calls for breakfast, she comes to check on him. She knocks once and waits long enough for Will to reply. He can’t, though; on bad days, he rarely speaks. He barely has enough energy to exist.

His silence is her cue to open the door. “Honey?” she calls, peeking her head inside. When she sees he’s still in bed, two blankets already on top of the comforter, she heaves a broken sigh. “Oh, Will.” 

They’ve been through enough episodes now to know that there’s nothing anyone can do to help him. He just needs to get through it. 

She crosses the floor to give him a kiss on the forehead, and the comfort of it forces his eyes shut. He wishes he could just be normal, that this feeling would disappear, that he could make all of this end. He’s thought about it before - all the ways he could put an end to being a burden on his friends and family. He thinks about it, but it never holds any real appeal, the thoughts nothing more than intrusive whispers on which he’d never follow through. 

“El can let your friends know you won’t make it.” She strokes the crown of his head in a way that makes him feel small, like he’s only home sick with the flu instead of lying in bed with a broken brain. “Do you want to be alone today?”

Will musters up just enough energy for a nod. She forces a smile at his response, but her lips are too thin for it to come off as anything but concerned.

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll bring something home to eat.” She doesn’t stick around for a response that won’t come and leaves as quietly as she came, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. 

He’s not sure how much time passes before the door opens again. This time, it’s El’s face that peeks through the gap. “Will?” He can see the moment she realizes that he’s watching her with some level of alertness. “I am sorry you’re not feeling well.” 

Unexpectedly, she walks inside and stands next to his bed. Ever since she joined the family, they’ve been slowly bonding. Initially, Will gave her space; he knew what it felt like to lose a father figure in more ways than one. He wasn’t sure how El felt, but when he came back from the Upside Down, the last thing he’d wanted was anyone’s comfort. He just wanted to be left alone. Besides, El had Max and Will didn’t like to intrude as a rule, never quite sure if he was wanted or merely tolerated. 

El reaches out and covers his hand with her own. Unlike his mom or Jonathan, El’s presence there is comforting. She understands, on some level, exactly what he’s feeling. He realizes he’s never stopped to consider how much pain they share before now, both forced to do and see things that no one should ever have to - let alone two kids.

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” she tells him, speaking in the gentle yet matter-of-fact way she does, “please tell me. We can… talk. When you are feeling better.” Her words shave off some of that heaviness. He manages to give her a small but genuine smile. El wordlessly squeezes his hand in reply. 

Will can still remember the first time he saw her. He thought she was a hallucination in that blue jacket and pink dress at first. But even then, when they were just strangers, he knew he could trust her. He feels the same way now. El is the only who can truly understand the weight of his pain, the heft of survivor’s guilt and distrusting their surroundings. 

He might not take her up on her offer to talk now, but someday he will.

She gives his hand one more squeeze before letting go. After she leaves, he drifts into a dreamless sleep, unbroken until the sound of the front door closing stirs him. Blinking into awareness, Will tries to muster up the energy to seem better than he actually is. It can’t be anyone but Jonathan coming to check on him and he doesn’t want to see that concerned look on his brother’s face. It makes him feel like just another thing his family has to worry about. 

But it’s not Jonathan’s voice that calls for him. 

“Will? Are you in your room?”

When his door opens for the third time today, it’s Mike's face that peers inside. Will would be surprised if he had the energy to show it. 

“Hey,” Mike mumbles, using his softest voice. “I hope I didn’t wake you up. I wasn’t sure if you’d be scared hearing someone in the house, so I wanted to make sure you knew it was me.” 

He’s touched by the easy way Mike takes care of him. He’s not exactly precious with Will, not even on bad days. Will likes that. He knows it’s not that Mike doesn’t worry, but he does it in a way that never makes him feel like a nuisance. Instead, he barges his way into Will’s worst moments and treats him like there’s nothing unnatural about it. The only sign he treats Will any gentler is in the way he speaks and the soft, attentive way he watches over him, giving him whatever he needs before he thinks to ask.

“I wanted to come check on you,” he explains. “It felt weird being out at the lake while you’re here all alone. I don’t know, it just… it made me kind of sad.”

He still doesn’t have the energy to speak, a prisoner trapped in his own body. Mike doesn’t seem to mind. He takes a seat on the floor and peers up at his face, searching for subtle reactions. “I figured I’d come keep you company instead. It’s not like I need another sunburn anyway, right? I mean, everyone else was there, and they’re all great. Of course they’re great. But you weren’t there, so…”

Will gives him a measured blink. He feels a pinprick of curiosity try to break through his exhaustion, but it can’t take root and fades as quickly as it came.  “But if you don’t want me here,” Mike continues, still watching closely, “just, uh… just look at the door, I guess? And I’ll take it as a signal to leave.”

He keeps his eyes deliberately trained on Mike, refusing to even blink. Mike observes him for a few seconds. He smiles once he realizes what Will is doing. “Okay, message received. You can blink. But if you change your mind, the signal still stands. I know you don’t have a lot of energy, so just rest. I just wanted to be here for you.”

His voice is impossibly gentler than before. Will feels his eyes slip shut, comfortable for the first time since he woke up.

 “Also, I wanted you to feel safe. You know nothing’s gonna happen with me around.”

Will can hear the self-deprecating tone, but he doesn’t think it’s funny. He’s always felt safer with Mike around, ever since they were kids. Mike had always represented a safe space for him, a place to go when everything else seemed wrong. He’s dimly aware of Mike placing another blanket over him, and it’s only as the heat increases that he realizes he was shivering at all. Soon enough he’s miserably warm and therefore comfortable enough to drift back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, Mike is still there. He’s dozing now, too, slumped against Will’s nightstand at an angle that looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“Mike.” His voice is dry from disuse and he barely makes a sound. 

But Mike stirs immediately with a sharp inhale, blinking awake at rapid speed. “Will?”

“Water,” Will croaks. He doesn’t have the energy to repeat it. It doesn’t matter; Mike is already scrambling up and out of the room, and Will is stupidly grateful that he’s there - that he’s still there. 

The sound of footsteps alert him to Mike’s imminent return. “Here,” Mike says as he enters the room, high-energy now that he’s wide awake.

Will pulls himself into an upright position and accepts the glass, downing it one go. Mike hovers by the bed and takes the glass from Will when he’s done, already aware he’s expending valuable energy just from sitting up and speaking. 

“Better?”

Will nods once. “Thanks.”

Mike smiles. He makes a move to settle back on the floor, but Will finds himself reaching out and taking hold of Mike’s wrist. He can’t bear to see him curled up like that on the floor again, twisted like a pretzel.

Mike freezes, dropping his gaze to his hand in Will’s. “What? Is everything okay?”

He tightens his grip and gives Mike a slight tug, trying to convey what he wants without words. Mike’s brow furrows as he considers. He glances up at Will, down to the place their hands meet, and then back to Will once more. Understanding dawns on his face. “You want… me?”

Will tugs him again, this time directing his eyes to the other side of his bed.

“You want me to sit on the bed?”

Will blinks once. An unspoken yes. Mike’s face clears, though he still seems a little perplexed. “Are you sure? Won’t you feel crowded?”

Two blinks this time. A clear no. 

“Okay,” Mike whispers. Will has enough sense to let go of him before he slumps back into bed, horizontal once again. Mike’s weight dips the other side of the mattress as he settles down. He can immediately feel his body warmth despite the four blankets he’s already curled beneath, and he finds himself gravitating towards Mike. 

As he shifts positions, he notices Mike watching him apprehensively. “Okay?” he asks, waiting until Will seems comfortable. He’s not sure whether he wants to know if it’s okay that Mike is next to him in bed, or if he’s comfortable using him for warmth, or if it’s okay that he’s spending his day here, stuck with Will. Except he’s not really stuck; coming here was his choice. 

He blinks once. Mike’s answering smile warms him from head to toe. “Good.”

Will shuts his eyes but doesn’t immediately fall asleep this time. He drifts in and out of consciousness, aware of almost nothing except the sound of Mike breathing beside him. Suddenly, cool air brushes against his forehead, contrasted only by the warmth on his scalp. Mike’s fingers card gently through his hair, and Will doesn’t dare open his eyes. Mike can’t realize he’s awake; he’d never be this tactile otherwise, and Will doesn’t want this moment to end. 

But then Mike surprises him. He’s been surprising him a lot lately, but this feels different.

“I love you,” Mike murmurs. Everything in Will comes to a screeching halt, including the rhythm of his breath. He doesn’t think Mike notices; his fingers keep moving through his hair as if nothing has changed. Maybe it hasn’t. Maybe Will is the only one so affected. 

“I really, really do,” Mike tells him, voice impossibly fond. Will wishes desperately that he could open his eyes and catch the expression on his face.

It’s for the dare, he tells himself. It has to be for the dare, even though it’s strange that he would tell him at a time he thinks Will can’t hear him. He might fixate on it further if not for the fact that he’s swallowed by another wave of exhaustion, and he’s lost to sleep yet again. 

He wakes to the murmur of two voices this time, dimly registering his mom’s voice alongside Mike’s in the room. 

“Thanks for coming to check on him, sweetie.” His mom must be sitting beside him on the bed; Will can feel the warm weight of her hand on his back. The mattress dips on his other side as Mike stands, and Will already misses him the moment he leaves. 

“Of course, Mrs. By-”

“I don’t know how many times I have to ask you to call me Joyce, Mike. You know you’re like family to us. You’ve always been so good to him.”

Will’s eyes don’t have to be open for him to know that Mike is probably sporting an embarrassed flush. “He’s my best friend.”

“You’re both lucky to have each other. I’ll let you tell him goodbye. Are you sure you don’t want to stay for some pizza?”

“No, my mom is probably waiting on me. But thank you for the offer.”

“Anytime. You get home safe, okay?”

After his mom leaves, Will sits up in bed. “Mike?”

“Oh, you’re up! I’m about to head home. Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

Mike smiles brightly, clearly pleased to hear more than one syllable out of him. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. Soon.”

“Cool,” he replies softly. He’s almost out the door when he pauses and turns back to Will. “Oh, and uh… I love you?”

He still doesn’t have much energy, but the goofy awkward way he says the words pulls a smile out of him regardless. “Okay.”

Mike huffs a quiet laugh as if he can sense Will is mocking him. “Later.”

It’s only after he’s long gone that Will remembers the declaration he wasn’t supposed to hear.

He’s so in love with him. He already knew that; he’s spent the last twenty-one days trying to ignore it. But ignoring it isn’t working. He loves Mike, and it’s in everything he does. It’s in every word spoken, every warm feeling he gets whenever Mike treats him a little softer than he does everyone else. It’s there when he closes his eyes and it’s there when he wakes up, as reliable as the blood pumping through his veins.

Things are better on day forty-five, but Will still refuses to leave his room. Though his energy is back and his body feels more like his own with each passing second, his mind is still caught in a cycle of feeling sorry for himself. It doesn’t help that he’d spent a sleepless night thinking about the impossibility of his feelings and what it all means.

He can admit that he’s gay; that much seems obvious. It feels like he should have already known because it seemed like everyone else did. Maybe that’s why it comes as no surprise. He traces back through his memories and realizes he’s never liked girls in that way. He preferred Luke Skywalker to Princess Leia, and the reason he hadn’t felt like he fit in at that dance was because dancing with that girl felt wrong. He didn’t know what to do when his friends told him about Jennifer Hayes crying at his funeral like it was supposed to matter. In hindsight, it’s definitely no surprise, but it’s still a disappointment that crashes over him in waves of shame.

Unlike yesterday, he won’t let anyone in. Not his mom, not Jonathan, not even El. He leaves his walkie on and his friends call for him with concern. He doesn’t answer. Not even when Mike’s voice crackles through. Instead, Will finds himself turning the dial to off and taking out the batteries for good measure. 

He wants to disappear. He imagines sneaking out and vanishing once again, on his own terms, but he can’t get much further than that. Would he find a way back to the Upside Down and let it take him again? Or maybe he’d end up at the bottom of the quarry, this time for real. There were less dire alternatives; he could try to escape Hawkins entirely. But imagining the last one does him no good. He doesn’t have any money, and he doesn’t even know where he thinks he’d go. He has no clue how he’d survive.

Maybe that’s the entire point, though. Not surviving.

He would never actually do it. He tells himself that even as he unlocks his window, staring out into the open air wondering what if. 

What if. 

The sound of something sliding against the floor breaks him from his reverie. Will looks towards the noise and sees a pile of envelopes by his door that wasn’t there before. He walks over and picks them up. He rips open the pink envelope on top without trying to figure out what it is. 

It’s a hand-drawn get well card from El. Will feels oddly choked up looking at it. He drops it and opens another envelope to find a sketch of him on a skateboard, Max’s name scrawled in the bottom right corner. He’s never skated a day in his life but the sketch is funny, and it draws an unexpected laugh out of him. He opens the rest of them and realizes each of his friends took time out of their day to connect with him like this. Lucas wrote him an honest to god letter that leaves him oddly emotional, while Dustin has listed a series of projects he wants Will’s help brainstorming.

Mike’s isn’t like the others. On a scrap of paper clearly torn from one of his notebooks, he’s drawn a poor sketch of Will the Wise in his purple robes, back to back to with Mike the Mighty. There’s an arrow drawn on the right side, so Will flips the paper over to find Mike’s barely legible handwriting. See you soon? P.S. I love you

There’s a smiley face tacked on to the end of the declaration. The liquid that drips onto the paper is the only thing that clues Will into the fact that he’s crying. 

He drops the pages and walks over to the window to latch it shut. 

He can’t change who he is, and he can’t change who he loves. Maybe if his friends knew the truth, they would hate him. 

But maybe they wouldn’t. People who go out of their way to remind him that he’s loved and missed can’t possibly be people who would hate him for not loving in the right way. Love isn’t black and white; it isn’t conditional and it doesn’t require changing himself to gain it. They love him, and he’s cared for, and that’s more than enough.

He still cries himself to sleep that night, simultaneously empty and overflowing. It’s like he’s a walking paradox that’s waiting for a solution even though the only way forward has been in front of him all along.

The move starts feeling real by day fifty. His friends go back to school the following Tuesday, and it’s the first time that Will isn’t going with them. Their summer days come to an end, and consequently, Mike’s declarations of love change, too. He stops caring if he says it in front of their friends. Even though they all leap on the chance to poke fun at him again, he never seems phased. He shrugs off their jokes about being a scaredy-cat and tells Will that he loves him with a smile on his face.

Will tries to soak it all in, every last minute. But there’s a clock ticking down in his mind. The challenge is officially over halfway done, and Will’s time in Hawkins is nearing an end even faster. What seemed thrilling to him in July now feels daunting, and he’s thankful that El is moving away with him so that he won’t be completely alone. 

Will’s walkie crackles to life on the night of day fifty-four. “Will! Are you still awake? Over.”

He rolls over and grabs the walkie, choosing not to tell Mike that he’d nearly been asleep. “I’m awake. Over.”

“Can we come over tomorrow morning before school? Over.”

“I guess,” he answers slowly. “Why? Over.”

“You’ll see.” Mike’s response is deliberately cryptic. “See you tomorrow. Love you. Over and out.”

“Over and out,” Will repeats. He’s stopped feeling phased by every single love declaration. But if he sleeps a little better because of this one, that’s his secret to keep.  

True to his word, he wakes up unnecessarily early the next morning. He doesn’t have to start school for another month. According to his mom, it would be easier to transfer into a new school if he just starts the year late. 

When he hears a knock on their front door, he pads down the hallway to let his friends in. “Happy first day of school!” they chorus, wide grins on their faces despite the fact that it's barely six in the morning.

“Happy first day! Are you guys that excited about freshman year?”

“Of course not,” Dustin scoffs.

Will opens his mouth, but Mike speaks before he can ask. “We came to keep up our tradition!”

Oh. Every first day of school, they meet up to take a group picture on the first day of school. It began with just Lucas and Mike when they were in preschool. Their moms got wind that they'd be in the same class and decided that since they were neighbors, it would be cute to take their photos together to see how they grew up. After Mike and Will became friends in kindergarten, Mrs. Wheeler invited him into the pictures the year they started first grade. And once Dustin moved to town and they formed their party, he became part of the tradition when they started fifth grade.

The tradition started because of their parents, but after fifth grade they’d sworn to each other they would meet up to take photos all the way through their senior year, if not college. He’s struck with a sudden pang of sadness that this is another small thing he’s losing once he moves. 

“We invited Max and El, too,” Lucas tells him, “but they both told us they’d rather die than wake up for a photo. Well, Max said that. El didn’t seem to care.”

“Do you want to join us?” Mike asks. Mysteriously, Will’s empty backpack is waiting for him on the porch. Will shrugs it on as they huddle together, bright smiles on all four faces. Jonathan must be in on this surprise; he’s waiting nearby with his camera in hand. They take several photos, flash going off so often that it’s nearly blinding. Per tradition, they take at least eight pictures - one for each of them and one for each of their moms. 

As they wait for them to develop, Will perches onto the porch railing. Mike leans next to him and their arms brush against each other, barely any space between them. “Feeling weird about missing the first day of freshman year?” 

He still looks half-asleep; Will ducks his head to hide his fond smile. “No, I’ve actually never been happier. Full offense.”

“Hey! That’s not fair,” Mike replies, laughing. “Some of us still have to go.”

Will shrugs and lifts his head to stare out at the rising sun. He’s so pleased by the surprise that he feels his guard falling, castle walls crumbling in the face of friendship. “This means a lot to me,” he admits.

He watches Mike’s smile form in the corner of his eye, practically an answer on its own. “We wanted you to be a part of the photo. It didn’t feel right without you. And it’s not like you’re gone yet. Besides, you need more than that torn photo to remember us by.”

“Maybe. But even the torn photo is a good memory.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It just shows that our friendship will make it through anything.” 

Mike watches him intently, understanding in his eyes. It goes without saying that they’re not talking about the entire party now. “You’re right,” Mike says, his tone growing more certain with every word. “Even the end of the world couldn’t tear us apart.” He bumps Will’s shoulder with his own, and they exchange quiet smiles. The sun rises slowly around them. Eventually, this moment will shatter and it will be another memory. But right now, Will can’t help but think that this feels something like home. 

On day sixty-seven, Will is packing. It’s how he spends most of his days now that there’s just two short weeks before the big move. He would rather put off this part where he sorts through his entire life to decide what gets left behind. 

He’s working through the ridiculous amount of comics he’s accumulated when his walkie unexpectedly crackles to life.“Will? Are you there?”

He frowns in the direction of Mike’s voice. It’s a Thursday. Mike should be in school. He reaches out for the receiver to reply, nearly knocking over a precarious stack of comics in the process. “Mike? What’s wrong?”

“Can I come over?” 

Mike would normally make a comment about the lack of sign-offs, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He sounds off; his tone is urgent, and Will immediately starts worrying. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers sharply. “Actually, scratch that. Can I meet you at Castle Byers?”

“Okay,” he relents. “See you soon?”

“Thirty minutes. Over and out.”

Will is already waiting in the newly rebuilt fort when Mike’s head peers inside.  His expression is tight but he relaxes slightly once he spots Will. 

“Password?” Will asks, mostly to make Mike stop looking so miserable. It works; Mike’s stormy expression crumbles at the childhood reminder. 

“Radagast, right?”

“So it is. You may enter, Mike the Mighty.” 

Mike’s quiet huff of laughter is worth the childish callback to his D&D character. He takes a seat next to Will in the pile of blankets and looks around, taking in the empty walls. “Already packed away the fort? Wow.”

“Everything must go,” he parrots, echoing the phrase his mom keeps throwing around as they pack. 

Mike shakes his head, forlorn. “It’s going to be so strange without you around.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” he answers. He sounds like he can’t believe Will has to ask. “It’s already weird. All my classes feel so empty without you.”

“We probably wouldn’t have been in the same ones anyway. Didn’t you guys say you only have a couple classes with each other?” 

Mike shrugs. He grabs one of the blankets and throws it over his head, hiding his face. He looks ridiculous, like a little kid playing dress-up.

“Mike. Why are you here?”

“Because.”

“Because why?” he prods gently. Whenever Mike gets like this, Will knows that he can’t pressure him unless he wants him to completely ignore whatever is going on.

“Because everything sucks,” he mumbles, still clad in the blanket. Will lets him hang on to it for now. “High school is stupid. Our friends are stupid. And you aren’t there, which makes everything worse.”

He ignores the last thing Mike says for now, mostly because it’s clearly not the real problem. “Our friends are stupid?”

Mike mumbles under his breath again, so Will gives him a hard poke in the arm. “Ow,” Mike hisses, the blanket shifting just enough that part of his face becomes visible. “Yeah. Our friends are stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“Mike,” he repeats, a warning in his voice now. He sighs and shrugs the blanket off completely. His hair is all messed up and his cheeks are slightly flushed. He looks so cute even when he’s being ridiculous. Will can hardly stand it. But it’s not the time for that - never really the time for that - so he refocuses his attention on the smaller details others would miss, like the tension in his shoulder and the nervous way his hands play with a twig he must have picked up from the ground.

“Lucas is trying out for the basketball team.”

Will takes a moment to absorb that. “...Okay?” he prompts, waiting for something worse. When it doesn’t come, he frowns. “And that makes him stupid?”

Mike heaves another sigh. “Yes! I mean… no. Ugh, I don’t know, it’s just… he’s joining the basketball team.” He spits out the word basketball like it’s personally offended him. 

“I think I’m missing something. What’s wrong with that? Isn’t it cool that he’s trying something new?”

The second he says it, he knows he’s made a mistake. Not because he’s wrong - far from it. It’s because he’s momentarily forgotten who he’s talking to. Mike hates change. He despises anything that threatens his idea of how things are supposed to be. He’s always been prone to tantrums when something changed his routines. He used to get mad when his mom packed the wrong kind of juice as a kid, or upset whenever she washed his favorite blanket without asking. He’d gotten better at hiding it as they grew up. But he’s still prone to lashing out like this sometimes. Will can’t forget how bratty he’d been with Max that first week of their friendship, surly and mean solely because she was someone new he hadn’t chosen. 

“No, it’s not!” Mike retorts. “We’re nerds. We’ve always been nerds. And now, what, suddenly he wants to change course? He’s going to become all… all cool and popular? No way! We can’t be friends if that’s what happens!”

“Why not?” he questions. He feels a surge of annoyance curling up his spine. “Are you saying Lucas can’t try something new? If so, then that means none of us can. Do you think that if we change we won’t be friends? Because that sounds stupid to me!”

“Stupid?” Mike repeats, expression wounded. Will considers that he’s taking this further than necessary. Obviously, Mike came here with the expectation of being comforted. But he can’t change his own feelings. Surely Mike doesn’t expect them to stay exactly the same for the next four years. Wasn’t he the one telling Will not even three months ago that they couldn’t stay in his basement playing games forever? He might have apologized, but it didn’t mean he’d been entirely wrong. Sure, he’d been cruel when he pointed it out, but it didn’t make it less true. Growing up meant changing, and no amount of wishing otherwise would stop that. 

“You’re not being fair to Lucas. You’re not being fair, period. Do you honestly think that none of us are going to change? That’s what happens, Mike. We’re not the same kids we were two years ago.”

“That’s not…I’m not saying… that’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“He’s going to ditch us!” Mike cries out. “He’s going to forget the party! You and El are going to leave, and Max is already pulling away, and Dustin has other friends. Where does that leave me? Forgotten?”

Will leans back and fixes him with a stricken expression. “Forgotten? Mike, come on. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Mike scoffs. “Ridiculous. Right, it’s insane to be afraid that the party is going to fall apart.”

“Where was this energy in July?” Will shoots back. He’s trying to be level-headed about this but now Mike is starting to grate on him. He can’t reign his anger in any longer. “When it was me saying that the party was falling apart, you called me a liar. You said I needed to grow up!”

“I did not!”

“You basically did! But now it actually affects you, so suddenly you want to make it everyone’s problem. That’s how it always is, Mike.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Will cuts in. “Look. You’re my best friend. You know that. But sometimes you’re such an asshole. You don’t even realize how you make us feel if we dare to go out of line from your expectations of us. I mean, honestly, how do you think Lucas would feel if he heard you talking about him like this?” 

Mike averts his eyes. His refusal to look at Will is a silent answer. “Oh. Of course. You already fought with him about it, haven’t you? And then you came here. Did you skip school just to complain? What, you thought I’d just side with you immediately?”

“There aren’t any sides,” he says petulantly. “I just thought you’d understand, because you-”

“Because of this summer, right? You thought I would still feel exactly the same. But that’s the problem,” he explains, “because I listened to you. When I leave for California, I’m not going to stay the same kid I am here. I’m not going over there to be another Zombie Boy. Maybe moving wasn’t my choice, but it’s a chance at a fresh start. So are you saying that you don’t want that for me? For any of us, if we’re given the chance?” 

“Of course I want that for you! For all of you! I just… I don’t want to lose any of you. I don’t want to be left behind in the process.”

“Trust us, then! Be there for us. That’s all we want from you.” 

“And what about you?”

Will freezes. “What about me?”

Mike frowns, eyes flashing with hurt. “Do you… I mean, I just want…" He trails off and Will gets the sense that he wants to ask him what he wants. It’s not a question he could answer honestly. Despite this stupid fight, he wants Mike. He’s so mad at him and still he’s aching to reach out and grab his hand, to pull him in and never let go. He wants to pack him in his suitcase and drive him all two thousand miles cross-country and set him up in whatever spare room they’ve got because he can’t stand the thought of leaving him behind. 

Mike shakes his head before speaking again. "You’re my friend, too. My best friend.” Another beat, and then he says, “I don’t want you to forget about me.”

He’s overcome with a need to escape. Mike can’t possibly be serious. He can’t think that Will can forget him the moment he’s out of sight. His life might be simpler if that were true; forgetting him would erase his feelings and all his hopelessness. But even if he could choose to forget him, he wouldn’t. Knowing Mike, loving Mike, is etched into his very existence. He’s hardwired into his DNA, the unique whirl in his fingerprints that can’t be erased unless it’s burnt right off him.

He’s hurt that Mike thinks he’s fickle enough to forget him that easily. “I can’t,” he says, and it sounds as though he’s speaking from underwater. He stands mechanically and pushes past the old sheet that doubles as an entrance, fleeing into the chilly autumn air. He wishes he’d grabbed a jacket before coming out here until he remembers they’re already sealed away in boxes.

“Wait! Shit. Will, hold on.” Mike scrambles out after him.

Against his better judgment, he halts in place as he calls out. Now that he’s outside of the small fort, a sense of clarity washes over him. He feels a little stupid and ashamed for escalating this into a fight. He’s doing what Mike always does, misplacing his feelings until it manifests into unwarranted frustration. It isn’t fair to make this fight about him. 

“I love you!”

He shouts the words into the forest and they echo around them. Will feels rage take hold; he can’t believe he’s using this dare to his advantage. He can’t believe Mike would lean into those meaningless words instead of saying anything remotely real. 

“Jesus, Mike,” Will says slowly. His fury makes his hands shake. “You and this… this dare.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can’t just say those words to get what you want! Honestly, why are you still doing this? You could have taken the punishment. This could have been over!”

“It’s my pride on the line!” he protests. “And you said this was fine. I asked you if this was fine. I’m not using those words to get what I want, Will.”

“You really think that, don’t you.” Will laughs harshly, marveling at Mike’s stupidity. He doesn’t get how Mike doesn’t see the way he’ll bend over backwards to please him, or how those three words are just another way to mold his vulnerability into something that benefits him. He has no idea that the insincerity of the entire challenge makes him miserable. “This has been great. Really great,” he remarks sarcastically. “But I’m going home now. I am not going to sit out here and fight with you because I have actual things to do like packing away my entire life. I do not have time to argue with you about how much you hate change.”

“What? Will, that’s not what this is about!”

“It is, Mike! That’s exactly what this is. You wanted me to tell you that of course you were right. Of course Lucas is stupid for wanting to try something new. You thought I’d come out here and boost your ego, but guess what? I’m leaving! I leave in two weeks and you’re going to have to start figuring out how to deal with your emotions by yourself because I’m not going to be here to do it for you anymore!” 

“Will…” Mike’s voice breaks on the single syllable, sounding devastated.

Will’s voice wobbles as he speaks, unshed tears burning behind his eyes. “No, I mean it, Mike. You need to learn how to handle your feelings like the rest of us. Do you really think you’re the only one terrified by change? Have you seen my life these last two years?” Will laughs again and it lands between them, ugly and twisted and wrong. He hates it. He hates himself for picking a fight but he’s a little proud, too, that he’s standing up for himself. He can’t always expect Mike to be around to do that for him either. “If it were up to me, nothing would change. I could stay here and we’d still be playing D&D in your basement. And nothing terrible would’ve ever happened to us. But what I want doesn’t matter.”  

“Don’t say that! Of course what you want matters.” 

Will is suddenly exhausted. He’s tired, and there’s so much he has to do before he leaves. Fighting with Mike isn’t one of those things. The last of his fury leaves him and he drops his gaze. “Just go. I don’t care where. Go home, go to school, go anywhere but here because I’m leaving.”

“Will! Will, come on. Don’t go.” 

The scene is eerily reminiscent of last July, except now the roles are reversed. “Go home, Mike. Cool off. And apologize to Lucas.”

Will turns and begins his trek back to the house. Mike calls after him again, but he doesn’t chase after him and Will is thankful that he actually listens. He’s so furious that the door slams behind him, causing Jonathan and El to both shoot him concerned looks that he ignores. He slams his bedroom door, too, and forces himself to return to the comics. But he’s distracted the entire time; all he hears are Mike’s words ringing in his ears.

They don’t talk for days. The only way he hears from him is over the walkie. Mike calls each night, apologies spewing out so quickly that it almost sounds like static. But he always makes sure to say he loves him before signing off. 

Will can’t bring himself to reply. He tells himself that he only listens for the sake of the dare, but he’s never cared about the conditions before now. The truth is that he leaves the walkie on because even though Mike will never mean those words, he still gets to hear them. He gets to pretend that it means more. It probably isn’t fair of him to take the dare for granted while cursing Mike for using it in the same breath, but it wasn’t fair of Mike to use the dare against him either. He figures they’re even. 

It’s day seventy-six when there’s a knock on Will’s door.

“It’s open,” he calls. He figures it’s just his mom waiting to ask him about another small piece of his childhood he can barely remember.

When he turns around, he’s not as surprised as he should be to see Mike standing in the doorway. He looks hesitant, like he’s not sure if he’s welcome. Will hasn’t quite made up his mind either. It suddenly occurs to him that this might be the last time he’ll ever see Mike framed in his doorway like this. It's as though he’s looking at the past and present simultaneously; he can picture a younger Mike standing there, superimposed on present-day Mike. 

“Hey. Can I come in?” 

Will furrows his brow. “Have you ever asked before?” 

Mike’s lips twitch in a near-smile, but his expression remains contrite like he’s waiting to be scolded by Will again.

“Yes, you can come in.” He turns back to the boxes, overwhelmed by how much he still needs to sort through before next Friday. It’s amazing how many things one family can own, how many memories go lost and forgotten as time goes on. 

As if he’s reading Will’s mind, Mike zeroes in on the outrageously large plush animal collection he’s sorting through. “Oh my god. Is that Pippin? I haven’t seen him in forever!”

Will tracks the arc of Mike’s hand as he reaches for the old plush tiger. Once upon a time, its fur was bright orange. These days it’s a faded, weather-worn yellow. Pippin used to live exclusively in Castle Byers, but it now resides in a corner of his room.

“Tell me you aren’t actually considering leaving him behind,” Mike demands. He lifts Pippin - fittingly named after Will’s favorite Lord of the Rings character - from the pile. “Will. You can’t get rid of him.” 

Despite himself, Will gives Mike an amused look. “I can’t? Says who?”

“Says me! Come on, we all worked so hard to get it from the fair that year. You wanted him so badly! You can’t let him go now.” 

“We? I remember Jonathan is the one who did all the work.” 

He can still recall that entire day perfectly. After begging their parents to let them go to the Fun Fair, they were finally given permission to attend as long as Jonathan supervised them. It was easily one of his favorite childhood memories. They rode every ride twice and ate their entire body weight in fair snacks - which wasn’t saying much since they were only eight at the time. They ended up finding Lucas while they were there, and together the trio had played games with months worth of saved-up allowances.

Will had gotten fixated on the balloon popping game, wanting nothing more than the small stuffed tiger prize. Lucas and Mike tried to help him win it, but they ran out of quarters. Eventually, Jonathan took pity on them and won it on his first try. Will wouldn’t go anywhere without Pippin for an entire year. The stuffed tiger represented one of his favorite memories, but it’s so threadbare now that he wonders if it’s worth dragging it cross-country. 

“Okay, true,” Mike admits, “but you still can’t get rid of it. He won’t allow it.”

“He’s not real.”

Mike fixes him with a look of mock offense and covers the tiger’s ears. “Don’t say that!” he hisses. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“I don’t think Pippin’s feelings are the problem here.” 

Mike sobers immediately and drops the tiger gently, setting it aside from the rest of the pile. “I’m sorry.”

Will suppresses a sigh. “Do you even know why you’re sorry, Mike?” He’s not surprised when Mike looks at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “Exactly,” he mutters, shaking his head and returning his attention to the stuffed toys.

“Wait, Will.” He takes hold of Will’s forearm, forcing him to drop his hands. Reluctantly, he turns to face Mike as he speaks. “Give me a chance. Please?”

“I don’t know. Did you apologize to Lucas?”

“Yes,” Mike tells him. “You were right. I was being a jerk."

"I'm pretty sure I called you an ass, actually."

Mike gives him a half-smile. “Right. Will, I was being really stupid.”

Some of his anger evaporates, replaced with relief that Mike really listened to him. “So you’re not going to be a dick about Lucas being on the basketball team? You’re not just pretending until I leave?”

“No!” Mike swears. He looks deadly serious. “You were right. It will be cool if he makes the team. I’ll go to his games and everything. You might as well make me a cheerleader!”

“I’d pay to see that,” Will says, a grin worming its way onto his face as he pictures it. Surprisingly, Mike’s face flushes bright red in response to Will’s teasing. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he warns. “I want a play-by-play of every game. I can’t believe one of our friends is finally doing something cool and I won’t be around to see it.”

“Apparently all the freshmen players get benched, so there probably won’t be much to tell. But I’ll do my best.” 

“Like it’ll be hard for you. Who knows? You could be on your way to a winning career as a sports reporter.” 

His face twists so sharply with disgust that Will can’t help but laugh. His reaction visibly relaxes Mike, but there’s still words floating unsaid between them. 

“Do you know why I got so upset?” 

“Not really,” Mike admits. “I mean, some of it is obvious. I was being a huge hypocrite.”

“I didn’t say it.”

Mike laughs, low and soft. “You didn’t have to.” 

Will lets silence fall between them while he figures out what he wants to say. “Do you not trust us?”

“What?”

“You act like this every time something changes. You freak and lash out like it’s going to stop the inevitable. And then you get mad at us when we don’t react exactly the same way, and… I don’t know. It just makes me feel like you don’t trust us to stick around.” 

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean to do.” 

“That’s how it feels. And it hurts when you do that. I mean, you know I would trust you with my life. I literally have. But this has to stop.”

“I know,” Mike answers, and when Will looks up he’s surprised to see the obvious frustration in his eyes. “I’m trying.”

Will believes that. But it doesn’t erase how he feels. “I guess I can’t really speak for everyone, but it hurts when it feels like you don’t trust me. God, Mike… do you really think I’m going to forget about you in California?” 

Mike’s cheeks turn pink. “No…”

“You’re my best friend. Of course I’m not going to forget you. I mean, honestly, I don’t even think that’s possible.” 

Mike turns to him with an inquisitive stare, and Will finds himself opening up like always. “I know you were being mean in July when you asked if I just expected us to sit in your basement for the rest of our lives. But honestly, I did think that. I don’t know, I guess I’ve always had this picture of the two of us against the world.”

“Me too,” Mike confesses, eyes suspiciously bright. 

“It’s like, I know we have other friends. I know we’re going to date,” he says, avoiding the world girlfriend in an effort to hide his own secret. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t still be just us. Right?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, sounding choked up. “I guess… I guess that’s what I’m terrified about. It’s always just been us. But now everyone is splitting off and I don’t know, it’s just hard. I thought for a while it was going to be me and El until…” He trails off and drops his gaze to the floor. “But I’ve always had you. And now you’re leaving, and I have no idea what to do. I really wasn’t kidding when I said everything is weird without you around. Did I…” 

He hesitates, piquing Will’s curiosity. His words are careful and measured when he starts talking again. “Did I ever tell you what it was like when I thought you were dead?” 

Will inhales sharply. No, he hadn’t. It was the one thing they never talked about. He’s heard about that time from everyone else’s point of view, but Mike always refused to bring it up. He’d always assumed his reluctance came from a desire to make things seem normal again. He spent so much time back then writing campaigns, talking Will through his increasingly frequent nightmares, and finding small ways to brighten his days. Now though, he wonders if the real reason Mike never brought it up was because he was the one who couldn’t stand to think about it. 

"It was the worst night of my life.” Mike reaches out and pulls Pippin into his arms, squeezing tight. Will gets the strangest sense that he can feel the embrace, an echo of a touch that hasn’t happened in nearly a year. “I’ll never forget it. We were looking for you in the woods when all those police cars drove by, sirens blaring, and I just knew.”  

He looks haunted. It’s like he’s not even in the room anymore, and Will isn’t sure he’s aware that he’s standing less than three feet away. “We followed them out to the quarry. When we got there, they were dredging the lake and we watched until they went in with a stretcher. I wanted it not to be you. I needed it not to be you. The entire time, ever since we found El, I was so sure we’d find you alive. And I know now it wasn’t you, but back then…”

It hurts to see Mike this upset. “You don’t have to-” 

Mike shakes his head sharply. The rest of Will’s words die in his mouth, and he watches as Mike screws his eyes shut and hugs Pippin so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “We watched them pull the body out of the water. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. But the body was so small - you were always so small - and then we could see the same vest you were wearing the night you went missing. And, god, in that moment you were gone. I got so angry. Dustin and Lucas were giving up, and El didn’t have any answers, and you were dead. I biked away and cried the whole way home, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t real just because I didn’t want it to be.”

Will reaches out and puts a hand on Mike’s shoulder, gently guiding him to sit on his bed. He follows easily, still lost in his memories. “I had nightmares about that night for months. I never told you. We’d just gotten you back and all I wanted was for everything to go back to how it was before. But I kept dreaming about that night. I’d stand there and watch them pull you out of the water, over and over again. Knowing nothing I could do would change it. Sometimes I could wade into the water and get close. But whenever I tried to tell them that it wasn’t you, no one would listen. Except I was always wrong in my dreams, it really was you, and I couldn’t-” 

Will’s hand finds the small of his back and Mike shudders beneath the touch, crumpling in on himself. “I only had to figure out what my life looked like without you for one day and it was hell.” He turns his head to Will searchingly. “And I think I’m freaking out because I have to do that all over again. It’s so stupid to be this upset because you’re going to be fine. You’re going to go to California and everything will be amazing, and you’ll figure it all out because you’re you. You’ve always been so quick to adapt. It’s one of the things I admire about you,” he admits. “You don’t get paralyzed by every little change like me. You’re brave and you’re so strong. You survived an entire week in the Upside Down. You survived being flayed!” 

“I survived because of you guys,” Will reminds him, overcome with the need to remind Mike that he’s not as useless as he’s making himself sound. “You’re brave, too. You saved me. You went looking for me based on nothing but a hunch, and you fought to bring me back no matter the consequences. You were twelve with the entire government tracking your every move. And you went right into those tunnels last year with no plan! You didn’t even hesitate. God, you guys stole Steve’s car.”

Mike cracks a smile. “That was Max’s idea actually. Don’t tell her I ever said this, but she’s kind of a badass.” 

They laugh gently, twin smiles blooming on their faces. “I’m going to miss you so much,” Mike confesses softly. “I feel like I’m already missing you.” 

His words steal the breath from Will’s lungs. He nods sharply, throat constricted. He knows exactly what he means. He’s felt like that for months, but he thought he was the only one. 

“You’re right here,” Mike whispers, almost like he’s telling Will a secret. Maybe he is. Maybe this feeling is something that belongs to them alone, a secret language only they can understand. He can’t imagine talking to Dustin or Lucas like this, their sides pressed together without an inch of space between them. 

“But, I don’t know, it just feels like I’m missing a limb. It felt like that right before you got flayed, too. I keep feeling like I had to see you. I needed to make sure you were okay. I felt like that all the time back then. Honestly… I still do. God, sorry, you don’t need to hear any of this,” he hurries to say, an embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks. 

“No, Mike, that’s… that means a lot, actually. I…” He hesitates, but Mike’s uncharacteristically vulnerable expression prompts him to be painfully honest. “I thought you’d forgotten about me. Especially after…”

“After I started dating El?” 

“Yeah. Which is… well, it wasn’t fine, but I understood. Your relationship with her was different. But you didn’t have to throw me aside either. Lucas didn’t do that with Max, and Dustin didn’t ditch us to talk to Suzie. You made me feel like I didn’t matter to you anymore. I mean, one day you’re at my house, constantly checking up on me, and the next it’s like I didn’t even exist.” 

Mike winces. “This is going to sound really shitty, but I knew I was hurting you.” 

He’s right; it sounds awful when he says it like that. But he knows Mike well enough to realize it’s only the beginning of a thought, not a conclusion, and so he waits for him to elaborate.

“I could see what I was doing and I hated it. But, I don’t know, I had this feeling I needed to grow up. Like, in order to really move on and put everything behind us, I had to do whatever was next. When El came back, that seemed like the obvious thing to do. I needed to keep her just as close as I’d kept you.” 

Briefly, his face creases with something Will can’t decipher. It’s gone so quickly that he wonders if he imagined it entirely. “I mean… she saved my life. She saved all our lives, and I thought she died doing it. But that doesn’t excuse how I acted. I didn’t handle it well because I can’t handle change. And when I was fighting with you, I was kind of fighting with myself because the entire time, I knew you were right. I was being a jerk but I couldn’t figure out how to keep both of you close and be me. God, it sounds so stupid now,” he finishes, mouth pressed in a thin line. 

Will bumps their shoulders together. “I can understand that. Look, none of this is easy. Our lives have kind of sucked.”   

Mike reluctantly laughs, a bitter smirk twisting his lips. 

“I’m not saying it’s okay that you hurt me. You know I already forgave you for that. But you’re not the only one who feels lost. Sometimes, I feel like we’re in our own personal Upside Down. Growing up is hard enough, but all of this…”

“It’s enough to make anyone go crazy,” Mike says, finishing his exact thought. He offers Will a crooked grin and finally, it feels like they’re on the same page. “I know I’ve already said it, but I’m really fucking sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you, but I keep doing it anyway.” His tone is glum, and when Will looks down he sees his hands nervously fidgeting yet again. 

“I don’t think you can go through life and not hurt people. Not even the people you care most about. But we have to keep trying. I think all that matters is that we apologize and do better next time. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who’s ever hurt people. I’m sure I’ve hurt you, so I’m sorry too.”

“I don’t think you owe me an apology here, Will.”

He shrugs. “I could have been nicer before. I might have been lashing out a bit, too. Not everything I said to you was fair.”

Mike falls quiet at that. “Do you really think that I’m using the dare to get what I want?”

“No,” Will admits. “Not really. But sometimes you say the words and I just… I know they don’t really mean anything, but you find a way to say it at the worst possible moment.”

“That’s fair. I don’t know, sometimes I just… I guess I’ve been following my gut on when to say it. But I shouldn’t have used it to try and stop you from leaving like that.”

“Apology accepted. And Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“For the record, I’m going to miss you too. Like crazy.” 

Mike smiles softly at the echoed word. Will’s heart skips a beat. “Also… thank you. For telling me about what it was like for you back then. I wish you would have told me sooner. You know you don’t have to carry everything on your own, right? That’s the entire point of having a best friend.”

Mike sniffles and ducks his face, trying to hide the tear tracks on his cheeks. “I’m really going to miss you,” he repeats. “God. Hawkins is going to suck without you. It’s already bad. I keep expecting to see you right beside me but you’re never there. I can’t believe I have to waste the last two weeks you’re here in school!”

“It’s not a waste,” he replies, laughing to keep from crying. “I’m pretty sure your education is important. Even if I do wish we could hang out instead. But you definitely need the help because you’re terrible at math.”

“Jesus, you fail one test!” Mike exclaims, a goofy half-grin breaking through the gloom on his face.

It’s easier to joke about it because it makes it seem less real that there’s only five days left. They’ve spent their entire childhood together, side by side through bullies and supernatural monsters and the small, everyday joys of sleepovers and playdates in Mike’s basement. Even so, it’s impossible to ignore the strangeness that awaits them, the sweeping wave of change they can’t avoid. They’re only kids, barely teens, but Will feels older. His entire life these last two years has been a fast track to adulthood, a crash course in loss and love and growing up received far too soon. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Mike leans forward, familiar concern etched into his face. “Will?”

“Sorry,” he half-sobs. He turns his face away and presses his fists into his eyes, trying to force the tears to disappear. 

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

For a moment, the only sound in the room is Will’s shaky breathing. Mike breaks the silence, abruptly changing the subject. “Hey, what do you think your room will be like in California?” 

He’s grateful for the diversion even if it’s obvious. “Warm, hopefully. Lots of sunshine. Maybe I’ll paint it yellow again.”

“Yellow suits you,” he remarks. “Feels like home.”

Will swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. “I don’t know. I think I like your blue better,” he answers, trying very hard not to think about how that exact shade was the image of home he kept in his mind while trying to stay alive in the Upside Down.

“My blue?” Mike asks curiously.

“Yeah. You’ve never noticed the way half your clothes are the exact same color as your bedroom walls?”

“No. But now that you say it… that’s probably my mom’s doing.”

“Well,” he replies, a trace of humor in his words, “it suits you. Even when she stops buying your clothes, you should stick to the color.”

“Noted. Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you… I mean, have you ever…” His face twists in frustration.“Never mind.”

“Have I ever what?”

But Mike shakes his head and stands, brushing his hands against his jeans. “Never mind. I probably need to get home anyway.”

“Oh. Okay.” He tries to squash his disappointment along with his curiosity. “You’re going to come over before we leave, right?”

Mike grimaces but nods his head in confirmation. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Mike repeats. He lingers in the door frame and stares around the room. Will wonders if he's feeling the same dissonance he’d experienced earlier, if Mike is committing this moment to memory and thinking about how he'll never see Will in this room again. 

“Is it okay if I say it?” He doesn’t have to clarify what it is. Will knows he means the dare, those three words that have haunted him for seventy-five days. 

“You already have been,” he says, in lieu of a real answer. 

He’s rewarded with Mike’s blush, bright enough that the freckles across his cheeks stand out. “I didn’t think you were listening. I just… I want to be sure you want to hear it.”

He lets that sink in. It’s not the first time Mike has said the words when he didn’t know if Will could hear, and he’s not sure what it means or if it means anything at all. He still doesn’t understand why Mike keeps up with the dare; he has to know Will couldn't care less about the punishment, that he won’t tattle to their friends solely for their amusement. But even if he’s aware, it obviously doesn’t change things for him. He’s stuck to the challenge for nearly three months now; clearly, he’s going to see it through.

“I heard you,” Will tells him. 

Mike’s blush seems to deepen, but his eyes stay steady on Will’s. “So? Can I?”

“Yeah. You can say it.”

His eyes flash with determination and something else Will can’t read. “I love you,” he states, and it feels different somehow. He can’t quite figure out why. It almost sounds real, but that’s a thought far too dangerous to entertain.

“Thanks,” he replies. They hold each other’s gaze for what feels longer than it probably is before Mike gives him a tight smile and disappears. 

Will has never felt more hopeless. He wants to chase after him, wants to grab his hand and tell him how he feels and never let him go. There’s no right moment to realize you love your best friend, but there can’t be a worse time to figure it out than now, days away from putting thousands of miles between them. 

He comforts himself with the knowledge that they’ve finally fixed things between them. He tells himself that it’s enough. He can lose Hawkins. He can leave behind everything he’s ever known, give away all his belongings, and drum up the courage to start over. He can lose almost anything as long as he gets to keep Mike.

Even if keeping him means that he remains his best friend and nothing more.

The Byers leave for California on day eighty-two.

The move takes place on a Friday, but that doesn’t stop everyone from skipping school to be there. His mom assigns them all with rooms to pack up. Nancy and Jonathan are responsible for packing away the last of the furniture. Will’s friends get sent to the living room except for Mike, who his mom asks to pack away the kitchen since he’s spent enough time there to know where to find all their dishes. El accompanies his mom on a walkthrough around the house to make sure nothing is left behind. 

Will is sealing up the last of the boxes in his room. Down the hall, he can hear Max and Lucas mercilessly teasing Dustin with a rendition of the Never-Ending Story theme song and he can’t help but smile. Max seems like she’s doing better today, though it’s always possible she’s just putting on a brave face. She’s a lot like Mike in that way; she isn’t immune to fear or worry, but she hates coming off as vulnerable.

He moves to the bookshelf, boxing away the comics he’d set aside to return and gift to his friends, when he accidentally dislodges something from behind one of the dusty stacks. He pulls them away and uncovers his old D&D books. He’d completely forgotten they were there, hidden after that night he fought with Mike. He hadn’t wanted to ever see them again. 

He picks them up now and brushes away the dust. He briefly considers packing them for the move. But Will knows he won’t play D&D in California. He doesn’t want a new party; D&D feels like theirs. Playing with new people just wouldn’t be the same. He might make new friends in his new town, but he knows that they won’t ever compare to the ones he already has. After all they’ve been through, they might as well be family.  

When he’s finished boxing every last thing in his room, he moves to the kitchen. Mike is still there, doing his best to wrap the dishes in what seems like far too much bubble wrap. He glances up when Will walks in, but it’s not until he unceremoniously places the books into the box that Mike stops what he’s doing. 

“Whoa, dude,” he says, a trace of urgency in his voice. “That’s the donation box.”

“I know. I’ll just use yours when I come back.” He pauses, considering. Maybe Mike doesn’t want to play anymore. He’d said as much this summer, hadn’t he? “I mean… if we still wanna play.”

Mike studies him intently. “Yeah, but… what if you want to join another party?”

“Not possible,” Will promises. Mike grins with obvious relief. He considers leaving it at that, but then he realizes that they’re alone in the kitchen. Or, at least, as close to alone as they’ll get today since everyone else is occupied. There’s something he’s been waiting for the right moment to say. “Hey, um… there’s something I want to say to you before I leave.”

“What is it?” 

Will can feel his pulse pounding at the base of his throat. “I know you’ve had to keep up with this dare all summer. I mean, you didn’t have to. I still think you should have just taken the punishment because it would have been easier, and-”

“Will.” 

Mike calls his name gently, pulling him away from his spiraling thoughts. He takes a deep breath and tells himself to just say it. It will hurt. It will feel like ripping off a band-aid, but at least then Mike will know. Not the way Will really means it, because he will never be brave enough to say it out loud. But at least he’ll have the memory of telling him the truth even if it’s in disguise. 

“I just wanted you to know that I love you. You’re my best friend. I know we’ve said this a dozen times at this point, but it’s going to be so weird without you. I mean, you’ve been part of my entire life. I can barely remember a time when you weren’t there. I know that you’ve only been saying all of this because of the challenge, but it’s actually been… nice?”

He pauses, trying to read Mike’s expression. He seems shell-shocked, but Will can’t stop. If he doesn’t say it now, he never will. “I realized that it’s really nice to hear from the people you care about that they care about you, too. And maybe that’s stupid. Maybe boys aren’t supposed to care about that, but I did. I do. So, I don’t know. It made me think that you deserved to feel that way, too. I thought you might want someone to say it to you. So that’s all. I just wanted you to know that I love you. I really, really do.” 

He doesn’t realize that he’s echoed the declaration he wasn’t supposed to hear until the words are already out of his mouth. But it feels right; he feels lighter having said it. 

Mike studies him quietly. He’s not moving, not even blinking, just staring at Will in a daze. The spell breaks when he steps away from the plates and closes the distance between them. “Say it again,” he asks. His voice is low and quivering.

Will is flabbergasted. “Mike, what-”

“Say it again,” he begs, this time pleading. Will looks up into his eyes and can’t get a read on the emotion there. But he can’t say no to Mike. He never has and he’s not going to start today despite the fact that this moment feels dangerously close to something real. 

“I love you,” he repeats, the words gentle but sure. 

Mike’s face goes through a series of emotions, all gone before Will can figure them out. Eventually, his expression settles into something deliberately blank; the opposite of a reaction. His bright eyes are the only sign that Will’s words have gotten through to him at all. “Okay,” he says. He forces a smile Will can see right through, noticing the strain at the corners of his mouth. He reaches out and grips Will’s shoulder almost too tight. “Thanks. I love you, too.”

Will doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this. He smiles back feebly and shrugs off his hand, a thousand feelings churning in his chest. “Quota reached for the day,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah,” Mike mumbles, sounding a million miles away.

Before he knows it, it’s time to go. It’s as if he blinks and they’re suddenly standing outside the house, packing the last of their things into the U-Haul. 

“Hey Mike,” Dustin interjects, breath puffing as they lift a table into the back of the truck. “Don’t forget you still have to complete that dare even when Will is in California.” They drop the table and hop back out. “Will is duty-bound to tell us if you don’t.”

“Dustin, he doesn’t have to,” Will protests, reaching up to wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead. 

“He definitely does,” Max retorts. “That was the deal. Otherwise we’re forcing him into the Creel house.”

Mike scowls. That’s normal, but what’s strange is that his annoyance seems half-hearted, almost like he’s putting on a show. “I know,” he replies, voice utterly devoid of any inflection. “I’m going to keep my promise.” 

He sounds so somber about it. Will cuts his eyes to him, but it’s like looking at a ghost. He moves the boxes mechanically and stares blankly into the distance, expression vacant.

When they say their goodbyes, Will can’t help but cry. He pulls each of them in for long hugs as they promise to write and call and keep in touch. They’ll see each other at Christmas, he promises, only half-sure that he’ll get to come back at all. 

He and Mike hug goodbye twice. The first time is right at the start of the goodbyes. Will wraps his arms around him but Mike is like a zombie, and his arms weakly return the favor. Will can feel his chest shaking like he’s holding back a sob. He tucks his chin on top of Mike’s shoulder and just breathes, trying to stay calm. It’s only after he’s hugged everyone else that Mike finds him again. This time, he’s the one that pulls Will in, practically throwing himself into his arms. He drops his head into the space between his neck and chest. Will has to screw his eyes shut. He forces this moment to memory, the warmth of him and the places where their skin meets and how his hands linger on Will’s arms before finally letting go. 

It’s when he watches the woods he’s known his entire life fly by him that he finally allows himself to cry. He’s never been particularly religious, but he sends out a silent prayer and begs whatever higher power is out there to let him keep the most precious people in his life. He’s already lost enough. 

California is strange, but it isn’t bad. Unlike Hawkins, there’s nothing but sunlight and warmth, so much that it makes him feel alien. It also resurrects his nightmares. For the entire first week he’s there, Will wakes up sweaty and disoriented in the middle of the night. His new room still doesn’t feel like his yet despite the fresh coat of yellow paint. His bed is on the opposite wall now and even though his belongings are the same as always, it feels like he’s living someone else’s life. 

It definitely doesn’t feel like home. 

School is decent, at least. It’s definitely better than it would have been in Hawkins. Lenora Hill High is huge. His class back home would have less than a hundred kids, but his freshman class here is nearly five hundred. The larger class size works in his favor. He’s practically invisible at school, and it’s amazing. No one there knows he was Zombie Boy back home. No one notices him or even cares to notice him, except for a few girls that pass him in the wall with shy, nervous glances. He does his best to ignore those and sticks close to El instead. Unlike him, she tries to make new friends in Lenora. It’s not exactly going well but at least she’s trying. 

Will doesn’t care about trying. He’s more than happy to pour his energy into keeping touch with the friends he already has. He’s already gotten a letter from Lucas, and Dustin figured out how to modify Will’s walkie so that he could, on a perfectly clear night in Hawkins, get the occasional call. 

But he hasn’t heard from Mike since they moved. They hadn’t really promised to write to each other, though technically he should have been sending letters for the sake of the dare. Will knows Mike well enough to guess he’d prefer to call. But their phone was only set up last weekend; they had to wait on Owens to make sure the line was secure. They couldn’t risk El being traced by the people who saw her as a threat. She wouldn’t be able to use the phone either way, but the protection ensured that the Byers wouldn’t accidentally leak her location. Not that they had anyone to call except the Wheelers. Jonathan sent Nancy a letter with their number the first day their line was active, so Will thinks Mike must have the number by now.

It’s not that he cares about the dare. Not really. If he was invested in it, he would have already told his friends Mike hadn’t sent letters as promised. It’s never been about the rules for him. The entire time, he’s known it didn’t mean anything to Mike, but it’s meant something to him. Selfishly, he wants to hear Mike say that he loves him just one more time. 

It’s day one hundred, and he spends the entire day hoping Mike will call. He could always call himself, but he wants Mike to be the one to reach out first.

Once he’s home, he camps out in the den, only a few feet away from the phone at any given moment. It’s out of character for him. He usually spends his afternoons in his room painting since he gets the best light in the house. Jonathan gives him a knowing look every time he wanders into the kitchen, inevitably looking for food to fuel his weed-driven munchies. Will ignores him. He’s pretty sure Jonathan knows a lot of things he probably shouldn’t, things about Will and maybe even his feelings for Mike. 

Maybe that should terrify him, but it doesn’t. Even though it’s scary to think about being gay and to imagine his life past fourteen, he’s not afraid of what his family might think. Will has a feeling his mom and Jonathan have had their suspicions even longer than him, and it’s never stopped them from loving him. They could have left him for dead in the Upside Down, but they hadn’t. He’s pretty sure his family’s love is the one thing he’ll never have to worry about losing.

Will is reading the same line in his assigned reading for the twentieth time in a row when the phone rings. “I got it!” he announces to no one, racing to the counter to pick up the phone. “Byers residence, this is Will.”

“Byers residence? Am I calling a hotel?” Mike’s warm voice quips in his ear, and Will’s answering smile blooms so easily. “Maybe I have the wrong number-”

“You’re such an idiot,” Will states, laughing into the receiver. “It’s so good to hear from you! How are you? How’s Hawkins? How’s everyone else?”

“Whoa, slow down!” Will can hear the smile in Mike’s voice and it makes him feel light and bubbly, warmer than the California sun. “Let me think… I’m okay, Hawkins is shit, and everyone else is fine.”

“That’s it? No details at all?”

“You have to let me speak to get details!” Mike shoots back. “Who cares about us? Everything is pretty much the same minus the fact that you’re not here. I want to hear about you. Tell me everything!”

And so he does, relenting only because he finally understands how Mike must have felt in September. Even though Will had no reason to expect Mike to be at his new school, he still turns to look for him every time there’s something he wants to share.

He tells Mike everything he’s been holding onto for weeks. He tells him about Lenora, about Jonathan’s new friend Argyle and the honest to god pizza delivery van he drives to take them to school now. Mike dubs it the pizzamobile the second he hears about it and Will knows that he’ll never call it anything else. He tells him about all the cool places he’s been, talks about his first ever trip to the beach and tries to convey the exact shade of the ocean until Mike tells him he can just draw him a picture. And then Will gets to tell him all about how he paints now, how he has a little easel in his room with watercolors and oils and pastels and that his favorite time of day to paint is golden hour when the sunlight streams in just right. 

Mike talks, too. He fills Will in on what he’s missing at Hawkins High and what all their friends are up to. He talks about Dustin’s new friend Eddie who wants them to join his D&D club, and about how Lucas secured a spot on the basketball team after all. He tells him that Max is starting to pull away, that they don’t all hang out as much as they’d like. 

He complains about the cold fall settling in, but when Will states that he kind of misses that, he’s quick to romanticize the chilly nights and describes the color of the fallen leaves. He talks about how no one has bought their old house yet and complains that the designs at Melvald’s don’t look nearly as good now that his mom doesn’t work there. He gushes about the new movies he’s seen and the latest video game his parents bought, and he admits that sometimes he goes to the arcade just to play Will’s favorite games and keep his name on the scoreboard. 

The one thing Mike doesn’t talk about is himself. Will notices. He can’t not notice.

“Wait, let me get this right. You had burritos? For breakfast?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Will replies. “It’s so good. You wouldn’t believe how good food can be when it’s not drowning in seven tons of grease.”

“I guess,” he replies doubtfully. Will can picture Mike’s exact expression, a healthy mix of amusement and disgust. “It really sounds like you’re enjoying California,” he continues, sounding wistful. 

“I am for the most part. But it’s not quite home. I keep expecting cold weather, so I’m never dressed right. It’s so warm here. You know, the entire first week, it kind of reminded me of-”

“The Mind Flayer?” Mike finishes his sentence, already knowing what he’s about to say. “I get that. But not anymore, right?”

Will shakes his head before remembering Mike can’t see him. “No, not anymore. Painting has really helped with the nightmares. It doesn’t remind me of before, so I can get things out of my head a lot easier.”

“I’m glad.” But I hope you’re painting fun stuff, too?”

“Of course. I’m actually working on something but I can’t tell you about it.”

“Wait, Will, no. Don’t leave me hanging. Tell me!” Mike’s curiosity is tangible, and Will has to muffle his laughter. He’s never understood why he loves Will’s art so much.

“I can’t! It’ll ruin the surprise. Just wait a little longer, okay?”

“Sure, I can be patient. It’s my best trait, after all.” 

His sarcasm startles a sharp laugh out of Will. “I miss you,” he replies. He says it without thinking, and it’s only in the silence that follows that he wonders if he shouldn’t have said it at all. “Sorry, I-” 

“No! No, don’t be. It just caught me by surprise. I miss you too, Will. Like…a lot. A crazy amount.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Mike sighs. “I keep thinking this is going to get easier, but it never does.”

“Mike…” Will says, hesitant to ask the question that’s been in the back of his mind. “Are you okay? Be honest.” The silence that follows stretches for so long that Will wonders if the call has dropped entirely. “Mike?”

“I’m here,” he mumbles into the line. “I don’t know, Will. I’m not not fine. Does that make sense? Like, there’s nothing really wrong. But I still feel… it’s like everything is off.”

“Off how?” Will whispers. He glances up at the clock and realizes it’s past eleven here, which means it’s after midnight in Hawkins. They’ve been talking for nearly four hours. He’s not surprised Mike can afford to talk this long, but Will is probably going to get an earful when the phone bill comes in the mail. Still, he can’t bring himself to care; talking to Mike is worth it.

Mike makes a noise of frustration, the one that means he’s at a loss for words. “I don’t think I can explain it. I don’t… I’m not…” He sighs, and Will closes his eyes and imagines that Mike is sitting right across from him. He can picture his irritated expression and fidgety, nervous hands.

“You can tell me whatever it is, Mike. I’m always here for you.”

Another sigh. “I know,” he answers, a trace of remorse in his voice. “Thanks, Will. You’re so… you’re just… I really…” Mike trails off and pauses, taking a deep breath that echoes in Will’s ear. “You’re the best friend,” he finishes, voice breaking on the word friend. 

Will wants to reach out and comfort him even as the word pierces his chest like a dagger. 

“God, I didn’t mean to make this call so depressing,” Mike states. A self-deprecating laugh follows his words. “Wait. Shit, is it really that late?” 

“It’s later for you than it is for me. Sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you so long.”

“You didn’t keep me any longer than I wanted to be kept.” 

Will’s brain briefly shuts down. It only whirs back to life at the sound of Mike’s stuttering through the line. “Uh-what I mean is-this was great, and I just-”

“Mike,” Will interrupts gently, smiling at his awkwardness. “I get it.”

“Right! Of course you do,” he rushes to say, a stilted laugh tacked on at the end. “I guess I need to go to sleep.” 

Oh. Will was expecting something else. It’s day one hundred and one for Mike, but it’s still the one hundredth day in California. 

“Said everything you wanna say?” he asks carefully. This time, the silence feels deliberate. Will doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Mike replies.

“Yeah,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’ve said everything.”

He can’t believe Mike has forgotten all his promises to see this dare through. It’s his own insistence that’s kept it going this long. Will would have happily let it die back in July. Mike’s answer disappoints him but he refuses to be the one to bring up the challenge. Time and time again, Will has told him that it didn’t matter, and not once had Mike corrected him. He even told himself dozens of times that this dare meant nothing, and yet he finds himself stupidly hurt when faced with the proof that it really hadn’t mattered to Mike at all.

“Okay,” he says, settling on the most neutral answer possible. Anything that can keep Mike from seeing right through him. “Hey, we probably can’t keep talking for this long in the future. I think if I do this again, my mom will kill me.”

“Oh, mine is going to be furious,” he answers. “I don’t really care.”

“Mike,” he admonishes. 

“What?” he asks defensively. “It’s true. All they do is complain about whatever I’m doing and even what I’m not doing. I can’t win.” 

Will frowns and files that away for another time. “Will you send me letters? I know you’re already writing letters to El, I don’t want to add to your plate-”

“Yeah, I’ll write to you, too,” he promises. “I believe I owe you detailed recaps of Lucas’s games anyway.”

“Well, yeah. But I want to hear about you, too. Really hear about you. You can tell me about anything that's going on, even if you think it sounds stupid. I’m sure it isn’t. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. He sounds a little distant, but Will chalks it up to the late hour, the inevitable exhaustion probably creeping in. “I’m going to go. Wait, I forgot, my mom told me to ask if you know whether or not you’re coming back for Christmas? She’s already thinking about setting up the guest room and the basement. She’s already planning dinner,” he finishes wryly. “It’s insane.” 

“It’s nice,” Will protests with a smile. “Mom hasn’t brought it up again, but I’ll ask. I’ll send you a letter and let you know for sure. I hope we’re coming back, though.” 

“Me too,” Mike confesses. “Night, Will.”

“Talk soon?”

“It’s a promise.”

When they hang up, Will heads to his room and works on the painting. He’s hoping it will be a gift he can give to him in person. He pours his disappointment and his happiness and his longing into every brushstroke, painting into painstaking detail all the words he’ll never share.

On day one hundred and sixty, the Byers are back in Hawkins. 

It’s been two months since the phone call. It’s also been two months since complete and total radio silence from one Mike Wheeler. 

Will has no clue what he did wrong. Actually, that’s not true. He knows he didn’t do anything wrong. He’d written Mike as promised, confirming their Christmas plans were on, and in response he got… nothing. It hadn’t seemed odd at first; letters took nearly a week to arrive. But when one week turned into two, and two weeks turned into a month, and El and Jonathan were getting letters with perfect regularity, Will figured out that there weren’t any letters coming for him. 

Now, Will and his family walk up to the Wheelers’ house. He's far too nervous about being back in Hawkins and it is, without a doubt, Mike’s fault. 

Maybe he could have convinced himself that Mike just got too busy to write if not for the fact that his letters to El kept coming. In fact, it seemed like she got more of them the closer they got to the trip. Will isn’t jealous of their relationship anymore but it still stings that Mike is suddenly better friends with his sister. But he’s more upset that this is the first time Mike’s ever broken a promise to him, and he’s not ready to give Mike the benefit of the doubt. Not this time. 

“Are you excited to see your friends again?” his mom asks, rubbing her hands together in the cold while they wait for the Wheelers’ front door to open. She doesn’t seem to realize that Will feels like he’s about to throw up, so he offers her something he hopes resembles a smile. It feels more like a grimace. From the corner of his eye, Will notices that El is watching him closely. He wonders what she knows, but he’s never been eager to pry into her private conversations with Mike. 

He tries to remind himself that he’s not going to let the silence bother him. Not while he’s here, anyway. If Mike wants to put distance between them, then Will is going to let him. He is not going to chase after him and beg for his attention ever again. 

When the door finally opens, Mrs. Wheeler is ready to greet them with a smile. Her hair is blonde now, so voluminous that it nearly touches both edges of the entrance. “Joyce, welcome! Oh, look at all of you,” she coos, pulling each of them in for a hug. She presses a kiss to Will’s forehead and his cheeks burn under her attention. “Will, you look so grown up! Joyce, don’t you remember when they were so little?” 

“Time really flies,” his mom answers, smiling fondly at Will. 

“Mike! Nancy! Come down and say hello!”

Nancy is downstairs before Mrs. Wheeler is finished. She throws herself into Jonathan’s arms, and over his shoulder she mouths a hello at Will and El.

Mike takes a bit more coaxing. Mrs. Wheeler calls for him twice before Will can finally hear him stomping down the stairs. But when he finally comes into view, Will’s mind goes completely blank. 

This is not the same Mike he left behind in October. It’s only been two months, but he’s already so different. Taller, for sure, and his face is all sharp angles now. The last of his baby face disappeared and in its place is something elfin, enhanced by the soft way his hair frames his face. It’s longer than Will has ever seen it, brushing against his shoulders as he moves. The biggest surprise is that Mike’s hair is curly now. Clearly, he’s embraced the natural texture of his hair he used to furiously brush out when they were kids.

Not everything is different though. He’s wearing a flannel in what Will considers his blue, a rich hue that brightens his entire appearance. His eyes are the same, too; warm and inquisitive. It’s the only place Will can ever really get insight into what he’s thinking. 

Out of everyone in the room, Mike looks to Will first. His heart skips a beat when he realizes Mike is studying at him, too, even though he doesn’t think he’s changed enough to warrant that level of attention. Still, Mike seems as dumbstruck as Will feels. For a moment, it’s like time freezes around them. He can still hear everyone’s voices but the room narrows until it’s just him and Mike, their eyes never leaving each other. 

His mom breaks the trance. She crosses the room to pull Mike in for a hug, and Will mentally shakes himself from the momentary delirium. He forces himself to remember the radio silence and his hurt and keeps to himself after that. When they sit down for dinner, he chooses a seat as far from Mike as possible. It doesn’t seem to matter, though; Mike stares at him throughout the entire meal. Will pretends he doesn’t notice, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else can sense the weird tension between them aside from El who studies both of them closely. 

After dinner, Mrs. Wheeler assigns them to their respective temporary rooms. “El, we set you up in Nancy’s room. Jonathan will take the basement, and Will can stay in Mike’s room. Joyce, we put you in the guest room, of course.” 

Will jerks his head towards Mrs. Wheeler, trying not to look panicked. “I can stay in the basement, too,” he says, but she cuts him off before he can properly protest. 

“Nonsense, Will! I’m sure you and Mike are looking forward to hanging out just like old times. I even made him clean his room. Right, Michael?”

Will is forced to look at him for the first time since he walked in. He searches Mike’s face for anything, but he doesn’t even seem phased. He seems completely fine with this turn of events, which is rich considering he has yet to utter a single word to Will. To be fair, Will is avoiding him, but it’s not like Mike didn’t start it. Why should Will go out of his way just to get hurt yet again?

“Right.” Mike’s eyes flit to Will, and it’s only then that Will can see the first hint of his own discomfort. Will forces his lips into another one of those half-smile, half-grimaces and remembers to thank Mrs. Wheeler before grabbing his bag and trudging upstairs. He doesn’t wait on Mike; it’s not like he needs his help finding his way around.

Mike’s room is mostly the same. There are new posters on his wall, but otherwise it’s the same shade of blue, the same perpetually messy bed and the usual toys on display. Will is a little surprised when he sees some of his drawings still on the walls. He’s almost certain that the one closest to Mike’s bed used to hang downstairs in the basement, but he can’t fathom why Mike would bother to move some old drawing of their D&D characters. 

At the foot of Mike’s full bed is a rolled-up sleeping bag, a clear sign that Will officially had no way out of this arrangement. He considers asking Jonathan to let him sneak downstairs to the basement and sleep there anyway. But then he remembers that El is supposed to sleep in Nancy’s room. That will never happen; there’s no way Jonathan and Nancy won’t find a way to spend as much time together as possible. He could ask El to room with their mom, but neither of them would ever expose Jonathan’s sleeping arrangements to her. He would also never force El to share the basement with him, which means that he’s definitely stuck in Mike’s room for the next week. 

“Sorry about all this.”

Will jumps at the sound of Mike’s voice. He didn’t even hear him come upstairs.

“I wanted us to use the basement and let El to take my room. But my mom insisted we do it this way. I think she just wants to pretend like putting two floors between Nancy and Jonathan is going to keep them from being in the same bed.” 

Mike’s lip curls in disgust at the mental image of their siblings sharing a bed. Will might laugh if he wasn’t so mad at him. “It’s fine,” he mutters. 

It’s obvious he doesn’t mean it and Mike’s face drops. “I’m going to, uh… help my mom. Downstairs. Make yourself comfortable?” 

He flees downstairs without waiting to hear a response. Will sighs, turning back to his bags. It’s not like he has much to unpack, so he decides to change into his pajamas and unravel the sleeping bag. When they were kids, he used to place it right next to Mike’s bed. But that seems like a bad idea now so he settles on placing it lengthwise to the door, right near Mike’s closet. 

As he’s getting comfortable, El walks by the door. She pauses when she spots him and makes her way into Mike’s room. “Will. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he replies, sounding anything but. She fixes him with an observant look and he immediately backtracks. “Okay, no. I’m not fine. I’m freaking out.” 

El steps further inside and sits next to him. “You and Mike aren’t talking.”

Will nods. “I have no idea why. The last time we talked - which was two months ago - things were fine. Things were great! I don’t understand why he’s acting like this.”

El purses her lips. “I have an idea,” she explains slowly, “but I already told Mike that he needs to work it out himself.”

Will nods again, feeling like a bobblehead. “Did I… did I do something, El?” 

He must sound even more pathetic than he feels because El leans in and wraps her arms around him. “You did not do anything,” she states firmly. “Mike is just being stupid.”

Will snorts softly. God, he loves El. He’s so glad that she’s his sister, even if they became siblings through less than ideal circumstances. He can’t imagine his life without her, and he’s grateful his time in the Upside Down brought him at least one good thing. “Okay. Thank you.”

“If he’s mean to you while we’re here, I will beat him up.” Will can tell she’s serious. She tilts her head, considering, before adding, “And Max will help.” 

“I have a feeling you won’t be alone in that,” he admits. He had tried to pry answers from Dustin and Lucas. Neither one of them would say much, but it was obvious from the way they talked around the issue that they also thought Mike was being stupid. “It’s going to be fine,” he continues, sounding more sure than he feels. “If there’s something to work out, then we’ll get through it. Probably. And if not…” 

El shakes her head. “That won’t happen. Mike will not give up on you. But, if he does-”

“Right, right, you’ll beat him up,” Will finishes, only half-laughing. Even without her powers, El can be scary if she wants to be. Last month, she’d made a reputation for herself after pushing back against Angela, the girl who’d been bullying her since her first day of school. El finally got sick of her and dumped a milkshake on her in the middle of the cafeteria. Will was also pretty sure she’d conveyed a pretty convincing threat; ever since, Angela left El alone. Since then, she’d found herself with new friends once word got around that she’d put Angela in her place.

El stands up, squeezing Will’s shoulder as she does. “It’ll be okay,” she promises. 

Will wants nothing more than for her to be right.

By the time Mike wanders back in, Will is curled into his sleeping back and drawing in his sketchbook.

“Oh, are you working on something new?”

“Yeah.” He tries to keep his answers short. He doesn’t understand how Mike can walk around pretending like nothing's wrong.

“Cool. Maybe you can show me something while you’re here?”

Will frowns down at his sketchbook. “Maybe.”

Mike disappears again to get ready for bed. When he comes back, Will is already on his back and feigning sleep. Mike tiptoes by him to crawl into his own bed, flipping the light off as he does. Once the light goes out, Will opens his eyes and realizes that there’s a nightlight on in the corner. It’s clearly just for his benefit; he can’t stand to sleep in total darkness ever since coming back from the Upside Down. 

The gesture makes him feel warm. A small part of him wants to be petty and pretend like he doesn’t need it just to make a point. But he does need it and he’s not going to suffer from poor sleep just to make Mike feel bad. 

Silence falls between them, and it’s ridiculously heavy. If things were normal, they’d be talking over each other until someone - usually Mike - fell asleep. Just one month ago there had been a laundry list of things Will wanted to tell him about, but now? All he wants is answers that Mike clearly isn’t willing to give tonight. 

“Good night, Will,” Mike mutters, breaking the silence. Will doesn’t answer, still clinging to the illusion of sleep even though they both know he’s wide awake. He stays up longer than Mike, and only once he hears his breathing even out does he allow himself to wonder how he’s supposed to survive the rest of the week if it’s going to be like this. 

On Christmas Eve, they head out early to meet the rest of the party at the arcade. Will barely has one foot in the door before he’s being slammed back with the force of two bodies.

“BYERS!”

He throws his arms around Lucas and Dustin, both of whom are currently squeezing the life out of him. “Guys, guys! I can’t breathe,” he laughs, grinning for the first time since they touched down in Hawkins.

“You sound fine to me!” Dustin exclaims, but he pulls back to give Will some room. “Dude. You got buff.”

“What?”

Lucas reaches out to experimentally squeeze his bicep. “Whoa, Byers. You’re almost as buff as me.” He flexes his own bicep, and as he does Will catches Max’s unimpressed look from across the room. He stifles a giggle when she realizes Will is watching and gives him an exaggerated roll of her eyes. 

“I don’t think I’m anywhere near you.” He finds his gaze drawn to Mike who’s lurking off to the side. He’s watching Will and Lucas intently, like he’d set fire to them with his mind if he could.

Will drags his attention back to Lucas. “Wait, how was the game last weekend? Did you win?”

If he’d been worried that the distance would make things awkward between them, his fear would have been immediately squashed. The entire gang crowds at one of the tables inside, chatting animatedly as they catch up. It feels like they’ve only been gone for days instead of three months. 

The day passes by far too quickly. They bounce from machine to machine, much to Keith’s dismay. Since it’s Christmas Eve, the arcade is mostly deserted and they have free reign. When they’re hungry, they buy a ridiculous amount of snacks until their pockets are empty of quarters and most of their spending money. Eventually, they decide to ride their bikes to the only open diner in town to get ice cream sundaes and milkshakes despite the freezing cold. 

Will is busy splitting a giant sundae with Max and El when Dustin decides to bring up the stupid dare. 

“So, Will,” he says, talking around his milkshake straw. “Mike wouldn’t ever tell us if he completed the dare.”

Will nearly chokes on his ice cream. “Um…”

“Because if he didn’t, then he owes us a punishment! Right?” Dustin sends imploring glances to everyone around the table. To Will’s horror, everyone seems to agree with Dustin. He starts to feel like he’s been set up, and one glance at Mike confirms his suspicions. He looks just as blindsided, frozen in place and stiff as a board with the faintest hint of fear in his eyes. 

“Totally,” Max agrees. “If Wheeler failed then he has to spend the night in that old house. I wanna see him come out in tears.”

“He would not be crying,” Lucas states. “He wouldn’t come out at all because that place is haunted. Didn’t you hear some of the juniors talk about those flickering lights they saw inside?”

“That was after Halloween! Of course they would say that.” Dustin waves off the rumors and turns his attention back to Will. “Be honest with us. Don’t just cover for his sorry ass if he lost.” 

Will is at a crossroads. He could completely screw Mike over and force him into accepting the original terms of the dare. It wouldn’t be his fault; Mike was the one who’d agreed in the first place. He contemplates making him suffer as payback for hurting his feelings. But the problem is that’s never been Will. He doesn’t enjoy seeing his friends suffer. Not even Mike - no matter how much he might deserve it. 

“He didn’t fail the dare.” He doesn’t think twice about the lie, mind already made up. “He wrote me letters and then called me on the last day. We made it all the way to day one hundred.”

They exchange furtive and disappointed glances. Mike, however, stares at him with blatant confusion. He’s not exactly selling the lie, and Will mentally begs him to get on the same page. 

“Really.” Lucas sounds rightfully skeptical. “Mike completed the dare?” 

“Yeah. It’s not like it was hard. Right, Mike?” Will glances towards Mike again, mentally begging him to just play it cool and let the entire thing die. 

Mike immediately straightens. “Yeah,” he answers slowly. He sounds so unconvincing that Will considers banging his head into the table because even that would be less painful. “Super easy. I can’t believe everyone doubted me.”

Another round of glances exchanged between the rest of their friends. “Well, that’s a bummer.” Dustin pauses to take a sip of his milkshake before finishing his sentence. ‘I really wanted to see Mike cry.” 

“You might yet,” Max mutters under her breath. Will elbows her side and she yelps. “What? Wheeler knows I can make him cry any day of the week.”

“In your dreams, Mayfield,” Mike shoots back, but he’s staring so glumly at his melting ice cream that the taunt doesn’t land. 

It’s late when they finally break apart for the night. Will gives everyone a hug goodbye even though they’re going to meet up once more before they fly back to California. But before he can leave, Dustin and Lucas pull him to the side. 

“Dude, why didn’t you play along?” Dustin hisses, glancing around to make sure Mike isn’t close by. Max and El have him occupied across the parking lot, but Will swears he can feel Mike’s eyes on them like laser beams. “We were going to make him fess up. He’s driving us crazy.”

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees. “The dude is miserable. It’s ridiculous. And it’s entirely his fault. We gave you an in! All you had to do was take the bait.”

“I know, I know. It just… I didn’t feel right doing it in front of everyone. It’s his problem, but it doesn’t seem fair to make him work through it like it’s the butt of a joke.”

“You’re way too nice.” Dustin sighs, but there’s no real heat behind his words. He pats Will on the shoulder. “You’re a good friend, dude. Even if Mike is being a little bitch.”

“Dustin,” Will warns. 

He raises his hands in surrender. “Fine! He’s being an annoying little shit, does that make it better?”

Will smiles despite himself. “I really do appreciate it. But whatever is going on with Mike… he’ll tell me if he wants me to know.”

“You still trust him after all of this?”

Will shrugs helplessly. “It’s Mike,” he says. Somehow, it explains everything. 

Lucas and Dustin exchange an unreadable look before turning back to Will.  “I didn’t say this,” Lucas tells him, “because Mike doesn’t think we know. But…”

“Dude, he still goes to Castle Byers. Like, all the time.”

“Wait. What? Are you sure?”

Dustin nods vigorously. “He kept ditching us, saying he had to do stuff at home, but then we realized he wasn’t going there either. So we followed him a couple of times. He’s always biking out there and just sitting out there alone. It’s crazy pathetic.”

Lucas smacks Dustin in the chest. He cries out in pain but Lucas ignores him as he turns back to Willl. “It’s not pathetic,” Lucas states, cutting his eyes briefly towards Mike and then back to Dustin. “But we think it means something. It doesn’t seem like he’s being a dick just because he can.”

Will didn’t really think that either. He tries to ignore his curiosity, but he’s shocked to hear Mike regularly visits Castle Byers. It’s easily two miles away from his house and it’s also outdoors. It’s freezing in Hawkins. Even Will wouldn’t spend time out there until winter thawed into spring. Either Mike has a death wish or there’s something bigger going on, something he’s trying to escape. 

“The point is that we hope he fixes whatever it is. Not just for our sake but for yours. You two have always been closer with each other than the rest of us.”

Will frowns. “Not really.”

“Yes really,” Lucas argues. “It’s always been like that. Look, we don’t take it personally. Obviously we know you’re our best friend, too. But when it comes to you and Mike…”

His words taper off and Will’s heart leaps into his throat. It sounds almost like they know. It’s not necessarily bad if they have their suspicions, but he wasn’t prepared for this. 

“It’s totally fine,” Dustin cuts in. He’s uncharacteristically soft as he speaks. “We just want to see you guys back to normal. Or, you know, something better than normal since lately your normal is fighting every three months.” 

Will huffs a laugh that sounds an awful lot like a sob. “Yeah. Better than normal would be really nice, wouldn’t it?”

Lucas and Dustin move in for one last group hug. It lasts a few seconds longer than necessary, extra tight and an unspoken testament to their affection. 

They go their separate ways on their bikes. When it’s just Mike, El, and Will again, the ride home is quiet. Maybe even a little tense, but Will is sure he’s imagining that. He’s less sure when they get back inside and Mike grabs his hand, headed straight for the basement. El watches them with concern, but since Will doesn’t give her any sign of wanting to escape, she doesn’t try to stop them. 

“Wait, Mike. Isn’t Jonathan down here?”

“Nancy said they were going on a date. They aren’t going to be back for a while.”  

“Okay, great, but do you have to literally drag me down the stairs? I have two perfectly good feet.”

“Shit,” Mike hisses. He lets go of Will so quickly that the absence of his grip sets him off-balance. He teeters dangerously on the steps but manages to catch himself just in time.

“What’s the hurry?” he snaps. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. You could have just asked me to come down here with you.” 

Mike stands at the foot of the stairs. “I’m sorry. I just…”

Will shakes his head and stomps down the last few steps, brushing past Mike when he reaches the bottom. “Whatever.” 

He pauses to look around the basement. It hasn’t changed much aside from a new stack of VHS tapes by the old TV and the addition of blankets and pillows for Jonathan to sleep on. When he turns back to Mike, Will realizes he’s been watching him apprehensively, weirdly silent. Though maybe that’s not so weird now after two months of not talking. 

“Is there a reason you dragged me down here?” Will prompts. He crosses his arms against his chest, still reeling from the revelation of where Mike spends all his free time. Still, he refuses to let it soften him into forgiving Mike without a good explanation.

“You said I completed the challenge,” Mike blurts. He looks like he wants to die as soon as the words leave his mouth and winces, almost like he’s waiting for a blow that never lands. 

“Yes. I did.”

“Why?”

Will scoffs. “Because it’s just a stupid dare, Mike! I told you a dozen times that I didn’t care about the punishment. There was no reason to suddenly change my mind about that.

Mike’s face twists with hurt. “But…”

“But what? But we haven’t talked in two months and I don’t even know why? But maybe I should have thrown you to the wolves and just told the truth? Come on, Mike. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, I know. But-”

“Mike, please do not give me some bullshit excuse right now,” he tells him, sighing wearily and curling his arms even tighter. “If you can’t tell me the truth, then don’t say anything at all. Because I am tired. You keep doing this… this back and forth yo-yo thing with me. I’m losing my mind! One minute we're completely fine and then suddenly you’re just gone. What even is that?”

Mike doesn’t answer. 

“Honestly, I don’t know what you even want from me. How am I supposed to help you when I can’t even reach you?” 

“I didn’t want your help!” Mike explodes. 

He doesn’t quite shout, but he’s loud enough that Will instinctively steps back. Mike clocks that and immediately pales. He bites his lip so hard that when he lets go, Will realizes he’s broken the skin. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice is much quieter now. “And I didn’t mean what I said. Not like that.”

Will’s not so sure that’s true. But he’s willing to hear him out. One way or another, they have to resolve this. “Okay. You can explain. I’m listening.”

Mike takes a deep, steadying breath. His hands twitch nervously at his sides. Will fights the urge to reach out and hold them until he stops. He used to do that all the time when they were kids. Being back in Hawkins reminds him of Mike’s hand on his at thirteen, quieting the white-hot panic racing through him as he came to terms with being compromised by the Mind Flayer. He forces the memory aside and stops looking at his hands before he does something stupid. 

“You were the one person who couldn’t help me this time, Will.”

His words sting, soothed only by the obvious regret on Mike’s face. “This was the one thing I couldn’t talk to you about. I couldn’t tell anyone,” he continues. “I think the only person I’ve talked to about any of this is El, and even then I’ve been talking around what I’ve been feeling because I just… I can’t just say any of this out loud. I don’t know how to begin, or where to start, I’m just so-” 

He cuts himself off and stares warily at Will, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction. Will supposes that’s fair; a part of him wants to flee now rather than sit through whatever Mike wants to say. It seems like it has the potential to be catastrophic, and historically, catastrophic has never worked out in Will’s favor. But he doesn’t run. He meets Mike’s nervous eyes head-on, offering him what he hopes seems like compassion instead of frustration or fear. 

It must be enough. Mike seems less anxious after observing Will. He takes another deep breath, this time audibly exhaling his nervous energy. “Okay. Look, I just… I know you don’t owe me anything, but can you promise me something?”

“Sure,” he agrees, albeit reluctantly.

“Will you hear me out? Because what I have to say is… well, it’s a lot. You might hate me. I really hope you don’t,” he confesses. “But if you do, I won’t hold it against you. Because the problem is all mine. It was never you, Will. I promise you that much.”

Now he’s morbidly curious. He can’t fathom there’s anything Mike can say that would make him hate him. Especially after he’s already owning up to his mistakes and assuring Will that he’s not to blame for the distance between them. It’s all he really wanted to hear, and he’s pretty sure nothing will disappoint him now. “Okay, I promise. Mike, there’s nothing you can say that will make me hate you.” 

His face darkens. “We’ll see about that,” he answers, crossing the room to sit cross-legged on the old couch. Will joins him, choosing to sit in one of the old recliners to give Mike some space. 

“I think I have to start with the challenge,” he says, which is maybe the last thing Will expects. “I should have said it on the phone that day. I know I should have. And I knew you were asking about it and I ignored it. I had to ignore it.”

Will’s forehead creases with confusion. “Why? It was the end of the challenge.”

“I know that! It should have been so easy to say it.” Mike shakes his head, and the disgust on his face is clearly directed at himself. “But I couldn’t do it.”

Will hardly has a moment to feel disappointed. “You know, the dare really was nothing those first few weeks. I felt stupid saying it at first, but that was just because everyone wouldn’t stop making fun of me. Like it was some big joke that I couldn’t say I love you to anyone. It wasn’t funny to me. Love isn’t something I know how to easily give.”

“That’s not true.” The words come from Will without permission, and Mike blinks at him in surprise. “You show your love in different ways, but you do love us. We all know that. I’m sorry we made you feel so shitty about it. I should have-”

“Don’t do that,” Mike pleads. “Don’t blame yourself. If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have. You were right about that much, at least. I could have easily taken the punishment and gotten it over with. But I wanted to prove that I could do it. Not just to Dustin and Lucas and Max. I wanted to prove it to myself. And, I mean… it was you. If I had to say it to anyone, you were my best case scenario.” 

Oh, Will thinks to himself. He hadn’t expected that. His heart thunders in his chest and he hopes that Mike can’t hear it even though his too-warm cheeks probably give him away. 

“I know I said I loved El in Hop’s cabin. Like, everyone heard me say it. And I did mean it, but it was only after everything calmed down that I figured out it was weird I could tell everyone except my actual girlfriend. No matter what I did, I just… I couldn’t say those words in that way to her because I didn’t mean them.”

This is brand new information for Will. Neither Mike or El have ever told him this before, and he’s surprised to hear this is the real reason they broke up. 

“Anyway, the point is that I felt like I had something to prove to myself. I wanted to know that I could say the words and mean them, that I was able to really care about someone. So when everyone voted for you, it seemed easy enough. Obviously I care about you. And even though the jokes were annoying, it wasn’t all bad. Saying it to you was the easiest thing in the world.”

Will swallows hard. He can’t tear his eyes away from Mike, so he allows himself the chance to really observe him properly. He looks exhausted; there are bags under his eyes and a nervous, frenetic energy in his every move. His gaze bounces to Will only to jump away when he realizes he’s being watched in return, skittish as if he’s got something to hide. He must, Will realizes, but he can’t figure out what it is. 

“You know, the challenge was actually kind of… good.” Mike gives Will a conspiratorial glance, an almost-smirk on his lips. “If you tell Dustin I said that, I’ll die.” 

“Wait, let me just grab a walkie…” Will replies jokingly. Mike pins him with a glare that forces him to raise his hands in mock surrender. 

Mike sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Will definitely does not find himself distracted by his curls falling gently back into place. “The thing is that it started to feel different. At some point, it stopped being about me and it started being about you.”

“When?’

Mike shakes his head slowly. “I’m not sure.”

“Do you want to know when it felt different to me?”

Mike blinks at him, eyes wide. “You could tell?”

Will hesitates, unsure how much of his own hand he wants to show. He’s still not ready for Mike to know how he feels. He might never be ready for that. He also doesn’t want Mike to know that the words meant something to him the entire time, that it was never just a dare for Will. “It was the movie theater. I thanked you for saying it, which was so weird, but you took it better than I expected.”

“I remember that.” Mike’s voice goes soft the way it always does when it’s just them. 

“It just didn’t feel right for you to say it without me saying anything back. I know I didn’t have to reply, but I couldn’t help myself. Does that make sense?”

Mike’s throat bobs, and he swallows before speaking again. “Yeah. That makes perfect sense. Wow, that was so early,” he murmurs under his breath. “I didn’t figure it out then.”

He uncrosses his legs and pulls them against his chest. It’s as though he’s putting a wall between them. “I figured it out on your bad day,” he confesses. “You didn’t know this, but I told you that I loved you twice. When you were asleep, it just came out. I didn’t even mean to say it.” 

Will’s breath hitches in his chest. Mike doesn’t know that Will heard him. He has no idea that he’s been wondering for months why Mike had said the words twice. He thought he’d forgotten, but that was never true. “Is that what you meant when you said you trusted your gut on when to say it?”

Mike frowns at the reminder. “Probably. I don’t know, I said a lot of stupid shit back then. I guess I still am. But you know when things clicked for me? The day you said it back.”

Will feels like he might be sick. Mike doesn’t notice, his eyes fixed on his knees. “It’s not like that was the first time anyone has ever told me they loved me. I mean, my mom says it. Nancy has said it before. El used to tell me she loved me even though I never said it back. But when you said it… I couldn’t…”

Mike lifts his head and Will realizes he’s on the verge of crying. “Fuck, Will. Everything changed. You said it back.” 

This is his worst nightmare. Mike knows. He has to know, which means that there’s no hiding his feelings now. But just as he’s readying an explanation and contemplating the best exit in case he needs to escape, Mike surprises him one last time.

“I was being serious when I told you that saying I loved you was the easiest thing in the world. It was effortless, almost like the words had always been on the tip of my tongue. But I never stopped to think about it. I never stop to think,” he mutters to himself, face twisted with frustration. “And then you just say it back, easy as breathing. You sounded so sure about it. And I knew.” 

“Mike, I’m-”

“I knew right then that I loved you.”

Will’s words die in his throat, right alongside his last rational thought. “That’s…what? You - I mean I-”

Mike presses his lips in a thin line. He watches Will stutter for a moment before taking pity on him. “I’ve always loved you. I have spent my entire life loving you, and somewhere along the way it turned into something more. I fell in love with you.” He’s crying in earnest now, voice thick as he talks through his tears. “I don’t even know when it happened. Maybe it was there all along and I just missed the signs because that’s what I do. I avoid my feelings just like everything else. But damn it, Will. You said that and then left Hawkins like you weren’t taking half of me with you. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget my feelings. They followed me everywhere. It’s all I thought about from the moment you left.” 

“Mike…” he whispers. But he doesn’t seem to hear Will. He screws his eyes shut, but he doesn’t stop talking. Will tries to listen, but he’s still processing everything past I’ve always loved you.  

“I tried to get over it. I tried so hard, Will, you have no idea.” He sounds so miserable, and it suddenly occurs to Will that this is what Mike thinks will cause him to hate him. “But then I heard your voice again and it all came rushing back. I realized I was so stupid thinking I could ignore it. I thought I could do it, though. Because I would do whatever it takes to keep you in my life. I need you, Will. I can’t imagine my life without you, but after we hung up I had this terrifying feeling that if you found out, I would lose you. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” Will assures him. But Mike still isn’t hearing him. 

“I feel like I am, though. For two straight years! I am so sick of almost losing you, but then what do I do? I push you away! And it’s so… it’s fucking stupid. ” 

His eyes open. Will can’t look away. “If you never want to talk to me again, I’ll understand. But I couldn’t hide this from you any longer. And that’s the reason why I couldn’t finish the dare. I couldn’t tell you that I loved you because I was so sure you were going to see right through me. And I just… I wanted you to hear this from me first. All of it, even though I’m a mess and so stupid and you don’t even deserve-”

“Mike!” Will raises his voice just enough to finally grab his attention. It works; Mike freezes in place. “I don’t… I don’t even know where to start. Wait, no, stop,” he says, rushing to reassure him once he sees the panic building on his face. “Let me start with this: I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. God, you made this sound so much worse than it actually is. I thought something was seriously wrong!”

“What. ” Mike’s voice is hoarse when he speaks. “Will. Something is seriously wrong! It’s not- this isn’t- I shouldn’t-”

Will moves from the recliner to sit next to Mike on the couch. He tenses the moment Will gets closer. “What are you doing.” 

“I don’t think you’re hearing me,” he replies. 

Mike’s face pinches with confusion.  “I can hear you just fine. What are you talking about?” 

Will leans in, closing the gap between them until there’s only a few inches between their faces. Mike goes slightly cross-eyed trying to look at him from this close up.

“Mike.” Some part of Will’s brain is freaking out. But this rational, oddly confident side of him is in control now and he’s taking a leap of faith. Because Mike loves him. Mike is in love with him, and Will has spent the last six months pining over him. He’s not going to waste another second. “If you tell me to back off, I will. Tell me to stop if you don’t want this. But if not-”

Mike surges forward before Will can finish. His hands are on Will’s cheeks, and he pulls him as close as possible. It’s slightly uncomfortable because he’s being pulled into Mike’s knobby knees. But then their lips meet and it’s electric, and the rest of the world melts away.

Since Mike is the experienced one, Will lets him lead the way. He quickly learns to mimic the way his lips move, matching his rhythm. They separate to breathe, and Will pulls back just enough so that they can look into each other’s eyes.

“Holy shit,” Mike breathes. He unfurls his body until he’s propped up on his knees. When he leans in again, Will is ready. Their second kiss is slower. Now that Mike has figured out Will isn’t going to disappear, he takes his sweet time. Instead of sparks, Will drowns in the sticky-sweet sensation of warmth pooling in his stomach, slowly ebbing throughout his body until the only thing he can feel are his lips. He feels like he could float right out the window and into the night sky, completely weightless. 

Mike gently nips at his bottom lip and it startles Will’s mouth open enough that his tongue slips inside. He introduces a new wave of sensations, and Will is nothing but a quick study. He returns the attention to Mike tenfold, eager to make this feel just as good for him. His hand reaches towards the back of Mike’s neck and instinctively, he curls his fingers into Mike’s hair and gives it an experimental tug. 

Mike breaks away with a gasp, expression dazed and his lips flushed cherry-stained red. 

“Was that okay?”

Mike nods frantically, eyes roving across Will’s face with obvious want. “Super okay. Will, I can’t believe…”

He pulls back but keeps his hand tangled in Mike’s hair. “Same,” he breathes, completely giddy.

“I’m going to take this as a hint that you’re not going to start running in the other direction.” Mike sounds breathless, eyes bright with joy now rather than tears.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m in love with you, too.” Mike’s face softens with his words, and he’s looking at Will like he holds the entire world in the palm of his hand. “I think I have been for a while. Maybe since last Halloween.”

“Will…”

“I didn’t know until the challenge started either. Do you remember that night you nearly forgot? That’s when I figured it out.”

“That wasn’t even three weeks in,” Mike says. He sounds awed by Will’s confession. 

“I tried to ignore it, too. I was just happy we were best friends again, you know? And I never dreamed you would feel the same. I mean… you’re you. And I’m me.” 

“Whoa, hey, wait a minute,” Mike says. “That’s not right. You’re you. How could I not feel the same?”

Will’s blush feels like a forest fire. “Also… I have to confess. I was awake when you said I love you that day.”

“You were?”

He nods. “I didn’t think you liked me though. I assumed you forgot when you said it again later.”

Mike scoffs. “You have so little faith in me.”

Will shakes his head. “That’s not it. It’s just… well, let’s be honest. When’s the last time I got what I wanted?”

Mike’s face sobers at that. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against Will’s cheek. “Right now,” he murmurs. It sounds awfully close to a promise. “I’m not running anymore, Will. I’m not afraid of how I feel about you. I might be terrified about pretty much everything else, but you? You’re the one thing I’m sure about.”

Will smiles and uses his other hand to tilt Mike’s head back. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Wait, hold on!” 

Mike scrambles out of his grip and walks over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. Will watches him until he turns back around with a triumphant look on his face and a shoebox clutched in his hands. “Here,” he says, handing Will the box as he sits back on the couch. “Open it.”

“Okay…” When he removes the lid, he’s confused to see nothing but stacks of folded paper. “What is this?”

“You told me to write to you,” he replies. His hands tremor as he speaks, so Will reaches out and stills them now that he can. Mike flips his own hand and intertwines their fingers, and it’s almost as nice as kissing. “I did. I wrote every single day. But I couldn’t send any of them since it was incredibly obvious that I was head over heels in love with you. I mean, especially since half the letters are just scratched out lines where I write exactly that on the paper.” 

Carefully, Will removes the papers from the box. The stack is much thicker than he expected. “This is-”

“Sixty letters,” Mike finishes. “One for every single day, including yesterday. I know I broke my promise, but I kept writing them anyway. I actually went to Castle Byers to do it. We should go sometime this week. I kind of redecorated. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” He likes knowing that even when they weren’t talking, Mike was thinking about him. He wonders if that was another reason Mike wanted to rebuild the fort last summer, long before Will had decided whether or not he wanted any trace of him left in Hawkins. 

He should have known then that there would always be a piece of him in Hawkins as long as Mike was there. They were two halves of a whole; where one went, the other would do his best to follow. 

“I think it’s cute. I like the idea of you there. It’s our place now.”

“Ours,” Mike echoes. “I like that a lot.” His expression is incredibly soft, but it’s nothing new. And then Will realizes that’s how Mike has always looked at him. He can’t believe he never knew.

He looks at the letters in his hands again. He can feel now that Mike loves him, but these letters were proof. He opens the letter on the top and skims it, somehow surprised to see details of Mike’s life there that he’s been missing. And then he notices the sign-off tacked right at the end of the letter. 

Love, Mike.

“Oh yeah,” Mike states, following Will’s eyes to the words. “I couldn’t help myself. They all end like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have given them to you now, but I-”

Will gently places the letters back in the box and sets it aside. He’ll read them later. He moves forward to kiss him again, though it’s really just him pressing their mouths together as they both fight a grin. “I’m so in love with you that it’s crazy.”

“Hey, what did I tell you? Crazy together, right?”

“You dork,” Will chides, as if he’s not thinking the exact same thing.

On the morning of day one hundred and sixty-two, the Byers and Wheelers gather in the living room to celebrate Christmas and exchange gifts. Will doesn’t expect a second gift; he thinks the letters were more than enough. But Mike surprises him with a mixtape filled with songs he thought he might like. 

Will finally gets to give Mike the painting. When Mike unravels the canvas, he nearly cries. He’d painted a swingset and two boys side by side, painted only in shades of yellow and blue. 

It’s the best Christmas of Will’s entire life. Mike finds reasons to drag Will underneath the mistletoe all day, and they hold hands underneath the dinner table. He thinks they’re being secretive until he catches their moms trading misty-eyed glances. Jonathan and El both send him knowing looks and gentle smiles. 

When night falls, Will’s sleeping bag lies forgotten on the floor. He curls next to Mike, burrowed into his side under the thin excuse of a bed too small for two growing teens. Outside, a fresh snow falls but he can’t feel a chill in the air now that Mike’s arms are wrapped around him.

It’s only day one of being Mike’s boyfriend, but there’s no accounting for how many days Will has loved him already. All he knows now is that it’s day one of forever, and that’s a challenge in which he’s more than willing to partake.