Archive of Our Own

Mike wakes up screaming again. 

Which, honestly, is nothing new. There’s a reason his parents not-so-kindly suggested that Mike move down to the basement permanently last year. It’s a wonder what two floors and an extra door does to protect their sleep, each extra barrier insulation that keeps the sound of his cries contained to one room. 

He blinks into awareness and works through his senses, separating nightmare from reality. There’s the television set in one corner with a sagging antenna, the same old recliners nearby. The dusty shelves are full of old knick-knacks and toys and forgotten electronics, ushered out for the newest model. There’s less of them ever since they donated half their belongings to the disaster relief drive two springs ago. Other than that, not much has changed. There’s still four wood-paneled walls, wallpapered in old art that’s beginning to curl at the edges, fading away.

Across from him is the painting – Will’s painting. Their party at war with a mighty thessalhydra, Mike leading the charge. He spends so much time staring at it that it’s ingrained in his memory, every brushstroke and careful layer of color. The heart on his paladin’s coat of arms haunts him most nights, a reminder of all the ways he’s failed.

Slowly, he pushes himself off the arm of the couch, neck aching and chest still heaving. There’s a red haze at the edge of his vision, a reminder of the nightmare he still can’t shake two years later. He will never forget the worst moment of his life, every second of that night burned into his memory. Not that he’d forget it even if he could. 

Will, disappearing into the pulsing red light, vines dragging him through the closing gate. Mike, reaching out to grab hold and missing him by inches. By centimeters. He’d fallen to the ground and watched, helpless, as Will Byers was sucked into the Upside Down yet again.

But this time he didn’t come back. 

It sounds callous to say it now, but Mike wasn’t worried back then. He didn’t doubt that Will would come home, so sure that three years of fighting – and winning, if not surviving – would bring him back. He’d survived the Upside Down when he was twelve, after all. And he’d grown since then, so of course Mike believed he would make it back. There was no other possibility. 

But then the hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks. The gates stayed closed, the spores disappeared, and then the final nail on the coffin: El, at his door, tears in her eyes. I can’t feel him. He’s not there.

He hadn’t meant to slam the door in her face. But that was his knee-jerk reaction to hearing Will was just gone. He stared into the wood grain for a moment, reeling from shock, until it finally occurred to him that he wasn’t the only one grieving. 

Mike opened the door again and let her fall into his arms, both of them crying. Together, they called the party to his basement to break the news. He watched as their expressions crumpled, watched them cycle through every stage of grief – denial from Lucas, anger from Max, bargaining from Dustin. Eventually, they all came around to acceptance. They believed that Will was a goner, that this was his fate. 

Mike never settled for acceptance. Mostly because there’s no way in hell he’d ever agree that Will couldn’t be found. They’d pulled off crazier things with worse odds. Everyone thought Max was lost until they trekked through hell to find her in the Upside Down, pulling her back to their world. It wasn’t crazy to think that he could find a way to bring Will home, too. 

He’s spent every day since trying to come up with a plan. Two years of plotting, two years of putting together a theory board with string and pages ripped straight out of his journal. Two years spent wishing for some kind of miracle when he’s never been a much of a believer before. 

The problem is that the Upside Down is gone. There aren’t any gates, no spores or weird happenings for him to pin a single hope. For the first few months, he would beg El to use her powers and search Hawkins for anything out of the ordinary, until Max finally reminded him that he was hurting her – hurting all of them – in the process. 

He learned his lesson after that. Keep the theories to himself, resigned to the notebooks and the basement no one visited anymore, too haunted for anyone but Mike to exist within. He keeps his hopes scrawled in slanted handwriting that only Will could decipher, theories and wants and all the things he misses most about him preserved on paper. It’s more than an obsession; it’s a puzzle he’s desperate to crack, plucking at loose threads until something finally unravels and he realizes he’s had the solution all along.

The one thing he’s certain about is that Will isn’t dead. He would know. It sounds crazy, maybe, but if Will Byers stopped breathing somewhere out there, he’d feel it. He’s not the only one. They’ve never talked about it, but he knows that Joyce feels the same. He won’t ever ask her, can’t bear to hurt her, but she’s the only one who talks with him about Will in the present tense. Ever since he vanished again, Mike and Joyce have been close, bonded in their quiet, shared understanding that he’s not gone.

Just missing. Exactly how it all began five long years ago. 

Mike checks the clock. It’s just past five in the morning – way too late to go back to sleep but too early to be awake. He finally stands and ignores the way his body screams after being curled in such a tight knot on the couch, limbs way too long to fit comfortably there. But he never has enough energy to pull open the sofa bed, to make this place into something that feels welcoming. It’s his house, but it’s been a long time since it felt like home.

He could get up and start his day. Try to do something his dad might call productive, muttered under his breath during the rare occasion Mike trudges upstairs for dinner. He’s probably behind on a dozen assignments even though he’s only a couple of months into senior year. Maybe he should start caring now that college is on the horizon, deadlines and applications and essays piling up in one corner of the room. But he can’t quite bring himself to get started. There’s something about the thought of leaving Hawkins for college that he can’t stomach. Maybe because he always pictured going off to a city with Will, far away from Hawkins even before Vecna and the Upside Down ever encroached on their lives. 

He glances back at the couch, limbs still aching. Maybe he could just go back to sleep. It’s been nothing but one long nightmare since Will disappeared anyway. Nothing but a horror show once Mike realized that the gate sealed shut and took the best person he’s ever known. His throat aches with the reminder of standing there, screaming, begging. Like he could somehow force open a hole in the earth big enough for Will to slip through. 

Deciding against the illusion of sleep, he glances toward the basement door. Dawn streaks across the sky outside and suddenly it occurs to him that he doesn’t have to stay here at all.

It’s not the first time he’s skipped school and it won’t be the last. And no one really comes looking for him anymore when he vanishes; everyone expects it at this point. Sometimes, it feels like he’s the one that vanished, the one whose ghost really haunts every corner of this town. 

But if he skips school, then he’s got nothing to do. No one expecting him and nowhere to go.

Nowhere, that is, except Castle Byers.

It takes less than a minute for him to change, pulling on his jacket and backpack before he goes. Mike takes care to slip out quietly since the basement door is right under his parent’s bedroom window. Not that they’ll care he’s leaving; he just wants to avoid his mom’s questions and his dad’s general blankness about anything at all. He makes his way to the garage and grabs his bike, rolling it down the drive before he pedals away.

Mike isn’t much of a morning person, so he’s not used to how still Hawkins is this early. There’s a handful of houses lit up as he rides down Cherry and a few cars that pass by, all making their way towards wherever the people of Hawkins go during their days. He used to know all those details, ingrained in him through his mom’s mindless gossip at dinner. But these days, Mike takes his meals in the basement, away from any semblance of how things used to be. 

The ride to the Byers’ old house never felt far when he was a kid, not like it does now. Back then, he was always too excited about the destination, always eager to see Will. These days, the entire ride is tainted with bad memories. A turn down Cornwallis takes him past the place Will went missing, his bike the only clue he’d been there at all. Riding past the old pumpkin patch is another sour memory of Will’s screams. There’s not a place in Hawkins that’s been the same for Mike since this all began, and the entire town is like a bomb waiting to be defused. One wrong move and Mike finds himself blown back into the past, back into all the things he’d rather forget.

The one place he refuses to go near is the Creel House. There’s not much left of it now, nothing but ashes and a crumbling foundation. They torched it for good measure once the gates closed up. But even the charred remains are enough to make him feel ill when he remembers everything he’s lost. That’s the worst part of it all, really, the one thing Mike can’t explain without cracking his entire chest open and pointing at everything that pours out. There’s no way to say aloud what he’s almost certain he shouldn’t think, let alone the feeling so deeply ingrained in him he thinks it was etched there from the moment he was born, destiny discovered far too late. 

He’s in love with Will.

It’s possible he’s always been in love with Will. It’s hard to say exactly where loving him stopped and falling head over heels began. All he knows is that he loves him and he lost him. That’s why nothing else matters except bringing Will back. Somewhere in the middle of California and contact highs and a painting that cracked his entire heart in half, his life a mirror image of before and after he realized he already had everything he’d ever need. At the very heart of it all was Will and it still took no less than four end-of-the-world-as-they-knew-its to realize that the love he held for him wasn’t the love you hold for a best friend.

He wanted him. He'd probably wanted him this entire time, confusing it with his fear and admiration. He’d mistaken his need for Will with a need for belonging, all without realizing that the only place he’d ever belonged was at Will’s side.

And then he fucking lost him.

And ever since he’s been adrift at sea, trying to find his way back home. There’s something karmically typical in realizing he had everything he could ever want only after he’d already lost it. Mike’s certain that he was never destined for good things; everything he loves slips through his fingers like grains of sand. But Will was supposed to be the exception. He’s a paragon of good and light and everything there is to love in this world. Will is the one person in his life he’d do anything to deserve even though he’ll never be good enough, even though he knows Will would never want Mike even if it were possible he could love him back.

Not that it matters. Even if Will were still here, even if Mike held onto his feelings and corralled the butterflies in his chest for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t want things to change. Telling Will how he feels isn’t an option. It could ruin things completely between them; he could lose Will. And he can't risk that again. He’s lost him a thousand times at this point, lost him to Vecna and the Upside Down and his own careless stupidity. If he gets Will back, he’s not letting something like his own selfish feelings get in the way. He’ll play a million games in the basement. He’ll hang a museum’s worth of paintings on his wall, listen to every song he’ll ever cherish, accept whatever slice of forever Will offers. He’d take it all if he could.

There’s no easy way to explain that Mike didn’t just lose his best friend. He lost the best thing he’s ever done, the only thing he’s ever chosen that chose him back. He wasted a year of his life whining about being a victim of dumb luck without considering that one three-letter world had already determined his fate. And he wouldn’t trade any of it – not the Upside Down, not the near-deaths, not even their pain and trauma – if it meant never loving Will at all, no matter how much it hurt. 

His memories of Will are what drove him to fix up Castle Byers in the first place. It started as something to do, mostly, but by the end Mike’s desire to rebuild the old fort came from the need for refuge. It’s not just a reminder of Will or a shrine to what used to be; it makes him feel closer to Will, closer to home. Closer to something, whether that’s finding him or –

He halts that thought immediately. There is no or in that sentence. One way or another, he will bring Will back home. 

As he turns down the familiar path through the woods, his bike wobbles unsteadily. He plants his feet on the ground just in time to avoid tumbling into the forest floor.

“Shit,” he hisses, feet burning from the force of holding himself against gravity. He crawls off and crouches down to figure out what went wrong. Immediately, he notices his front tire is losing air. Mike shrugs his backpack off and digs blindly into the bottom of it, searching for the roll of duct tape he keeps in there for a temporary fix. He finds it quickly and pulls it out. But as he does, something small and shiny tumbles out of his hands to the forest floor. He leans down and realizes it’s his old compass, battered and forgotten, a small chip in the glass he avoids when he picks it up. He’s about to shove it back into his bag, forgotten again, when he takes a second look and pauses. 

What he’s seeing shouldn’t be possible. In fact, if he hadn’t seen this exact phenomenon before, he might have ignored it as nothing more than a faulty compass. The compass face looks exactly as it should; the needle points towards true north. Except Mike knows that that isn’t true north since he’s staring right at the sun rising in the east. 

His pulse thunders in his ears. It’s not possible. It can’t be possible and yet there’s a desperate part of him that wants nothing more than to believe. He stands quickly and shoves the duct tape back into his bag. Fixing his bike can wait. He’s got to follow this lead. 

For a split second, Mike hesitates. He considers being rational. He imagines fixing his bike and heading straight for Dustin’s house, the closest party member nearby. He pictures telling him about the compass and getting a sympathetic, pitying stare until he shows him proof. He can see it all play out, the convincing and the waiting and the careful planning he knows they’ll demand. 

He does consider it. But the faulty compass can only mean one thing: there is a gate. And a gate doesn’t just mean Will. A gate means danger. If he’s wrong, then there’s no harm in going alone to scope it out. But if he’s right, then he needs to go to the party with facts before risking anyone else’s life. Will already traded his freedom to keep their world separate from the Upside Down. If it’s back again, then they have another chance to stop this. For good. 

And Mike needs to be sure. 

His mind is already made up, and somewhere in the back of it is Will's voice, calling him stupid. Maybe imaginary Will is right – maybe this is a mistake. But maybe this is the key to getting Will home again, and that’s more important than his own safety will ever be.

The compass leads him through the woods. This deep into the forest, everything looks the same, so he follows the wobbling needle blindly, trusting it will guide him where he needs to go. Eventually, he begins to notice familiar trees and realizes that he’s on track to arrive at the Byers’ house. Or, rather, the old Byers house; Joyce didn’t want to repurchase their previous place. Mike can’t say he blames her. He knows all too well how it feels living with ghosts.

Once the house comes into view through the trees, Mike moves to pocket the compass. But as he does, the needle jerks violently to the left. Confused, he lifts his gaze and traces its path until his eyes land on the old shed. He moves towards it and watches as the needle on the compass wobbles slightly in place as if it’s being tugged. Mike tests it by turning away and the needle swivels back towards the shed, confirming this is what he’s been tracking. 

Mike walks up to the shed and slowly pulls open the door, peeking through a small gap as a precaution. At first glance, there’s nothing inside save for the slant of sunlight on the dusty wooden boards. But then his eyes slide to the left of the room and he practically pulls the door off its hinges to open it fully, throwing caution to the wind the moment he realizes what he’s seeing.

It’s a gate. But it’s not like the gates from two years ago. There’s no pulsing red light, no lightning strikes in the distance. This looks more like the gates from when this all began, not that dissimilar from the one El closed in 1983. There’s a couple black vines creeping around the edges of it. Spores float through the air and tickle his throat, forcing him to suppress the urge to cough or breathe too deeply. It's also far narrower than he's ever seen before; Dustin would definitely call this one a snack-sized gate. 

He stares at it for a long moment. This is what he came for: proof. Now that he’s got it, he should go back to the others. He should rally the troops and get help, formulate a plan of attack. 

Mike does none of those things. He doesn’t turn back, doesn’t race to find help, doesn’t really pause to think before he finds himself with one arm halfway through the opening in the wall. It’s a tight fit despite the fact that Mike is as scrawny as ever, but it doesn’t deter him. He contorts his body and forces it through until, suddenly, there’s more of him inside it than not. The last of the morning sunlight vanishes, replaced with a dusky, midnight blue.

Mike stumbles out of the shed, coughing as his lungs try to get used to the air in here. It’s not exactly safe, but the lab doctors concluded it was never as toxic as they’d once believed. While he catches his breath, he takes in his surroundings and realizes it’s still a mirror image of Hawkins in 1983, more or less. The one good thing about crawling out of the Byers’ old shed is that Mike knows his way around. But when he can’t find Will’s old bike after searching for a few minutes, he decides to set out on foot and walk towards the center of town. It’s eerily quiet, and even though he knows not to expect anyone around, it’s still disturbing to see so many empty buildings and abandoned cars as wanders unlit streets.

He doesn’t have a destination in mind until he spies the familiar Palace Arcade sign in the distance. At least there he might be able to shelter until he can figure out what comes next. Hawkins may not be large, but the Upside Down is and Will could be anywhere. But once he gets inside, he finds something a little better than shelter: Dragon’s Lair. 

In 1987, Dragon’s Lair was taken away in the real Hawkins. Keith said it was going to be shipped off for repairs, but he’s pretty sure all that happened was that the old machine got stripped for parts. Though Mike didn’t believe Will was gone, something about losing the game he’d loved so much felt like grieving. Even after he vanished, Mike played the game and used Will’s initials to keep his name on the scoreboard. Whether it was actually his score or Mike’s was impossible to know after a while, but it was a nice, quiet way of keeping him around. 

He feels a little winded seeing it now, pristine aside from a thin layer of dust and spores. It’s like having a part of Will right in front of him. It’s a step closer to something, which is a whole lot more than the nothing Mike’s had since Will has been gone.

Out of curiosity, Mike reaches into the back of the cabinet and flicks the switch to the on position. Surprisingly, the system boots up and the title screen appears. Mike tests the joysticks and discovers that they work, too, so he half-heartedly plays the game for a while. It reminds him of the first time Will came back from the Upside Down. They’d sunk weeks into this game, spending nearly every evening away from Joyce or Jonathan’s supervision right here at the control panel. Mike would have done anything back then to help Will feel normal after the things they’d seen. 

After his seventh death, amidst the electronic beeps of the soundtrack, there’s a noise that doesn’t belong: the sound of feet on gravel.

Mike’s fight or flight instincts kick in immediately. He grabs the first thing he can reach, which turns out to be a broom, and hides behind one of the game cabinets. It’s not exactly a high-caliber weapon, but maybe if he can surprise who – or what – is coming inside, he’ll have the chance to run away. 

The familiar doorbell rings as it opens, sounding far more ominous than ever before. Mike holds his breath and listens as the footsteps thud against the linoleum floor. The closer the footsteps get, the harder it is to distinguish them from the sound of his pounding heart. Even so, he can feel the moment there’s a presence just around the corner. If he squints, he can catch the shadow creeping along the floor as it nears his hiding place. 

He takes a deep breath and lets out a scream, flinging the straw end of the broom out with no real finesse. It lands against something solid, though Mike can’t see anything but a large blur. He raises the broom overheard again, prepared to fight his way out of being cornered, when suddenly–

“Ouch!” 

Mike freezes and then jerks back, putting his arms down. “Will?” he asks, voice hoarse. 

“Wait. Mike?” 

“Will!” Mike throws the broom aside and then flings himself into Will, hard enough that he stumbles backwards. His arms circle Mike’s waist in an effort to keep them from falling to the ground. They stumble into one of the game cabinets and the corner catches Mike’s waist in a way that he’s certain will bruise. But he promptly decides he doesn’t care because he’s holding Will. Flesh and blood and bone. Alive. 

“I knew it,” Mike exclaims. His face is buried in Will’s shoulder, and one of his hands is cupping the back of his head, pulling him closer. He’d wasted opportunities to hug him before and he’s determined not to make the same mistake again. “I knew you weren’t dead! I told everyone and no one believed me. They thought I was going crazy but I knew you were alive. I would know if you were gone. I can’t wait to tell everyone, just wait until we get out of here.”

“Mike.” Will mutters, voice muffled against him. 

Mike ignores him completely, too happy to stop rambling. “It’s been two years,” he states, voice a little quieter as reality washes over him. “I missed you so much.” 

Will pushes himself out of Mike’s embrace. His hands leave Mike’s waist and it’s only then that he registers how comforting it felt, almost like they’d belonged there this entire time. “Mike,” he repeats. There’s a half-smile on his lips but his eyes stay serious. “We need to talk.”

“Right,” Mike says, nodding his head. “We need to get you out of here. I got here from your old shed. There was a gate, and if we hurry we can still–” He cuts himself off when Will’s expression drops, eyebrows knitting together. “What? What’s wrong?”

“There’s no gate there.”

Mike frowns. “Yes there is. I just walked out of it. Well, fell out of it, really, but–” 

“I’m sorry, but there’s not a gate there. Trust me, I’ve looked at least a thousand times.”

“Sorry? What are you sorry for? I’m the one who should be–”

“There’s no way out, Mike.” Will fixes him with a grim expression. “I think you’re stuck here. With me.”

Mike searches his face for a lie, half-hoping Will is kidding. But the only thing in his eyes is stony certainty. He reels back in shock, blinking fast. “That’s – that isn’t possible. I was just there.” 

Will sighs. “I can prove it. Follow me.” 

Mike trails after him helplessly, his thoughts racing through his mind. “There’s no way the gate isn’t still there. It’s not possible. Gates don’t open and close whenever they feel like it. They’ve never done that! The only other person alive who can control them is El, and she definitely didn’t open it. She’s tried! It never works!”

Will doesn’t reply or slow down. As they push through the door, Mike skids to a stop and grabs Will’s arm. “Wait, Will. Just stop for a second, would you?”

And even though it’s been two years, Will halts in place at the sound of Mike’s plea. He turns to face him and despite the dimness around them, he can make out his features. It’s still undoubtedly Will, which seems stupid to think. But Mike spent the last two years wondering how different he’d look now, if the topography of his face has morphed since they last saw each other. He’s older, for sure, but it’s still the same wide eyes and kind smile and freckles. But he’s different, too, with a sharper, defined jaw and broader shoulders. His hair is longer than Mike’s ever seen it. It falls past his ears, nearly hitting the base of his neck. There are jagged edges where you can see he’s been cutting it himself, uneven layers that are nothing short of endearing. 

The only thing that doesn’t fit is the weary, hard look in his eyes. Mike hates seeing that. But it doesn’t matter because he’s Will and he’s alive. Mike’s been waiting 737 days for this exact moment, always too intimately aware of every single second that’s passed him by since he disappeared.

“You’re alive,” he tells him, stupid and reverent. This time, it seems to get through to Will. He watches the hard exterior recede, exposing the gentle warmth that Mike has always admired 

“I’m alive,” Will repeats. “I’m alive.” He lets out a hysterical giggle and suddenly he’s the one falling into Mike, limbs tangling and hands clutching at each other until he can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins. “And you’re here. You came for me.”

Will’s fingers dig into his forearms. Mike swallows the instinctive I would always come for you on the tip of his tongue. “Are you okay?” he asks instead, voice soft.

Will nods quickly. He’s so close that Mike can feel the breeze from the motion against his cheek. “I’m okay. I am,” he promises, looking right into Mike’s eyes. “It’s not that bad here.”

“Yeah, it’s a real five-star resort,” Mike deadpans. He glances around at the dimly lit skies and the spores dancing through the air. “I really like what you’ve done with the place.”

Will’s laugh nearly cracks his heart open on the pavement. For the first time since he arrived, something close to relief floods his body. “You still have the worst sense of humor.”

Mike just grins, rarely so happy at being insulted. They stand there for a long moment, holding each other like they can’t bear to part. He has this irrational fear that if he lets Will go he might vanish like a desert mirage. A peal of thunder rumbles through the air and Mike jumps, startled, and tips his head back to look for danger. 

Will gently squeezes his arm to bring his eyes back to him. “Come on, we can’t stay long. It’s not safe.”

Will leads him to a familiar car: Joyce’s old 1976 Pinto, still a sickly vomit green. “Wait, I can’t-”

“I can.”

“Not legally!”

Will glances at him, obviously amused. “Do you really think the law matters here?”

“No, but I–”

“You really haven’t gotten your license? Didn’t you say it’s been two years? That makes us… what, seventeen?”

Mike swallows hard and bites his tongue. The fact that Will doesn’t even know how old they are is casually devastating information. Their birthdays are so close together that Mike always insisted on joint parties ever since they were six, a tradition that lasted until they turned fourteen. “Right. No, I never did. It wasn’t really necessary.” 

He doesn’t bother explaining that the thought of learning how to drive without Will seemed dull, or how the thought of driving past all their old haunts was less appealing than getting stabbed through the skull. He doesn’t reveal that if it weren’t for their friends forcing him out of the basement, he might never leave the house. And he definitely doesn’t confess that though the party without Will is an even number, he always feels like a third wheel. 

Thunder rumbles again. Will looks up this time, a hint of concern on his face. “Get inside.” 

Mike buckles his seatbelt once he’s seated which causes Will to snicker. “That’s really not necessary.”

“It absolutely is! Put yours on.”

Will rolls his eyes but obeys with a smile. “I’m a good driver, Mike.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not going to die in an Upside Down car crash.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mike repeats. Will rolls his eyes again and puts the car into gear, taking a left on Cornwallis. The drive is much shorter than Mike’s earlier walk; it takes no time to get to the Byers’ house again. Mike scrambles out of the car the moment Will puts it in park and makes his way past the side of the house, headed straight for the shed. 

Will pauses just outside the small building. “Don’t be disappointed, okay?”

“I’m telling you, Will, I just came from here. There’s a gate. I’m sure of it.”

He doesn’t answer Mike, choosing instead to avert his eyes. Mike frowns but pushes past him anyway, brushing his shoulder as he reaches to pull the door open. He can’t wait to leave this place and bring Will home.

But when he looks inside, the shed looks the same as always – cluttered with tools and a worktable that hasn’t been used since they were kids. There’s no gate in sight, no pulsing blue light or vines creeping up the wall. Mike steps further inside and searches the room for a sign of something. But there’s nothing besides spores and junk, dirty tools and a couple of shotguns and the single light bulb hanging from the roof. 

“I don’t understand. I was just here! I came out of a gate right there.” He points to the wall and turns back to look at Will, insistent. “I’m not crazy. It was real!” 

“I believe you.” Will doesn’t sound placating or pitying, just exhausted. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mike. There’s never been anything here before.” 

The shed starts to feel suffocating so Mike stomps back outside to get relatively fresh air. “I don’t understand. Where did the gate go? They don’t just vanish.” 

Will doesn’t reply. He climbs back into the car and Mike hurries to join him. He drives them back towards the center of town, turning down Cherry Street. It takes Mike an embarrassingly long time to realize where he’s taking them. “This is—”

“Yeah,” Will says, eyes not leaving the road. While he’s focused, Mike takes the chance to study the comfortable way he leans back in the driver’s seat, hands positioned firmly at ten and two. “Your house.”

“Do you—”

“Yes, Mike,” Will interjects, sounding amused. Mike looks away from his hands to find a half-moon smile on his face. “I stay at your house.” 

“Oh.” He takes a half-second to consider this. “Why–”

“Can you just wait until we get there? I’ll explain everything.”

“Okay.” There’s a moment of quiet before Mike is opening his mouth again, another question on the tip of his tongue.

“Mike.” Will repeats, slightly exasperated now. Mike glances over to make sure he’s not actually upset and catches him still smiling, eyes bright.

“Okay, okay,” he relents. He turns to stare out the window, marveling at how perfectly the town has been preserved. There are houses here that got destroyed in 1986, but the Wheeler house looks the same as always. Will pulls into the driveway and leads them to the back entrance, bending down to grab the spare key from beneath the ceramic frog his mom keeps there so they can get inside.

Walking into the basement feels like being transported through time. Hours ago, Mike woke up on that very couch from the throes of a nightmare, but here it looks the same as always: a noticeably-cluttered safe haven rather than his makeshift bedroom. There’s a few traces of Will here that didn’t exist before, like a blanket Mike hasn’t seen in years and a guest room pillow. There’s a jacket that looks like his dad’s spread across one of the recliners and an extra pair of boots near the door right beside a shotgun. 

“Make yourself at home. It’s yours anyway.”

“Hilarious,” Mike answers. Still, he doesn’t hesitate to flop onto the less-worn couch. It was never comfortable even in its heyday, but right now it feels close to paradise. Will sits down beside him, thighs touching. For a moment, Mike can see him at thirteen, drying tear tracks on his cheeks and slightly shaking hands.

Mike breaks the silence first. “So. There’s really no way out.”

“No. I haven’t seen a new gate since One died.”

“Except mine.”

“Except yours,” Will agrees, “but I don’t understand that, either. Maybe it was just a fluke. There’s nothing wrong with our world, is there?” He turns to Mike, eyes fearful, and he can’t help but reach out and put a hand on his shoulder to quell it.

“Our world is fine. Normal again, for better or worse.” 

Will relaxes under his touch and turns away to stare at his clasped hands. “Good. I’ve always wondered what it’s like now. How is everyone else?”

“Fine. Everyone’s okay. But you know none of us stopped thinking about you, right? I mean, everyone else kind of assumed you were gone since El couldn’t feel you anymore. But other than that… I don’t know. It’s the same as always.  We’re all kind of fucked up. Traumatized, I guess.” 

“Even you? 

Will sounds guarded, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary in his eyes when Mike turns to observe him. “Of course,” he answers. “You have no idea. I’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out how to get you back. And now I’m here, but there’s no way out and you’re telling me it could be a fluke.” Mike exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to make of that.” He has the strangest urge to laugh even though nothing about the situation is funny. 

Will presses his lips in a thin line. “I can’t explain it either. But I can at least try to explain to you what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how this place is frozen on November 6th?” He waits for Mike to nod in confirmation before finishing his sentence. “Well, it’s always November 6th.”

“Like a time loop?”

“Something like that. There’s no real sense of time here. The clocks are all frozen to the exact minute I disappeared.”

Mike glances at the nearest clock. “8:15,” he mutters under his breath, considering. “You really didn’t have any idea how long you’d been here?

“Not until you showed up and attacked me with a broom. Honestly, you could have told me it’s been ten years and I’d believe it.” 

Mike tries not to make it obvious how much that upsets him. There’s no telling how long it could have been if he didn’t go through that gate this morning. Maybe it wouldn’t have vanished, but what if it had? He could have been twenty or thirty or older still, searching for Will at every turn. 

“How did you do it? You’re so… I mean, I would be–”

“Crazy?” Will says, finishing his exact thought. Mike lifts his eyes and catches his soft smile. “I was at first. But you get used to it, I guess. And things could be worse. It’s not as dangerous anymore now that One is gone.” 

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s still dusty and gross. But all the monsters stay outside this part of the realm.”

“This part of the realm? There’s more than just Hawkins?”

Will nods again. “There’s a clear place where Hawkins ends. I don’t go out there. It’s just a wasteland; the second you cross the barrier, those stupid bats come for you.”

“What about the demogorgons?”

“They’re gone now. Just the bats, but they’re bad enough.” His face wrinkles with disgust. “But it’s not that big of a problem.”

“Okay, then why did you say it wasn’t safe out there earlier?” When Will hesitates, he prods further. “What is it? What else is out there?”

“It’s not a what, exactly,” he answers slowly, furrowing his brow. “Okay. So it’s a time loop, right?”

“Right.”

“Time loops have rules.”

“Rules… sure, okay. What kind of rules?”

“The biggest rule is that you can’t be outside for too long. I can’t exactly explain it. I stayed out there at first because it was… well, it’s what I did. Before. But I figured out the hard way that staying out there too long means losing time.” 

“You lost time? How do you lose time in a time loop?” 

“I don’t know. But it’s not just time. It’s also memories. I’d find myself looking around and wondering how I got there. It’s like entire parts of time got lifted out of my head. Once I started staying indoors as much as possible, that stopped happening. Even better if it’s a house you can lock, though I don’t really understand why.” 

“And you chose my house instead of yours?” he asks. His question sends a flash of hesitation across Will’s face. Mike backtracks quickly, trying to explain himself. “No, I didn’t mean– of course you can stay in my house. Not that you need permission! I just meant that–” 

Somewhere in the middle of his rambling, Will relaxes. He’s smiling now, so Mike trails off sheepishly and lets him speak instead. “I stayed there at first. But yours is more central and better stocked.”

“Better stocked?” Mike asks, tilting his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

Will stands. “You actually have food in your pantry,” he comments dryly. Mike digs through his memories and recalls how many dinners Will spent at his house whenever Jonathan was working. He hadn’t considered it as anything less than his mom’s hospitality then, but now that he’s older he remembers that the Byers never were quite as comfortable. 

“Oh,” he says, voice soft and chagrined. 

Will doesn’t judge him for the belated realization. “Come on. Let’s go eat. We can talk more after. Oh, by the way…” 

“Yeah?” he asks, rising to his feet. 

“I missed you, too. So much.” 

Will smiles directly at him and it’s sunshine cutting through the gloom, dawn’s early light washing away all his dreary midnights. And even though they’re far away from the real Hawkins, somehow it feels like Mike has finally come home.  

“So you’re telling me that you taught yourself how to drive in two years but not how to cook?”

“Shut up,” Will shoots back, laughing. “We can’t really cook here. We’re lucky enough that there’s light.” 

According to Will, the lights only work if they’re already lit on the other side. The Wheeler kitchen can rarely be found dark; his mom is always in there, though more often than not she’s on the phone gossiping with the neighbors. Around the light fixture is a faint, glitter-like golden haze. Mike keeps reaching out to touch it, amazed at the way he can control the electricity. The rest of the room is lit by flashlights that Will has amassed.  

“Did you do this when you were here the first time?” he asks, still playing with the lights.

“Yeah,” he answers. He’s making two sandwiches and not looking at Mike. Which is fine, actually, because it gives Mike an excuse to stare at Will without worrying about being caught. “It was harder back then to even find light. He didn’t want me to reach out. But I found a way. Well, Mom found a way, really.”

Mike hums. “She’s never given up on you either.”

“I’m not surprised,” he replies. But Mike knows him too well. He can hear the trace of disbelief in his words and it breaks his heart a little to remember that Will doesn’t value himself enough to believe he’s worth their blind faith.

“So the lights need to be on for this to happen,” Mike states, trying to rationalize the physics of the Upside Down. “And that’s a rule?”

“Definitely,” he answers, putting a plate down in front of Mike and taking a seat next to him at the table. “That’s part of why I decided to stay here. There’s always someone at your house, which means there’s usually a few lights. Rarely the basement though. Do you not use it anymore?” 

Mike freezes with a sandwich halfway to his mouth, his appetite vanishing in an instant. “I do. I, um… I sleep there now.”

A look of surprise flashes across Will’s face. “You do? But there’s almost never a light.” 

Mike places his sandwich back on the plate, avoiding Will’s eyes. Still, he can feel Will studying him intently, his curiosity tangible. “Why are you sleeping in the basement?”

“It isn’t important.”

“Hey.” Mike looks up when Will’s hand curls around his forearm, just as gentle as his voice. “You can tell me.”

Mike sighs. “My parents told me to sleep down there.”

Will raises his eyebrows. “What? Why would they–?”

“I get nightmares,” he mumbles. “About… well, you can probably guess.” The images flash through his mind unbidden – vines and red and Will, face determined even as he’s getting sucked into the rapidly closing gate.

Will’s grip tightens, almost protective. “Mike…”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Mike. It’s–”

“It’s fine,” he repeats. This time, he sounds more certain about it. He lifts his eyes and meets Will’s concerned gaze, trying not to fall even more in love with him in the process. “Because I was right this whole time. I knew you were alive. I knew I would find you again.”

“How did you find me?” Will asks. He leans back, letting go of Mike’s arm. “I don’t understand how you found an open gate. And why were you even in the old shed?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Mike answers. He takes a huge bite out of the sandwich, humming happily when he realizes Will spread mustard inside just how he likes it. “Decided to head out. Figured I’d check up on Castle Byers.”

“Wait, what? Castle Byers is destroyed.”

Mike shakes his head distractedly, too busy stuffing his face. He’s way hungrier than he realized, especially considering he has no clue how long it’s been since he last ate. “I fixed it up last year. I go out there sometimes to just get away from everyone.”

“You isolate yourself in the middle of nowhere? Mike, that’s sad.”

“What? You used to do that all the time! How is it sad?”

“Maybe because I was just a kid and you’re practically an adult.”

“Yeah, you were just a kid,” Mike repeats darkly. He cuts his eyes to Will and notes his surprise. “Will. Come on, I know we never talked about it, but I wasn’t clueless. I knew why you needed a safe place to go.”

“That doesn’t explain why you do,” Will offers in return, his words neither sharp or unkind. He’s watching him with something like wariness, like Mike is a caged animal he needs to coax out. 

He sighs. “Look. I’m not going to lie to you, okay? The past two years… losing you is one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. And it wasn’t even the first time, Will! I’ve lost you, what – four times now?” 

“Four?” 

“Yeah. Four including California.”

Will freezes, the movement so infinitesimal that if Mike didn’t know him so well he wouldn’t even notice. “You didn’t lose me in California.”

Mike scoffs. “The six months we didn’t talk wasn’t me losing you?”

Will’s looking at him as if he’s grown a second head. “We made up,” he answers, voice faint.

“But I still lost you,” Mike emphasizes. “And then just when things were almost – when we were almost–” He cuts himself off before he reveals too much. 

“Almost what?” Will prompts. There’s a different expression on his face now; intentional, maybe even curious. He tries not to read into it, tries not to search for hints of something he knows he’ll never find.

Mike changes the topic entirely. “You didn’t even fight. You just let yourself get dragged back in here.”

Will’s face hardens. “What was I supposed to do, Mike? There was no other way. That gate needed to close. It was me or Hawkins.”

“But it was you,” he protests. 

“There wasn’t going to be another chance!”

The worst part is that Mike knows he’s right. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, doesn’t stop him from seeing the moment Will vanished again on repeat, a tape he can’t stop rewinding. 

“You had to let me go,” Will says, eyes and voice soft. It’s so typical of Will to try and comfort Mike like he hasn’t been the one suffering the entire time. “It’s okay. I knew the risks. I knew there was a chance I wouldn’t make it.”

“Stop,” he croaks. “Don’t say that. You made it. Not back to Hawkins, but you didn’t die. You just disappeared. I should have been faster. Maybe then I could have–” 

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat. Will reaches out and covers his hand, and the weight of it grounds him. His touch pulls him right out of his head and squarely into the moment pulsing gently around them just like the glittering light. 

“Please tell me you haven’t been blaming yourself this entire time. I definitely haven’t.”

Mike smiles, crooked and bitter. “I should have saved you.”

“You did save me,” Will promises.

He doesn’t elaborate. There’s no need; Mike understands what he means. “We’re going to get you home, Will. I swear it.”

“Okay. I believe in you,” Will tells him. 

It’s nothing more than a few simple words. But they’re Will’s words of affirmation, enough to right all his wrongs. For the first time in two years, Mike feels like he can truly breathe. The world sharpens around them, colors brighter than before, and Mike can’t lift his eyes away from Will’s hand, still on his. It feels like a promise. 

Will believes in him. He can’t let him down.

“Okay.” Mike’s response is inadequate, too small to encompass the enormity of what he’s feeling. There’s a sudden rush of confidence that replaces his self-loathing and doubt. He’s never been particularly sure of himself, but the one thing that’s always remained true is his determination to do right by Will. There’s nothing he won’t do now to keep him alive. Just like before, he’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.

In hindsight, he can’t believe didn’t realize how he felt about Will sooner. He’s seen enough by now to know there’s no one you fight harder than someone you love.

“Okay,” Will repeats. He lifts his hand and Mike misses it instantly. He barely stops himself from reaching out and taking it back. “Let’s figure this out. Tell me everything about how you got here.” 

“Right. I decided to bike to Castle Byers. I got a flat tire, and when I was digging through my bag to find some tape, I accidentally grabbed my compass. But when I picked it up, I could tell that it was off. It wasn’t pointing towards true north.”

“You thought it was pointing to a gate?”

“Exactly. I followed it through the woods and it led me to the shed. And when I opened the door, there was a gate right inside.”

“What did it look like?”

Mike frowns. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe?”

“It was small,” he recounts. “I had to squeeze into it because it was so short and narrow. And the gate wasn’t red. It was blue, with these black vines creeping around the edges where it met the wall…” 

Will goes ashen. “You’re sure that was the gate? Because that’s… it’s not possible, ” he says, more to himself than Mike.

“I’m a hundred-percent sure. Will, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I think you came through the gate I came through. The very first one.”

“What? How–”

“I don’t know,” he exhales, frustration evident by the crease in his forehead. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“You’ve never talked about that day before, you know.”

Will’s eyes dart nervously to Mike. “It all happened so fast. The front door in my house opened itself so I took off for the shed, Mostly because I knew Lonnie left a gun there.”

“A gun?” Mike repeats, eyes wide and voice louder than he intends. 

“Yeah. A shotgun. He taught me how to shoot as a kid.” 

“I didn’t even know you knew how to shoot.”

Will’s lips twist in displeasure. “It’s not exactly my favorite childhood memory. But I was good at it. Better than Jonathan, anyway, so I thought maybe I could defend myself.”

“What happened next?” Mike asks, heart lodged in his throat. 

“It’s always been a blur. Just after I loaded the shotgun, there was a huge surge of light – just like the way light burned brighter whenever One was nearby. Next thing I knew I was here, watching a gate close up on the wall behind me. And it looked exactly how you described it. Blue light, black vines. Not very big. Just wide enough for–” 

“For you,” Mike whispers, horrified. “I came through a Will-sized gate.”

Surprisingly, Will’s lips twitch. “Well. It’s not so Will-sized any more, but yeah. I guess so.” 

“Right” Mike rushes to correct himself, cheeks burning. They’ve both grown since they were kids, but Mike looks exactly the same aside from adding a good foot to his overall height. Will’s the one who seems like a different person. In the time they’ve been apart, he’s developed muscles and brawn, so much that he’s almost indistinguishable from the kid who got relentlessly teased for being so small.

Even so, growing up suits him well. Mike just wishes he hadn’t missed all of it. It makes him oddly sad to know that Will got older but missed out on all the milestones they’d always dreamed about – the birthdays and college applications and their friends getting their driver’s licenses. So many small, normal things that they’d both been robbed of since none of it appealed to Mike if he couldn’t share it with Will. 

“How’d you even fit in a Will-sized gate anyway?” Will asks, startling Mike from his thoughts. 

“I thought it wasn’t Will-sized?”

He shrugs. “Whatever. You’re definitely not Will-sized.”

Mike barks out a laugh. “Yeah, but I’m basically a walking stick. It wasn’t that tight of a squeeze.”

“You are not!” Will exclaims. He lets out a peal of laughter that sounds like music, a lullaby for all his sleepless nights. “You’re, what… six feet tall?”

“Give or take. Still taller than you.” He stands and makes his way to the sink to wash his plate, instinct drilled into him by his mom. 

“Let me be the judge of that,” Will teases. Without warning, he places himself in Mike’s personal space, a concept that didn’t really exist around Will but was so unfamiliar now that it made him nervous. His breath catches when he realizes that he doesn’t have to slouch or angle his neck so sharply to meet Will’s eyes these days.  

“I’m definitely taller,” he states. He tries to sound smug but his voice comes out a little high to his own ears, a tad too breathless to explain away. He’s not alone; Will seems just as taken aback. Mike takes in his flushed cheeks and bright eyes, gently bouncing across his face. The light in the kitchen seems to flare, but Mike dismisses it instantly as a figment of his imagination. Probably just some freak side effect of that pulsing glitter.

“Guess so.” There’s a tense moment of something between them before Will leans back and steps away, putting a safe distance between them once again. “Move over. And stop washing these dishes, there’s no point.”

“My mom would die if she heard you say that,” Mike tells him, wrenching his gaze away from Will’s profile. “You’ve always been her favorite.”

“You don’t think I knew that? Didn’t you ever wonder why I was extra nice at your house?” 

“You always were way bossier whenever we were at your house.”

“And yet you let me,” he teases.

“Like I had a choice!” He says it like a joke, but there’s never been any choice involved when it came to Will. He’s always been at his whim, no different than the moon moves the tide. He glances at Will’s profile again and watches wipe him down the plates despite his own suggestion that it was pointless. Typical Will, all bark and no bite, kind to his very core even if no one is watching.

“So what else do I need to know?” Mike leans back against the counter and drums his fingers against his thigh, desperate to expend some nervous energy. “Any other rules about the loop?”

“You should know that it does reset. I don’t have a clear idea of when or why. But there are tells. Things always reset to how they were the exact moment I disappeared. For example, my bike is still stuck somewhere in a ditch on Cornwallis.”

“I was looking for that!” Mike exclaims. “That’s why it wasn’t at your house?”

“Yeah. When I first saw the demogorgon that night, I skidded off the road.” 

“I know. Not about the demogorgon,” Mike clarifies, catching Will’s confused expression, “but I knew that you’d crashed. We tried to investigate.” 

“You did? I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked. And, I don’t know, I wasn’t sure what you really wanted to know.” 

Will’s eyes flash with understanding. “There are other tells. It wasn’t until I started using the car that I figured out it always winds up parked outside Melvald’s again. That’s why I was downtown today. Right when I picked it up, I saw the light from the arcade. There’s never light like that there. Another anomaly, I guess.”

“Huh. Is there anything else?”

Will considers this before shaking his head. “It depends on what I interact with. For example, the food we just ate will replenish itself whenever the loop resets. I can change my clothes, but if I fall asleep then I wake up in the same outfit from when I arrived. I think that’s why it gets dodgy if you’re outside for too long. It modifies what’s been changed when it can. And since me being out there is a change…” 

“You can be affected,” Mike finishes. He takes a moment to soak that in, thoughts racing. “What happens if you go outside of Hawkins? Aside from the bats.”

“I’ve… never tried. Like I said, it’s not –”

“Safe. Right. But what if we could test it anyway? Without getting hurt?”

Will frowns. “How would we do that?”

“You said the objects replace themselves, right?” Will nods, and Mike leans forward, gesticulating as he talks. “Okay. Hear me out. What if, when the time loop resets, the realm outside of Upside Down Hawkins doesn’t? What if it’s not subject to the same rules?”

“If it’s not…” Will says slowly, a spark of understanding in his eyes. 

“Exactly. That would mean it’s something different. And if it’s different, then maybe it’s a way out. Maybe we can go through there without losing memories or time. I mean, I have no idea what’s out there. And maybe it isn’t safe. Maybe it’s worse. But what if the only way out is through?” 

He sounds insane, but Will doesn’t immediately dismiss his theory. “It’s crazy,” he admits, “but crazy enough that it just might work. But how can we know for sure? We can’t go out there without getting attacked.” 

“Just like I said. A test. And I’ve got the perfect plan”

Will is mostly receptive to Mike’s plan. Based on Mike’s theory, he figures they can take an object from Upside Down Hawkins and leave it in the realm outside the border of town. If it moves, then they’ll know for sure the theory doesn’t work. But if it doesn’t disappear, then maybe they have a shot at finding their way home. 

Mike isn’t worried about being wrong. The realm outside of town is the answer; he’s sure of it. He’s more worried about agreeing on which one of them is going to risk themselves to put something out there in the first place.

“There’s no way I’m letting you do this,” Will argues. “It has to be me.” 

The plan is to use Holly’s old – in this case, new – tricycle as a signal. Together, they drop it into the back of Joyce’s old car. Mike slams the trunk shut with more force than necessary, trying to reign in his irritation. “No way. I’m going out there. You are not putting yourself in danger.”

“But I know this place better! I can get in and out faster than you. I can actually run.”

Mike ignores his light-hearted tease. “No,” he repeats. “It has to be me.”

“Why?” Will protests, throwing his hands up in frustration. “If this is another one of your misguided attempts at protecting me, then you can forget it. I don’t need– ” 

“Yes, you do!” Mike argues. “Look, you’re right. You know this place best. Which is exactly why I can’t risk you getting hurt. You’re the only one who understands this place.”

“But–”

“And,” Mike adds, “I will literally lose my mind if I have to watch you get hurt. Again. I can’t lose you, Will. Do you get that? I can’t! ” He finishes with a shout, chest heaving, and feels something drip off his chin. When he touches his face, he realizes he started crying. He brushes away his tears quickly, mortified. “I’m going out there. End of discussion.” 

Will stares at him with that caged-animal look again. “I don’t like it.”

“Fine,” Mike snaps. “You don’t have to like it.”

Will mumbles something under his breath as he stomps to the other side of the car. The entire ride there is quiet, nothing but a stormy silence between them. 

He understands Will’s frustration. But Will doesn’t understand that Mike is right about being the one who accepts the risk this time. Even if things go wrong, he can at least get the tricycle out there and hopefully prove his theory. He can still help Will even if he dies in the process. It’s a fair trade – his life for Will’s safe return. And it’s not like anyone is going to miss Mike, not after how he’s been the last two years. It might be days before they notice he’s gone at all. But if it's Will who gets back home, everyone will be overjoyed – relieved, even. And that’s what matters more than his own stupid life. 

Not that any of his contingency plans matter. Nothing is going to go wrong. Mike will keep his promise and they’ll both get to go home.

He’ll make sure of it. 

Will slows down as they near the end of what should be an interstate to Chicago. Instead, the once-distant red haze looms over them. As they roll to a stop, Mike gets his first real view of what the rest of the Upside Down looks like. Will is right; there’s nothing out there but a wasteland. Black vines slither and pulse on the ground and the skies are marred by strikes of red lightning through burgundy clouds. Mike can spot the small hordes of bats in the distance, vibrating with movement. 

Even though this was his idea, he's feeling anxious as observes the desolate landscape. But he’s not about to let Will see him chicken out now, especially not after he threw a fit and embarrassed himself. The moment Will puts the car in park, Mike doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle and hurry outside, quick to pull the tricycle out of the trunk.

“Mike, wait,” Will calls, scrambling out after him. “You should at least wear some kind of protection.” 

“Don’t worry so much. It’ll be fine.” He turns to face the wasteland and squares his shoulders. “I’ll run in, drop it off, and then be back out before you know it.”

Will gnaws at his bottom lip nervously, an old habit he’s never shaken. “But didn’t Eddie say–”

Mike doesn’t wait for Will to finish his thought. He races forward, breaching the boundary between the two realms. There’s a noticeable difference once he crosses over. Even though Upside Down Hawkins is gross, it feels normal as long as you discount the floating spores. But this side of the Upside Down feels like a swamp, the air around him warm and thick. It almost feels like gravity is heavier out here, and he stumbles through an invisible force the moment he crosses over. 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to go far. They’d agreed that it didn’t make sense to go any further than a dozen feet, far enough from the border that the test wouldn’t be affected but close enough that they could drive up to see it without putting themselves at risk. 

“How’s this?” Mike calls out, planting the bike onto the ground. 

Will flashes him a thumbs up. He leans forward and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. When he glances back to Will, he finds him staring up at the sky in horror. “Mike! Get out of there!” he yells, beckoning him forward. He rocks forward like he’s about to follow Mike across the barrier. “Look up!”

Listening to Will is always the right thing to do. Much to Mike’s occasional chagrin, he’s never wrong. But this might be the one instance where listening to Will isn’t – well, not wrong, not exactly. If he’d listened to Will from the beginning, he wouldn’t be in this position at all. 

Mike looks up to discover the demobats sweeping towards him, clustered so tightly that they seem like one giant monster coming down. He breaks out into a run, and even though the distance is short, it feels longer now that he’s running for his life. He’s almost to the barrier when he feels the first sting of fangs on the back of his neck. He reaches up to swat a bat away and accidentally exposes his skin as his shirt lifts. Several of them swarm to his left side, tearing into him immediately.

Every bite hurts like hell. Mike swallows his screams, trying not to scare Will who’s already watching with a look of terror. It’s fine, though, because he can take the pain long enough to get back across the border. Back to Will, to safety, back to– 

He stumbles once he crosses the place where the wasteland bleeds back into Upside Down Hawkins, falling right into Will’s open arms. 

Home.  

“Mike! Holy shit,” Will pants. His hands move across Mike’s body, searching for injuries. One hand brushes Mike’s side and he hisses instinctively, jerking back from his touch. Will moves towards him with a gentler approach, pushing his shirt up to get a better view. “Your side…”

Mike glances down to Will’s hand. There’s so much blood. He feels a little faint looking at it on Will’s palm, dull and glimmering crimson. His eyes flutter and he sways woozily, headed for the ground. Will catches him before he can get too far, and when Mike drags his eyes open, Will is right there, watching him with concern. 

“‘M fine,” he groans. “We gotta… you gotta…”

The sound of his voice clears a little of Will’s panic, but not enough. “It’s going to be okay,” he promises, voice strained as he slings an arm beneath Mike’s shoulder and carries him to the car. He doesn’t struggle at all to open the door despite the extra weight and sets him down as gently as possible before buckling him in. “I’m gonna get you home, okay? I’m gonna get you home. Hold on.” 

Mike doesn’t remember most of the drive back, eyes shut for the majority of it. The few times he pries them open he can’t see anything but the blur of trees and Will’s face, pale and tear-stained. He keeps one hand on the wheel and the other pressed to Mike’s side, on top of his own hand, both applying pressure. 

He gets progressively less responsive as the minutes pass. Will starts to chatter mindlessly, anxious to keep him awake. "You’re going to be fine,” he promises. “You have to be fine. I can’t… I don’t want to do this again without you. I just got you back and you’re not going. Okay? I won’t let you.” 

Mike’s not sure Will has any idea what he’s saying. He opens his eyes briefly and catches a clear picture of him, knuckles white and bottom lip trembling. If he wasn’t currently bleeding out in the passenger seat, Mike would already be comforting him, reassuring him that there’s no reason to be afraid. 

“We’re going to make it out. Your theory is going to be right because you’re smart. You’re always the first to figure it all out, aren’t you? That’s what you do. Remember? You probably don’t.” He’s talking in earnest now, though Mike has no clue what words are meant for him and what Will is telling himself. “You probably don’t have any idea how much we need you – how much I need you. So just hold on, Mike. Please. We’ll get you home and fixed up and you will not die on me. Not like this.”

He slams the brakes hard. The force of it nearly sends Mike through the window despite the seatbelt, but Will’s arm presses him back before he can get very far. Still, Mike thuds back against the seat and lets out a low groan from the impact. Will murmurs a series of quiet apologies and scrambles out of the car, back at Mike’s side in record time. 

Getting pulled out of the car hurts even worse than getting bitten. Mike can’t suppress the mangled whimper that spills from his lips. “We’re almost there,” Will murmurs. He tries to sound brave but Mike can still hear the tremor in his voice. He gently deposits Mike on the side of the house while he reaches down to grab the key and unlock the door. He misses the keyhole the first few times but it finally sticks, and then the two of them tumble inside, nearly tripping down the stairs. 

Will hauls him to the couch and gently settles him down, lying him down on his uninjured right side. Mike groans in pain again, his hand flying away from where he’d been gripping Will’s arm to his waist. There’s blood everywhere, soaking his shirt and their hands in equal measure. Mike is pretty sure there’s a streak of it just above Will’s eyebrow which only makes his stomach turn. 

“I’m going to be right back,” Will promises. He disappears upstairs, and only once he’s out of sight completely does Mike squeeze his eyes shut and give in to the pain. He tries to take deep breaths but each one comes out as a gasp, body shaking as he tries to stay conscious. He’s on the verge of passing out when footsteps on the stairs bring back his sense of awareness.

Will falls to his knees at the foot of the couch. He grips Mike’s t-shirt and rips the fabric away with nothing but his bare hands. If Mike wasn’t on the verge of death, he might have the energy to be impressed by that feat. 

He doesn’t get any warning before Will douses his wound in something that burns. “Shit,” he hisses. He pushes his head back into the couch and grits his teeth, trying not to shout. “What the hell was that?”

“Iodine. We have to make sure the wound is clean.” 

“How… how do you even know–” Another splash of iodine against his skin. “Shit, Will!” 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” His words are starting to run together. Mike opens his eyes and then blinks twice, sure he’s imagining what he sees. Will is holding a lighter in one hand and heating the exact knife his mom uses on the Thanksgiving turkey with the open flame. Will winces once he notices Mike’s expression. “We have to close it,” he explains. “You’re bleeding too much.”

Mike squeezes his eyes shut. “God. Fine, just don’t tell me when you – fuck! ”

“That’s just some rubbing alcohol,” Will remarks gravely. “I’m just trying to help numb it, okay? It won’t hurt as much.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar,” Mike wheezes. 

Will offers him a broken chuckle, twisted and wrong. “You really think so?”

“Yeah. I really do.” He’d sound a lot more sure about that if not for the fact that there are black spots in his vision, the world tilting sideways every time he moves his head. “Will, I don’t feel right. I don’t think–” 

“Mike. Mike! I need you to stay awake for a little longer. Just a few more seconds. I’m almost done.”

“‘M trying,” he slurs. “Shit, Will, I’m really–”

He screams the moment the warm metal sears against his skin. He can smell his own skin burning, a nauseating sensation he could have gone his entire life without knowing. Somewhere in the middle of it is Will’s voice, uttering sweet nothings that he can’t comprehend until he eventually – blessedly – blacks out. 

There’s no telling how long he’s been out when he wakes again. He groans softly as he stirs, but it melts into a whimper when he accidentally stretches his injured side in the process. 

Instantly, there’s a hand on him, gently pulling him backwards. “Stay still,” Will whispers.

Mike blinks until his vision clears. He tips his head back to find Will’s face peering down at him, dangerously close. His other senses return slowly and Mike suddenly registers how warm he feels. The ancient couch feels a lot firmer than normal until Mike realizes that he’s not resting against the couch at all. Instead, he’s lying against Will’s chest – his very solid chest, as his brain so unhelpfully supplies. He brushes that thought aside instantly, though at least it's proof he's no longer on the brink of death. 

“What–”

“You wouldn’t stop thrashing around in your sleep. I couldn’t think of any other way to keep you from hurting yourself.” Though Will’s explanation comes quickly, almost nervously, he doesn’t retract his arms. 

“Is the wound–”

“I think it’s okay. You’re not bleeding, anyway. But I need to check on it later.”

Mike tests the waters and curls a hand around one of Will’s arms, squeezing him slightly. Will immediately lets him go and Mike tries not to miss his touch the moment it vanishes. Gingerly, he shifts until he’s upright and facing Will, meeting his eyes for the first time in hours. He takes a moment to scan Will even though he’s perfectly fine, thanks to his own stupidity. “Good. You cleaned up.”

Will’s lips twitch, expression incredulous. “You were worried about me?”

“You were covered in…” Mike wrinkles his nose, a little nauseous at the reminder. He’s never been good with blood. “It was gross.”

Will snorts. “Sorry, that’s just… you were the one bleeding out and yet you’re worried about my clothes.”

Mike shrugs and then immediately winces, because even that hurts. 

Will notices instantly. “Here,” he says, grabbing a bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of water. “This will take the edge off.”

Dutifully, Mike uncaps the bottle and shakes out a two-pill dose which he promptly swallows dry. Will’s nose wrinkles in distaste and he pushes the water even closer to Mike until he relents. But once he takes a sip, he realizes he’s far thirstier than he thought and downs the entire bottle.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Mike rasps. “How are you so good at all of this?”

“I took the time to read up on it.”

“Seriously?”

“What, do you think I just spent all my time here doing nothing?”

“Obviously.” His dead-pan answer gets Will’s attention, and after a moment of quiet observation he cracks a small smile. Mike feels something in him unknot, a tension he wasn’t aware he was carrying.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s kind of boring here and the library is nearby. It’s better than staring at empty buildings all day long.”

“Typical,” he replies fondly. “You with your head buried in a book.” 

Will’s cheeks flush pink. “I just wanted to be prepared.”

“It’s a good thing you were. Otherwise…”

His face goes ashen. “If you weren’t injured, I might hit you. How could you be that stupid?”

“I told you, it had to be me. I can’t lose–”

“And how do you think I feel?” Will asks, cutting him off. His voice is level but there’s a quiet fury in his words and a sharpness in his eyes Mike hasn’t seen in three years. “When are you going to stop rushing into danger without a second thought? You almost died!”

“Almost,” he emphasizes. 

“Stop that,” Will snaps. “Stop making a joke out of it. You nearly got yourself killed.”

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Mike replies. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Will. Would it make you feel better to know that I’d gladly sacrifice myself if it meant I could help you get back home?” 

Will leans back a little, face stricken. “Mike...”

“Do you want to hear about how miserable I’ve been without you? How miserable everyone’s been without you? And I’ve been nothing but useless to our friends for the last two years. At least if I died here protecting you, I’d die doing something worthwhile. At least then I’d be doing everyone a favor!” 

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare–”

“I’m pretty sure that however long it’s been up there, no one’s even noticed I’m gone. They don’t need me. No one needs me!” 

He’s on a roll now, words spewing out of him that he’s only ever thought to himself. But this is Will; he’s the only one who can get Mike to be this honest, no prompting necessary. “I spend every second of my life in that stupid basement, just rotting away and thinking about you. I went crazy trying to prove you were alive. I have all of these journals full of theories and apparently none of it even matters because this is all some weird fluke! I’m not going to apologize for trying to keep you alive. Haven’t you already figured out I’m always going to put you first? There is nothing I wouldn’t do to save you, Will.”

Will’s lip quivers and he swallows hard. Mike’s eyes flit to his throat to track the movement and then back to his lips, then up to his eyes, waiting for a response. “You’re wrong,” he croaks out finally, eyes bright with what Mike suspects are unshed tears.

“I’m not–”

“I need you, Mike. I need you.”

“You–what–” Mike stutters, brain skipping like a record.

“You don’t think that everyone else is looking for you? I don’t doubt it for a second. You matter, Mike. No one is going to stop loving you just because things got hard.” 

Love. The word reverberates through Mike’s brain and he's fixated on it. He's not sure he's ever heard Will say it out loud – not to him, anyway. And even though he knows Will doesn’t mean it like that, it’s a heady feeling to know exactly how the word sounds coming from him, all sweetness and reassurance, no strings attached. 

“Oh,” he whispers, stunned. 

Will inhales deeply, a flash of indecision in his eyes. “I thought about you, too. For however many days it’s been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “And I would do anything for you. You know that. At least, I hope you–”

“I know,” Mike answers quickly. 

Will swallows again. “Good.” 

Silence falls between them, a quiet moment of mutual understanding. It shouldn’t feel new. Will has always made him feel safe and secure – wanted, even. But there’s something different about feeling that and hearing it spoken out loud. He hadn’t known he was yearning to be told he matters, exactly as he is, until Will offered it to him without question.

“I’m still mad at you,” Will states, but the teasing note in his voice says otherwise. Mike relaxes completely and tips his body to the side until he lands on Will’s shoulder.

“That’s fine. I was definitely being stupid.”

“So you admit it?”

“I would have admitted it either way!” Will’s chest shakes with suppressed laughter. Mike punches him weakly, fighting a smile. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“You first!” Will giggles. He reaches up and twists his fingers in Mike’s hair. Instantly, his stomach seizes like he’s in freefall, seconds after a roller coaster drop. “You’ve always had really nice curls,” he comments. “You used to look stupid brushing it out. Total mushroom head.”

“Wow,” Mike says, dragging out the vowel. “If you hadn’t just saved my life…”

“I’m being serious! I like your hair best like this. It’s pretty.”

Mike’s cheeks flood with heat. He’s not the only one affected; Will’s fingers still in his hair, his hesitation a flashing neon sign. “I mean–”

He pushes his head back until Will’s palm is flush against the crown of his head. “Keep going,” he demands. “It feels nice.”

Slowly, Will resumes the motion. “You’re like a cat,” he observes, a touch of wonder in his voice. “If only I’d known this was the key to shutting you up…”

Mike smiles absently, a little drowsy from the combination of Will’s warmth and the soothing motion of his fingers scratching into his scalp. “I’m going to fall asleep at this rate,” he mumbles.

Will falls silent and continues to play with his hair. Strange how this is something Mike would never ask for and yet it’s exactly the kind of comfort he prefers, a simple domesticity that he’s been craving. He feels more at ease than he’s felt in… forever, maybe, with Will nearby. 

Eventually, he drifts back to sleep, warm and comfortable and something close to loved. If perfect were an option in this hellscape, he’s pretty sure this would be it. 

He’s alone when he wakes up. He’s also resting against the arm of the couch which is far less forgiving than Will’s body had been, curved to protect his own. He winces as he sits up and reaches down to touch his wound. To his relief, it’s no longer spewing blood, but it’s still pretty tender.

“You’re finally awake.”

Mike turns towards the voice in time to see Will coming downstairs, two bowls in hand. “Hey. How long have I been out?”

Will’s lips quirk into a smile. “Not sure. But if I had to guess, you probably slept at least twelve hours. You sleep more than anyone I’ve never known.”

“Amazing that being injured doesn’t keep you from torturing me.”

“Good to know that you’re still just as dramatic,” Will replies snarkily, though there’s no real heat in his voice. They both grin at each other and it hits him all at once how much Mike has missed him, missed his smile and his wit and the way they tease each other, affection disguised as barbs. Or maybe that’s just Mike – maybe it’s always been just Mike. 

It’s nice, whatever it is.

Will takes a seat and hands him a bowl. It’s nothing more than dry cereal but it’s better than nothing at all. “Thanks,” he murmurs. 

“Oh, wait, almost forgot.” Will reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a packet of Pop-Tarts, hissing a little as he does. “Be careful. They’re warm.”

Mike unceremoniously drops the bowl in his lap to grab the packet from his hands, warning promptly ignored. “I’ll never say a bad word about you again.” Happily, he yanks open the wrapper and takes a huge bite out of the pastry, only realizing after he swallows that it’s strawberry – his favorite. “How did you heat these?” he asks, talking through crumbs. It’s probably disgusting but Will merely seems amused. 

“Are you going to get nauseous if I say I used the same lighter from earlier?”

Mike pulls back and considers the Pop-Tart warily before sharply shaking his head. “Nope. Too hungry. Thanks again.”

“There’s orange juice, too.” Will pushes a glass towards him and Mike accepts it, feeling a bit spoiled. Suddenly, it hits him that these are all of his favorite things, which wouldn’t be so bizarre if not for the fact that in 1983, his mom still forced him to sit down for a what she called a “real” breakfast every morning. There wouldn’t be Pop-Tarts in the house until the fall of 1985.

“Wait. Where did you get these?” He glances over to Will, who has the decency to look abashed. 

“I went to the store?”

“Alone?”

“Do you hear yourself?” Will asks, eyebrows raised. 

Mike huffs. "Just because you were alone for two years doesn’t mean you get to go out alone now, okay?”

Will shrugs, unbothered. “You needed the rest. We’ll get you moving tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow? Will, come on, we can’t waste an entire day. We need to go out now and see if our theory is right!”

“If we’re right, then the tricycle is still going to be there tomorrow. And if it isn't then we’re back to square one anyway. We can afford a day.”

“But–”

“Hey,” Will interrupts gently, watching him with a soft expression. “It’s okay to rest. You nearly died. Let’s just take it easy for one day.”

He swallows. “But–” he tries again, desperate to get Will out of this place as soon as possible.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “Really. I can handle a few more days. We need to make sure you’re doing okay first. Can we at least agree on that?”

“...Fine. One day. And then we go out and figure out what’s next.” 

“Good.” 

Mike is about to take another bite out of the Pop-Tart when Will catches him off-guard. He closes the gap between them and drapes himself across Mike’s non-injured side, tucking his chin in the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Since we’re staying put, you can fill me in on everything I’ve missed in the last two years.” 

The last of Mike’s appetite vanishes. “What?”

“Might as well. We’re not going to have time before we get back, right? And we will get back.” Will’s voice is right in his ear. The warmth of his breath blows against Mike’s collarbone and he fights the urge to shiver. 

“Right,” he says, voice hoarse. “What, uh… what do you want to know?”

Will hums distractedly as he thinks and Mike can feel it vibrating through him like they share one body. “You didn’t really answer me before. How’s everyone else?”

“They’re okay, mostly. I mean, we could all be doing better. Dustin and Suzie are still going strong. So are Lucas and Max, mostly.”

“Mostly? Don’t tell me they’re still breaking up every few weeks.”

He smiles to himself. “Something like that.”

“How’s Max? I know she talks to you.”

Mike’s face furrows in confusion. “How would you even know that?”

“Because I always figured you two would stop fighting eventually. You’re practically the same person.”

He scoffs, though there’s no real heat behind it. “Get real, Will.”

Will laughs lightly, breath blowing against his ear and this time Mike does shiver. Will leans back to grab a blanket, draping it over them both. Mike doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s not feverish or cold, just going delirious from the lack of distance between them. “Is she okay, after–”

“She uses a wheelchair. And her vision is mostly gone. But Max is Max, you know? She’s strong. It helps that she figured out how to do tricks almost immediately. With El’s help, of course.”

Will leans away again. Before Mike can decide if he’s relieved or disappointed by that, there’s a hand at the nape of his neck, brushing through the tangle of curls there. “How’s El?”

Mike hears the question he doesn’t ask. “We’re just friends now,” he states, voice hushed. He’s not sure why this feels like news to be shared quietly, like a secret whispered at a sleepover. “She’s really grown into herself. You’ll be really proud of her, Will. She’s always been cool, but now she’s–”

“Bitchin’?”

His laugh is a sharp exhale. “Yeah. Bitchin’. She does really well in school now. She wants to be a teacher.”

“A teacher,” Will murmurs, a little marvel in his voice. “She’d be so good at it.” 

“She would,” he agrees. “I don’t know what else there is to say, Will. Obviously no one’s forgotten you but…” He hesitates, trying to find the words to say what he means. “Everyone else found a way to keep going. But I’m just…”

“What?”

“It’s hard to explain. It feels like every day since you got stuck here has just been one long, endless thing. I try to sleep through it because I’ve half-convinced myself that maybe the next time I wake up, I’ll realize it was all a bad dream. You’ll be right there like always, or maybe you’re about to show up at the door with a campaign or a book or a plan– ”

He inhales sharply and cuts himself off. Will’s hand is still curled around his neck, protective. “I know that I’m the one who’s been out there, the only one of us who knew how much time was passing. But I felt like I was here,” he confesses. “Stuck and waiting for a fresh start.” 

Wordlessly, Will wraps one arm around him, careful not to brush against his injury. He places his chin back on his shoulder and stretches his hand out until it finds his wrist. Will presses a thumb against his pulse and it forces Mike to narrow his focus down to the beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

“Since when are you this touchy?” he asks with genuine interest. In a different timeline, they might have sprung apart, too embarrassed to be this close. Too afraid of what someone else might say. But in this one, Mike doesn’t have to pretend like he doesn’t like this. Not just because he loves Will, not just because he’s missed him, but because it makes him feel safe. He feels grounded, wrenched away from his worst thoughts and the churning black hole that’s been existing in the place where his heart used to be.

“I read that it helps people recovering,” Will says, and Mike honestly can’t tell if he’s serious or if he’s completely full of shit. He decides he doesn’t care and directs all his focus to the press of Will’s thumb against the paper-thin skin. He swears he can feel every ridge of his fingerprint. “Is it working?” 

And that… if Mike didn’t know better, he might call it flirting. He casts that thought away because Will would never want him. Mike remembers California, remembers the girl and the painting and even if only one of those things hadn’t been true, that didn’t mean the other was false. 

“Yeah,” he says finally, trying not to sound affected. “Yeah, it helps. Thanks, Will.” 

“How’s the rest of my family?” Will asks. Mike’s heart thuds in his chest at the imagined implication that Mike is part of his family, and he lets himself enjoy a brief moment of delusion before crashing back down to earth. 

“Jonathan is in New York. I call him every now and again.”

“You do?” Will asks, noticeably confused. Mike shifts to catch his surprise but also an expression that is genuinely touched, that earlier trace of disbelief hidden in the crease of his brow. “Why? Is he living with Nancy?”

Mike snorts. “Probably. They won’t actually tell me.”

“Oh. Then–”

“He understands,” Mike explains, which immediately silences Will. “I guess you’re the only thing we’ve ever agreed on. I don’t think he appreciated me telling him for the last two years that you were still out here though, so I’m going to have a lot of fun saying I told you so.”

Will can’t fight his smile. “You mean you can’t help antagonizing him for no good reason.”

“Hey, I have a good reason. He’s dating my sister!”

“And yet that’s literally never been the real reason,” he remarks. Mike hums in agreement. “How’s my mom?” he asks, smile dimming now. 

“She’s okay. Kind of like me, honestly. Once El told us that she couldn’t feel you anymore… there wasn’t anything we could really do other than hope. But she’s always believed you were still out there.”

“And what about–”

Mike’s face wrinkles in faux disgust. “Yeah, she still has terrible taste. She and Hopper have been together for the last two years.”

“Have they–” he begins to ask, but Mike’s quick head shake halts his sentence. “Really?”

“They’re definitely waiting on you. I think Hop wants to do something stupid like ask your permission.” 

“How do you know that?”

“‘Cause he told me. I also hang out with your mom and soon-to-be-step-dad.”

“But Hopper hates you,” Will replies, a laugh tucked into his half-smile.

“He’s going to hate me a lot less when he can finally pop the question.”

Will laughs outright now. “You really spend time with my family?” he asks, surveying him with an expression almost too sweet to stomach – even for Mike. 

“They’re as much your family as they are mine.” It sounds presumptuous to say it out loud that plainly, but it’s true. After the last few years, the Byers and Wheelers are practically one unit. The only thing left to tie them together is an engagement. 

“Mike,” Will whispers, voice plaintive now. “How are you really? Because…”

“Because?” he asks softly, matching Will’s tone. 

“Because I was going crazy here,” he admits. His hand tightens slightly around Mike’s wrist, so he finds a way to twist his fingers and take hold of Will to offer him the same comfort. “I know I’ve been kind of–”

“Insanely unbothered,” Mike grumbles, finally twisting away from Will’s arms to look at him head-on. They both keep hold of each other’s wrists, though, and it’s so close to holding hands that Mike feels feverish again. 

Will smiles self-deprecatingly. Mike is the only one who gets to see that smile, the only one who ever gets to see him completely unguarded. “Yeah. Being trapped here again hasn’t been easy.” There’s a tiny furrow between his eyebrows that Mike wants to press his thumb into and smooth out the creases, maybe even kiss away the worry. He shelves that impulse along with a thousand other half-planned wants, refocusing his attention on what matters most right now. 

“I’m the one who should be asking you if you’re okay,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving Will’s face. He searches for the smallest inconsistency – a trembling bottom lip or the nervous way he refuses to look at Mike when he’s upset. But there’s no trace of sadness; he meets Mike’s gaze fully, steady if not exhausted. “All this time you’ve been here and yet I’m the one who did all the falling apart.”

Will’s hand leaves Mike’s wrist and maneuvers his hand so that it's face up, palm out. He places his own hand on top of Mike's and it’s strangely intimate. More intimate than their bodies pressed together in sleep or Will perched on his shoulder like a songbird. Mike can see the place where their lines of fate overlap, can feel the calluses on his fingers. 

Absently, he wonders if Will still draws here in the Upside Down, if the paintings and sketches and whatever else he creates ever survive the loop. Or maybe it all vanishes into nothing, like Cinderella’s carriage turning back to a pumpkin the moment the clock strikes midnight.

“It isn’t a competition,” Will says eventually. Mike has no idea how long there’s been silence between them, too busy thinking about the warmth of Will’s hand and resisting the urge to slide his fingers in the gaps between Will’s. “For what it’s worth, I think you were stronger than me. I didn’t have any faith I’d find my way home.”

He blinks away the sting of tears threatening to overflow. “Don’t say that,” he begs.

“I never thought I’d see you again. I mean, I never even thought I’d–” Will cuts himself off, inhaling sharply and dropping his eyes to their hands. “You weren’t the only one going crazy, okay? And I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you never gave up on me. Because honestly? I think I’d given up on myself.”

“Will,” Mike says, his name wrenched from his lips like a broken cry. “Please–”

“No, wait, it’s not a bad thing. That’s what I’ve always… I admire that about you.” He speaks in fits and starts, self-editing his feelings. Mike would do anything to get his unfiltered words, but Will’s thoughts have always been earned. Always worth the wait. “You’re so brave. Even after everything, you still don’t know how to give up. You keep fighting. I don’t know how you do it, honestly.”

“Because I have you.”

They both freeze and the moment suspends around them, delicate. “What?”

Mike can feel his cheeks flush and for the first time, he’s grateful that the room is dimly lit by flashlights. At least Will can’t see how obvious he is, how foolish and stupid he is for wanting what he can’t have. “It’s true,” he states, choosing bravery in a new form. “If I seem brave, it’s because of you. Especially when you’re the one I’m looking for. It’s always been like that.”

“Really?” Mike’s heart breaks at the sound of his voice, so pure and full of wonder. He doesn’t understand how Will can’t see that he’s everything good in the world – sunshine and love and choosing to keep going no matter how hard things get. Mike’s nothing like that. He’s always been midnights and aching, nothing but fear and second guesses and trying.  

“Yeah. From the very first day,” Mike admits. They’re reaching uncharted territory now; they’ve never talked about that first week Will went missing. Back then, Will was uncharacteristically quiet and Mike knew not to ask questions. Truthfully, Mike didn’t want to hear the answers, too afraid to face the undefinable horrors they’d seen. 

“Oh. I never knew.”

“I never told you. I guess… I don’t know. I guess there’s a lot I didn’t tell you.”

“We should probably stop doing that.”

Mike laughs softly. “Yeah, okay. I made you a promise anyway. Maybe I need to get better at holding up my end of it.” 

Will tilts his head, considering. “Which promise?”

He feels juvenile, suddenly, too embarrassed to bring it up if Will doesn’t immediately remember. He’ll never be able to forget, though. He couldn’t erase his fear that night Will started getting worse if he tried. He can still remember the way his body trembled under his arm until he got him home, seated on this very couch. 

But then he looks at Will and hears him say that he thinks Mike is the brave one, even though Will is the one who’s been through hell and back. He can be a little brave now; he can bare a bit of his heart. He can stand to feel stupid if it’s for WIll. 

He slots their fingers together loosely until they are undeniably holding hands. His breath catches and he sears the feeling to memory, a moment to cling to since that’s all it can ever be. “I promised you we’d go crazy together.”

Will’s eyes glitter in the dim light. “I think we accomplished that,” he answers breathlessly.

“Okay, so let’s take it further. We’re a team, right? You’re my best friend. You’re my cleric.” His chest hurts a little calling them best friends with Will’s hand in his, but it’s not entirely new. Once upon a time, they were like this; two kids who didn’t understand that this wasn’t something they should want. “I haven’t always been honest with you. Maybe not even with myself,” he tells him, as close to vulnerable he can get without offering his heart up to get shattered.

“Me either. So we’ll start fresh.” Will leans forward, conspiratorial. “Let’s start a new party. You and me. No more secrets?”

“No more secrets,” Mike promises. Even so, he imagines what it would feel like to lean in and kiss him now, to seal this moment like a promise with something soft and sweet and theirs. But he’d never do it without permission; Mike wouldn’t want to kiss Will if he didn’t want it, too. 

It’s not Will’s fault that he’s spent the last two years realizing he wasted so much of their time caught between who he thought he should be, losing all the best parts of himself in distance and unanswered phone calls and those stupid fucking vines, always dragging Will away from him when he wants nothing more than to keep him in one place. Preferably right by Mike’s side for the rest of their lives.

They hold each other’s gazes, the moment electric around them, interrupted only by a yawn that forces Will to pull his hand away and cover his mouth. Mike can’t help but grin, boyish and stupid. “You need to sleep. Did you rest at all?”

“I was too busy drowning in someone’s drool,” Will teases, eyes soft and scrunched at the corners. 

Mike lets out an affronted and exaggerated gasp. “If I wasn’t injured…”

“You wouldn’t do anything at all."

“I changed my mind. You’re the worst best friend ever and I’m joining a different party.”

“No, don’t,” Will laughs, opening his arms. Mike doesn’t hesitate to settle back into them, careful he doesn’t move too fast and reopen his wound. 

He doesn’t pause to question why Will is being nice to him, so much nicer than he’s ever deserved. He’s always known that he’s lucky to be the person Will chose back. Somehow, Mike knows that Will is his person – silly, maybe, but true. He can’t imagine loving anyone else the way he’s loved Will all these years. Maybe he’s too young to be so sure, but he’s always known that his life began the moment he saw a kid alone on the swings and he said yes. 

Mike finds a comfortable position and sighs in content. “Promise me you’ll actually sleep.”

“Now that I know you’re not going to die on me,” Will states, a note of seriousness in his voice that Mike doesn’t like.

“I’m really sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. I just want you to be safe.”

Will’s arms curl around him protectively as if in answer. “Next time, whatever happens, we’ll go together. Promise me.”

Mike swallows. “Will…”

“Promise me,” he demands. “I mean it, Mike. Or else we’re both going to be stuck here forever because I won’t let you leave.”

“Come on, you can’t actually expect me to–”

“Not good enough.”

Mike heaves a sigh, allowing the tension to drain from his body. “Fine. I promise. Now can we sleep?”

“Sure. Goodnight, Mike.”

“Night, Will.” 

Once again, he falls asleep almost instantly, his mind quiet for the first time in two years. He’d always thought there was something wrong with him, something fundamentally broken. But maybe the answer was Will and, honestly, it's not a surprise to discover that he's always been the answer to every one of his questions. 

Will doesn’t let Mike sleep in the next day. 

“You have to move soon,” he explains, focused on rebandaging the wound. According to Will, who apparently got an unofficial doctorate since he’s been here, it’s healing nicely. “You might get an infection. Plus, your muscles will seize up if you don’t. It’s probably going to hurt,” he warns, “but you’ll be better off in the long run.”

“I’ll be better off once we’re out of here.” He hisses as Will cleans the wound even though he’s nothing but gentle.

“What, you don’t think I’m doing a good enough job taking care of you?”

“Of course you’re doing a great job. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.” 

The tips of Will’s ears turn red, illuminated by the bright flashlight shining over them both. He’s momentarily pleased to have embarrassed him until Will slaps the bandage on with more force than necessary. The shock of it drags a mortifying yelp out of him. 

“Sorry,” he states, sounding a little too smug. Mike grumbles under his breath but wisely keeps his words to himself. 

Once Mike is taken care of, they gear up and head for the center of town. Will reminds him that they have to go to Melvald’s to get the car. 

“Why can’t we just take my dad’s car?” Mike asks, only a block away from the house. “It would save us time.”

“No–that’s really not–my mom’s car is fine.” 

“What are you afraid of?” Mike asks. “It’s not like it matters if it gets damaged.”

“Yeah, but… it’s your dad’s car. I’m not driving it.”

“You’re ridiculous. We’re in a literal time loop. Nothing matters but you won’t drive my dad’s car because you’re scared!”

“Am not!” Will protests, immediately proving Mike right. “Maybe you should have learned to drive if you’re so bothered by it.”

“Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to have to drive once I get out of Hawkins anyway.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot. College? New York? We’re going to have access to the world’s shittiest public transportation! We’re going to be free!”

Will looks at him intently, expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “I really haven’t thought about it. I probably should catch up on school first.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Mike admits. “School and I aren’t exactly the best of friends these days.”

“Mike…”

“No, don’t even start,” he complains. “You sound just like my mom. And your mom! They both won’t stop nagging me about schoolwork.” 

“Maybe it’s because they care about you and want to see you succeed,” Will offers dryly.

Mike pointedly ignores him. “The point is we’re both leaving Hawkins, right? We can move to the city and get an apartment together, or maybe we’ll get put in the same crappy dorm on campus. I don’t know. But that’s still the goal, right? Art school for you and me trying to figure out what I’m going to do with an English degree. We’ll be living the dream!”

“It does sound nice,” Will admits. “So, what, you’re expecting me to drive us there?”

“No way. We’ll fly. Or something.”

“Or something,” Will muses, laughter in his voice. There’s a reason Will is the planner between the two of them, after all. He nudges Mike suddenly, eyes locked on something in the distance. “Let’s go to the library. We can grab some supplies.”

“From the library?”

“Yeah. Just trust me, okay?”

It goes without saying that he does, so he dutifully follows Will inside. For whatever reason, the spores are heavier here; there’s a thick coating on every surface that looks like snow. Will leads them into a back room and starts rifling through the drawers, coming up with a spare compass and a pocket knife and a first aid kit. 

“How’d you know where to find this stuff?”

“I’ve been here a lot,” Will answers hesitantly.

“That sounds like a secret.” Will’s shoulders pull up slightly, the tension transparent. “Okay, spill.” 

“I hid here for a long time.” He turns to face Mike, leaning back against the counter. “The first time.”

“Here?” Mike repeats, looking around the room. “Was it… were you safe?” Will hesitates again. Mike feels his stomach drop to the floor. “Were you safe?” he repeats urgently. 

“For a while. And then…”

“Then?”

“I…” He sighs, averting his eyes. “I died.”

Mike feels his entire world grind to a halt. “Wait. Hold on. You died?” he asks, voice rising with each word. “What do you mean you died? You’re right here.”

“It’s… it’s hard to explain. I got pretty good at hiding by the end. But I was tired. Hungry. I didn’t know how to really survive here back then. I didn’t know I could eat. I didn’t even try because I was exhausted and scared. So I got slower and then I got caught.”

“I don’t understand how that leads to you dying.”

“When he caught me, he put one of those vines in me. Or something. I don’t remember it,” he rushes to say, catching the way Mike’s entire face contorts. “This is just what my mom told me. When she and Hop found me, the tube was inside me. Almost like he was feeding off of me. Hopper yanked it out but I guess that was a mistake because then I apparently–”

“Died? Shit, Will. I’m going to kill him when I get back.”

“No, Mike, wait.” Will steps forward and grabs his hands, stilling him. Just as quickly as his fury rose, it plummets. “He didn’t know it would do that. But Mom said Hopper saved me, that he’s the one who brought me back to life. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“You died here,” Mike says, haltingly. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Only for a little bit. Barely.”

“There’s no barely here, Will! I was that close to losing you and I had no idea!”

Will lets go of his hands in favor of wrapping one of them around his elbow, tugging hard. “Can we at least keep going if we’re going to fight about this?”

Mike lets himself get dragged. “We’re not fighting about it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” Mike repeats sharply. “Which, by the way, this isn’t! How could you keep this from me?”

“Your reaction is enough of an answer! Besides, didn’t you already think I was dead?”

“No! Not until we–”

Now it’s Mike’s turn to hesitate. Will pauses on the corner and fixes him with an expectant look. “No secrets. You promised. And I upheld my end of the bargain.”

Mike lifts his eyes to the dark blue sky. “You know there was a fake body.”

“Yes…”

“We saw your fake body.”

“What? How?”

“Because we were looking for you!” Mike thunders. “And when we saw the sirens, we decided to bike after them. We were hiding behind a fire truck and watched as they dragged you – what we thought was you – out of the water.”

“You… what?” 

“Come on, Will. You know we looked for you. We told you!”

“You never told me that! What else haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing! We told you all about Troy being a mouthbreather and about El and Jennifer Hayes crying–”

“And I didn’t care about any of that. Well, most of it. El embarrassing Troy in front of the entire school did sound pretty cool."

“It was. And she broke his arm, too, right after I–” Mike cuts himself off once again, suddenly aware he’s said far, far too much.

Will stops in the middle of the street even though the general store is nearby. Mike can see the window in the distance if he squints. “Nope. Out with it. She broke his arm? What did you do?”

“Look, you have to understand,” Mike begins, an explanation that only darkens Will’s expression. He steps forward until they’re face to face, eyes nearly level.

“What did you do?”

“I… may have jumped off the top of the quarry.”

“You what? Mike! Are you insane? That would have killed you!”

“That’s not true!” he argues, though he’s always been more certain of that fact than he’d ever care to admit. “It’s not like it matters. El saved me. I’m fine!”

“Do you even hear yourself? So me dying from no fault of my own is a problem, but if I’d come back to find out you’d died jumping off a fucking cliff, then I should just, what, accept that?"

“I didn’t want to jump off the edge!” Mike shouts, ignoring the voice in his head that’s always suggested otherwise. “Troy was going to cut out Dustin’s teeth. What was I supposed to do? I can’t fight! You know that!”

Will laughs, practically delirious. “You can’t,” he agrees, “but did it ever occur to either of you to run?”

“I mean… no?”

Will scoffs and walks away from him. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to be upset with me when you’re the one who was being stupid. As usual.”

“Me? I was trying to save Dustin’s life!”

“Oh,” Will says, with a sharp laugh. “Right. That thing you do where you rush headfirst into danger.”

“I don’t do that!”

“Mike. Come on. It’s as admirable as it is terrifying. You jump off a cliff to save Dustin. You run into a swarm of demobats. You went through that gate without a second thought and now we might both be stuck here!” Will pauses to take a deep breath. “I’m not mad at you. Okay? That’s just who you are. But you know how you get overprotective when it comes to me in danger?” 

“It’s not overprotective, ” Mike splutters, heat rising up his neck.

“It definitely is, but it’s not a big deal. I feel the same way about you! How do you think I would feel if you actually died? Just like you think I don’t know that even though you promised me you wouldn’t put yourself in danger, you’d do it again if you thought it would solve something.” 

Mike is speechless. “That’s–I mean, it’s just that–”

“You don’t need to apologize for it. I meant it when I said I like that about you, even if you’re going to put me in an early grave in the process.”

“Guess that’s not hard to do since you already died,” Mike shoots back. He jogs forward to catch up with Will until they’re side by side again, hands brushing. “Hey.”

Will pauses and looks at him expectantly. 

“I’m really glad you’re still here. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever tension existed between them vanishes. “I’m really glad you didn’t die from your own stupidity,” Will replies, almost smiling. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have kept that from you.”

Mike is quick to disagree. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. You can keep stuff from me if it’s scary or hard to talk about. I might not like it but I’ll never make you tell me. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Will assures him. “I do. You didn’t make me tell you anything, I promise.” 

“So… we’re good?”

“We’re good. Now let’s go find out if we just bought our ticket out of here.” 

They climb into the unlocked car. Mike takes a moment to be grateful that Joyce had no sense of security back then so that they don’t have to break out the glass. It’s a short drive back to the edge of Upside Down Hawkins, quiet while they both sit with the new revelations and their own thoughts. When they near the edge of town, Mike sits up in his seat, ignoring the twinge in his side. “Will. Look!”

They roll to a stop and lean forward to look out the windshield, reluctant to go outside. Holly’s tricycle is still there, entirely untouched. “It worked,” he says faintly. “It actually worked.”

“Told you,” Mike answers, practically vibrating with excitement at the possibilities. “Holy shit. We’re really going to get out of here!”

Will looks dazed. “We have to get ready first. Make a plan.”

“Right. We’ll stock up on food and medical supplies and weapons. And wear enough layers to keep us safe from any attacks.”

“If the tricycle didn’t move,” Will adds, “then maybe we don’t need to walk. Maybe we can drive.”

“What? Wouldn’t the car run out of gas?”

He frowns, considering that. “Well. Eventually. But maybe we wouldn’t need to worry about it. Maybe the way out isn’t very far.”

For the first time, Mike feels a wave of uncertainty wash over him. “We have no idea how far out this goes. We should be ready in case we have to walk.”

“Okay, so we get hiking gear or whatever. Maybe Melvald’s has something.”

“When have you ever seen hiking gear at Melvald’s?”

“I don’t know!” Will exclaims. “I’m just trying to think. We need to be ready for anything.” 

“Yeah. But it might be fine, too. One is gone, right? The Upside Down isn’t encroaching on our world anymore. There’s nothing out there that can hurt us except the bats.” 

“Maybe we should steal money,” Will says, more to himself than Mike. “Who knows where we’ll end up? It might not even be Hawkins.”

He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. There’s always a chance that another gate could drop them anywhere in the world – just because there was a gate in Hawkins doesn’t mean that’s still true. “If we did, we wouldn’t need much. Just enough money for a payphone. One call to Hopper and we’ll have the entire government on their way to pick us up.”

“Are we really doing this?” Will asks. He turns to face Mike and there’s a myriad of emotion in his eyes – hesitation and fear but, above all, pure disbelief. “We’re going to try and leave?”

“I think we have to,” Mike answers slowly. “Maybe… maybe it won’t work out. Maybe it’s a mistake. But what if it’s not? What if this is it?”

Will falls silent. Mike allows him the space to think. If Will were to tell him no at this point, he’d listen to him. Trying to go home like this is a big risk, one that Mike wouldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid. 

But Will is brave, too. “You’re right,” he states, sounding a lot more certain. “We have to try. It’s our only option.”

“Okay. Let’s go home and get ready. We’ll come back first thing tomorrow.” 

“First thing,” Will agrees. 

They spend the rest of the day – or night, or whatever part of the day it is – stopping at different stores on Cherry, making note of where they can get their supplies once the loop resets. By the time they head back home and sort through what food from the pantry they should bring, they’re both exhausted. 

After all the activity, Mike’s wound is aching. He doesn’t tell Will but it doesn’t matter; one glance and Will is ordering him to sit down on the couch.

“Let me see it,” he demands. “Now.”

Mike heaves a sigh as he pushes up the side of his t-shirt. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, the pale, waxy quality of your skin really proves your point.”

“I’m way too tired to argue with that.”

Will slowly peels away the bandage until Mike can feel cool air against his skin. “Does this hurt?” he asks, softly pressing the pads of his fingers around the perimeter of the wound. 

Mike presses his lips together. “It feels better than before. Honestly. I think I just did too much.”

“Yeah, a real doctor would have you doing minimal activity. Definitely no hauling a backpack full of supplies.” Will prods around his waist, examining his side closely. “You should be okay. You’ll probably have an ugly scar though.”

“We’ll match.”

Will stills. “What?”

Maybe he’s more exhausted than he thought. Mike reaches out and curves his hand around Will’s left side, absolutely mindless. “Isn’t this where Nancy–”

“Oh,” Will says softly. “I–yeah. She did.”

He should probably move his hand. Scratch that, he should definitely move his hand. But holding Will like this feels nice; his palm curves there perfectly, almost like a puzzle piece. “That turned into a scar, right? I remember seeing it when we went swimming over the summer.”

He glances up. Will watches him tenderly, his lashes casting shadows across his face. “I didn’t realize that you knew about that.”

“I knew,” Mike answers. “Like I said. We’ll match.”

“Shared trauma.”

“What?”

“Oh. It’s… it’s something Jonathan told me. About him and Nancy.”

“Shared trauma,” Mike repeats. He’s still holding Will’s waist and he can feel his every shaky breath. There’s a slight tremor, too, but he can’t tell if that’s coming from him or Will. There’s almost no way to distinguish where one ends and the other begins. 

Will is the first to break the contact. He leans back with a sharp exhale and Mike’s palm hangs there for a millisecond, grasping at nothing before it drops back to his side. “I’ll finish cleaning this up and then we can get some sleep.” 

“Can we at least sleep in a bed tonight?”

Again, Will freezes. “I… yes. Of course we can.”

“Why did you sleep down here anyway?” Mike asks curiously, forcing himself to keep still while Will spreads a thick layer of antibiotic cream over the wound.

“Honestly? It felt more like home.”

The admission makes Mike’s heart skip a beat. “Oh.”

“Is that… is that weird? That your basement felt more like home than–”

“Not at all. I mean… I didn’t protest it either. When my parents sent me down there to sleep.”

“Yeah?” Will doesn’t look at him, too busy unwrapping a new spool of gauze to place against Mike’s injury.

“Yeah. It was… nice, I think. To be surrounded by better memories. Plus, I hung your painting up down there.”

“You hung it up?” Will asks. He finishes wrapping the wound and pulls the bandage taut. When his hands finally leave Mike’s waist, he lets the shirt fall back down. 

“Of course. It’s the best thing I’ve ever gotten.”

“Better than your Atari?” 

“No contest.” 

Will seems taken aback by his honesty, like he expected Mike to turn this into another joke. “Oh. I didn’t… I’m glad.” He coughs to clear his throat and turns his face away, hiding his reaction. “Should we… I mean, you said–”

“Oh! Yeah, let’s go to sleep. We deserve one night of comfort before we head into the unknown.”

They head up the two flights of stairs. When they enter the narrow hallway, Will hesitates at Mike’s door. “I can use the guest room.”

“No way!” Mike protests, tugging Will through the door. “I know my bed wasn't that big in 1983, but it’s big enough, right?”

“You… you want me to sleep there? With you?”

Mike’s cheeks burn. He keeps his voice steady when he answers, trying not to scare Will away. “Of course.”

He turns towards the bed before he can see Will’s reaction. It’s safer that way; he won’t know what he really thinks. Mike burrows into the cover, pressing himself nearly flush against the wall so that Will has more room on his side. 

He climbs in after Mike is settled, careful to leave a sliver of distance between them. But Mike’s bed is smaller than he remembered and even lying on their sides doesn’t stop their arms from brushing against each other. Still, Mike can’t help but find the physical closeness comforting. And it helps that he knows Will is right there where he can find him, only one arm's-length away. 

He tries his hardest to fall asleep, but it’s clear that he’s too nervous about whatever comes next. He shifts, gently kicking his legs into a different position and trying not to wake up Will. 

Will stirs anyway. Mike freezes, feeling like he’s been caught. “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Mike exhales gently and turns so that he’s facing Will. Will’s already there, watching him, and Mike’s cheeks warm when their eyes meet. “Me either. I’m too… too everything, I think.”

“Yeah. The thought of getting out of here…”

“Right? Maybe we should think of something else. Anything else.”

“You really liked the painting?” 

Will’s question is quick, like he’s been sitting on it this entire time, and it catches Mike by surprise. “Of course,” he answers honestly, incapable of reigning in his feelings. “Will… I know it wasn’t from El.”

His admission feels like it sucks out all the air in the room. “That’s… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for?”

“You broke up, right? I didn’t mean to lie, I just… I wanted to help. You needed her, and I just figured–”

“I didn’t need her,” Mike declares, interrupting him. “I… I wanted to be needed. But that wasn’t fair to El. Neither of us needed each other – not like that. And that isn’t your fault. We were going to break up either way.”

“Oh.” He takes a moment to process this and Mike waits patiently, watching him absorb the information. “I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have lied about it.”

“Yeah. I mean, I was… confused,” he answers. “At first. And then we never got to talk about it. But I think I understand why you did it.”

“You… do?”

“You didn’t really lie, did you.” It’s not a question. Mike's had two years to unravel this particular mystery. “It wasn’t a commission. You painted it, which means that you were the one who wanted to tell me your feelings. You were scared we were losing each other. You needed me to know that… that I mattered,” he finishes, still a little awestruck even now. “That was all you.”

“Yes,” Will murmurs. Their eyes meet and neither makes the first move to look away. “It was all from me. I missed you so much back then. And you were so worried. You weren’t yourself. And I just wanted you to know that you mean… I don’t think there’s a word for what you mean to me, Mike.”

“I don’t deserve it,” he confesses, oddly vulnerable. “Sometimes I think I'm nothing but a problem. Like my entire existence hurts people. But that’s not what’s important,” he rushes to say when Will opens his mouth to interrupt. “I love the painting. It meant so much to me then – it still does. You always know exactly what to say.”

“Mike… you know that I meant it, right? I really do need you. Maybe you feel like some kind of anti-hero, but that’s not who you are. You really inspire me to be better.” 

Mike lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “That’s kind of impossible to believe, especially coming from you. I mean, you’re… you’re the best, Will. Way better than me. But thank you. Really.”

“You’ll see,” Will murmurs. “I’ll prove it to you.” He sounds a little drowsy now, less worried than before.

“Go to sleep,” Mike instructs, a smile on his face. Will’s eyes drift shut before he forces them back open. “I’ll be here when you wake up. And every day after.”

It’s too honest. He wishes he could take the words back the moment he says it, but Will doesn’t even flinch. He shuffles forward slightly until their knees knock together and the point of contact brings Mike back down to earth. It must help Will, too; once they’re touching again, he allows his eyes to fall shut, a peaceful expression on his face. “Night, Mike.”

“Night, Will,” he murmurs, only letting himself drift off once he’s sure Will is fast asleep. 

There’s a weight on his chest when he wakes. Mike blinks slowly and reaches up to rub the sleep from his eyes only to find his arms trapped beneath something. When he looks down, Will is draped across him, fingers clenched into his shirt. He looks like he fits there, as if everything about Mike exists solely for Will Byers to claim as his own. 

He looks so comfortable that he hates the thought of waking him. But they promised they wouldn’t sleep in since they didn’t know how much time they would need today. He allows himself to steal this moment and observe Will in a rare moment of peace. He’s always been pretty – a fact Mike wrestled with alone, in the wake of his grief and supposed delusion. But asleep, he seems even gentler; innocent once again, unburdened from everything he carries. 

Gently, Mike brushes a hand through Will’s bangs. “Will. It’s time to get up.” Always quick to wake, he stirs immediately. “Hey there. Ready to get out of here?” 

His answering smile is dawn breaking through the window. “Yeah. Yeah, I really am.”

They untangle and get moving, grabbing their packed bags and a meal before making the short trek back to the general store. They raid stores like they planned, including lifting a bit of cash from Melvald’s just in case, before once again making the drive to the edge of town.

“You might feel a little pressure when we drive through,” Mike explains as they near the barrier. “But after that, we should be okay.” 

Will grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. “We’re really doing this?”

“Yeah. Crazy together, right?”

“Crazy together,” Will agrees. He pushes the pedal and propels the car forward, right through the barrier. There’s a slight shudder of the car before they make it to the other side, speeding into a vast nothingness. 

“Now we just… drive?”

“I guess so. We’ll keep an eye out for anything that might be a gate.”

“Like what?” Will asks. “It’s a wasteland. There’s nothing here.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Mike answers, pointing to random objects scattered around. There’s no rhyme or reason to it: a broken oar, an abandoned toy, old tires and other assorted junk. “All of this came from somewhere, right? That means there’s a way out.” 

Except it becomes quickly apparent that his optimism might be entirely unfounded. The further they drive, the less of anything there seems to be. There’s nothing around except for the bats keeping a careful distance, the only black spot in an otherwise ruby-red sky. They can't tell how long they’ve been driving since the clock in the car is still frozen to 8:15 like every other clock in the Upside Down. It doesn’t help that everything looks the same, either, each corner indistinguishable from the next. 

“Maybe we should turn back.”

“I don’t get it. What’s the point of this area being outside the loop if there’s nothing here?”

Without consulting him, Will makes a U-turn. Mike can’t exactly blame him, but it’s still frustrating. “It was a good theory. And we know more now than we knew before, right? So we’ll just head back home and–”

Will doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. At that exact moment, the car sputters to a halt.

They both sit there in stunned disbelief, staring at the gas indicator like it might tell them something different. “Okay,” Mike says, breaking the silence. “We also know the car can, in fact, run out of gas.”

“Probably should have tested that,” Will offers weakly.

“Guess next time you really are going to be driving my parent’s car.” He unbuckles his seatbelt with a sigh. “Well, come on. There’s no point in sitting here.”

“Mike, we must have driven dozens of miles. This could be a really far walk.” 

“We don’t have a choice. Would you rather stay here and wait for the bats to attack?” 

“I know. I just don’t like it. Something feels off.”

Mike files that away in the back of his mind, quick to trust Will’s instincts over his own. Especially here. But they still have to get moving. “If you squint, you can kind of see the blue where the barrier meets Hawkins.”

Will gives him a sidelong glance. “Sure. If you squint really hard and suddenly get superhuman vision.”

Mike ignores that and shoulders on his bag, taking his first steps back in the direction they came. They walk for what feels like hours, barely speaking. Mike is so distracted by his disappointment that it's not until hunger pangs finally make themselves known that he realizes they probably need to take a break. 

"Will? Do you want – Will, what's wrong?"

He’s been trailing behind Mike this whole time, but now that Mike is really looking at him, he can tell there’s something vacant in his eyes. Once he hears his name, he looks up and immediately furrows his brow. “Mike?” Will questions, tilting his head in confusion. “What are… what are we doing out here?”

Mike feels a spike of anxiety. “Will, what are you talking about?”

“How did we get here?” he asks. “The last I remember we were… I was… weren’t we in the car?”

Holy shit. 

He’s forgetting. Will had told him about this the very first day. Mike should have prepared for this but he hadn’t even considered that this could happen in a place where the rules of the time loop didn’t apply. 

“What are you doing here? Did I imagine you?”

Those words hurt worse than a million demobat bites could. “What?” he asks weakly, throat constricting as he tries desperately to fight back tears. 

“I do that, sometimes. Imagine you. Maybe you’re not real. Maybe you’re a hallucination.”

“Will. Hey, listen to me. I’m real, okay? Here, pinch my skin or something.”

He stretches his arm forward, but Will shakes his head. “That doesn’t prove anything. It never does. You’re not real,” he decides sadly.

And that’s – Mike can’t handle losing him when he’s right in front of him. He can’t let him forget every quiet moment between them since they reunited, each smile and laugh and kind word that healed something in him he’d thought permanently splintered. He just got him back. He’s not losing him. Not again.

“Will,” he pleads, trying to stay calm. “I’m here. I’m real. We’re in the Upside Down, together. We tried to get out by going outside of Hawkins. But it didn’t work, so we’re going back to town. And we’re almost there. See?” He points over to the blue haze in the distance, much closer than it was before. “We’re going to get you back to safety and then we’ll make a new plan.”

“Wow, I’m getting better at this,” Will says. “You even sound like Mike.”

“Because I am!” he cries out. “How can I prove to you that I’m real?”

“Kiss me.”

Mike steps back on instinct. “You–what?”

“Oh, that’s new. Usually you tell me no.”

“Usually?”

Will hums, staring at him too intently. “Yeah. That’s how it always goes. I ask you to kiss me and then you say you’d never do that. But maybe my imagination got tired of that plot. So now you just look like that – all freaked out. Fun,” he finishes, mouth twisting sadly. “I knew you were too good to be true.” 

Mike’s head is reeling from all this new information. Will’s imagined him before? He’s asked the imaginary Mike to kiss him? He expects rejection?  

He doesn’t know where to begin with any of that. But then it strikes him suddenly that – well, does it matter what he thinks? Will is the one who thinks Mike is an illusion. Will is the one who has no idea Mike is right there, and Will is the one who’s confessing that he wants Mike.  

Maybe Will is right; maybe this is too good to be true. Mike half-expects the scene to shift, for Vecna to walk out with one last trick up his sleeve. But nothing changes. Will is still standing there, devastated, and Mike is still trying to rationalize a world where Will wants him in a completely non-platonic way. 

He might not believe it if not for the way Will is watching him now, sad and lonely and lost. For the first time, Mike allows himself to read into everything – the flirting and the hand-holding and the quiet, casual touch they’d reestablished within hours of reuniting – and suddenly it all makes sense. Will wants him. There’s not just sadness there; there’s longing and love and Will’s eyes are on his mouth, for god’s sake, and Mike–

Well, Mike does what he does best. All impulse, no logic.

He steps forward and places his hands on Will’s cheeks to reel him in. Mike never wanted his first kiss with Will to be like this, trapped in an alternate dimension with no way out. But Will wants him and he’s forgetting everything, and Mike can’t lose him. He needs to bring him back from the edge and if that means the one thing he’s wanted to do for the last two years is the only way to save him, then so be it.

It’s not a sweet kiss. Mike’s lips are firm on Will’s, maybe pressing a bit too hard. Will doesn’t reciprocate, not at first, not until Mike’s own uncertainty pulls him back. Only then does something ignite in Will’s eyes. He gasps softly and then he’s the one pulling Mike forward, one hand on the back of his neck and the other burying itself in his curls. 

It’s graceless. It’s messy. It’s still the best kiss of Mike’s entire life. 

When they part, they’re both gasping for air. “You’re… this isn't… you don’t love me,” Will states.

Mike shakes his head. “That’s not true. I’m real and that kiss was real and I’ve… Will, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Will shakes his head frantically, rejecting that, but he still doesn’t let go of Mike. “No. You’ve never wanted me. Always El, always anyone else–”

“Why won’t you believe me? I’ve wanted you, Will. I wanted you the very first day we met. I walked up to you and asked you to be my friend. I chose you, and I swear on my life that I have never once looked back.” 

He keeps his eyes on Will, watches him search Mike’s face for some trace of a lie. But there’s nothing to find; this is the most honest Mike has ever been. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I should have known but I kept getting confused. I mean, I just didn’t think… I never expected–”

“This isn’t real,” Will murmurs, dazed. “But I... I couldn’t have imagined this. Right?”

Frantic, Mike takes a different approach. “Do you want to know a secret? No secrets, remember? That’s what we promised.”

Will’s brow furrows. “No secrets,” he repeats, warily.

“Let’s start a new party? Crazy together? We’ve made a lot of promises, Will. You can’t start forgetting all of them now.” He’s rambling desperately, trying to find the right words that prove he’s telling the truth.

His eyes spark with something close to recognition. “Mike?”

“Will! Yes, it’s me. I swear it’s me. Please, you have to stay with me,” he says, tugging at his arm to try and convince him to move. “We’ll go through the barrier and you’ll be okay again.”

“Mike… what’s going on? Why are we out here?”

Mike can barely hold back a frustrated sob at the repeated questions. “Will… you can’t leave me. You can’t do this.”

“I’m right here,” Will answers, still confused. “I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

He reaches down and takes Will’s hand in his own, fingers intertwined. “Hey, Will? I’m going to tell you something really important. And you have to listen, okay? I need you to hear me.”

Will’s eyes are starting to lose focus, like he’s dreaming. At the sound of his name, his attention sharpens once again. “Okay. Anything for you.”

“It’s really simple, actually. There’s a reason that I spent the last two years looking for you. And it’s not just because you’re my best friend. It’s not just because I think you deserve better, or that you’re pretty much the only good thing in my life – maybe even in the world. Without you, there’s no me. And I thought that was something normal for friends, but it’s more than that. It’s always been more than that.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he states, voice cracking. “You’re more than my best friend. You’re my person. You’re it for me, Will. Because I love you!” There’s no reason to shout it but he can’t help himself. He needs Will to hear him, needs him to remember everything. He squeezes his hand tightly and gives in, finally done with running away. “I’m so in love with you and it’s crazy, Will, just how much–” 

Mike stumbles backwards, sentence cut short when Will slings his arms around his neck and kisses him silent. They separate for half a second and Mike adjusts the angle of his head so that when they kiss again, it’s good. His pulse thunders in his ears but it doesn’t drown out the sound of Will, his soft gasps and shaky attempts at breathing. Mike wraps a hand around the side of his neck, thumb pressed into his jawline and pulls him impossibly closer. 

When they finally separate, there's wonder and amazement on Will's face that he’s certain is reflected in his own expression. “You love me?”

“I do,” Mike promises. “You don’t have any idea how much. Please don’t leave me again. If we’re stuck here forever, then that's okay. As long as I get to have you, I don’t care.”

“You really love me,” Will states, more to himself than Mike. “You… always?”

“Forever.” He’s had more than enough to be sure about that. “It was always going to be you for me.”

Will’s eyes shine with unshed tears. “I love you, too. And we are not staying here. I’ll find a way to get us out of here if it’s the last thing I do.” 

He surges forward again, fingers tangling in Mike’s hair in a way that’s quickly becoming his new favorite sensation. Their hands find new places to touch – cheeks and the base of each other’s skulls, hands and fingers brushing – in an effort to reassure the other that this is real. And the kiss is good. It’s so good that Mike thinks he might float right out of here, the laws of physics notwithstanding. Will’s mouth is warm and pliant and inviting. He thinks this might be Will’s first kiss and yet somehow it seems like he's the expert, stealing the breath from Mike’s lungs and finding the perfect way to drive him the most insane. 

He’s so lost in their love that, at first, he thinks he’s imagining the way the light shifts around them. He’s half-convinced it’s nothing more than sparks behind his eyes, some mental reaction to everything that’s transpired. But the light gets brighter and forces Mike’s open. He pulls back from Will, who chases after him, eyes still shut. “Will. Look!”

Will’s eyes fly open and together they tip their heads back, looking up at the sky. The once burning red sky turns golden around them, soft light sending cracks through the atmosphere. Things change all around them. The bats disappear and the spores disintegrate in front of their eyes. The ground nearby disintegrates, too, flecks of it floating away towards the light. 

“I don’t understand,” Will murmurs.

Mike reaches for his arm and curls a hand around his bicep to redirect his attention. “There’s a gate!” He points a few feet away towards a hole in the Upside Down unlike any they’ve seen before. No black vines, no scary red light or floating spores. There’s nothing but an image of the old Byers shed, bright sunlight illuminating the room. 

Mike reaches down and takes Will’s hand in his. “Wanna make a run for it?”

Will tugs him into motion and together they close the distance, wasting no time in case this is another fluke. But nothing about this moment feels like a trap, and with every step they take another piece of the realm vanishes behind them. Will has always been faster, which means he reaches the gate first. When he skids to a halt, Mike stumbles to a stop next to him, narrowly avoiding a fall.

“What? What is it?” 

Will stares at the gate, wide-eyed, obviously anxious. “I can’t believe it’s real. I mean, are we… are we sure this is real?”

“Please tell me you’re not forgetting again.”

“No, no it’s not that. It’s just… two years of nothing. But now this? I don’t get it.”

Mike considers this. “Well, we still don’t know what triggered the gate I came through either. But maybe whatever opened that one helped open this one, too. I don’t know what they had in common, though.” 

“Wait, Mike, that’s it.” Mike looks over at Will, face alight with hope. “You really meant it when you said you’ve loved me this whole time?”

“Of course. Are you seriously doubting–”

“No, that’s not it,” Will corrects. “I’m just remembering something El told me. She said that she had to defeat One with love. Not anger. Maybe… maybe I was angry before you came.”

Mike squeezes his hand to reassure him that he’s listening. Will squeezes back. “You weren’t angry, though. You loved me. You just wanted to bring me home. What if that’s what got you here?”

Mike thinks back to the moments just before he entered the gate, back to his blind faith and desperation to find Will. “That’s… yeah. That makes sense.”

Will’s answering smile is brilliant, somehow brighter than all the golden light flaring around them. Mike glances to the gate and realizes the light bulb is pulsing. “Wait. Are you–”

Will ignores him entirely. “Things were different when you got here. I stopped being angry that I was stuck here. Because of you, Mike. I remembered how much I loved you and how you always remind me that things can be better. You just barged in here with all your relentless hope. You changed my entire perspective. You’re always doing that, you know? Always reassuring me even when I’m so scared of everything that might go wrong.”

Mike pulls his eyes away from the light bulb, still pulsing. “You’d do the same for me,” Mike replies confidently. 

Will’s smile softens, and there’s a million unsaid words exchanged in a single glance. “I love you,” Mike tells him. “And I want to go home.”

“Then let’s go,” Will states, still beaming. Together, they step through the gate and tumble to the other side. Will catches him when he trips over his own feet, holding him upright. They cling to each other and watch as the golden light around them fades, taking the gate with it. The last of it vanishes and the light bulb gives one more persistent flicker before it goes out. 

“So… are we going to talk about the lights?” Mike asks, thinking back to that first day in the Upside Down when he thought he’d imagined the way the lights flared.

He looks at Will expectantly. “I don’t… I didn’t exactly know, but–”

“Will. Do you have powers?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it’s just residual. Maybe from everything else.”

“Or maybe it really is True Sight,” Mike offers. “You’re magic after all, Will the Wise.”

“Shut up,” Will laughs. “I guess we can ask El.”

“Oh my god. You’re here. You can ask El!” Mike grins wildly, squeezing Will’s hands in his. “We have to go.” He pulls them both out of the shed, the door slamming into the wall as they walk out into the sunlight and fresh air. “Where do we go first? Your mom, right? Or–”

“Mike. Look.” Once he has his attention, Will nods his head across the yard, out near the old driveway. And there, clustered together in varying states of shock, is everyone – Joyce and Hopper, Jonathan and Nancy, the rest of the party. Even Steve and Robin and Eddie came back. It’s a proper reunion, which Mike finds a little strange since no one knew Will was coming home. And then it hits him that they weren’t there for Will. They were there for him.

Will drops his hand in favor of running the short distance to his family. Mike’s smile is soft as he watches them collapse into each other, Will buried under so many bodies that he's barely visible. He half-expects the reunions to all stop at Will, but Dustin and Lucas and Max make their way over to him instead.  

“You are such an idiot!” Max yells, wheeling to a stop at his feet. She immediately jabs her fist into his side. When Mike hisses and twists out of her grip, her face drops slightly. “Are you hurt?”

“Just a flesh wound,” Mike says wryly. “Turns out the Upside Down isn’t fun.”

“What were you thinking?” Lucas demands. “Your mom called us worried sick. And none of us could find you! How did you even–”

“What happened?” Dustin asks, steamrolling over Lucas. “How did you find Will? Why didn’t you come get us?”

“I found a gate by accident,” Mike explains. “And… I don’t know. I was going to, but I just had this feeling that if I left, it would vanish. So I went in.”

“You went in?” All three of them chorus in varying tones of disbelief. Erica is standing nearby and she scoffs at Mike’s answer. “You have to be the stupidest person alive. Who goes into a gate with no backup?” 

“We were worried sick. Do you have any idea how long it’s been?”

Mike shakes his head. “There wasn’t really a way to tell time–”

“It’s November 7th,” Dustin states. “You’ve been gone for six days!”

Mike can’t help the laugh that escapes him at the realization they came back the day after Will first went missing. It stops being funny once it earns him another punch from Max, this time in his thigh. “You asshole! We all thought you were dead. And then we found your bike out in the middle of fucking nowhere–”

“You’re going to be grounded for life,” Lucas states.

Mike walks away from them, a little too delirious with happiness to care. “Pretty sure Will’s going to be in the same boat.”

Dustin shakes his head. “Are you experiencing some kind of mental break?”

“No,” Mike states. “I think I’m just in love.”

“What?” They chorus again, exchanging shocked glances. He ignores them and makes his way to the Byers, once again a complete unit. Hop stands off to the side, watching them with a softer look than he normally lets Mike – or anyone – see. “Hey, kid,” he says. “You did good. But if you disappear like that without any warning, I might kill you.”

Mike smiles. “Whatever you say, old man.”

Hopper cuffs the back of his head painlessly. It’s practically affection coming from him. 

“Oh, Mike,” Joyce exclaims, finally extracting herself from Will. Mike watches Will fall into the arms of his friends next before turning his attention to her in full. “I can’t believe you did this. How did you do this?”

He shrugs. “It’s kind of a long story. I’m just glad he’s home.”

“Thank you. And I’m glad you’re home, too," she adds, patting his cheek with one hand. “You’re my son, too, you know. You’ve always been part of the family. If you hadn’t brought Will home, you’d be in so much trouble! Your mom and I were worried sick. She’s going to be so happy you’re back.”

“Hey,” Will says, walking up to them with warm, red-rimmed eyes. “Can we go to a doctor?”

Joyce turns to him with panic. “Why? What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay. But Mike–”

She turns back around just as fast, a blur of motion. “Mike! You’re hurt and didn’t say anything? Come on, both of you, in my car–”

“Wait, Mom, I’m fine–”

“Nope, you’re getting a check-up too. Let’s go, both of you!”

And even though they’re nearly adults, they’re no match for Joyce Byers. They wind up in the backseat as she and Hopper drive them to the hospital. The whole ride there, they keep finding little ways to reassure each other – fingers brushing and light touches against the other’s skin – that all of this is real. 

They get separated once they arrive. Mike has to go to a different wing for treatment while the doctors run tests on Will. He fights it at first, unwilling to leave Will alone for a bunch of tests. Will, however, is much calmer about it. “I’ll come find you,” he promises. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

Except that was nearly two hours ago and Mike still hasn’t seen him. He’s been sitting in the observation room for a while now, enjoying the brief moment of respite before he gets bombarded with questions from his friends and, most likely, another government visit. 

“There you are.” 

Mike lifts his head towards Will’s voice and smiles when he sees him. Will smiles back softly. “How are you? Do they think you’ll live?”

“You were right. I can’t lift anything for a week. Maybe two. The doctor was not happy to hear I was carrying a pack of life-saving supplies.”

Will hums in mock-sympathy. “Oh no. You poor baby.”

Mike’s cheeks flush instantly. Even though Will is mocking him, the term of endearment causes his heart to beat double-time. Will notices and raises an eyebrow but, mercifully, doesn’t comment on it. “Guess I’ll just have to stick right by your side.”

“Yes,” Mike agrees, a touch too forceful. “Forever.”

This time Will is the one who turns pink. “Should we… talk? About this?” 

Mike stares at him blankly, which in turn causes Will to ramble, words spilling out of him at a rapid pace. “I mean, things were heavy back there. And, I don’t know, maybe you didn’t mean what you said. Or maybe I misunderstood it, but–”

"Will,” Mike interjects softly. But Will keeps talking over him, eyes locked on the floor. 

“I need you to know that I meant everything.” Will lifts his eyes to Mike's face, searching for signs Mike will run the other way. But Mike is done running. There’s no returning from this now that he knows what it’s like to have Will, now that it’s possible to have Will in every single way he wants him. As his best friend and his boyfriend and his life partner, the only person he could ever imagine spending something as nebulous as forever with.

“I love you. I’ve known I loved you since we were thirteen. But if I’m being honest, I’ve probably loved you forever. We chose each other,” he murmurs, stepping forward cautiously. “I can keep spelling it out if you want, but you’re the one who’s good with words.” 

"I love you, too,” Mike answers, the words so easy to say now that he knows he can. “This is real. I’m one-thousand percent sure about you. So unless you’re changing your mind…”  

Will’s expression shifts from nervous to relief as Mike speaks, transforming his entire face. He’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful but now Mike can think that freely, without regret or fear or anything less than pure, unambiguous love. “Never," he murmurs, only a little bashful. “A new party. Right?” 

He opens his arms and Will falls into them, burying his face into Mike’s neck as they hold each other tight. “You and me,” he promises.

It’s not just a promise for now. It’s a promise for always, a confirmation that there's no future for Mike without Will in it. He closes his eyes and pictures all of it – taking classes together and a tiny apartment with a dog. He pictures kissing Will first thing in the morning and right before they fall asleep each night. There are parties and laughter, paintings on the walls and Christmas lights and Will stealing all his favorite sweaters. 

Someday, he knows there will be rings and matching suits, green daisies tucked into the pockets. There will be vows and reminders that, once upon a time, he had to imagine a world where he might never see Will again. But Mike knows better now. He knows that they found each other by choice, that their love is more than a product of dumb luck. It’s proof that there’s something bigger at hand – fate, maybe, or even destiny. Or maybe it’s something smaller, nothing more than proof that as long as they choose each other, the rest of their lives will fall into place, always guiding them back home.