Archive of Our Own

The smell of blood clung to him like a cloak, dripping from his eyes like teardrops.

Vines tangled together around his throat, kissing away at his skin to leave bruises, a mockery of affection. Vecna, Henry, One—he watched him with the opposite of detached interest, his gaze intense behind the fanfare of his monstrous face as he lowered that horrid, clawed hand from Will's skin.

"You must realize that your place is with me," he says, voice booming in the quiet of the mindscape. Will gasps raggedly, throat shredded by his screams, his vision painted red. Flashes of pain still throb behind his eyeballs from the violation of his mind, as if Vecna had physically scratched his brain raw. "No one in Hawkins will ever understand you the way I do, William. You fight back, you wrestle with my power, try to use it against me—for what purpose? There is no saving them. There is not ignoring what lies between us."

Will can't help but to let out an exhausted laugh, a broken sound. "You talk like I matter to you. All you've done—you've only ever hurt me. You'll kill me like you tried to kill Max and it's only a matter of time before El stops you again—"

"I would never hurt you," Vecna lies, as if he didn't just do that, turning on his feet, seemingly ready to leave Will behind. He shifts again then, back to Henry, to Mr. Whatsit, with that stupid vest and the perfectly combed blonde hair, still limping slightly. Even his voice changes, a soft croon to Will's ears. "Not the way they've hurt you. I've done nothing but show you the truth. What have they given you?"

"Everything," Will snaps back. "And you keep trying to take it away!"

"You are confused," Henry shakes his head, looking back at him with sad, pitiful eyes, like he finds Will to be some poor helpless thing. "Do you really think they love you the way I do?"

Blood turns to ice in his veins, and Will recoils back against the vines, lips shaking. The comment passes through him with a shiver. "You're sick."

Henry laughs, the sound warm, a mockery of real affection, and shakes his head. "You must've thought I wasn't interested in you anymore, when I left you to save your friends. I apologize for that, William, but I needed you to realize your potential. I needed to show you how different you are from them. Eleven is powerful in her own right, but her powers are a thing of science, a cheap replica."

He pauses for a moment, and then approaches Will again, slowly, thoughtful, still gazing at him with invasive intensity. He continues:

"I took her power away once, and I can do it again. Once, I thought she had what it took to join me, but I was so wrong," Henry shakes his head, a downturn to his mouth. "She was raised in that lab with no concept of what life is truly like out there for people like you and me. She can play pretend all she wants, moving away, going to school—school! Like she could ever hope to catch up to any of us. Ultimately, Eleven has so little beyond what she took from you."

"She's taken nothing from me," Will spits back, shaking his head, recoiling when Henry brings a hand up again. Only this time, instead of stopping at a distance, instead of forcing Will back into psychic horrors, Henry takes firm hold of his chin, forcing Will to meet his eyes. This single touch is somehow worse, as is the earnest look in his eyes. "She's my sister, not yours! You don't get to talk about her like this!"

"I had a real sister once, you know," Henry chuckles, his thumb digging painfully into Will's skin. "Just like you have a real brother. What Brenner did to us in that lab was the product of nothing but human greed. We are a species stuck in a cycle where we keeping breeding just to experience it a thousand times and die. The second someone like me or you breaks away from the mold we become a problem! Eleven is but a lab rat. You and I are the purest form of it, every flaw that people like Brenner try to exterminate if they can't exploit it for their own benefit."

His voice grows soft, almost longing, as he leans in closer. His breath ghosts over Will's face, and it smells like the Upside Down does—dead, empty. "You, William… when you entered my mind, that is when I knew I had to have you again. That is when I knew I got it right that first night, when Eleven reopened the portal. I heard you calling for me, even across dimensions—"

"I—I wasn't," Will cuts in, a tremor to his voice. "I never wanted any of this. You're insane!"

"—sometimes we aren't conscious of what we ask for," Henry smiles then, and his hand moves, thumb shifting to press against Will's mouth. He tightens his lips in response, thinking about that vine down his throat, frozen solid. "How do you think I knew which children to pluck from their homes, which ones to save? There is a connection between all of us that goes beyond what Brenner could do out of every number. When that gate opened, I already knew what I had to do. I had planned it for years. I dreamed of someone like you, and you, in turn, became mine—"

"Stop," Will begs, shaking his head, fighting the hold of Henry's hands, the vines, feeling them tighten around his neck to help him keep Will still. He doesn't stop, because death would be kinder than this, than the press of Henry's body coming closer, than his cold hand on his skin, than the breath on his lips. "Please, please, stop, no more, no more—"

"He'll never love you like me," Henry says, a hard edge to his eyes, suddenly steely blue. Will feels panic skyrocket inside him, knowing exactly what he means, staring at his sneer. "Even if he wanted you back, he could never come close to the way we connect. I know every inch of your mind, William. Every dream, hope, desire. Every petty thought you've ever had, every jealous sneer you've swallowed down. I know you, and once my plan comes to fruition, there won't be an inch of me you won't be familiar with, as well."

"You were the first," Henry continues, and the affection in his eyes, the heat in his gaze, Will realizes with horror, is very real. "And now that I have you again, you will also be my last. My spy, my builder. Mine in every way."

Will swallows a panicked sob, tears and blood rolling down his cheeks again, resisting the urge to scream. Nausea and disgust rolls through him in waves, making him dizzy, and he wants nothing more but to wake from his nightmare, to be freed from the cold and the fear and the overwhelming weight of Henry's attention. No matter how much he fights back, how much he struggles, he is lost. There's no white-hot string of power to reach towards, because Henry has invaded his mind and filled it with his presence to the point where he hurts, hurts, hurts so much in his head and his heart and his lungs, a pain that echoes through his whole body and renders him useless.

He is inside Will again, like he's never left, and the thought is horrible enough to have him wish for death. Anything, anything over this.

Henry stops before their lips meet. Relief washes over Will as he watches Henry freeze and his eyes grow glassy, as if looking beyond. Suddenly, Henry steps away and sighs, shaking his head.

"Your friends," he says, lips curling into a hateful sneer. "Are annoyingly resilient. I must leave now, before Holly makes a mess out of things. But I will be back, William. I will come back for you, and save you once again. Just wait."

Just wait, echoes in Will's mind. Just wait, and I will have my way with you again, is what Henry probably means to say.

Exhausted, confused and in pain, Will struggles against the vines until he can't anymore, and cries.

He cries and cries and cries until there are no more tears left.

There's an empty look to Will's eyes that has Mike feeling even more restless than before he woke up.

He watches Will go through the steps of pretending to be fine with a careful eye, watches him hug Max and El and participate in their planning with an almost single-minded intensity. Mike himself isn't any better, of course, but for the first time in a while he feels like he can actually look at Will without burning with shame, and it is rather unfortunate that the reason for it is that Will is acting off.

It doesn't help that Will looks like death warmed over, either, and since they haven't really had a chance to take care of themselves, there are still patches of blood on his face, from the bloody tears he's been dripping. He and Joyce almost had a heart attack when Will's eyes started bleeding during the trance, and they've continued to exchange worried looks whenever Will's eyes water and blood starts pooling on his cheeks again. He is avoidant, too, not really elaborating on the reason for the tears or what exactly Vecna did to him while in the trance.

It's a struggle to find a moment to talk to him alone, but when he does, Mike all but corners him into the room, closing the door behind him. "Hey. You got a minute?"

Will looks up from the bag of chips he was half-heartedly eating, green eyes widening, the whites still red. "Sure. Did something happen?"

Mike sits down beside him on the couch, shaking his head. "It's—well, actually, yes, something happened. To you."

"Oh," Will's voice goes tight, and he visibly swallows. "I'm alright, Mike, really."

"Don't bullshit me," Mike sighs, shaking his head, looking at the way Will avoids his eyes. "Something's going on. Ever since El got you back, you've been… different."

"It was just… I mean, I was alone with him," Will presses his lips into a line, shaking his head. "It wasn't very pleasant. I'm… he's crazy, Mike. More than you could possibly imagine. I'm really worried about our plans, don't know if they'll be enough. And there's a ton of pressure on El, so I guess I'm just—I don't know. I'm worried about her."

"You told us he said he could take El's powers away, but that's not all that's bothering you, is it?" Mike presses a little, softening his voice. "You can be honest with me, Will. Seriously. Whatever he said, whatever he did to you, you don't have to shoulder it alone. We're all here for you, I'm right here. So, what is it?"

Will stares at him for a long moment, seemingly caught off guard by Mike's sincerity. That, of course, is Mike's fault; they've been living together for eighteen months but all that time doesn't take away the way he treated Will back in Lenora. It doesn't take away the awkwardness brought on by the distant feeling that there's something still left unspoken between them.

Most days, they're fine, better than fine. But there are moments where Mike feels too aware of himself and hesitates to touch Will's shoulder, and he hates himself every time Will notices this and wilts, like a drying flower.

He has that effect on people, Mike has noticed. He makes the most important people in his life miserable with impressive consistency, and changing that has been a challenge. With El, the breakup helped. They always worked better as friends.

With Will… well, Will has always been different. Always.

And now Will swallows, nervously wiping the salt off his fingers on his jeans. Mike notices, because he's looking for every cue Will could possibly give, that his fingers are shaking. He can't help but stare at the bruises around Will's neck, his chin, a physical manifestation of Vecna's abuse. He had brushed those off too, when he woke up, too focused on Max and on relaying whatever information he could for their counterattack.

"…I don't want to worry anyone," Will finally mumbles out, looking away from Mike by ducking his chin. He absentmindedly presses a hand to his neck, frowning. "He was messing with my head. It's what he does. Just… telling me I'm his."

Mike can't help but to recoil a bit, letting out a scoff. "What? What did he mean by that?"

"He said the reason he kidnapped me all those years ago is because I… called to him. That's why he found me so quickly," Will swallows, shaking his head. Now that's he's talking, it's almost like he can't stop, words pouring out of him and into Mike's hands. "He said he could feel me across dimensions, somehow. I don't know. He spoke about it as if this was some sort of natural thing, and that this is how he picked Holly and the others as well. He said… he said he… loves me."

"What?" Mike's eyes widen, and he lets a hand fall on Will's shoulder, dumbstruck. He can barely process the rest of the information, the implication that there's something that calls to Vecna about Will and the rest of the kids. It reminds Mike of how he kept insisting Will's powers are innate, and that's scary. "What? That's, that's—"

"He's insane," Will lets out a huff of a humorless laugh, visibly shivering at the memory. "He said I was his first and I would be his last. He wants me."

He wants me, Mike's thoughts echo back at him, like something out of a horror movie. The inherent hint of some sort of… affection, in the words, feels out of place, like a bad joke. What could be mean? Why would he say that? Mike feels his chest tighten, trying to process the information as Will starts fidgeting and waiting, and waiting, and waiting for Mike to react until he seemingly can't take it anymore.

"I shouldn't bother you with this," he says, standing up fast, shaking off Mike's hand. He paces a little, bringing his thumb up to his lips to bite at a peeling nail. "It's ridiculous. It's sick, he's sick, and he's just trying to get into my head. It's—it's gross."

Mike shivers. "I asked you to tell me and you are! I just… fuck, I didn't expect that. What the hell is wrong with him?"

"You guess is as good as mine," Will shakes his head, looking far ahead of him, eyes wide. "And then he—he touched me and it was so—"

"Touched you?" Mike stands up as well, alarmed. "Is that were the bruises come from?"

"He was so close," Will whispers, pausing, looking at the floor. He can't seem to meet Mike's eyes, swallowed by the memory. "We thought… we thought we got the Mind Flayer out of me, and maybe we did. But Henry—Vecna's always been… different. Even now, he's inside me. Even now, we're connected."

Will pauses, lifting his gaze, looking at Mike dead in the eye with tears welling up. They're red, still bloody. "There's not a part of me he hasn't touched, Mike. And now that I've reached back, tapping into his mind, it's like—he said he wanted me back. That he regretted leaving me behind. I think… I think that—"

Before Will can finish his sentence, the door is opening and in come Lucas and Max. Lucas pauses when he sees them, holding onto Max's wheelchair and raising his eyebrows as he takes notice of Will's teary face and Mike's no-doubt pale visage.

"There you are," he says, only a little hesitant. He exchanges a look with Max that Mike can't quite interpret, speaking in a language only they understand. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Will replies before Mike can even think to open his mouth. He throws Will a wild look for that, because he has massive feeling that they should not be taking Vecna's interest in him lightly. But Will ignores that, even throwing their friends a small smile. "It's all good."

Mike stays quiet, not willing to lie. For Will, he would, but there's a clear apprehension in Will's eyes that tell him this goes beyond simply not wanting to talk about the subject any longer. He doesn't trust them with such intimate detail, not the way he seems to trust him. Mike replays parts of their conversation in his mind, feeling sick to his stomach.

He'll just have to hope things don't take a turn.

Will stares at the glass with Dustin's drawings of the bridge between the Upside Down and the Abyss, feeling useless, weak, and yet used up to the point of exhaustion.

Henry is in the back of his mind, stronger than ever. He can feel him lurking, waiting. Bidding his time before he tries to take Will again. He's told no one, not even Mike, that he's certain Henry will try something with him. He was close, earlier, but Lucas and Max's interruption got him retreating back into his shell.

He can't risk Henry trying to hurt El again, taking her powers away. Can't risk Henry trying to reach into his mind right now, while they're preparing everything for their plans. Will can feel the threat icing his bones, making him short of breath. Without El, there's no way all of this works. Without El, no one can defeat Henry, not in a psychic battle, or at least hold him at bay for long enough for the exotic matter to kill him.

Will could tap back into the hive mind any second know, he knows. It seems that Henry pulled at some thread inside his head when he captured him, so now he can feel the thrum of electricity in the back of his mind constantly, the connection between them stronger than ever. It is a double-edged sword for Henry, because it means Will can block him out, hold him at back, just as Henry could wrestle back Will's control when he was the one invading his head. At least out here, when they are not tangled together, there is a separation that allows Will resistance, the ability to keep his mind shrouded and Henry unaware.

But there's little to gain from it when Henry can render him useless the second Will tries to use his power. Instead of that, Will pushes aside his feelings, talks to Max about what she knows of him, and comes up with a plan. A plan that will certainly get him killed, but a plan that will also most likely guarantee that El and everyone else wins.

There's so much Henry could use against him. The second he steps into the Upside Down, Will has no doubt that he might take control of him, spy on their team, seeing as the proximity to the hive mind will make him more susceptible to Henry's puppetry. He could make Will attack Hopper or El or Kali or Nancy, who are by far their biggest strength, their toughest players. He could simply ruin their plans, by making Will misstep. He could do so, so much, and they'd lose so easily.

So instead of letting him win, Will is simply going to embrace the horrors.

It'll be easy, too. Henry is already calling to him, desperate, wanting, burning for Will.

It is an urge in the back of Will's brain, a scratch he can't shake. A part of him, the one Henry has so intimately known, almost longs to go, in some fucked up way that has Will wondering whether he's possessed again.

But his eyes are still green, and the way his stomach sits heavy with dread and his heart beats irregularly with fear keeps that possibility away. It's the connection, little more, little less. Or Will chooses to believe it is, at least.

Only Mike has noticed and brought up his newfound oddness, and Will is almost sorry for it. Almost. This is something he has to do. It would've been easier on Mike if Will hadn't said anything, but his plan hadn't formed yet, and Mike has always had that about him—a way of making Will hopeful.

Despite all the bad parts, despite the heartache, no one else has ever made Will feel so seen. No one else has ever made him feel so whole. And that is dangerous, because Henry knows that, too.

This is why the plan will work, he thinks. Because Henry slipped, when he brought up how Mike could never love him. He revealed something about himself to Will, a longing, an awareness, a jealousy. And now Max has completed the picture, and Will knows exactly what to do.

So he stays quiet, and pretends to not notice Mike's eyes on him every few seconds. Will bides his time, slowly, steady. And when they're finally in the Upside Down, when he's finally physically in it for the first time in years, he feels their connection lighting up like a Christmas tree.

And Will sighs.

He closes his eyes briefly, hearing the coo of Henry's call, beckoning him, hungry and eager and indulgent, like he could make every single desire he has true.

He steps away from the group with little steps, since everyone is too distracted. By the time he's far away enough, he's fallen to the back of their group, and finally, Will lets the wall between him and Henry, the one he's been holding onto all day, fall.

Take me, he begs, channeling his thoughts to him, take me, take me, take me. It is a lure, a siren call, an echo of all the twisted, dark emotions that make up the part of Henry's consciousness that sits in Will's head. It is Henry's own desires, reflected back to him.

Hook, line, sinker.

Henry did not stand a chance.

William, his voice echoes, louder than any thought Will has ever had, you're mine.

Will's body seizes. His eyes roll back. He is frozen, stiff, much like he was back at MAC-Z, when Vecna took him and goaded him into breaking the limits of his mind.

It isn't Vecna taking him now. It is Henry, Henry's greed, Henry's desperation. Henry's yearning and desire, because he believes Will to be an extension of himself. He believes Will will make him whole.

"Where's Will?" He hears someone asks—Jonathan. Jonathan has noticed, but it's too late now. Will is falling into Henry, Henry is falling into Will, and his feet are leaving the ground. "What's—? WILL! WILL!"

His mother screams. "WILL!"

Everyone is screaming now. This is unprecedented. Even after using him, even after taking advantage of him, over and over and over again, they keep underestimating Henry's love for him.

Stop, Will reprimands himself, because those thoughts are not his, I love them. Henry doesn't care, I hate them.

There's a pull, sharp, insistent, like knives raking down his body. El, he thinks, trying to save him, but Will just screams at the invasion, at the attempt to enter his mind. His mouth opens in a shriek, a demonic sound that immediately turns his throat raw.

GET OUT! He screams at her, pushing it inside her head. Eleven gasps in pain in response, but Will doesn't stop, bullying it into her brain, as effective as a physical push. GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!

She's screaming too, now. They don't know what to do. They are losing their heads, forgetting the plan. The plan that Will locks away before Henry can see it, distracting him instead with his willing, sweet surrender.

He feels more than he sees Henry riffling through his mind, eating up everything that makes Will himself. He claws at his heartbreak, rejoices on every drop of love that Will has ever given or received, and gobbles up on loneliness, so much so that he could make himself sick.

And while he's feasting, sucking it all out of him like a vampire having his first taste of blood, he slips El a message.

Follow. The. Plan.

And with a final pull, Will's body is yanked, yanked all the way back to Henry.

All the way back to death.

To say Mike is freaking out would be an understatement.

"WILL!" He screams himself raw, running after Will's rapidly fading figure. This is just like at MAC-Z, only worse, because Will isn't being moved a few feet. Instead, he flies through the air, his body slack, faster than they can follow. Soon enough they can't even see him on the distance, and Mike has to stop, almost tripping over himself. He falls to his knees. "WILL!"

"STOP!" Eleven is screaming, she's been screaming. Joyce is sobbing, a broken sound made all the worse by Jonathan's angry screams. Nancy tries to hold him, Steven tries to touch him, but Jonathan is a man possessed. A hand lands on Mike's shoulder, and he could recognize El's touch in his sleep. "We must follow the plan. We can't lose our heads now."

"What the fuck?" Mike buries his face in his hands, heaving his breaths. He feels like he's out of his mind, because every time Will is taken, every time he's disappeared has been a shot to the heart. He can't believe it's happening again. "How the fuck are we going to follow the plan when Will was just kidnapped, again?! The hell is wrong with you?!"

"Hey!" Kali snaps, stepping closer, but she stops just a couple feet away, perhaps stopped by Eleven. He doesn't know and doesn't care. Mike is a raw, exposed nerve right now, willing to do or say anything. "Don't you dare speak to her like that."

"Mike," Eleven ignores the arguing, even as Mike straightens up, just about ready to give hell. She meets his eyes, squeezing his shoulders, blood staining her nose and lips and eyes. Whatever Vecna did to her when she tried to intervene, it wasn't pretty. "This is what Will wants. When I tried to save him, he shut me out, but he was very clear. We must follow the plan. Vecna will have him where he has the children. We can save him, but if we don't follow the plan, we won't be able to reach him."

"Not again," Joyce is hyperventilating behind them, buried in Hopper's arms. "Please, not again. Not again."

"El is right," Hopper says, and Mike stands, turning, trying not to scream again. Everyone looks out of their depth, everyone looks miserable. They cling to Hopper's word like he could do or say anything to make it all the better, but his face is grim. "There is nothing else we can do. We follow the plan, find that motherfucker, and kill him dead. There's nowhere left for him to run to now that we're here. He's too close to his goal to be suddenly changing gears."

"I should've known this would happen," Mike runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it. "He told me. I should've known, I should've protected him—"

"What did he say to you?" Eleven asks, frowning. "When I found him, he seemed… destroyed. But he wouldn't say anything about it."

"He said Henry wanted him," Mike elaborates, feeling stupid. Slow and useless. Always too many steps behind when it comes to Will. "He spelled it out to me and I still let this happen—"

"There's no use in blaming yourself now," Dustin breaks in, looking pained. "If what El says is true and Will tried to stop her from saving him, then that just means Will made a choice. He is willing to be bait. If Vecna wants him so bad, then he'll be too distracted to get too close to us while also watching the children and going through with the merge."

Mike feels a flare of rage go through him. "So we just sacrifice Will, leave him alone with that freak? That's the idea?"

"That's the only thing we can do," Hopper corrects him, a bark more akin to an order than a reassurance. He looks down at Joyce and his face softens. "It's the only thing we have. We can't back down now. As it is, we've lost too much time."

"Exactly," Dustin agrees, so Mike looks at Lucas, at El, Jonathan, Nancy—anyone that would support him, but there's no one. "You know Will better than any of us, Mike. If he really told El to follow the plan… then we follow it. Let's go."

It takes a minute, but they manage to rearrange themselves, to ignore the sudden loss. They keep going.

And Mike tries, very patiently, not to lose his fucking mind.

Henry is cold.

Will floats in a state of in-between, half awake and half taken, having given himself over wholly, completely, without fear or rejection or disgust or hatred holding him back.

He lets go of the feeling of violation Henry has inflicted upon him, since he took him when he was twelve and shoved that vine down his throat. He lets go of the poisonous, horrid hatred that he feels every time he remembers how he was made to cough up little Demogorgons for months. He lets go of his possession, of Bob's death, of the memory of being poked with burning iron.

He lets go of the feeling at his nape whenever the Mind Flayer was near. He lets go of Mike's rejections and his friends dismissals. Lets go of Lenora, lets go of everything.

There is only him and Henry. Henry, moving clawed hands over his body. Henry, entering the deepest recesses of his mind. He is greedy, leaving no stone unturned. He slides inside Will, under his skin, and carves a home there.

Will, in turn, pokes back. Memories flash through his mind, of the Creel house, of a sweet sister, of a sour mother, a careless father. He sees Brenner, and the lab, and his mother but younger, and Patty Newby.

Patty Newby is a revelation. There is pain there, and for a moment it is as if Henry doesn't want him to see, but in the end he lets him because he is Will and he is Henry and they are Will and Henry. There's no need to hide.

So Will meets Patty.

She is a flare of light in Henry's memory, one he often buries. She is, simultaneously, tarnished by the Mind Flayer. What could've been, taken away. There is affection and longing and heartbreak and disappointment and a deeply rooted desire to forget her.

But Henry couldn't. Henry would never.

Will is rubbed raw, poked and prodded at until there's little left of him. Henry's lived a longer life in comparison, even with the few years he lost to this other dimension after El sent him away. And El, she is interesting, she is someone Henry could've loved the way he loves Will, if only she hadn't betrayed him.

She didn't betray you, Will wanted to say, she just wanted to break this cycle.

But Henry didn't let him, instead replying back: she could never satisfy me the way you do.

He gives the phrase more than a few meanings, and Will burns with them. He burns with shame, with disgust, with embarrassment, at the inhuman nature of Henry's consciousness. He burns with the echo of Henry's unfiltered want.

And Henry eats at that shame, still feasting. Physically, Henry limits himself, uninterested. Mentally, Henry scoops and scoops and scoops like Will is an infinite ice-cream cup, his favorite flavor. And the thought of ice-cream brings them back to that summer, the movie theater with Mike, the way their legs pressed together, the whisper of Mike's breath on his face when he leaned over to ask if he was alright.

Jealousy.

Henry is full of it. He is full of it because he could've had Patty Newby, and he did not like the reminder of it. He is jealous because he doesn't want Will to think about Mike, to imagine that Will could find completion with him instead. He is jealous because Will is jealous, because Mike was born normal and loved Eleven the way he could never love Will.

I'll kill him, Henry says.

You can't, Will replies.

Because Henry is Will and Will is Henry.

And Will would never.

For a moment, Will thinks he could be saved. Will thinks that Henry is human enough to stop, he is human enough to change. He is human enough. He is human, because Will is human, and he understands. He really, truly understands, and no one has ever understood Henry before.

But then the anger appears. The anger and the grief and the greed and there's Chrissy and Eddie, there's Bob and Max, there's Will himself.

There is Holly and eleven other children, who Henry wants to take, just as he is taking Will now. He wants to consume them, consume him until there's nothing left, until Will is just an empty husk. Not because the Mind Flayer desires it so, not anymore.

He wants them because he's Henry, and he doesn't want to be him. He doesn't want to be the boy that loved Patty Newby. He wants to be One, Brenner's superpowered, unfeeling pet. To be Vecna, the puppet master, the monster in Will's head.

But right now they are Will and Henry.

Until they aren't.

Vecna has Will underneath him, hanging from vines. He himself hangs above, and his eyes are closed, as are Will's. Disturbingly enough, they both seem at peace.

Or they would, if Will wasn't crying tears of blood again, if there wasn't a steady stream of blood coming out of his nose.

The battle happens in a flash. One moment Will and Vecna are connected, the next El is hijacking them, sending Vecna flying, pulling Will into her with her mind. Mike is the one to catch him, hold him, and it's not long before Joyce is there. Jonathan passes them with a murderous look in his eye, the anger never having left him.

Will opens his eyes, which are green, green like the grass on the day they met, and full of blood. He cries with it, fast droplets down his cheeks.

He looks at Mike and swallows, and his glassy eyes slowly focus—and then they sharpen, his fist gripping Mike's shirt.

"Kill him," he says, and in this moment Mike wants nothing but to kiss him, kiss him until they forget all of this ever happened. "He won't stop. We need to kill him."

And so they do.

When Will taps back into Vecna's powers this time, he seems to be fully in control despite being at the heart of the hive mind. In general, Will seems changed; he walks with confidence, he seems to know exactly what Vecna's next move will be, and he doesn't hesitate to hurt him. Mike knows without a doubt that something happened while they were gone, something big, but there's no way to address it now.

Vecna dies, and then they flee.

The military gets them, and El is lost to them. Kali is shot. No one calls for Eleven harder than Will does, and Mike tries to get to her, he does… but then El disappears.

Not with the Upside Down and the Abyss. El disappears like a vision, like she was never there in the first place, and somehow, Mike knows.

Will also knows, because he turns to look at him. They understand at the same time.

Somehow, she did it. She got away.

And it hurts, for a rough moment, as the military releases them in confusion and Will falls into his arms, hugging him, sobbing and sobbing endlessly. Mike cries, as well. It hurts so much for such a long, blinding moment, because Eleven got away and they will never see her again.

And it's over, just like that.

The rest of their lives begins.

It takes weeks for the military to release them.

Mike thinks it's absolutely ridiculous that it takes them so long, but in the end they have no choice, and Hopper shuts him up by reminding him that they simply could've thrown them all in prison.

The media cover-up would simply not be worth the effort, not when there's no trace of Henry or Eleven or even Kali. They knew about Will, from records resulting from MAC-Z, but after Will gave them a willing blood sample to check, the results were clear:

Without Henry, there simply wasn't such a thing as superpowers. Will's were just an extension of him, nothing more, nothing innate as Mike claimed.

At least that's what the government believes now. Will does not elaborate, and Mike doesn't need him to.

With his house destroyed, Mike and Will have no choice but to crash in the Squawk's basement for their first night of freedom. They're not completely alone in the building, of course, but they are the only ones that decided to camp out together, so there is no one else around. If there were, he doubts they'd be in the mood to talk.

Mike is, though. Which is why he plops himself down next to Will, their sleeping bags pushed together. Will had his eyes closed, but he opened them when he felt Mike scoot over, a little smile already dusting his lips.

"Hey," Mike tries, casual, light-hearted. He feels a little pathetic with it. "So… how are you feeling?"

Will raises his eyebrows, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he sighs. "Is it… is it weird that I feel kind of empty?"

Mike thinks about it. "I don't think so. We went through a lot. But that's not what you mean, is it?"

"No," Will confirms, his smile deepening, and then suddenly it vanishes, a serious look clouding his eyes. "I don't want you to freak out or… to think I'm weird or evil or whatever."

"Wow," Mike snorts. "That's such an evil way of putting that."

"Shut up," Will chuckles, and Mike is glad, so glad, that the smile is back on his lips. Hell, he's glad he can still make Will smile at all. "It's just… it's hard to describe. But when Henry took me, I felt almost… whole."

Mike feels his eyebrows raise. "Whole?"

"Complete. Fulfilled," Will hesitates then, shivering slightly. "But at the same time, I felt invaded. He was… Mike, he was everywhere. I felt him under my skin. It was… I think I'm going to have nightmares for the rest of my life. And yet it's so… quiet, up here. He's really gone."

"I won't lie to you. That is a little weird," Mike says, but before Will can get embarrassed about it, he reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing tight. Secretly, or rather quietly, he's horrified by Will's descriptions of what Vecna did to him. There's a lump in his throat, a nausea in his belly just at the thought of it, but that's not what Will needs right now. And call him crazy, but Mike has always been pretty good at telling what Will needs without having to break into his brain to do so. "But you've had him in your head for years now. Even when he was dormant, when the gate was closed, when you were out of Hawkins, he was… kind of there, wasn't he? So that's different. That's scary. What he did to you is scarier. But that's something that you felt was part of you that's gone. And I can't even start to imagine what that must feel like."

"It's like my head is lighter," Will provides, squeezing back at Mike's hand. He stares at where they're joined with soft eyes, and Mike truly believes his words. "Like I can think clearly, and it's—it's incredible. For a moment there I was him, I… everything he touched, I touched back. I thought he could be saved, even, because he was once like you and me. He even had someone he loved."

Mike feels himself soften, his shoulders dropping. "Really?"

"Really," Will nods, and his eyes are watering. "Patty Newby. Can you believe that? I never knew Bob had a sister. And she—she was so bright. She was amazing. She tried to help him, but she—in the end, she couldn't. At some point, I really begged him to stop. To remember. To let go. I didn't care how much he hurt me, how much of me he took, if I could get him to stop. But he couldn't, and that… that made me realize a few things."

"What things?" Mike leans closer, letting their shoulders brush. He himself has had a few revelations over the last few weeks—or, to be honest, over the last two years.

"I'm tired of being afraid," Will all but whispers, bumping his elbow into Mike's. Their eyes meet, tired and watery, but on Will's lips is the fondest smile. "I've been tired of it for a while, but this is different. This is harder than turning myself over to him, somehow. Maybe because I can't feel you the way I felt him, so I don't know how you're going to react."

Mike's heart climbs up his throat, and his words come out strangled: "React to what?"

"I don't like girls," Will rushes out, a single breath. They're alone, but Will still looks around as if there was anyone else to hear it. "And I was going to confess all of this before we left to go after Henry, but I couldn't. So I'm telling you now. You were right that summer, Mike, because I don't like girls. You were right, and I hated that—"

"Wait, wait—you don't have to—I mean, I was an asshole!" Mike exclaims, a little panicked, letting out a bit of a helpless laugh while shaking his head. Will chuckles with him, and he's glad, so glad, that this is happening right now. He doesn't know if he would've had the courage to ever bring this up otherwise "I biked all the way to your house to apologize but I don't think I ever did. So I'm sorry for that, I—it was complicated. It's still complicated. But I don't want to live with any regrets anymore."

"That makes two of us," Will lets out a long sigh. A tear slips down his cheek, free of blood, and Mike rushes to wipe it away with his free hand. He cups Will's face then, not pulling away, watching him blush and stumble over his next words. "And, uh, that's—because of that, I wanted to tell you that I, well. That painting I gave you—"

"I know it wasn't from El," Mike cuts him off, watching Will's eyes widen almost comically. Before he can get the wrong idea, Mike continues: "When we broke up, officially, like a year ago… it's because I brought it up. And she had no idea what it was or what it meant. And I understood then that I got it all wrong and I felt like such an asshole, Will. I've been such an asshole to you for so long, so let me just—this time, I'm going to tell you something. You don't have to do this anymore. You've said enough. You've done it too many times already."

Will stares at him, mouth gaped open. "Mike?"

"I like boys," Mike says, not nearly as softly as Will had confessed. And now that that's out, that he's said it out loud for the first time, the rest washes over him, out like a fountain. "I like boys, but most importantly—I like you. So much. So much it scared me for the longest time. And it took me so long to understand and even longer to accept it but I'm telling you now because I know what it's like to lose you, I've lost you so many times now and I think if I lost you again I would—I would do something drastic. I almost bit El's head off when Vecna took you and she said to just follow the plan. The first time when you were gone I was so—god, Will, I don't want to live without you. But I pushed you away, too, so far away, I could never commit and I don't know if this is making any sense anymore but you need to know that it's always been you."

Mike pauses here to take a deep breath, having difficulty meeting Will's baffled face, his dumbstruck eyes. Then he continues:

"Even when you thought I hated you, when I rejected you, when I was an ass to you, all those moments, I never stopped wanting you," Mike feels himself flushing, but he keeps going. "It's always been you. Always. I don't—I don't think I deserve you, but just… no regrets. I can't regret any of this, not when it's led me back to you like it was always meant to be."

Out of breath and out of words, Mike waits for Will's reaction. He feels a hand touching his neck, watches as Will cries, lips wobbling.

"Mike," he laughs through a soft sob, shaking his head, and then he's pulling Mike in. "Mike, you idiot."

And then they're kissing.

They're kissing and kissing for so many moments, so many minutes. Will tastes like the toothpaste they both used before bed, he smells like Mike's shampoo that they got from his wrecked house. He smells like Joyce's preferred laundry detergent and under Mike's greedy hands, he is pliant and willing and eager.

He isn't cold. Will is a fucking live wire, hot as a furnace, pure energy at his fingertips; he is a summer afternoon, he is a rainstorm, he is a sorcerer, making magic out of nothing but hopes and dreams, deep from his heart.

They fall against their sleeping bags and maybe they should stop, maybe they should slow down, but Mike doesn't care. He'll go to heaven or hell for Will, over and over and over again, whenever he asks of him.

For a blind moment, Mike suddenly understands Henry. Not Vecna, but Henry, the man under the monster. He, too, wants to be inside Will, under his skin, be all he thinks and breathes and feels. He too wants to forget where he begins and Will ends. He too wants to make a world out of this.

But he isn't Henry. They're not Will and Henry.

They're Mike and Will, the way it has always been, the way it was long before Henry had ever set his eyes on Will. The way it'll always be.

He was here first, and he's here now, and as he swallows down the sweet moans parting from Will's lips, as he sinks into his hot embrace while taking what's so willingly given, Mike thinks that Henry was such a fool.

Will was already whole. He never needed Henry the way Henry needed him. And Mike—Mike is just the garnish, the mirror, reflecting Will's brilliance back onto him.

He wouldn't have it any other way.