Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

MARCH 22ND, 1986

Will

The mornings in California always start colder than they end. It’s not like the cold in Hawkins, where the wind whips across your face harshly and stings against your lips. The cold in California is gentler, 60 degrees at the lowest, where you can still see the dew clinging to blades of grass in the lawn. It gets warm too, which Will adores. Ever since he was 12, summer heat has felt like a tight hug rather than an oppressive weight. It keeps him grounded, makes him feel less like he’s floating through time, unsure whether what he was seeing or feeling was reality. It’s always warm, in Lenora. It’s one of the things he loves about it.

He wonders if his friends feel the same. If the cold reminds Dustin, Lucas and Mike of the night Will went missing. If it unsettles them too. The adrupt reintroduction of hawkins back into wills life feels like a parasite returning to his body. everything he went through, every feeling he had in that small town comes bubbling uo again, and this time, it wont stay pushed down. It’s not Mike’s fault, really. It’s just- will has always associated Mike with safety. With comfort and care and love. But these are things he has only felt in Hawkins and every time he thinks about Hawkins, Will’s heart returns to Mike. The two are intertwined to the point where will isn’t sure where one starts and the other ends. Like cold water splashing down his neck, he feels suddenly as though the past few months have been a cruel escape from reality. A fairytale world he’s been living in that has an expiration date stamped on the side. It hits him, then, that what he experienced in Hawkins will never leave him. He cannot forget, and he cannot run from it.

The realization hits Will in the chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs. It was of course, foolish to hope for such a thing. foolish to hope that one day he could leave Hawkins and his childhood there behind. He hates to admit it, but part of him hoped he could pick and choose what to keep. Sort through the good and the bad and take what he wanted. keep his friends, keep memories of comfort and laughter, keep castle byers and D&D and mike. leave behind aching sobs, bruises, demogorgans, hatred, and fear.

Sleeping under the same roof again, like so many of the sleepovers the used to have before will moved, feels exactly like it did in Hawkins. with it, come the nightmares. they’re not awful, per se, he certainly doesn’t jolt awake in the middle of the night. instead, theyre fuzzy, closer to a feeling than a tangible image. Lawn sprinklers, a cold november night, heart beating beneath his fingertips, a scream. They leave him feeling wary, and eerie as though he never truly left Hawkins at all.

Thi wariness doesnt leave him. Instead, it follows him wherever he goes, the creeping sensation reminding him distinctly of Hawkins. It feels like the hairs on his arms were constantly standing up, like goosebumps traveling across his body and his neck. If Will wasn’t in California, he knows this would send him into panic, because he only ever gets that feeling when his presence is near. His only comfort is the sheer amount of miles between there and here. It doesn’t make any sense for anything from the Upside Down to hunt him down all the way to the west coast. So, if this pit of dread that opened up in his stomach isn’t a cause of the upside down, then there’s only one thing it could be related to. One person, really.

Michael Wheeler. Mike has been an anomaly in Will’s life for as long as he can remember. Not in a bad sense, but as an enigma that each time Will believes he has figured out turns and he comes to the realization that perhaps he never knew Mike at all. It sounds morbid, but it’s the only way he can explain it. Deep down, past all of the things Will doesn’t like to talk about, past his trauma, his fears, past all of that, lies his feelings for Mike. Deep down, he thinks he’s always known that they were just different. The way his heart would stop racing as long as Mike was near, the way his eyes were drawn to the curve of his jaw, or the way Mike’s eyes got bigger when he was listening to someone. His infatuation with the look on Mike’s face when he was completely at peace, surrounded by the people he loved. It was a rare sight to see, after everything they’d been through. Mike’s face now is frequently filled with anger or disinterest.

Maybe it wasn’t when he was still in Hawkins. But while he’s in California it’s all Will sees as he sits across from him eating breakfast. El requested to visit the roller rink today, so they’re up earlier than usual. Will shovels the rest of his eggs into his mouth, dreading the day that awaits him. After their awkward encounter at the airport, Will can’t imagine what an entire day would be like. Especially because he knows he’ll be subjected to third wheeling. Placing his finished plate in the sink, he follows El, Mike, and Jonathan out the door and closes it behind him. As the lock clicks into place, Will feels this nagging in his head, like he forgot to do something but can’t remember what exactly it was.

It will probably be something stupid, like a forgotten homework assignment. It’s happened more times than Will can count, at this point, and he pays it no mind. He instead focuses on his friends in front of him. In the Surfer Boy pizza van, Will sits in the back seat, his head tucked against the window. The convenience stores and passing cars are more interesting than the uncomfortable feeling he gets seeing Mike and El holding hands. When they pull into the parking lot, they eagerly hop out of the van, Will trailing behind. Even if this becomes third wheeling, he decides, he’s still going to make the most of it and enjoy himself.

“Hey, Will!” Jonathan calls out, interrupting his thoughts, “We’ll be back at six, okay? Have fun,” Will smiles, despite having a sinking feeling that Jonathan is going through the same thought process. The roller rink isn’t exactly the first place he’d think of to spend time with his maybe-former-best-friend who he hasn’t had a proper conversation with since he moved a year ago.

Shouldering through the door, he follows Mike and El as they beeline for the skate rentals. Taking in the colorful neon lights and loud music, Will looks around at the large crowd of teens, wobbling around on skates and laughing at the arcade games. He’s not really tuning in to Mike and El’s conversation, until one thing sticks out to him, a reply to one of Mike’s questions.

“Will does not, but I go to parties here”. Will’s eyebrows scrunch. That doesn’t make any sense, El’s been to this rink the same amount Will has - only once prior to their visit with Mike. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but then again, they did spend most of their time in the arcade because it was around the time when they first moved to Lenora, and he had missed the local arcade in Hawkins. He tries to protest, a short “No, we-” leaving his mouth that goes unheard, because El keeps talking and puts her hand on Mike’s shoulder, guiding him away. Will rolls his eyes at her antics, though they’re typical behavior for her when Mike is around. They find an open bench beside the rink and sit down to put their skates on. Will begins undoing the laces on his when El stops Mike.

“I forgot, you need socks.” She starts, motioning to Mike’s out of place flip flops. “Oh, shit.”

“They sell them at the counter” He offers at the sight of Mike’s confusion. The other boy wanders off with a nod, giving Will an opportunity to finally ask El why she didn’t tell Mike about how life in Lenora has actually been treating her. “How’d you forget about the socks? If you come here all the time?”

“I don’t know, I just forgot” She still won’t admit it. What is there to gain from lying to Mike? He knows why she hasn’t told his mom, because saying “I’m fine” is easier than saying “it feels like the entire world is against me and I don’t know if that feeling will ever go away”. He understands that. And he knows that Mike would never look down at her for feeling that way, either. “Right. Why do you keep lying? Why do you keep lying to Mike?”

“I’m not lying”

“You’re not?” Will scoffs, leaning back. “So what, you’re friends with Angela and Stacy and you come to parties here?

“I have been to a party here, though”

“For Mom’s work! That's not what you implied” He turns away from her, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He didn’t mean to be so accusatory, but the though of lying to Mike for no good reason didn’t sit right with him. It’s hypocritical of him, too, and that makes him feel even worse. “I just, I don’t think Mike’s going to like that you’re lying to him. And he doesn’t deserve that. When he finds out, he’s gonna be mad.” His words hang in the air, and he can see it in El’s eyes that she’s working out the outcome, the consequences of her actions. Mike returns before she can say anything, but Will didn’t really expect a response. He finishes untying his skates and slips them on, trying not to think about how both him and El’s relationship with Mike feels like it’s hanging together by a thread. It’s not supposed to be this way, Will thinks. It can’t be.

When they finally step onto the rink, he finds his balance after a few steps. Mike on the other hand, is wobbling like a deer. He can’t stop going back and forth between the two of them, at El’s saccharine happiness and excitement and at Mike’s clear uncertainty. He hears Mike laugh, “I’m so bad at this, I’m like Bambi on ice”, and can’t help the way a small smile forms at the joke. As they skate, El and Mike get further and further away from him, giggling in their own little world. With a sinking feeling, Will has a fleeting wish that it was him skating with Mike, being able to be close with him and not think of the summer, and their fight in the Wheeler’s garage. After so many years, he has a name for the ache in his chest that surfaces each time he has these thoughts. Longing. Longing for the closeness that used to exist between him and Mike, how it felt to be known, and how it felt to know someone so deeply and intrinsically. To see someone else receive the closeness that Will so badly desires and having to watch it unfold in front of his eyes felt like a cruel joke from the universe. Dangling his desires right in front of him, but reserved to the fact that he can never have them. Resigned in how he must watch from afar.

He stays there, circling in his own thoughts as he completes lap after lap around the rink, too busy with the weight of his emotions that it feels too heavy to look for Mike and El right now. When he feels he’s had enough, his legs just starting to burn from exertion, Will exits the rink and searches for the happy couple. He finds them at a booth sipping on milkshakes. He listens to their banter halfheartedly, until he hears a familiar voice and his stomach drops.

“Where oh where have you been hiding this handsome thing?” Angela’s voice is dripping with insincerity, it curls around each syllable and each word is meant to make a mockery of El.

“Angela, this- this is Mike, my boyfriend” El responds timidly. She makes eye contact with him in between glances, her eye’s widened in fear.

“Angela. Pleasure”

“Heard a lot about you. It’s really cool to meet some of Jane’s friends” Will really hoped that Mike wouldn’t mention anything, but after today it’s clear he had no idea the kind of effect these words might have on Angela and her friends.

“Friends? Yeah, super cool! Come on friend, let’s skate” El protests, but it falls on deaf ears as Angela drags her out of the booth and onto the rink. He can feel the fear radiating off of her in waves, and he stands to immediately get on his feet. Nervousness bubbles up in his chest, because this he recognizes all too well. The fear, the bullying, the judgmental stares and piercing words. It’s an experience he wouldn’t wish on anybody, especially not El. His eyes follow her onto the rink, still trapped in Angela’s grasp when he notices the camera held by one of Angela’s friends.

“Oh no”. He breathes, and his words alert Mike who clamors to his feet, “What?” He whips his neck towards the other boy, doing a double take when he notices the expression on his face. Mike’s eyebrows are scrunched down the middle in worry. It’s not the best time, but Will knows Mike deserves to know. Especially when El is about to be very likely humiliated in front of the entire rink. “El, she hasn’t been telling you everything”.

“What are you talking about?” Will has to take a step back at how the words are steeped in anger. It’s not that Mike’s angry, he has no issue with that. Quite frankly, it’s justifiable. Mike has always emphasized their “friends don’t like” rule, and this situation is not exempt from it. He’s more put off by the fact that Mike’s first reaction is to make Will feel like the liar instead of listening to what he has to say. As though the thought of El lying to him is impossible, as though El is this innocent and pure being incapable of lying. “She’s lying to you!”

“Bullshit!” It happens again, and Will doesn’t understand what’s not getting through to him. “No, listen to me! She’s having problems here” He doesn’t elaborate, falling too easily back into his habit of trusting Mike to read between the lines. After he escaped the Upside Down, it became almost like their own secrete language. They didn’t need words to communicate, able to tell what the other was feeling with merely a look or a phrase that seemed nonsensical to an outsider but to them was just enough.

“Problems? Okay, what kind of problems?” Preoccupied with El, Will ignores the way his heart aches at Mike’s words. It seems his words are lost in translation, and he desperately tries not to think of the last time he and Mike struggled to understand each other.

He turns his attention back to El, when suddenly the remaining contents of her own milkshake are dumped onto her head and splattered across her dress.

Mike

Mike can see El’s tears glistening in the light as they slip down her cheeks, and that’s all it takes for him to start pushing through the crowd of people to get to her. He barely makes his way through by the time El hauls herself up and flees the rink, disappearing behind the remaining crowd. Once Mike exits the rink, Will is by his side again. Together, they search for El, moving through the arcade, through the booths, yet coming up empty handed each time. When Will suggests looking for her in the bathroom, he doesn’t hesitate to burst into the girl’s bathroom, where he’s met with shrieks, unfamiliar voices, and most importantly, no sign of El. He exists the bathroom as quickly as he entered, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Will must see it on his face, confirming what they already know, “Not there?”

“No.” But the words come out sharp, anger bleeding through his teeth. “She should’ve told me she was having trouble”

“I didn’t know they were going to be here” Will placates, but it does nothing to quell the emotions that threaten to spill out.

“You knew she was having trouble for a year and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know she was lying to you!”

“Which is why you were being a douche all day?” It’s not the best timing, Mike admits, but now that he’s angry it seems that all of the thoughts that have been rattling around in his head all must force their way out. What’s been bothering him the most is this offhanded “crush” Will seems to be making a painting for. He doesn’t know why it makes him so uncomfortable, the idea of Will having a crush. That’s a lie, he does know why. Because he knows that if Will got a girlfriend, then he really wouldn’t spend any time with Mike. He saw it when Lucas and Max got together, and even though he didn’t want to at first, he too got sucked into the appeal of spending all his time with El. He doesn’t want to lose Will, too.

“What? I wasn’t being a douche” The genuine confusion plastered across the other boys face makes Mike pause for a moment. Then, what was all that for? Why did Will spend the whole day expressing how he so clearly didn’t want to be there? “You were. You were rolling your eyes, moping, you were barely talking. You basically sabotaged the whole day”

“She was lying to you, Mike. Straight to your face ever since you got here. And I’ve been a total third wheel this whole day. It’s been miserable. So sorry if I wasn’t smiling”. A third wheel? This whole time, he thought Will wanted to leave because he’d rather spend time with his crush instead of Mike, not that he was feeling left out. He made Will feel miserable, and the thought makes him want to crawl back to the bathrooms so he can cry. He never- he never meant to make Will feel so awful. “Miserable?”

“Yeah, abysmal. Well? What about us?” The conversation keeps flipping from topic to topic and he’s struggling to keep up. The last thing he wants to do is talk about the boulder weighing on his chest, even though it takes up so much room he just- he can’t talk about it. He won’t. “What?”

“You’re mad that I didn’t talk to you? You’ve made it super clear that you’re not interested in anything I have to say.” The words tumble out of Will so quickly Mike knows they’ve been weighing on the other boy. Will has to know, he has to know that he’s wrong. He never wants Will to ever feel as though Mike doesn’t care about him, and the words try to claw their way out of Mike’s throat but his efforts are futile.

“That’s not true” Instead, the words come out wrong. How ironic is that? The supposed storyteller getting tripped up and turned around. Or maybe it’s the disappointing fate he needs to come to terms with, forced to keep certain words and certain stories. To never let them be heard by anyone but himself.

“You’ve called maybe a couple times. It’s been a year, Mike. Meanwhile, El has a book of letters from you at this point” The hurt evident in Will’s voice tugs at Mike’s heart. Knowing that he’s the cause of Will’s pain hurts even more. No matter what he does, it’s like he always manages to ruin everything he touches. Mike’s trying, why can’t Will see that? Why can’t Will see him? He’s trying to do the right thing but Will makes it so, so difficult. There’s no explanation that doesn’t make him look completely insane. There’s nothing normal about telling your friend how you spent hours upon hours listening to a dial tone just for the line to be busy day after day, and that the sheer idea of calling him was all that he looked forward to, all that he thought of when he woke up and went to sleep. There’s nothing normal about the stack of unsent letters Mike wrote until his hand cramped, filled to the brim with words pulled directly from his heart. They were nothing compared to what he sent to El, and that was exactly why they were far from normal letters.

“That’s because she’s my girlfriend, Will” This is how it’s supposed to be, he doesn’t add. It’s not- it’s not right to prioritize one of his friends over his girlfriend.

“And us?” Mike’s eyes flit across Will’s face. This used to be his scripture, written in a lost language that only he could read and recited aloud by memory. Now, Will’s expression is guarded, as though he’s scared of what answers he might find by asking. It’s a sickening realization Mike comes to, that the lost language has slowly but surely become lost to him, too.

“We’re friends. We’re friends” Mike feels nauseous.

“We used to be best friends” Will argues, and while the statement is true, all Mike can think of is the meaning behind it. Because when they were best friends, actually, truly best friends, it was before all of these expectations, before this pressure was placed on them, before responsibility. Before, no one really looked twice at their closeness, and he wishes he could have it back before it became too suffocating. He thought pushing Will away and giving them some space would be the answer that after everything that was all they needed in order for things to feel normal again. All it did was show him that Will didn’t need him anymore, proved true with the absence of phone calls and the trickling decline of letters that dried up on a random afternoon.

“Then maybe you should’ve reached out more, I don’t know. But why is this on me? Why.. why am I the bad guy?” The words are stupid, and petty, riddled with the guilt that consumes him, desperate for a way to be expelled from his body.

“Let’s just find her, okay?” He stares at Will again, searching his eyes for an answer, or just something he can grasp onto. Time and time again, he finds nothing, and this time is no different. With a sigh, he turns back around and tries to search for El and to determinedly not think about how the conversation between Will made him feel like the other boy is slipping through his fingers with each passing day. After a moment, he feels rather than sees Will trail behind him, weaving through kids and booths until a scream pierces the air.

He glances at Will quickly, just to make sure the other boy is thinking what he’s thinking and finds him already turned to the growing crowd in the direction of the scream. They both know that that’s where they will find El.

She’s standing over someone on the ground, and as they push their way closer he realizes it’s Angela, blood pouring down her face and mixing with her tears. His eyes widen when he looks back at El and sees the roller skate clutched in her hand. “What did you do,” he whispers, words drowned out by the sirens of an ambulance and the loud clatter of the doors to the rink being pushed open. He’s seen El get violent before, sure, but it was always with her powers and never by herself. Moving a truck with your mind isn’t the same as hitting a girl with a roller skate, and there’s no time to mask the look of horror on his face. The shock that, when pushed enough, El immediately resorted to using violence. He doesn’t know about what her life was like before him, but then again, does he even really know her? Certainly not enough if she’s been lying to him for months, in letters and to his face without flinching. As EMT’s rush to Angela, helping stop the bleeding, El drops the skate and moves to sit down at one of the vacated booths. A few people ask what happened, but El doesn’t answer. They instead focus on Angela, who’s moved into the back of the ambulance. The sound of the doors shutting seems to break El out of whatever trance she was in, joining him and Will where they stand. Together, they watch as the ambulance pulls out of the parking lot. There’s not a single adult in the room, the teens that had been eagerly watching the events slowly filing out and continuing their activities. With no adults, there’s no one to stop them from leaving the rink as soon as they see the bright yellow van approaching.

He enters the van first, yanking open the door and practically collapsing into the seat. Will and El follow in silence, only broken by the conversation between Jonathan and Argyle. The van smells like weed, and faintly like cigarettes, but he can’t find it him to care. Resting his head against the window, he tunes out of the conversation, out of the van entirely, and thinks. It’s all he seems good for anyway, now. Does he even really know El? Does he? The words keep circling in his head, pressing against the edges until it hurts. He tries to approach it using the only reference he has, his friendships. Little things, he’s picked up over the years. How Lucas always wraps up sweets or snacks from their hangouts and tucks them away to share with Erica. How Dustin collects small keepsakes for his mother, arcade tickets or photographs because she likes having a physical reminder of her son, of the things he likes to fill his life with. How Will would own comics only of his favorite characters because he preferred to read the full stories with Mike. Whenever he tries to think of her own hobbies, her own pastimes, the things she liked, he can’t get past her favorite type of music. It’s hardly enough to go by, and with a sinking realization he begins to understand. Mike doesn’t know El, and he never really let himself know her. In a strange way, not letting himself know her allowed him to keep her as this mysterious girl who captivated him that day in the woods. Even as he got older, and his life started changing too rapidly for his comfort, not knowing meant that it could stay the same, that mystery, that interest. He brought El to each of the Party’s hangouts, but even outside of that, he forced her to do the things he wanted, when he wanted them. It wasn’t pouring into their flourishing relationship, it was controlling, and selfish. But if anything, the fault is on both him and El. Just because he doesn’t know her the way that he knows his other friends doesn’t mean he deserves to be lied to. It almost feels like she’s thrown everything he values back in his face. Friends don’t lie, but if El has been lying to him about her experiences in Lenora, what else has she been lying about?

Coming back to himself, as the van pulls into the driveway he knows he needs to talk to El.

When they enter the house, they’re met with the sizzling sounds of food cooking on the stove top and when Mike turns the corner expecting Joyce, he finds man standing in the kitchen instead. “Well! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. You kids like risotto?”. Turning around, they’re met with Murray, an apron tied around his waist. Looking between El and Will, they seem just as confused as he is. Regardless, they help set the table for dinner, gathering plates and silverware, just finishing by the time Murray brings the food over. As they eat, he contemplates the best way to bring up the conversation with El, who sits silently to his left. She picks at her food and stares off into the distance, probably still reeling from the events at the roller rink. He could try and talk to her before they go to bed, but he doesn’t want to risk someone hearing them or interrupting-

“You’re going to Alaska?” The words snap Mike out of his thoughts and back to the dinner table, turning his attention to Joyce. “Crazy, right?” Murray adds, and Joyce continues “That’s where they’re based, the Britannicas. Brian and Joan Britannica. So, while I’m gone, this means that Jonathan, you’re going to have to take charge”

“What? You’re going to Alaska? What’s going on in Alaska?” Jonathan, he’s come to find out during his time in Lenora, is always out of it. Even underneath the cologne he puts on, the smell of weed clings to him. He’s surprised Joyce hasn’t recognized it, but then again, she’s been so busy it’s hard to spend time focusing on something subtle like that. He doesn’t blame them, after everything they’ve been through everyone just wants something normal. Something solid.

“Jonathan, what’s wrong with you?” Joyce questions, looking around at the table when no one gives her an answer. “We just had a super stressful day.” Jonathan mumbles, and he thinks that’s the end of it until Argyle starts, “Yeah, this girl got shmacked in the head today at the roller rink” The mention of the roller rink causes El to sit up slightly, shifting forward in her chair. It’s evident she doesn’t want it brought up in front of Joyce, but Argyle keeps going, “Yeah, one of those vicious skate attacks”

“A skate attack?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t like an ice skate it was a plastic skate. Rubber? Or a rubber skate.”

“But she looked like she’s gonna be fine.” Argyle finishes, returning his focus to the food in front of him. “She didn’t look fine” His voices echoes in the quiet atmosphere of the dinning room, followed only by the harsh scrape of El’s chair as she pushed it back and flees to her room. The sound warps in his ears, and for a moment, he wonders if he said anything at all. He didn’t intend for the words to come out that critical but it’s like he never says the right thing. He longs for his childhood, in that moment, when he always had the right words to make things better. Now, the words stay buried on his tongue and all he does is long for things he cannot have.

He picks at the remainder of his meal, occasionally glancing at El’s abandoned plate. Even though it’s the truth, Angela really didn’t look fine, doubt begins to creep in. Maybe he shouldn’t have opened his mouth in the first place, but when his emotions get high like that it’s like he no longer has any filter. And each time, his words end up getting someone hurt.

That night, he tosses and turns on the couch, unable to fall asleep when his thoughts are running a mile a minute. He knows it’s not right, to lash out at everyone around him just because he’s angry or hurting, he doesn’t need Hopper to spell it out for him. But it’s more than than that. Every time he tries to talk about it, this heaving weight on his chest, the words get stuck. Every time he tries to push them out, nothing comes out. He’s so full of words, all the time. Words are his lifeline, bleeding across everything he touches from D&D campaigns, to school assignments he does extra work for, to the stupid letters he never sent Will. There has to be something wrong with him. It’s the only logical conclusion. Dustin, Lucas, Will- they don’t have any issues with being emotional or vulnerable. They’ve opened up plenty of times, at sleepovers during the cover of darkness they’ve discussed their fears, hope for the future, their nightmares. He can’t even count the number of times he and Will have talked (rather, Will admitted) about how awful being possessed was, how out of touch with reality he felt and how terrifying that was. Mike rolls onto his side, arms crossed and with his hands on his shoulders. Why can’t he just be normal? Why can’t he talk about his feelings like his friends can? What is so wrong with him that each time he tries, someone gets hurt? At this point, everyone would be better off if he simply never spoke again. That way, no one would get hurt, and Mike won’t ever burden somebody else with his too heavy emotions.

MARCH 23RD 1986

The next morning, he sits silently at breakfast. He retreats to his own thoughts, away from the table and the house, thinking about how he can talk to El. He should’ve done it last night before they went to bed, but maybe having more time to process everything would make the conversation easier.

“Hey, El?” He knocks on her door, nervousness creeping in when he doesn’t hear any response, “I, um, made you some Eggos but they’re getting kinda cold”. Taking a deep breath, he pushes her door open the rest of the way and steps into El’s room. As he sets the plate on her desk, he peeks at the object she has in her hands. Instantly, he recognizes it has a smaller version of the cabin she used to live in with Hopper. “Hey, that looks really cool! Hop’s cabin, right?” He tries, but yet again he’s met with silence. If El’s still mad, then there’s no point in beating around the bush. “So, um, are we just going to ignore it?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, just maybe like, about yesterday or everything.” The everything being the lying and what he said at the dinner table. Sometimes (more like all the time) whenever he gets angry or sad, he’ll try and get a rise out of everyone around him, picks fights, gets into arguments. To him, it’s the only way he can ever get people to tell him how they really feel about him. His parents will always yell back at him, screaming about how awful he is.

His snide comment about Angela wasn’t to guilt El, it was to get her mad enough so that she would tell him why she lied to him. It’s stupid logic, Mike knows, but he doesn’t know how to stop.

“There’s nothing to say” But there is, he wants to protest. There’s so much they haven’t said, left to wither in the empty space between them.

“Yeah, I guess, um, I guess I’m just a little, sorry, I’m just confused. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on here? Look, you know I’m not exactly Mr. Popularity back home. You’ve seen it, I have.. a lot of experience being bullied. What I’m trying to say is, I know what it’s like. So you don’t need to feel like you have to hide that from me.” She’s seen it, he knows she has. From Troy and his friends when they first met, the names they’d call him and the party, even when Will was missing and Troy threatened to cut Dustin’s teeth out to get him to jump.

“No, you don’t know what it’s like”

“Okay. What don’t I understand?”

“I am different. I do not belong.” The words don’t help, Mike still sitting in a bout of confusion. If anything, she belongs with them, with their little rag-tag group of teens who have been shunned and bullied for being “different”, in each of their own ways. El is the final missing piece to their imperfect puzzle, and it pains Mike to know that she cannot see it. “In Lenora?”

“Anywhere.”

“No- El, you can’t believe that. I promise, you belong. With me, with Joyce and Will and Jonathan, and back home too, with Dustin, Lucas, and Max. You’ll always belong with us.”

“Everyone looks at me like.. like I’m a monster.” So that’s what this is about. It’s not that El was lying to Mike about getting bullied, she was lying to Mike about feeling like a monster. Although it’s not something he can relate to on every level, the underlying feeling is the same, he thinks. He can only think of feeling that way when he’s with his parents. When he’s talking about his interests too loudly and they look at him like there’s something about him that has to change. That isn’t right. They look at him less as if he’s there son, and more as if he’s some creature they’ve let in to feed and are waiting for it to attack. Remembering the look on their faces makes his skin crawl, and he can’t imagine what it must have felt like for El to go through that alone, only her experience was amplified. “You’re not a monster, El. They just don’t know you”

“You think I’m a monster too.”

“What?” He thought she- why would she ever suggest something like that? He’s never seen her as a monster, not when they discovered her in the woods and most definitely not now. “Yesterday. The way you looked at me… you were scared of me, Mike.”

“No, no that’s, that’s not true. I was just surprised, and a bit upset in the moment but it was more about the lying, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. It was just so crazy, and everything happened so fast, but that doesn’t change anything. I still care about you, so much.”

“Care.” El repeats, her gaze falling to the floor. “But you don’t, you don’t love me anymore?”

“Who said that I didn’t?” Playing off the way the word by itself makes him pause. It’s something he’s struggled with their entire relationship, the word love. It’s not that he doesn’t love El, because he does. More than anything. But “I love you” isn’t just a phrase, it isn’t just a bunch of words. Not to him. He can’t remember the last time he heard his parents say it to each other, and that makes it all the more special. These aren’t words you throw around just any person. They’re special, reserved for only the most important people and the most tender moments. When he was a child and imagined what his future would look like, and when he thought of these words, the first person that came to mind was Will. It’s an answer to his problems that he wishes he could ignore, because ignoring it would mean saying those words to El doesn’t feel like throwing them around the wrong person.

“You never say it”

“I say it.” But his voice is so quiet, so timid, he looks at the ground to avoid her gaze.

“You can’t even write it” She stands, reaching over to the box in front of her bed and pulls out a stack of letters he had written her while she’d been in Lenora. She pulls out the first letter, flipping through each one as she reads, “From, Mike. From, Mike, From, Mike. From, From,” the words getting stuck in her throat until she throws them onto the floor. “Eleven, you’re being ridiculous! What is this? You know what I think of you. You’re the most incredible person in the world, and you can’t let these mouth breathers get into you’re head! They’re complete nobodies, and look at you! You’re a superhero.”

“Not anymore” Before he can try and comfort her, their conversation is interrupted when they hear the doorbell ring. He can’t hear much from where they are, but the most he can pick up are voices and the name ‘Jane’. El glances at him on the bed before walking out through the door. Mike pads down the stairs after her. The voices must have belonged to the two police officers by the door, talking with Jonathan.

“Hey there, you Jane Hopper?” Once they recognize El, it’s over. There’s nothing either of them can do as the police step inside and hold El’s arms behind her back to put her in hand cuffs. She looks at him, the entire time, her eyes welled with tears. He follows her out the door, all the way inside the police car until the officers slam the door shut. El is still where she sits, completely faced forward and her expression distant. A stark contrast to his own franticness

He taps on the car window to get her attention, but she doesn’t turn.“El, please, please look at me, okay?” When she does, he tries to stop his voice from wavering. “Remember to stay calm, okay? I’m going to fix this. You’re going to be okay” the car lurches forward, and he’s cut off. He walks alongside the car, beginning to jog once it picks up speed. His eyes stay on El’s the entire time, until his last words to her are “Just.. trust me, I’m going to get you out.” Mike watches the police car drive further and further down the street, until it becomes a speck in the distance. All he’s ever wanted was to keep his friends safe. When Will and El moved to Lenora, his biggest fear was that they’d be too far out of his reach. Not only could he not protect them, but they wouldn’t need his protecting anymore. But Mike got it wrong. It didn’t matter how far away his friends were, there was nothing he could do to keep them safe forever. It was inevitable, something too big for him alone to prevent.

Will

Walking back inside the house, Will notices the far-away look in Mike’s eyes, like he’s somewhere else even though he’s walking with them through the door and into the living room. Mike sits on the couch first, tucking his knees up to his chest. Him and Jonathan join him, and he tries to process what just happened. From El getting arrested and taken to God knows where, everything keeps happening so fast it feels like things are spiraling out of control. His thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Jonathan gets up to get the door again, and Will hopes it brings better news than before.

A group of men enter the room in suits, led by a woman. She looks too put together to be part of the police, and when she starts speaking he realizes it’s because she’s an actual government official. “I know you all are probably very confused right now, so I’ll do my best to summarize quickly. Something bad is happening in Hawkins. We don’t have the exact details, but so far, three people have been killed by an unknown force. It could be human, or it could be something… else.”

“I’m sorry, I’m having trouble understanding all of this. I mean, what exactly is going on in Hawkins? What’s doing these killings?” Mike leans forward, elbows resting on his needs as he looks at the government agents as if they put hand cuffs on El themselves.

“That’s what we’re trying to ascertain.” Its jarringly obvious that they clearly don’t want to answer any of the questions him, Mike or Jonathan might have, the conversation looking more like damage control than giving any information besides the fact that something bad is happening in Hawkins. Something bad is always happening in Hawkins. It’s just that kind of town. A tiny pinprick in the midwest, where some people were filled with hate and bigotry, where others were just trying to survive, where kids had been going missing long before Will ever did. It might not have been for the same reasons, but it happened all the same.

“Where is El, right now? Where did they take her?” Mike keeps questioning them, as if the more he asks the closer he is to receiving an actual answer. Will has to respect his commitment, even if it keeps the conversation moving in circles.

“For her safety, it’s best that you don’t know” It’s actually like talking to a brick wall, he almost wants to roll his eyes. “This is insane! This is insane!” The other boy begins pacing back and forth, a telltale sign of his distress.

“So, this training to get El’s powers back, how long is it going to take?” Jonathan steps in, and Will can see he’s trying to be patient, trying to gauge if he can pry an answer from them if he’s polite. “Could take weeks, could take months.” Same noncommittal answer.

“Months?” If there is something bad, something evil back in Hawkins, then they don’t have months. Especially not if people are dying.

“Until then, Agents Harmon and Wallace will stay with you”

The room erupts into commotion “We’re not in danger!” Jonathan protests, at the same time Mike and Will cry out “Our friends live in Hawkins- “My family lives in Hawkins”

“I will work to contain the situation until Eleven is ready. In the meantime, it’s crucial that you do not speak to anyone about this.” His mom is on a plane right now, they won’t be able to reach her for hours and now these agents forbid them from calling her at all? “I know this is difficult to understand, but you need-“

“It’s not difficult, this is impossible”

“There are factions within our government who are working directly against Eleven, who are in fact searching for her as we speak. We cannot risk contact. If they learn about any of this, it will jeopordize Eleven. And if Eleven is jeopardized, then so are your friends, and so is your family.”

“So we just have to trust that you’re the good guys? Whoever you are?

“We’re friends of Owens’. Eleven trusted us, and now we ask the same from you.” With a sigh, the woman stands up and signals to the guards around her, probably preparing to leave. Instead, she pulls an envelope from her inside coat pocket, and hands it to Mike. And then she’s gone, taking the government agents with her. The two she assigned to them, though, Harmon and Wallace, make themselves at home on the Byers’ couch.

Mike goes upstairs to read it, and he waits until he hears the creak of a door closing to follow, heading to his room. It’s his turn to pace, now, his own attempt to process the new information. The government officials said that something was killing people in Hawkins, that the murders were violent and no one had been apprehended yet. It doesn’t feel like what happened to him at all, not really. He knows about how the lab staged his death, that they used a fake body that was pulled out of the quarry. He remembers hearing about it, and according to his mom and Jonathan, it was clean. Not a scratch on him. The officials made it seem like there was a violent massacre going on. It just didn’t add up. His thoughts are interrupted when Mike walks into his room, sitting at the foot of his bed. Will’s relieved, he finally has someone he can talk to. “I mean, I don’t think they’ve thought this through. If this goes on for a month, or more than that, and people can’t get a hold of us, they’re totally going to freak out. Meanwhile, my mom’s probably going to have a panic attack. And what about Hawkins? This lady’s supposed to keep it contained, like you could contain any of this without El.” Mike doesn’t say a word, and when Will looks down he sees he other boy still clutching the letter.

“If you keep staring at that, it’s not going to change, you know?” His words seem to break Mike out of whatever trance he was in. He watches Mike stand up, ball the letter in his fist and toss it into Will’s garbage bin “Yeah, yeah, you’re right”. He sits back on the bed, his gaze falling on Will. Mike looks up at him with his eyes blown wide and his brows furrowed ever so slightly. When Will moves to sit next to Mike, he feels rather than sees the other boy’s eyes track his every movement. Their knees brush each other lightly as Will tilts his head to look at Mike, waiting expectantly for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Me and El, we had a bad fight. We never fight. I mean, we have fought before, but it was more silly arguments than an actual fight. But this one felt.. real. Serious. Like a fight you can’t come back from. Maybe I should have said something, and if I would have said that thing, then maybe she’d need me again.”

“No. Look Mike, you’re going to see her again, and whatever you didn’t say, you can say it to her then. Okay?” What he wants to say, is that Mike doesn’t have to worry about not being needed because he will always need Mike. That even when they fight, or don’t talk as frequently and say the wrong things, he will always need Mike.

“Yeah, yeah” but the smile doesn’t reach Mike’s eyes. Will has tried to say the right thing, at least, what he thought would be the right thing, but the look on Mike’s fave tells him that his words aren’t enough for Mike. It’s not Will that he needs. “She’s gonna be okay. At least she’s not in Hawkins, that’s what we should be worried about.”

“You don’t trust Owens?” Mike asks, and he has to think before he answers. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Owens, because while he couldn’t save Will, he certainly tried. He’s more worried that whoever or whatever is killing people in Hawkins, it might not be something the government can stop. It might not be something they can even help with. Meaning that they’re all by themselves, again.

“No, I don’t know. I mean, he’s been good to us and good to El, but he wasn’t able to protect me. That was you guys who saved me. That was all you guys. And I think that whatever’s waiting for us in Hawkins, it’s-“

“Gonna be up to us again” Mike finishes for him. Exactly. “It always is, isn’t it?” He laughs, Mike letting a soft smile graze his features.

“Which is why we can’t stay here” Jonathan interupts “Let’s assume these friends of Owens are telling the truth. We can’t call Hawkins without alerting the military, putting El in danger. Fine. We’ll just go to them instead.”

“Go to Hawkins?” Mike asks, aware that they don’t even have a car they can use. They don’t have gas, and they most importantly don’t have enough money “How?”

“What are you worried about? The agents? They’re half asleep watching golf right now.” Jonathan’s words don’t exactly calm him down, not when there’s still no actual way for them to get to Hawkins. “No, I mean that we don’t have a car or money.”

“Simple. We hail ourselves a ride.” Jonathan holds up a surfer boy pizza ticket, waving it around. Will grabs the ticket from his hand, leaving the room and padding down the stairs. They creak as Mike follows him downstairs until they reach the living room.“Excuse me sir?” he asks. when they don’t move, Mike tries instead. “Excuse me, sir?”

“What?”

“We’re hungry.” as Mike holds up the pizza ticket. The agents barely give any sign of life other than a nod, to which him and Mike pick up the phone and start dialing the number on the ticket. They figured to just ask for a regular pizza since Jonathan was confident Argyle would be the one to deliver it. Once the call is made, Will returns to his room and grabs his backpack. Emptying it’s contents of his schoolwork, he pulls the bottom drawer of his dresser and stuffs as many clothes as he can fit, anything he might need as they make the journey back to Hawkins. Just as he’s moving to the middle drawer, Mike appears in his doorway. “You’ve packed already?” He questions, motioning to the duffle bag in Mike’s hands. “Yeah, I mean, I never exactly unpacked.” The other boy sits at the foot of Will’s bed, letting out a sigh as the duffle bag plops onto the ground.

“Thanks, by the way” The statement makes him turn around, confused. “For what?”

“For listening to me. I imagine you don’t want to hear about my relationship issues.” Mike says, thought Will really doesn’t mind. The roller rink only bothered him because he felt so left out, so blatantly made a third wheel when they were supposed to hang out all together. “It’s okay, it must have been weighing on you that bad if you felt the need to bring it up.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the only sound the rustling of fabric as Mike tugs on the sleeves of his jacket. “Hey, also, about the last few days I-”

“You don’t have to apologize. I was being really moody for no reason. I deserved it” After their argument at the roller rink, he thought more on what happened before their argument, when Mike had tried to include him in their conversation and in response Will isolated himself because he selfishly wished it was him and Mike skating together, laughing together. He knew it was pointless to get so worked up over an impossible situation - he knew Mike didn’t like boys - but he couldn’t shake the jealousy that wormed its way into his mind.

“No! No, Will, you didn’t deserve anything. The truth is, this past year has been… weird, you know? And I mean, Max, Lucas, and Dustin, they’re great, and they mean so much to me it’s just.. it’s Hawkins, it’s not the same without you. And I think I was worrying too much about El and along the way I feel like I’ve lost you. I don’t want to lose you, Will. Does that make sense? I have no idea what’s going to happen next. But whatever does, I want us to handle it together. As a team, as best friends.” Best friends. The term stings, and even though Mike’s words meant no harm, he can’t help but focus on those words.

“Cool”

“Cool”

Once the words leave his lips, the room is silent again. Mike holds his gaze, but its not awkward or avoidant like it felt at the airport. It’s delicate, as though there’s something Will is reaching out for but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to have it. If it’s real or just a figment of his imagination. Before he can think about it for too long, the sound of tires squealing interrupts their shared moment.

“All right, you guys ready?” Jonathan bursts through the door, his own backpack thrown over his shoulder.

“Yeah” He glances at Jonathan and Mike and with their attention both focused outside the window he quickly grabs the rolled up canvas that lies on a stack of boxes next to his dresser. It’s neatly tied with string, and he slips it into the side of his backpack. The thought of leaving it behind feels like leaving a piece of his soul behind, he can’t bear to part from it. After spending so much time creating the painting, it truly does feel like baring the most vulnerable parts of himself for others to see. He doesn’t know when the right time to give it to Mike will be, and maybe there will never be a “right” time. He stands, moving closer to where Mike and Jonathan peer out the window in search of Argyle’s van. He moves his arms into the straps of the backpack when a loud bang echoes throughout the house. It’s unmistakably a gunshot.

“What the hell was that?” The group turns around sharply, in the direction they head the gunshots. “Shit” Will mumbles, as Jonathan pushes them closer to the window and walks toward the door, trying to get a better look at what’s happening. “Stay here!”

All he can see from the hallway is Agent Harmon firing gunshot after gunshot. Jonathan stumbles back, frantically turning around and grabs him and Mike by the shoulders. “Listen, we gotta go, we gotta go right now!” His brother can’t even finish, the window shattering into tiny shards of glass as a many dressed head to toe in camouflage crawls through. “Go! Run!” Mike exits first, sprinting down the hallway and past the opened front door. He and Jonathan follow, Will’s back slamming into the wall behind him once he makes it past the military shooting. Mike’s arm lays over his stomach, angling himself so that he’s in front of both Will and Jonathan, but Will can’t focus on it for too long before they’re moving again, deeper inside the house. “Get down!” They immediately do as they’re told, dropping to a crouch and huddling together behind the couch. “When I shoot, you run!” Harmon yells, Jonathan being the first to get up once the shots start firing. Jonathan pushes him and Mike forward and they sprint out, through the living room and all the way outside the house. Mike pulls one of Agent Harmon’s arms over his shoulder, and Will grabs the other, practically carrying him to the passenger side of the van. Once it stops, he yanks the side door open and the four of them quickly enter and pull the door closed behind them. Argyle turns to look at them, eyes stuck on the blood seeping from Harmon’s gunshot wound, “Is that real blood, man?”

“Drive!!” He, Mike, and Jonathan scream in unison. Argyle steps on the gas, and finally the van lurches forward. He doesn’t know how long they’re on the road for, only that blood keeps seeping out of the wound in Agent Harmon’s side, staining his hands and slowing dripping onto the floor. “Put pressure on it!” Jonathan directs as he puts his hands onto the wound. Mike and Will join him, their hands pressing down to hopefully stop the bleeding. It doesn’t stop, flowing out in rivulets and when he glances at Harmon, all he can see is how his face slowly drains of all color. Why won’t it stop? “Keep putting pressure on it!”. Frantically, he searches the corner of the van for napkins, cloth, anything he can find that they could use instead of their hands. His fingers shake as he fumbles to grab a fistful of napkins, pressing them into the wound. Blood seeps into them too, as if the napkins did nothing to help. Harmon just keeps bleeding, and his ears won’t stop ringing, and there’s so much blood everywhere-

“No, no hospital. You need.. need to warn Owens. The girl. S-she’s in danger.” The words are distorted, muted by the blood busting across the agents lips and spilling out the corners of his mouth.

“How do we find Owens?” Jonathan urges, still trying to get answers.

“Nina… Nina. Here’s the number” Harmon’s entire arm shakes with the effort of holding his hand up to them, a black pen tucked in between his fingers.

“Will, get something” Frantically, he searches on the ground for a piece of paper, anything, and his shoulder drop in relief when his fingers catch around a discarded magazine. “Right here, right here, please, write the number!”

The agent shakes and trembles all over and then he goes completely still. His eyes are unfocused, gaze turned toward somewhere in the distance.

They drive. For a long, long time, they drive.

MARCH 24TH, 1986

Mike

In a desecrated junkyard, they decide to bury Agent Harmon in an empty clearing surrounded by old cars and trucks. Sweat drips down his spine and makes his t-shirt cling to him, exhaustion settling in the more the longer they spend under the piercing sun. Jonathan finds shovels tucked beside one of the cards, and hands one to him and Will. Together, they dig into the ground, carving out a space big enough to put Agent Harmon’s body. Sand covers his body, erasing his eyes, his face, until all that’s left uncovered is his arm. Argyle paces around them, mumbling probably about how fucked up this entire situation is. “We gotta go to the cops with this, lay it all on ‘em. Your super-powered girlfriend, bad government dudes, the upside down dimension planet thing”

“No” he and Will protest simultaneously, turning to look at Argyle as he walks toward him, fisting Mike’s shirt in his hand and shaking him by the shoulders “The bad government dudes are after your super girlfriend, right? Right? Okay. So maybe the cops can help us find out where she is. They’re gonna kill her, man, and if they kill her, they’re gonna kill us. Actually, they might kill us before they kill her.” Eventually, he no longer listens to the rest of Argyle’s sentence, his thoughts too focused on that word. Kill. He knows he’s still reeling from what happened to Agent Harmon, the shootout, watching someone bleed out in front of him, all of it. But when he thinks about what this means for them, what this means for El moving forward, if they can’t get to her in time, that familiar and all-consuming fear returns. Every time he thinks that everyone is finally safe, that nothing more could possibly happen, he's proved wrong. Just when he got El back, now he feels like she’s slipping through his fingers again and this time he might lose her for good. He’s so tired of watching everyone he cares about get hurt. It’s agonizing and he hates that out of all the things changing around them, this is the one thing that stays the same. The same threat looming over their shoulders and following them like their own shadows, the threat that someone could die.

Sometimes, he feels like the whole world is changing around him, spinning and moving at the speed of light, but Mike is still, unable to move. Forced to watch everyone and everything around him change and it terrifies him. Even now, he’s still, as Argyle walks away and Jonathan continues digging.

When he looks up, he sees Will, looking at him with his hand on his shovel and just as still as Mike is. Their eyes meet, and the unreadable expression on Will’s face makes that sinking feeling in his chest worse. Would it make things better? To be able to know Will like the back of his hand again? Mike thinks so. Because at least then he could find comfort in the fact that not everything has changed completely, and that even though death has it’s sights set on their friend group Mike will always know Will.

Instead, he takes Will looking at him as a sign he needs to start doing more work. He slams his shovel into the dirt and continues digging until he can no longer see any sign that Agent Harmon was ever there. Jonathan smooths over the dirt, resting their shovels against a nearby car. With nothing left to do, he walks closer to the surfer boy van, climbing on top of a nearby car and sitting on the roof, his shoes resting on the hood. Will joins him soon after, coming to sit next to him, their knees brushing.

“You can’t let him get to you, I mean he’s stoned out of his mind. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about.” As though Will can sense his distress, his words do little to make him feel better.

“That doesn’t mean he’s wrong, though. If Harmon would’ve lived one more second, one more second then.. we would’ve known where she was. I wish I just opened up to her more, instead of letting her assume things about us and think things that weren’t true.” Now, theres a chance - a really, really big chance - that she might die believing that those things were true. That he thought she was a monster. That she would never belong. That Mike didn’t- he didn’t. Fuck.

“Sometimes I think it’s just scary to open up like that. To say how you really feel, especially to the people you care about the most. Because.. what if they don’t like the truth?” Will’s words feel like a punch to the stomach, knocking all of the air out of his chest. It feels as if Will reached into his chest and pulled from it all of the words he cannot say. It’s devastating and true, that Mike is terrified of being vulnerable. Of how others might see him once he is. Even now, he’s plagued by all of the things he doesn’t say. How do you overcome that fear? Does it ever go away? He knows they’re not answers Will can give him, yet still, the thought that Will can see him, really see him, but Mike cannot see him makes him want to turn away.

He doesn’t respond, choosing to instead look at the boy next to him. He takes in his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his scuffed sneakers, the dirt cakes into his nails. The veins in his hands and the curve of his jaw.

Mike knows he shouldn’t want, that the hope for something more that rears in his chest is ugly and diseased. But after what Will just said, Mike thinks he would understand. He wouldn’t call him wrong, or despicable. He would let him just be Mike, the way he always has.

“Argyle, what did you do with the pen Harmon gave you?” Will stands abruptly, the sun covered behind his head where Mike stares at him. He thinks it makes Will glow, the sun. It suits him well.

“The pen? Oh, that stupid thing didn’t work. Can you believe that? Carrying around a pen with no ink.”

“Guys. Why would he make a point to give us a pen that doesn’t work?” Will hops off of the hood of the car, walking towards Argyle. Mike joins him, following until he’a peering over the other boy’s shoulder with Jonathan. They watch as Will unscrews the pen and shakes it above his palm. A small, rolled up piece of paper falls, and Will tosses the remainder of the pen to the ground so he can unravel it. Scrawled in ink is a phone number.

“It’s the number he mentioned, we had it this whole time” He breathes, a small smile forming on his face. Scrambling, the four of them jog back to the surfer boy van, Argyle starting the car and exiting the junkyard. They get back on the interstate fairly quickly, and from then on, they just have to drive until they find a phone booth.

The van is filled with the quiet muffle of the radio, him and Will sitting in silence in the back seat. He’s filled with the need to thank Will again for the words he shared. There must be some irony, there. That now Will has all the words of wisdom instead of Mike. But even when they were kids, Will was much more articulate than himself. Where Mike struggled to get the words out, Will was never scared to set them free. “Hey, Will? Thank you for what you said back there. I don’t think I realized how much I needed to hear something like that. I really, really, missed you in Hawkins.” He doesn’t say anything else, but if this whole week is anything to go by, Will has to understand what he’s trying to convey. He has to. “You don’t have to thank me, Mike. What I said.. it was the truth, and I meant it. It’s okay to be scared.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. All he’s been, for the past year is the complete definition of a bad friend, and now Will is still being so caring despite how Mike’s treated him, and all he can think is how he does not deserve Will Byers.

“Argyle, slow down! Look, there’s one over there! Slow down!” The van skids to a stop in front of a run down phone booth. It’s almost laughable how out of place it is, surrounded by a freeway that stretches on for miles and the distant outline of mountains and valleys. Mike gets out of the van first, slipping a coin into the slot and picking the phone up off the receiver.

“202-968-6161” Will reads aloud for him as he punches in each number into the dial. As soon as it rings, he has the feeling that something is up. The dial tone rings, but instead of someone’s voice answering, the only sounds he’s met with are fast beeping noises. “Listen to this,” He says, holding the phone out to Will. The other boy wraps his hand around Mike’s to hold the phone closer, and he holds his breath, hoping Will can’t feel the way his pulse jumps. “What does it remind you of?” The only place he’s heard a similar sound before was when the party slept over at his house to watch- “Wargames” Will replies for him, passing the phone over to Jonathan. “Oh my god, we’re not calling a phone.”

“We’re calling a computer. Now, I don’t know if Nina is a computer like Joshua or Owens’ lab, but Harmon gave us access to it for a reason. We just need to find the computer. We find Owens and then warn him. Then we warn Eleven. I just need a hacker. And the only hacker I know lives in Utah. Salt Lake City.” Digging in the back of the van, he searches for a map he can use to find a route for them to get to Utah. He finds one, stuffed under some boxes. Unfolding it, he circles Suzie’s address, and traces it back to their location.

“Oh my god. ‘Turn around, look at what you see,’ “ Will’s hands coming to rest on top of his head. “Suzie?” Jonathan questions, looking back and forth between both him and Will.

“Exactly. Look, if we take I-15 north, we’ll get there by morning. I know it sounds insane, but Suzie saved the world last year. Maybe she can save it again.”

MARCH 25TH, 1986

He’s right, they do make it there by morning. Pulling into Suzie’s driveway, it’s Twelve minutes before 8. Mike gets out first, sliding open the door and holding it while Will follows him. Walking up the front steps, he gets to the door first, ringing the doorbell. The door creeps open slowly, but there’s no one standing there. He’s confused as to how the door opened in the first place when something launches at him, colliding with his forehead and sticking there. Tugging it off his skin, he looks downward, searching for the culprit. He finds it, when his eyes land on a disgruntled looking boy dressed only jean shorts and face paint. “Oh, hey there. Is Suzie here?” The boy only shrieks and runs further into the house. He glances behind him at Will and Jonathan, gauging their reaction. They appear just as shocked as he is, but Jonathan motions him to enter the house. Stepping inside the house is like stepping into total chaos. Two kids are sword fighting each other on top of the dining room table, a young girl is laying on the floor, arms around her neck as if someone is choking her and crying, while another boy films her performance. Jonathan crouches down next to them. “Excuse me, do you know where we could find Suzie?” The boy swiftly turns to Jonathan, clearly angered by the interruption. “Can’t you see that we’re filming?” Still with no answers, they move further into the house. Passing even more children in the kitchen, they reach the back of the house by the time they see a girl more their age. “Who the hell are you?” She asks, pulling a little boy away from the power unit. “Argyle. Uh, and you are?”

“Eden.”

“Do you know where we can find Suzie?“ Jonathan presses, as if he senses their growing impatience. “Third floor, second door on the left” But she doesn’t look at them while she says it, her focus entirely enraptured by Argyle.

“Thanks so much!”

Luckily, they don’t come across any more kids as they climb up to the third floor. Unfortunately, that applies even once they reach Suzie’s door and gently push it open. The room is completely empty, the only evidence that anyone was there at all being the open window across from them, curtains swaying in the wind. They walk towards it, him and Will craning their heads out one window while Jonathan and Argyle use the other.

That’s where they find her, on the side of the roof wearing a hard hat and converse sneakers. “Suzie!”

“Who the heck are you? And what are you doing in my room?” She holds the side of the roof as she climbs toward them and slips back through her bedroom window.

“We’re Dustin’s friends from Hawkins. We really need your help. I know it’s going to be hard to believe, but we drove here because we need you to dial in to this computer and find a location. At the location, we’ll find the Nina Project. It’s a code name for this new video game console being developed.” He starts, the lie flowing out before he can process what he’s saying. They have no physical proof that anything that he’s saying is true, at this point he’s hoping she won’t question it once Dustin is mentioned.

“It’s basically America’s answer to nintendo” He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Will’s comment making the lie seem a bit more believable.

“It’s a sixteen-bit, top secret, and the first people to find the location receive a free console! We wanted you to be a part of it because we want to gift it to Dustin for his birthday in May.” It’s all he has left to convince her but the impassive look on her face makes his heart drop. “You drove over 3000 miles for this?”

“I know it sounds insane, but it’s all true. Can you please help?”

“I would do anything for Dustybun, but I’m afraid there’s been an unfortunate development. After changing Dusty’s grade I was wracked with the most awful guilt. Father could see my soul was tourtured and he wrenched a confession out of me. After learning the truth, he confiscated my computer. He uses it for work now, and father is always working. His door is like permanently locked. I’m really sorry, truly, but it looks like you came here for nothing.” This was their only shot at reaching El and if Suzie can’t help them, it’s pretty assured that no one else can. She must see the despondent look on their eyes when suddenly she perks up, her glasses glinting in the sunlight. “Wait. There might be a way, but we’re gonna need help. Like, a lot of help.” Suzie closes the door behind her, leaving him, Will and Jonathan alone. Neither of them understand what’s going, they don’t even have the time to question it when Suzie enters the room just as quickly as she left. “Follow me, but only when I say so.” At her words, the power goes out. Suzie peeks out the door, and whatever she’s looking for she must find because she turns around and motions for them to walk forward. Together, they walk through the open door of her father’s study and crowd around the computer.

“Are you sure that’s supposed to happen?” Jonathan asks when the screen is filled with a jumbled mess of letters and numbers.

“You guys are being dramatic, I’ll just trace the IP address.”

“The what?” Will whispers , though it sounds like he said it right at the shell of Mike’s ear.

“Nevermind.”

Typing more things into the computer, eventually a screen pops up with coordinates and a location. The Nina Project is in Nevada.

“Can you print this?” He scrambles for something to write with, expecting to find one buried in the mess of papers on the desk but comes up empty-handed.

“My skills end at geolocation” But presses a button anyway, a whirring sound starting in the computer. As soon as the copy finishes printing, she yanks it off of the top and flies down the stairs, him and Will hot on her heels. Once they make it outside and clear of her parents, he turns to her. “Dustin’s right, you’re a certified genius. Thank you for your help. Seriously.”

“Anytime. Let me know what Dustin thinks of the console!” She waves as they depart the house, all the way until the van pulls out of the driveway and Suzie becomes a little speck of color in the distance. When they get back onto the highway, this time they’re headed to Nevada.

“How far is Nina from Vegas?” Will asks suddenly, rolling hills passing by behind his head.

“Vegas?” Mike only really pays attention to the last half of the other boy’s sentence, too focused on how excitement sparkles in Will’s eyes, even after everything they just witnessed. He probably still has blood caked into his fingernails like Mike does, and still he manages to view the world with such kindness and grace. Mike suddenly feels breathless. “So, um, as long as Suzie’s coordinates are correct, about another 90 miles. Why?”

“Once we save her, El, we should stop there on the way back. El could make us like, super rich and we’d never have to work. We could just play D&D and Nintendo for the rest of our lives.” The words are agonizingly familiar, a picture perfect replica of the words he spat back at Will between rain and thunder in his garage over the summer. He doesn’t think he will ever not regret saying those things, and taking his anger and fear out on Will. He wishes he could go back and do it over differently, say different things. But he knows he can never go back, so he replies the way he wishes he did all of those months ago. “That sounds.. perfect.” it comes out soft, softer than he wants it too and he reels backward, nervous that he’s giving too much away. He shouldn’t have said that, but Will beams anyway. Too scared to say anything more, he tugs at the sleeves of his jacket, rolling the fabric in between his fingers.

“We’re gonna make it, Mike. She’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, I- I know she is. But what if, after all this is over, she doesn’t… need me anymore?” Ever since his plane landed in California, it’s a feeling he’s grown accustomed to. It could be overthinking, it could be his intuition, but whatever it is, he knows this: he’s loosing Eleven, with each passing day she slips further and further from his grasp. One day, she’ll see the truth Mike has always known, that she deserves much, much more than he can give her. Wanting to be needed by her is only half of the story. The other half, the part Mike knows he can never tell anybody, is that when El is no longer by is side, there are no ways left to hide the ugly part of himself that hangs off of Will’s every word, and commits the contours of his body to memory as if at any moment he could lose them.

“Of course she’ll still need you. She’ll always need you, Mike.” And even though Mike knows it comes from a good place, he doesn’t believe what Will says. Not at all. “I keep telling myself that, but I don’t believe it. She was born special, and the day you went missing, the day we found her in the woods, I think she just needed someone. In that moment. It makes me think.. that our relationship isn’t quite founded on anything other than luck. One day she’ll wake up and realize that I’m just some stupid nerd who got lucky when Superman landed on his doorstep. I mean, at least Lois Lane was the ace reporter for the daily planet. What do I have?” He feels his shoulders curl into himself instinctively. He didn’t mean to say that much to Will, the other boy definitely doesn’t want to hear him and his relationship trouble. “Sorry, I’m sorry. This is so stupid with everything that’s going on I shouldn’t have brought it up. Sorry”

“No, no, Mike, it’s okay. You’re scared of losing her.” Will swallows, and he tracks the movement with his eyes. mike nods, ever so slightly at the way Will manages to hit the nail on the head with everything he says. “Can I show you something?”

“Of course, always.”

Will

Mike seems to sit a bit straighter in his seat, completely rapt to Will’s words. The reaction reminds him of middle school, elementary even, when Will would spend hours buried in his sketchbook and finally felt comfortable enough to let someone else see it. His hands tremble slightly as his fingers wrap around the tightly rolled canvas in his bag. It feels different, than all those years ago, he notices as he hands the painting to Mike. He’s not just handing him a sketch or a rushed doodle in the margins of his schoolbooks. It feels closer to prying apart his ribs, reaching inside and handing Mike his heart on a silver platter. It’s terrifying, having Mike see all of the most vulnerable parts of himself laid bare, and it makes him doubt whether he should’ve given him the painting at all. It’s too late now, as Mike unravels the twine and unrolls the painting, almost reverently. For a moment, everything is still. The noise of the van and conversation between Argyle and Jonathan melt away, until it’s just him and Mike. In the silence, the soft gasp Mike let’s out once he sees the full painting is amplified. “Will, this is beautiful. You painted this? For me?” The other boy looks astonished, and uncharacteristically doubtful that Will made it entirely for him. His intention was to comfort Mike, to remind him that he wasn’t stupid or useless, and that Will and the rest of their friends needed and wanted him in their lives. But when Mike stares back at him, his eyes wide and glassy in the light of the afternoon sun, Will falters.

Mike’s worry only comes from El, scared that once she returns she will realize she no longer needs him. If Mike thinks that the painting came from El instead of himself, it might get Will’s message across with a stronger impact. The only question now was is it worth it? Is it worth it to lie to Mike, who has always been a beacon of the truth, just to keep his own feelings protected? Even if it risks Mike finding out yet another person lied to him?

“Yeah, yeah I mean… El, she commissioned it. She gave me the general idea. But I wanted to give it to you now because see how you’re leading us here?” He leans closer to Mike, pointing at the painted version of the boy sitting next to him. “You’re guiding the whole party, inspiring us. Because that’s what you do, Mike. There’s a heart on your coat of arms, and it’s sort of ironic how literal it is but that’s what holds this entire group together. Heart. Without the heart, everything would be ruined. Even El, especially El.” He has to pause before he continues when holding eye contact with Mike becomes too overwhelming. Even though he’s twisting his words, saying El feels this way when it’s really his own feelings, what he’s saying is the truth. He has to look away, because if not, Mike will see the tears welling up in his eyes and it will be impossible to pretend that his words are not his own.

“These past few months, she’s been so lost without you. She’s so different from other people, and when you’re different, sometimes… you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she’s not a mistake, like she’s better for being different. That’s what gives her the courage to fight on. If she was mean to you or it seemed like she was pushing you away it’s probably because she’s scared of loosing you just as much as you’re scared of loosing her. El needs you, Mike. She always will.” I always will, he wants to add, but the words won’t come out. Instead, he moves his head away from the window, turning so he can face Mike again. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes flitting across Will’s face in search of something Will doesn’t know if he can give him. Mike’s search is cut short when he throws himself at Will, tugged closer as Mike’s arms wrap around him in a hug. “Thank you, thank you.” Mike murmurs, and Will has to bite his tongue in order to keep from sobbing. It’s their first hug in a long, long time, so he tries to cherish it as much as possible. Will doesn’t know when he’ll get to hug Mike again, if he ever will knowing that he wasn’t honest with him.

Eventually, Mike returns to his seat in the van, and rolls the painting back up. Will hears the sound of a backpack unzipping but he doesn’t stick around to watch. He turns, elbow resting on the window of the van and his hand laying over his mouth to muffle his cries. He wants so desperately to come clean, to tell Mike the truth. The whole truth. Not just about the painting, but about how he’s been acting since they left Hawkins and why. He pushed Mike away and picked a fight with him at the roller rink because he was hurt, because of the way Mike seemed to have forgotten him as soon as he stepped foot out of Hawkins. But also because he was terrified of the way his heart sped up whenever he and Mike were alone, terrified of the way he always searched for him in hallways or crowds if people, the way he would see Mike grow reserved and quiet and immediately want to ask him what was wrong. Mostly, he was terrified that each time he thought of what he feared the most, it always involved loosing Mike in some shape or form. Whether that was because they drifted apart, or because Mike grew aware of the feelings Will harbored for him.

Exhausted, he leans his forehead against the window, all his tears having tried up. Sleep tugs at his eyelids, and the rocking of the van back and forth is the last thing he feels before sleep pulls him under.

“Should be up on our right.” The noise in the midst of their otherwise silent car-ride wakes him up. He’s met with the sight of Mike poured over the map, eyes following the highlighted paths and his finger tracing their route. The bridge of his nose is scrunched as be focuses on calculating the exact location of the Nina Project. Will doesn’t even think Mike is aware of the face he’s making, nor about how endearing it makes him look. It makes him look younger, too. The way he used to when they were kids and his face was still round with baby fat.

“There’s nothing out here for miles.” Even if they had come across something, Jonathan would have seen it, he had a direct view of the landscape before them.

“What exactly are we looking for?”

“Some sort of facility” Will suggests, “A fence, a building, anything that might resemble an entrance.”

“Are you sure you got the measurements right?” He sees the way Jonathan eyes flick up at them in the rearview mirror every couple of seconds. “Yes, I’m sure. And Suzie’s coordinates are definitely not wrong, she’s a total genius.” Mike hasn’t looked up once, pen tracing along the map until he circles around the area right next to them. Only when Will looks out the window, there’s absolutely nothing. There’s no building, no hut, not even or equipment that might’ve been left behind.

Jonathan slams on the breaks. “Look, I’m stopping before we get even more lost.” He parks the van on the side of the road, far away enough from any incoming traffic and tugs the map out from Mike’s hands and lays it flat on the floor of the van. Him and Mike peer over Jonathan’s shoulders to observe. As soon as he begins drawing it out, his results match Mike’s exactly. It proves a point, that there are essentially on top of the Nina Project with no sign of anything besides nature for miles.

“My dudes! Come check this shit out!” Argyle calls from afar. “You said any signs of life. These aren’t regular tire tracks, bro. Those things must be huge!”

Crouching down to get a better look, he realizes that these aren’t normal tire tracks.“Military” Mike voices Will’s own thoughts. Given that the tracks are still visible, they must have been made hours ago. That gives them enough time to follow, and see if it leads to anything new. The group trudges back to the van, following the tracks for miles until they reach a clearing. It’s cluttered with the wreckage of a broken helicopter and decimated military trucks.

Mike is the first to his feet, slamming open the side door and sprinting outside. Will follows, Jonathan joining him as they run as fast as they can to get to El. She looks exhausted, but once her eyes land on them and realize that they’re really here, she wraps her arms around Mike. Tearfully, they pull apart so that El is able to hug him and Jonathan, too. “Are you okay?” He asks her quietly, hoping that she didn’t have to experience much pain during her time in - wherever she was. If both Brenner and Owens were involved, it must have been similar to the lab they kept her in before Mike, Dustin, and Lucas found her. While he doesn’t know exactly what it’s like, he remembers his own time being poked and prodded by scientists as they tried to figure out what was wrong with him. Between the too clean sterile white of the hospital walls and the agonizing pain throughout his body, Will knows that if he returned to that environment he wouldn’t leave the same. “I’m okay” is all El says, and together they walk back to the van. The van lurches forward and El puts her arm out to get Jonathan’s attention. “We need to get to Hawkins”.

“I know and we will but right now we need to get you somewhere safe. There’s gonna be people following us.” Mike’s hand moves up and down against her arm, something he used to do to help calm Will down whenever he felt trapped in one of his now-memories. If anything, the action makes El angrier, her tone harsh. “No, Mike, you don’t understand. We need to get to Hawkins tonight”.

“We’ll never make it that’s over 2000 miles away!” Jonathan shouts from the drivers seat.

“We need to find a way. If we don’t, they are going to die.” She doesn’t give any other information other than that, despite how unnerving her words are to the rest of the group. “Who’s going to die?” he says frantically. when she remains silent, he tries again “El, who’s going to die?” She still doesn’t answer, and panic rises in his chest. He can’t imagine what must be going on in Hawkins for her to not want to speak about it. Whatever’s going on, it must be horrific.

They drive as far as they can, until dusk settles and the stars begin to peek through the clouds. As soon as they see a sign for rest stops and gas stations, Jonathan takes the nearest exit. Pulling into the driveway, Argyle begins filling the van with gas while Jonathan heads straight for the phone booth on the side of the gas station convenience store. The fastest transportation beside the van would be a train or a plane, both of which seem unlikely given the little amount of money they have. Jonathan tries anyway. “Like I said, I’ve tried everyone. TWA, Pan Am, Eastern. No, it doesn’t have to be a one-way, if you have only one seat I’ll take that if nothing else is available. Please, there has to be something that you can do. One of our family members is ill, we don’t know if she’s gonna make it through the night. Is there any way you could find us a seat? No, I told you I already tried them. Ok, thank you for trying anyway”. Hanging his head, Jonathan places the phone back on the receiver. “The earliest they can get us on is tomorrow morning but-”

“That’s way too late” Mike jumps in, pacing back and forth in between him and Jonathan.

“I have a way to protect Max. To protect everybody. From here.” El passes them and walks back toward the van, stopping in front of one of the fogged-up windows. Using her finger, she draws, explaining her plan. “This is Max. When One attacks, he will be in her mind. But I can do that too. I went into Mama’s mind, and into Billy’s mind. I can go into Max’s too. She can carry me to Vecna, and I can piggyback through her mind. I can protect her from One and fight him from here.”

“You think this could work?” Jonathan asks her. El nods, adding “A bathtub would help.”

“But we’ll need enough salt, and that depends on the size of the tub.”

“Does 600 pounds suffice?”

“You know a place that has 600 pounds of salt?” 

“I know a magical place that has all the salt you need. Everyone get in the van.” Once everyone is settled, Argyle turns the key in the ignition, starting the van and driving off. It doesn’t take long before they’ve stopped. When he exits the van, the reason why is painfully obvious. Argyle brought them to another Surfer Boy pizza location. At first, Will doesn’t think there’s any way to convince the employee to leave and let them mess around in the kitchen. He’s even more surprised when all Argyle does is slide him a bag of weed and flashes his Surfer Boy uniform a couple of times. As soon as the employee leaves, they search the back kitchen for something big enough to hold El. They find it in the freezer tucked against the wall, and together they empty it. Him and Jonathan stay in the kitchen as the makeshift “tub” fills with water. They stir in bags of salt one at a time, using pizza paddles to combine the salt with the water. While they wait, he looks on at the interaction between El and Mike as the other girl teams up with Argyle to get Mike to try pineapple on his pizza. His gaze lingers on the giggles Mike lets out when El tries to bring her pizza closer to his mouth to get him to take a bite, and he tries to not focus on the blooming ache in his chest.

“Do you remember that time you told me you had a Lego stuck up your nose?” The words are so random he thinks Jonathan must have snuck some weed while he wasn’t looking. “What?”

“Yeah, it was like.. a construction guy, you’d call him Larry. Come on, you don’t remember? He had this high viz jacket and a removable hat.”

“Vaguely…”

“Well, I remember it like it was yesterday. Man, I was freaked out. Larry was way, way up there. I don’t even know how you got him that far. I literally had to do surgery, I had to grab tweezers and pull him out.” Despite the memory being fuzzy, he knows that as soon as surgery is brought up Jonathan has to be exaggerating. “Bull”

“No! I swear on my life. I… I’m bringing it up because I feel like you used to come to me more for help. Or to just talk. Now it feels like you don’t think you can anymore. I know a lot of that is probably my fault, I know I’ve been… distant.”

“Or stoned”

“Or stoned. But that has nothing to do with you, that’s me dealing with my own shit. Hiding from my own problems. The truth is, I miss talking to you. I really, really miss it. And I think, especially now, that we need to talk more than ever. Things are getting so much more complicated, a lot more complicated than a Lego up the nose, you know? At the end of the day, I don’t want you to forget that I’m here, and that I’ll always be here for you. Because you’re my brother, and I love you. There’s nothing in this world, absolutely nothing, that can change that.” Jonathan finishes, and Will knows his tears are falling, now. For so long, he’s had to shoulder this thing all by himself, because he knew nobody - not his friends, not his brother, and certainly not his mom - would understand what exactly it was. How it felt. And in a way, not talking about it was eating away at him from the inside out, because handling it all by himself didn’t make him feel mature, or independent, or self-assured. It just made him feel so unbearably alone.

“And I’m always gonna be here for you, too” he adds tearfully, voice wavering. Smiling sadly, Jonathan pulls him in for a hug, tugging him tightly to his chest. “I know, I know you are” his older brother whispers into his shoulder, and like a dam breaking, Will cries. He cries for a younger version of himself, who was so terrified that if he shared who he truly was with others, he would never find acceptance. A version of himself who was convinced that he would have to spend the rest of his life in hiding, forced to watch his friends as they found their places in the world and carrying the weight of knowing that he never would. He cries because he’s not alone anymore, and maybe, he never was. “It’s gonna be okay, Will”. He nods, prying his arms out of the hug and returning to his pizza paddle.

“Think it’s ready?”

“Yeah” He replies, following Jonathan as the pair push through the doors in the kitchen and alert the rest of the group that it’s time to get ready. They have most of what they need set up already, a radio from the back set on a channel that only plays static, and glasses to block out the light without completely covering El. They crowd around the freezer, watching as El pulls the hand-made glasses over her eyes and submerges herself in the water. The lights flicker and buzz, and then there is complete silence. At first, nothing happens. He has no idea if El’s even made it inside Max’s mind, and can only hope that her plan is enough to give Max more time. The stillness only lasts for so long, though, because before long El begins to shake, the lights flickering rapidly at her every movement “She’s fighting him,” Mike says. But when El starts screaming, that’s when the true panic settles in. “El, wake up! Wake up! Help me, help me!” Mike moves to lift her shoulders out of the tub, him and Jonathan joining him as they try to move her out of the water and onto the table.

“El, can you hear me? El! El, El!” He doesn’t know if El can hear the terrified shouts of her boyfriend, but there’s nothing they can do to help her from where they stand. The only way to get through to El at this point is through their words. He told Mike that El commissioned the painting to remind Mike who he was, and to give him confidence in his own abilities. This moment, Will knows, is the exact time where Mike needs to use them. “Mike,” he places his hand on Mike’s shoulder, the other boy looking over at him. “You’re the heart. Remember that,” he urges.

“El, I don’t know if you can here me but I want you to know that I’m here, okay? I’m right here, and I love you. I’m sorry I don’t say it more, it’s not because I’m scared of you. I’m not, I’ve never felt that way, ever. But I am scared that one day you'll realize that you don’t need me anymore. And I thought if I said how I felt, it would hurt so much more when you would eventually leave. But the truth is, I don’t know how to live without you. That day we found you in the woods, my whole world had just ended and finding you brought hope I never thought I would find again. You were wearing that yellow Benny’s Burgers t-shirt that almost swallowed you whole, and I knew right then and there that you would change my life. I love you, and I have loved you every day since then. I love you on your good days, on your bad days, with or without powers. It doesn’t matter to me. I love you for exactly who you are. And I believe that you can do anything, absolutely anything, but right now, we need you to fight. Don’t give up, okay? I know you can do it.” As Mike finishes, El stills, her body no longer thrashing on the table. Her breathing returns to normal, but she still hasn’t opened her eyes. Nervous, all Will can do is focus on the sound of her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest the only sign that she survived.

With a gasp, El sits up straight, her eyes snapping open and a name falling from her lips. “Max,”

MARCH 26TH, 1986

As soon as they enter Hawkins, the air feels different. Charged. It feels almost as though as soon as they crossed into town lines, a presence was awoken inside of him. It doesn’t feel like when he was possessed, he’s not sure anything will ever come close to that burning pain, but it’s a feeling he’s come to associate with the Upside Down. With danger. Naively, he hopes it’s the sight of the desolate road ahead of them that makes him feel wary, the opposite side filled with traffic, families packing their whole lives into the trunk or the roof of their car and abandoning their homes while they still can. The further they drive into town, the more destruction they see. Smoke crawls from crumbled buildings, rising higher and higher into the sky. Some homes are on fire, and when they pass the library, an almost half of the building is just.. gone. Military personnel direct them away from the worst of it, but it’s jarring nonetheless to see his home town so disfigured, a far cry from the way it used to look during his childhood. Using side roads, they manage to make their way to the Wheeler’s house, Jonathan parking the van just before the driveway. Sliding open the door, Will, Mike, and El jog towards their friends standing by the garage. Mike gets pulled into a hug by his mom and Nancy, while him and El run toward Dustin. Mike joins them when they part, Mrs. Wheeler letting him have time with his friends and Nancy time with Jonathan. He lifts his head up from the hug, feeling the absence of their final party member sharply. “Where’s Lucas?”

“He’s at the hospital?”

“Wha- is he hurt?”

“Oh God. You don’t know.” Dustin looks stricken, and he fears the next words on his lips. “Max, she’s at the hospital after what happened. They don’t know exactly what’s wrong with her, she- she’s in a coma.”

They have Jonathan drive them to the hospital, absentmindedly checking in at the front desk to get to Lucas and Max quicker. Dustin leads them down a hallway, and together they push through the door. “Oh my god” Lucas stands as soon as he sees them, the book he was reading falling from his lap. “We’ve been calling you guys like crazy”. He pulls him and Mike in by the shoulders, Dustin coming up behind them to join the hug. As much as Will wishes it were under better circumstances, he’s grateful to be reunited with the party. Seeing his friends again quietes something inside of him. The house where he grew up in may be gone, but his home, his real home, is here.

“I know. We came as soon as we heard.” They break away, giving Lucas time to greet El, too. He watches as they hug, and El mumbles something that sounds like ‘I’m sorry’ as her eyes fall on where Max’s body lies on the hospital bed.

“Do they know when she will wake up?”

“They don’t know. Some said she might never. Her heart stopped for over a minute. She died. I mean, clinically. But then she came back. The doctors don’t know how, they said- they said it was a miracle.” At his words, he and Mike turn to each other. He knows they’re both thinking of the moment when El was in the tub, before she had woken up and merely lied in the water. She hadn’t woken up yet, because she must have been with Max. Will moves to sit in the chair opposite Lucas, Mike pulling up one for him and Dustin next to Will as El sits at the edge of the bed and tucks Max’s hand into hers. Together, they spend the rest of the afternoon in the hospital, listening as Lucas continues the chapter he was reading aloud. Will gets lost in the peacefulness of it all, that even with bruises and dried tears and danger lurking around the corner, they’ve managed to carve out a small space for themselves. A place where he takes comfort in knowing that he’ll always have his friends, and they will always have him.

When Jonathan steps into the room again, he knows it’s time to say goodbye. Like sheep, they’re herded out of the hospital room, making their way down the hallway to leave. He waits for his brother as Mike, El and Dustin walk ahead of him. “We need to find a safe place for El” Jonathan says as he shuts the door slowly. They reconvene at the van, the others sitting inside.

“The cabin.” Leaning forward, El directs Jonathan to the old cabin she used to live in with Hopper. Fairly quickly, they turn off of public roads and travel through woods and shrub. The repeating pattern of trees, curling higher and higher until they block out almost all of the light from the sky are hauntingly familiar. It’s the same woods he was dragged through, only in the Upside Down. Even though the sun hasn’t fully set, it’s dark enough where the forest seems to stretch on forever. He shivers, a sudden chill running down his back. He can’t think too much on it before an arm brushes his shoulder, recognizing Mike immediately where he leans into Will’s space. “You okay?” The question so sincere it makes Will want to tell the truth until he runs out of things to say. “Yeah, I just… I’ll tell you later.”

Alongside Dustin, El, and Jonathan, they start cleaning up the cabin, patching holes in the walls with spare plywood and covering the gaping hole in the roof with tarp they find outside. It’s not easy work by any means, but it goes faster with the amount of people they have. After clearing boxes and moving all of the garbage outside, the cabin finally looks habitable again. By the time they finish, the orange and pink hues of the sunset are seeping through the window, tinting the colors of the furniture. Mike walks over to the overturned couch, pulling down one of the cushions to sit down and Will follows, mirroring his actions. He can tell Mike is waiting for him to start talking, so he takes a breath and tries to keep his voice steady. “Now that we’re here, in Hawkins, I can feel this… sense. Like I’m connected to something, or something’s connected to me. But it’s not like how I felt the first time, when I was… possessed. It’s different. Subtle. Not enough to make me really worry, but it makes the hairs on the back of my arm stand up. I think it’s just the reminder, and the residuals from knowing how it thinks and what it thinks. We have to kill it, all of it, this time. Nothing can remain.”

“We will. I know we will.” Mike nods, and Will opens his mouth to say something, not anything important but to fill the silence between them. He wants to trade jokes and stories, and to not feel this suffocating weight between them, the intention of the painting hanging over his head with every interaction.

He’s met instead with the low rumble of a car engine and tires crunching over sticks and dirt. Jonathan stands first, but something outside the window makes him sprint out the front door. Will follows, and as he flies past the doorstep he realizes why. Their mom, along with an alive Hopper, of all people, are standing in the clearing. Holy shit. He jogs toward her and Jonathan, joining their hug. “Where were you?” He whispers into

“So, my business trip to Alaska wasn’t the total truth…” He laughs at her antics and presses a soft “We know, Mom” into her hair where he hugs her.

Mike

Returning from their visit to Max and Lucas and later Hopper’s cabin, as Jonathan drives them back to Mike’s house, he can’t help but wonder what they’re supposed to go from here. The world just ended, him and his friends are in danger, and now he has to go back to school and pretend that nothing happened in the first place? The only semblance of comfort is that he’s not the only one pretending, that his friends are in the exact same position he’s in. As much as he’s not looking forward to heading back to school, Mike feels like he’s thirty seconds away from passing out where he sits. As the van is pulling into the driveway, all Mike wants to do is lay down. His mom isn’t outside this time, and turning the knob of the front door he calls out to her. “Mom? We’re home!”. Instinctively, he moves toward the stairs, preparing to knock out face first on his bed when he’s reminded by the footsteps behind him that he’s not the only one. Jonathan, Will, and Joyce need some place to stay. “Michael, help your sister look for extra blankets!” His mom is already ahead of him, and at her words he understands why: Will and his family will be staying with Mike. As a child, this would have been his dream come true, being finally allowed to spend as much time with his best friend as he wanted. And it is everything he’s ever wanted. But it’s also… not. Where he once would have turned to Will and invited him to sleep in his room, he lets his mom lead Will and Jonathan down into the basement. It makes him think about the comments his father used to make, when Will would leave from a sleepover and he’d known they slept in Mike’s room and not the basement. That they shouldn’t be sharing a bed, that it was weird and unnatural. That he shouldn’t bring Will over anymore because whatever disease he had might rub off on Mike. He didn’t know what his father was talking about at the time, confused because he knew Will wasn’t diseased. Mike, of all people, would know if he was. Mike knows now, that his father never liked Will because he thought he acted like a queer.

It bothers him because he so tremendously wants Will to stay in his room. Mike wants to wake up to his face, wants to feel the weight of his arm thrown across his chest. He wants so much his heart aches with the force of it, and that scares him the most, the wanting. He's always struggled with understanding why being a- being queer was so wrong. His silly, absentminded wishes had never felt wrong, in fact, they felt like the most natural thing in the world, yet all he knows is that they just are. Each time the wanting came back, he try with all his might to picture El instead. That was how things were supposed to be. But each time, his stomach would lurch violently and he’d have to leave the room in fear the contents of his stomach would empty itself.

He doesn’t know why he thinks of his father, or why his words linger in his head for so long. He knows his father can say stupid things, hurtful things, and even though they come from his father, sometimes it’s okay to not listen to them all. That doesn’t stop them from leaving wounds, like invisible bruises branded into his skin. They’re inescapable, and the fact that only he can see how much damage those words do to him makes Mike want to scream. Bile rising in his throat, he sets the blankets down on the sofa in the basement. Before his mom or anyone can stop him Mike is heading straight for the door. Shouldering his way past it, he falls onto the porch steps like marionette with their strings cut. Looking out onto his street, he takes in his first night back in Hawkins. A deep navy blankets the sky, highlighting the distinct black outline of trees and the sharp pinprick of stars. The only light comes from the street lamps littered across the street. It’s cold where he sits on the porch steps in a long sleeve, even in March, and Mike knows it will stay cold until end of April, maybe even May. Shivering, he makes no move to go inside, instead letting his mind wander.

He knows it’s wrong to push Will away just because he’s scared of his.. feelings for the other boy. The weird ones. The ones he knows his father would yell at and criticize him for having. He knows his feelings themselves are innately wrong too, but it leave him in such a dilema because now, Mike is at a standstill. It’s wrong to push Will away so he doesn’t have to face his own feelings and it’s wrong to even think that way about anyone other than a girl. He has two options, and both paths before him will not leave him unscathed. And even though he’s harbored these feelings for Will for quite some time, he’d rather live with that than lose Will completely from his life. He’d prefer it over the way his lies, his secrets, have been hurting Eleven. As long as he keeps them to himself, tucked away beneath his ribs and against his heart, and no one ever knows, he thinks he could live like that. He thinks he could try.

MARCH 27TH, 1986

The first thing Mike does when the sun rises in Hawkins is grab his bike from where it’s propped up against the wall in the garage and head towards Hopper’s cabin. He’s not technically allowed to visit, but he worked it out with Hopper the day before when him and Joyce returned from their rescue mission. It’s a one time thing, the only exception because Hopper had picked up on El’s off mood as soon as he greeted her. Him and El have needed this talk for a really, really long time. And this time, Mike is going to be honest. Stray branches brush against the fabric of his pants as he bikes further into the woods, all the way until he sees the run down wood walls of the cabin. He lets his bike fall to the ground and knocks on the door slowly. It’s not Hopper who greets him at the door, but El. She’s surprised, he can tell, but she also has this look in her eyes, like she knows what Mike is here for and is preparing for the inevitable. “We need to talk” He starts, following her as she leads him past the entryway and into her room. With the flick of her finger, the door slides closed, slightly ajar to stay in line with Hopper’s three-inches-always rule.

“I want to break up” Holy shit, she knows how not to beat around the bush. El’s words are direct, sure, but this time around, they don’t sting. Mike has no rebuttal, he’s just tired. Tired of arguing, tired of pretending, and most importantly, tired of lying. He knows he’s not going to magically accept himself overnight, about how he still thinks his feelings are wrong and disgusting, but it’s not fair to keep stringing El along. “Me too. I-” his voice breaks off, and Mike’s first instinct is to stop talking and never continue. But if he doesn’t get the words out now, he’s scared he never will.

“I haven’t been honest with you, and I’m sorry. The only way it makes any sense is to start from the beginning. That day I found you in the woods, I said I felt something I had never felt before when I saw you. The truth is, I had felt that feeling before, I just didn’t understand what it was. I was overwhelmed with care for you, I wanted to keep you safe, make you laugh, hold you when you were scared or needed a space to cry. It felt so distinct from all my other relationships, especially because I had never felt this way for a girl before. I mean, all I had to go off of at that point was my relationship with Dustin, Lucas, and Will. But the more time I spent with you, I realized it never quite felt the same as the feeling I felt before. I think that’s why it took me so long to say it out loud, that I loved you. Because the words didn’t feel right. But when I though of how I felt with this other… person, I realized the issue was never the words themselves, but who I was saying them to. I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you, because it’s not true. I do love you, El. But what took me so long to understand is that I love you the same way I love Dustin, Lucas, and Max. As friends. And I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you, I don’t really have any excuses for that, besides the fact that I didn’t want to think about what this might mean about.. me.”

“I do not understand. What does loving me as friend have to do with who you are?”

“El…” And there must be tears in his eyes at this point. When he blinks, he feels the wetness slide down his cheeks and blur his vision. “El, I think I like boys”

“Well I would hope so, most of your friends are boys” El replies her response wrenching a wet laugh that sounds much more like a sob out of his chest. He smiles to himself, looking up at El through his lashes where his tears cling. “El! Not like that. I meant… romantically. But it’s wrong.”

“Oh, Mike. It’s okay. There can be no wrong answer when it comes to who you love, or how you love. And I will always be here for you.” She tugs at Mike’s shoulders until he leans forward, most of his weight against her. He hugs her tightly, fiercely, resting his forehead on the junction between her neck and shoulder. “Thank you, El, that- that means a lot to me”. More than you know. The words are barely there, but he knows she heard them. He hears El inhale and exhale once, before her own confession slips past her lips, set free in the space shared between them. “I don’t think I know who I am. I think I have spent so much time living for other people, Papa, Hopper, even you, and I need to figure out where I fit in the world. I need to start living for myself, and find what I like. Who I want to be, outside of Mike’s girlfriend, Papa’s experiment, or Hopper’s daughter.”

“I know you will. Remember, no matter what you’ll always fit in with me and our friends, okay?”

“I know” El smiles, and when she moves further back onto her bed she pulls Mike with her, guiding his head so it rests on her lap. With her fingers tangled in his overgrown hair, there is nowhere to hide. But in this moment, Mike doesn’t even feel the need to. “Oh, and the painting you commissioned, I really loved it. I know it was supposed to be a gift, but I wanted to tell you now before I forgot.”. At his words, he feels El still beneath him, and if her reaction makes his heart drop, it must leave his body completely with what she says next. “What painting? I never commissioned anything”

“What do you mean? Will gave me a painting while we were on the road searching for you... Oh my God. If you never commissioned anything..” then the painting was from Will. And if the painting was from El this whole time, that meant that Will’s words about how much Mike meant to El, they weren’t El’s words either. All this time, they were Will’s.