#Will Byers/Mike Wheeler | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

serendipitouswasteland · 2 years ago

Text

March 22, 1986

Note: This was transcribed from my AO3

ship: byler pov: third person written: September 21, 2022 first published: September 22, 2022 word count: 10,621 warnings: death, violence, & graphic depictions of those - summary: Will has simply had enough. The words Mike has been yelling at him for nearly an hour now have began to give Will a headache, and he's had enough. After a forgotten birthday and near-forgotten friendship, Will is done with Mike's bullshit.

But perhaps there's more to the story.

Something about the way Mike said the words itches Will. It made him feel like, slowly, every bit of him that he'd worked to keep together and keep in place over the years is starting to fall apart and unravel– but no. He won't let that happen. Not when Mike is standing across from him looking at him with the look that he is. Not when they're fighting and Will refuses to start crying. But those words? Hell, Mike deserves everything that's coming to him. Or, that's what Will is thinking at the moment.

'You're a fucking liar.'

Does Mike regret it? Does he not? Will doesn't know. The only thing he can read from Mike is anger. Not regret, not satisfaction, just anger. Pure and true anger, more than Will thinks he's ever seen. And for what? Because of a painting that he wasn't entirely truthful about? Because he lied to Mike for the first time in his life? Is that really the only reason right now for Mike's anger? Or was there something else? Perhaps it was something that Mike was lying about, something that Will doesn't know. And yet Mike wants to get mad at Will for lying. Sure .

"Well?" Mike asks, waving his arms out before crossing them again. He's waiting for Will to answer. But what does Will say?

"I didn't lie ," except, he did. He did lie. But to admit that? And to Mike, of all people?

"Bullshit! I talked to El, I talked to Jonathan– hell, even Argyle was on the same page as them. El told me she didn't ask you to make the painting for her, Jonathan told me that too, and so did Argyle. So I went to your mom."

Shit .

"And you know what I found out? That it was you who made it for me. That it was you who wanted to make me this grand painting that symbolizes our friendship. And you did . But you lied about it. You made me think that it was some romantic gesture from El and not from you. How could you do that to me? How could you lie to me, Will? What happened to us being best friends? Or did you once again not care to be that anymore and decided not to tell me?"

"You needed something to help you! That's all I wanted to do– help. And you want to talk to me about not wanting to be friends anymore? The day you first came to Lenora was awful for me, Mike. It sucked ."

"That's not my fault!"

"Except it was! It was your fault, just as much as it was everyone else's. You know it was my birthday? The day at Rink-O-Mania? It was my fucking birthday , Mike."

"What?"

"My birthday, Mike. It was my birthday. And you– you forgot about it. You're supposed to be my best friend and you forgot my birthday."

"I didn't forget your birthday!" Mike yells, bewildered at the accusation.

"But you did! You didn't hug me at the airport, you didn't get me a gift, and you didn't say happy birthday to me at all."

"I did get you a gift."

"Well then where is it?"

Will is crossing his arms now, Mike standing with his at his eyes, a defeated and dumbstruck look on his face. If Will had any guilt over the matter, he didn't show it. Despite how hurt Mike looks, Will can't bring himself to show that he cares. Not in this moment when he feels like his friendship that both he and Mike have worked so hard to repair is falling apart once again. And while that should be the reason he does show that he cares, it's not. It's the complete opposite.

Mike sniffles just a litte, reaching into the pocket of his blue long-sleeved shirt, pulling out a slightly crumpled yet neatly folded piece of paper. Mike looks at the item for a moment before looking away, blinking his eyes a few times. With one last huff of anger, Mike shoves it into Will's hands, forcing him to catch it against his chest.

"Happy fucking birthday."

Mike takes a few steps back, his back hitting the wall. Will stares at him for a moment before gulping and looking down at the paper he's holding against his chest. Will fumbles with it for a moment, unfolding it. Each fold was done with precision and care, like Mike had tried to make it look as perfect as could be. Once unfolded, Will's eyes have to adjust to a long letter written with precision and perfect handwriting. Will doesn't even have to read it to know that it's beautiful.

'Dear Will,

Hawkins hasn't been the same since you left. I don't remember it without you. Not much, anyways. Meeting you on the swings and becoming friends is one of my earliest memories. There's not many I can think of from before that. And to know that I remember the day so vividly makes me question a lot. I don't remember too much else from around that time, so I often ponder who I could remember that so much and not anything else. But I think I know.

Most of my memories from throughout my childhood have you in it. From elementary school breakfasts to playground games to classroom instruction, somehow we've always been together. Even after school you'd come over a lot and we'd have tons of fun. Most nights we even had sleepovers. And all of those memories? They're all my favorites.

And, of course, Lucas and Dustin were there, too. I can't leave out my other two best friends.

But regardless of who else has been in a memory or simply in my life, you have always been this shining star. Bright and bold and sunshine-y, you've always been like my own personal North Star. You lead me to where I have to go– where I'm meant to go.

I know that I've always sort of been the one to "lead" you, but really, Will, you lead me. And sure, I care for you a lot and look out for and worry over you considerably more than you do for me and more than I do for Lucas and Dustin and Max and, hell, sometimes even El (Although, I'll be honest, it's very close. You're both endlessly important to me), but something about the way you treat me is somehow how I've always wanted to treat you.

You're kind and caring and you know me better than anyone else. You're not afraid to call me out on my bullshit and you encourage me to be me. That's what you've always done. And you're honest with me. I won't lie, Will, I've lied to you before. Maybe not directly, but it's happened, and I'm sorry for that. But you being honest with me and trusting me has got to be the reason why I love you so much.

And then there's that.

I wasn't going to say it. I was going to just write you a happy birthday letter telling you all the things I love about you without actually saying that's what it was, but my hand works faster than my mind sometimes and I just can't stop it from all flowing out.

So there it is. I love you. But it's more than that.

It's not just love. Love itself is so unimportant. At least the romantic kind. Every person needs love in their life, yes, and we're made to believe that love we need is romantic, but it's not. A person can survive on just platonic and familial love alone. But you? God, you make me want that romantic love. You make me feel like without it I'm going to simply die. Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Both times. And sure, I didn't actually lose you either time, but it felt like I did, and neither time have I known what to do with myself. You complete me, Will.

And it is that completion that causes me to be in love with you without me even trying and without me even knowing how or why. But I love you. I do. I am in love with you.

And happy birthday.

Love,

Mike.'

Will's eyes linger on the signage of the letter, a finger trailing over it before his eyes flutter to Mike quickly before looking back at the paper. Will folds it back the way it was before, walking over to Mike who has his hand out waiting for Will to hand it back, and he does. Slowly and gently, Will places the piece of paper into Mike's hand, his fingers going from brushing against Mike's wrist to fingertips as he does so. They make eye contact once again, and Will returns Mike's tears. And, just as he begins to speak, a door is opened, interrupting the pair's solemn moment.

"Guys," Jonathan says, nodding his head down the hall. "We gotta go."

Will pulls away from Mike, brushing past his brother as he begins to make his way down the hall. As he goes, he can hear Jonathan and Mike share a few words. It's distant and muffled, so he can't make it out, but he can tell it's not entirely happy from either side. Will huffs and rolls his eyes, going down the stairs in Mike's house and out the door to the garage, climbing into the back of Karen's car as he pulls his bandana over his face so it's covering his nose and mouth.

Not a moment later, Mike joins him, his eyes stern and coded in anger. He's upset about something, and it's not the same upset he was before. This is something different. Will looks to Jonathan who's eyeing Mike in the mirror, looking away when he finds Will looking at him. Will looks away too, opting to look out the long back window instead.

He rests his chin on his knuckles, looking at the apocalyptic world around him. Every day he fears something will happen to his friends and family. The thought of it happening to him, however, doesn't scare him as much. He'd rather it be himself than anyone else. And right now, Will is sure that split second decision might be one he has to make. After all, they're on their way to killing Vecna.

Nancy had worked out the plan for months. She'd given everyone a role and a person to stick with and told everyone exactly what they would need to do. Each person played a vital role in her plan, and not one person could deviate from it or they might mess it up.

Might.

That was the one thing Will couldn't stop thinking about. Someone deviating only might mess things up. That's how solid of a plan that Nancy thinks she has. But Will knows better. Will knows that, when it comes to the Mind Flayer, there is no plan. If you think you have one, you're as good as dead. Will knows that. But he won't tell anyone else. No one except Mike. But he wasn't going to say anything quite yet. He was going to wait until they were split off in their pairings and it was him and Mike alone. Then he would tell him. He would tell Mike all of the things that he should have told him years ago.

There was, however, one slight problem. He and Mike had just got done fighting. Will can't ponder that right now, though, because Nancy has just pulled up to their first stop. The gate on the highway. Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin all get out of the car, each of them saying goodbye to everyone as they're wished luck before going through.

Once out on the other side, the four boys set up a communication plan for while they're down there. After all, they'd be splitting up– Mike with Will and Lucas with Dustin, just like how it's always been. While Mike and Dustin discuss a few things, Will pulls Lucas over to the side and speaks to him in a hushed voice.

"You can't let yours and Dustin's trauma get to you."

"I know. You can't either."

"What do you think I've been doing this whole time?"

"You still feel him?"

"Too much. It's like he's everywhere and nowhere all at once."

"Have you told Mike?"

"No. You know how he would react. Any time I bring it up he goes absolutely haywire."

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean that I was sort of the same way about Max."

"Lucas—"

"I'm not saying he likes you back, Will. But I'm also not saying that he doesn't. I'm just saying that he wants to be able to protect you, no matter what that takes. You have to look out for him just as much if not more than he looks out for you. And that's going to be hard with just how protective he is, but—"

"I sacrificed myself for him before. I'd do it again."

"Promise that you'll both come back?"

"You know we can't promise anything."

"Will. Promise me."

"I promise."

"Promise what?" Mike asks as he and Dustin come to Will and Lucas's sides.

"That we'll all come back," Lucas says, looking at Dustin with a determined look, the both of them nodding firmly at each other before Lucas pulls Will into a tight hug.

"Take care of yourselves, okay?" Mike asks, pulling Lucas and Dustin both into a hug after Lucas and Will finish.

"You guys too," Lucas says as Will and Dustin hug now.

Lucas and Dustin turn and walk the opposite direction, Will and Mike doing the same. Will sniffles just a bit, wiping at his eyes and picking up his pace. He doesn't want to be feeling like this right now.

"You okay?" Mike asks.

"I don't want anything bad to happen to either of them because of me."

"Because of you? What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid, Mike. This? All of this? It's my fault. If I had just let the Vecna and the Mind Flayer take over Hawkins the first time, or if I had died in the Upside Down then– then none of this would even be happening."

"Don't talk like that. We stopped it before. We can stop it again."

"But that doesn't mean they won't get hurt."

"Will, stop. Listen to me," Mike says, stopping in his tracks which causes Will to do the same. "If anyone gets hurt that is not your fault. That is One's. That is his fault, not yours. You were a kid. That is on him."

The two stand there in silence for a moment before they continue walking. Neither one says much. Not that they should, anyways. Who knows what the extent of Vecna's powers are. He has a lot. Many of them are like El's, but some are different. Some are stronger.

After a while of walking, Mike and Will arrive at their destination. Mike's house. Will remembers when Nancy had been telling everyone what she'd seen in her room and in her journal. There wasn't anything new since Will had disappeared. It was as if, in the Upside Down, time had stopped. It made Will curious, wanting to know more. How was the day he went missing tied into all of this? That wasn't when the Upside Down was created. In fact, it had existed long before that. Long before Vecna had been sent there, too. So why did Will affect it so much?

Walking inside of Mike's house is like stepping through a time machine. He's in a different world. He remembers what it looked like from the height he was then, barely seeing above the counter from how short he was. A few years ago it would have fallen near his waist. Now his hip-bones are right at the counter.

As they continue through, Will notices a lot of things that are different from how they are now. Some photos on the wall, the living room, Mike's room. And while Mike continues his way to Nancy's room, Will pops into Mike's. There's bunk beds instead of a full size, his closet door is closed and his room is picked up and clean. There's knicknacks on his dresser and nightstand. None if it is Mike at all. At least not the Mike now.

Looking around, a photo on top of Mike's dresser catches Will's eye. It's of him, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin with a trophy after the science fair. All of them are smiling brightly. Even Mike. Will traces his thumb over his own face, thinking back over the last few years. He hasn't smiled like that in a while. Not since he moved to Lenora, and definitely not since he'd been possessed by the Mind Flayer. Had it really been that long?

Will sets the photo down, going around the rest of Mike's room. There's a dinosaur– Mike's favorite– but it doesn't roar. It's broken. Then, there's something else that grabs Will's attention. Mike's walkie talkie. Will hasn't used one in a while. There was so much about Mike's room that Will had missed, and he hadn't even realized it until now. So many little things that slowly disappeared, and once he got back from Lenora? He hardly recognized the space at all.

There was one thing, though, that gave it all away. And only now had Will noticed it. On all of Mike's walls, there's Will's art. Drawings and paintings alike, they're plastered on each wall of Mike's room. Picturing Mike's current room in his mind, Will remembers the corkboard on Mike's wall above his bed, that now being what contains all of Will's art from his walls. It's the one constant from throughout the years. Clearly it was important to him.

"Wow, this is so not me at all," Mike says as he comes into the room.

"I think it is. There's still something that stayed the same."

"Well, yeah. I mean, the walls and floor haven't changed, and neither has my closet or my window, but everything else is different."

"You kept up my art, too."

Will watches as Mike looks around at the walls, and then to the spot where his cork board would be hanging up now. He smiles, sitting down on the bed, Will doing the same. Mike pats his knees a few times, looking at a few of the drawings a bit me before letting out a small chuckle, Will smiling at the action.

"Yeah. I kept up some of your art."

"Why? It's not like it's any good."

"It's still your art, Will. It's part of who you are. It's how you've grown up."

"Too bad my best piece wasn't made yet."

"No, but I remember exactly where it is," Mike says, standing up and hopping into his rolling desk chair.

He grabs a pencil out of a container and goes to the wall between his closet and his bedroom door. Then, he begins to sketch. Will tries to peer over his shoulder and watch, but he can't quite see. He stands up, going over to Mike and leaning over his shoulder, watching as he works. It takes him a while, but eventually Mike has the entirety of Will's painting outlined on his wall. Even with it being covered in grime, he recreated it perfectly. And he was right. He does remember exactly where it is.

"Clearly you've looked at it a lot."

"It's my favorite. Well, one of my favorites. I also really like the one you did of the dragging biting the guy's head off. Do you remember that one?"

"I've made a lot of art, Mike. And it's been years since I've done any actual drawing. I normally just paint now."

"Here. I have it in a binder," Mike says, rolling over to his closet and standing up, throwing open the door.

He reaches up onto his tip toes and grabs a black binder with a few stickers on it off of the top shelf, walking over to his desk and kicking his chair along with him. He sets the binder down, sitting down in his chair as he opens it up and begins to flip through.

The pages are filled with all of Will's drawings that he's made throughout the years that he's given to Mike or hasn't wanted to keep. Every single one, and each one in perfect condition. There's not a single tear or wrinkle in a single one of the papers. And there's a lot of papers. Mike stops flipping through the binder, firmly putting his finger down on one of the pages. Sure enough, there's a dragon biting some "guy's head off". Will chuckles and smiles a little, admiring Mike's good memory.

"I've kept up with it throughout the years," Mike says, talking about the binder. "I look through it from time to time just because, usually when I miss you."

"You missed me?"

"Yeah. I mean, Hawkins wasn't the same without you, right?"

"Yeah, but feeling like you've lost someone and missing someone are two different things."

"But they go hand in hand," Mike says, sighing and pulling out a notebook from the pocket of his leather jacket. "I found Nancy's journal. The last date is November 6, 1983, just like she said."

"Dammit. I just don't get it. What does me disappearing have to do with any of this?"

"That's always had to do with it. Nothing started happening until you went missing."

"No, nothing started happening until El escaped the lab. Those are two different things."

"Happened on the same day."

"But she escaped before I disappeared. It started with her."

"But she's not who the Mind Flayer flayed. If he wanted her, he would have chosen her, right? One and Billy both said they were doing it all for her, but then why you? Why would he choose you? It just doesn't make sense unless you're also what he wanted. You're a part of his grand master plan."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true! And it's scary as Hell, but you know I won't let anything happen to you. I promised you we were going to kill him, and we will. We will."

"You don't know that. None of us do."

"But you do. You practically share a mind with him. You know how he works. You better than anyone should know how to stop him."

"So that's why you're pissed."

"I'm not pissed."

"You're acting like it."

"I'm just upset that they don't trust you enough to be with them even though you know him better than anyone else. If anyone can help them with that final blow, it's you."

"He also knows me inside and out, Mike. He knows me as much as I know him, maybe even more. He knows every single one of my strengths and every single one of my weaknesses. He knows about all of my trauma and all I know is how he works and how he thinks. He even knows my birthday , Mike. He knows my relationships with you and with my mom and with Jonathan. He knows everything about me. In comparison to him, I know nothing. I'm safer and more helpful away from Creel House than anywhere near it."

"But you're stronger than him."

"No I'm not."

"You are. Even while flayed, you were smart enough to speak to us through morse code. You were strong enough to fight against him to tell me what he made you do. You fought back and you won."

"Well I can't do that again, and I don't want to do that again. If I fight him again, Mike, I'm not coming out of it alive."

"Don't say that."

"It's true! I'm not going to sit here and lie to you just because you love me!"

Will's hands fly to cover his mouth at his words. Mike just stares blankly. This was definitely not expected. Especially for Will, since he knows how he feels about Mike. Would he ever tell him? Or would it be better for him not to know? That's not something Will is sure he's ready for. After all, Mike only told him out of necessity, and he didn't even say it out loud. It was just words written on a paper.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mike asks, tapping his fingers on his desk.

"No."

"Can I talk about it?"

"Sure."

"Will, I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of my feelings for you. I mean, that's literally why I didn't want to tell you. So you wouldn't be uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable."

"Then what is it?"

"Do you know why I don't lie to you?"

"I'd hope it's because we're friends and friends don't lie."

"Well, yeah, but that's not the only reason. And I really don't want to have to say it."

"I think I might already know," Mike says, rolling his chair over to where Will is standing with his back to the wall.

"Mike, stop."

"What?"

"I can't."

"Can't what, Will? All I did was come closer to you."

"But I know what you're wanting."

"And what is it that I want? Since you're so sure."

"Mike..."

"What?"

"You're teasing me."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're being mean."

"I'm not trying to. I just want you to talk to me."

"I don't want to talk. I don't want this . I don't want you ," Will says, trying to convince himself more than anything, trying to push Mike away one last time so that neither one of them can get hurt in the end.

"Okay," Mike says, pushing away from Will and grabbing Nancy's notebook off of his desk. "We should get going if we want to get this done in time."

Will lets out a deep breath, following Mike out of his room, down the stairs, and out of his house. Their walk is once again silent, and Will's not sure if it's because they got into an argument again or if it's because Mike is trying not to attract any creatures, but either way, Will doesn't like how it feels. He feels like he constantly has to look over his shoulder.

Out of the blue, Mike stops Will by putting his arm out in front of him, causing him to come to a halt. Mike puts a finger to his lips, mimicking a shushing noise as he takes a few steps forward, taking the shotgun he's been carrying and taking it off from around his neck, getting ready to aim it. Will puts his back to Mike's, moving one arm back to pull the pistol out of its place in Mike's belt.

"You know how to use that?" Mike asks, his voice barely audible.

"Yeah, and I can probably use the shotgun better than you, too."

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

"Well, if you give it to me then maybe you'll find out—"

Will is cut off by a gunshot and Mike's body movements against him as he fires the shotgun. Demodogs. Will looks from his left to his right, scanning. He's not seeing anything yet. Slowly, he and Mike begin to turn in a circle, covering all of their bases. Then, Will sees one on his left and fires his gun, followed by Mike shooting in the opposite direction, but he misses, the demodog beginning to run at them.

"Shit, give me the shotgun, Mike," Will says as he and Mike back away quickly.

"What? No! Nancy gave me the gun, I'm gonna use it."

"Well you clearly don't know what you're doing, so—"

"No. I'm not giving you the gun."

"Mike, I'm not asking. Give it to me," Will says, taking the shotgun from Mike and shoving the pistol into his hands instead.

Will quickly aims and fires a shot at the demodog, hitting him dead on. He then hears a growling noise behind him.

"Six o'clock," Will says, and Mike immediately turns and fires the pistol, resulting in a not-so-happy noise from the demodog.

"This is so much easier to use than that thing."

"Tell me about it. Where are all of these dogs coming from? We're getting swarmed."

"Do you think One knows?"

"If that were the case then he'd know we're not his biggest problem right now."

"Maybe he can sense you the same way you can sense him. Maybe that's how he found us and sent the demodogs after us."

"You mean he sent them after me."

"Yeah, whatever, just—" another shot, "—we need to go."

Mike drags Will along as demodogs continue chasing after them, each of them taking turns to turn around and shoot before looking ahead to make sure they don't trip and fall or step on the hivemind as they run toward the library. Once they get there, Will fires shot after shot as he slowly backs inside, Mike shutting the large doors as quickly as he can. Will slowly lets the gun down, setting it against the wall of the library, Mike putting the pistol back in his gun holder on his belt.

"I haven't been here in forever," Will says, Mike smiling a bit at his comment.

"No better time than in an alternate dimension during the apocalypse, right?"

"You're such a dork."

"Yeah. Hey, where did you learn to use a gun like that?"

"My dad. I don't really want to talk about it."

"You don't want to talk much about anything today."

"That's because there's more important things at hand."

"Just because there's something more important doesn't mean whatever's going on with you isn't important at all."

"Trust me, Mike. It's not important."

"If you say so."

Mike taps along the main counter of the library as he makes his way to the section of the library where the shelves are labeled 'non-fiction'. Will groans, setting his backpack on a table and slouching down into a chair.

"Why couldn't we do this above ground?" Will groans in complaint, laying his head down in his arms.

"Well we're not underground, and we had to get Nancy's notebook."

"It's stupid."

"It's necessary."

"How do you even find anything in here?"

"Dewey Decimal System."

"Huh?"

"It's how you find books. At the bottom of every book is a number. Science is 500-599. The numbers tell you what part of what genre of nonfiction each book is."

"God, you're such a nerd."

"Takes one to know one."

Mike scans through the bookshelves quickly, easily finding the science section and within that where the books they would be needing are. Will looks at the spine of a few of the books, looking at the numbers at the bottom. Sure enough, they're all the same.

"Huh."

Will shrugs and opens up a random one of the many books that Mike has brought over, and he's still getting more. On his final trip, Mike brings over a stack that covers his face, his arm barely reaching the top of the stack to keep all of the books from falling over. Will smiles and laughs at Mike as he helps him set the stack down, handing him a highlighter and book when he sits down.

"Are you ready to get to work?"

"I'm kind of excited, actually. I haven't really read in a while."

"I thought you loved reading?"

"I do, it's just that with everything going on I haven't really had the chance."

"But you had the chance to pick a fight with me?"

"Will—"

"Sorry. I meant that as a joke."

"Oh. Right. Of course you wouldn't...nevermind."

Mike buries his face in the book, Will unable to see him. Will frowns, looking down at his book and uncapping the highlighter. He hated reading. The only reasons he agreed to him and Mike going this route was because the way Lucas and Dustin went put them– especially Will– more at risk, and because he knew Mike would enjoy their reading assignment.

Will pondered it for a while. He saw how Mike's face lit up when Nancy had mentioned the library and how they'd have to be reading some books. He looked ecstatic. Like a kid on Christmas morning. And Will knows that shouldn't have been a deciding factor. This isn't about Mike. It's about Will and El and Vecna and the Upside Down, but it is not about Mike.

"Hey, I think I found something," Mike says, perking up and sliding the book across the table and turning it so it's right side up for Will.

"What am I looking at?"

"It's a timeline. Well, a best guess at what one would look like. There was this guy, and I can't think of his name but he had the idea of a timeline within time travel, and then even further than that he had the idea of a black hole. Basically, there's only one timeline in life throughout every dimension and every universe."

"Time travel?" Will asks, confused on Mike's explanation.

"Yeah. Dustin probably knows more about it than me– he's basically a genius– but what else could it be? A time freeze?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"But Vecna doesn't have any time powers."

"That we know of."

"Okay, well, what if it's not him that did this? What if it was someone or something else?"

"Like who? El? She hasn't been to the Upside Down since after I came back."

"So what if it was you?"

"What?"

"Think about it, Will. Why else would Vecna choose you? There has to be a reason. What if this is it?"

"No. No, I don't– I don't have powers ."

"How do you know? One didn't know until he was, like, 10."

"Yeah and I'm 17. I'm pretty sure I'd know by now."

"But what if, Will? It would make sense why he chose you again and again."

"Mike, I don't want to talk about it."

"Well we sort of have to. We have to cover every possibility."

"Okay. Say that I do have powers. I don't know what they are and I don't know how to use them. They're useless."

"You mean you're useless."

"What?"

"You always try and diminish yourself and put yourself off to the side, but Will, if you have supernatural powers that control time then you might be able to go back and stop this all from ever happening!"

"What if I don't want to?" Will yells, standing up from his seat and throwing his arms to the side before slamming his palms down on the table.

"What?"

"What if I don't want to? What if I don't want to go back and live through that again? What if I don't want to relive through that horror?"

"You wouldn't. That's what I'm saying. All of that trauma would be gone."

"Not all of it," Will mumbles.

Mike rounds the table, pulling Will into a hug, the two of them burying their heads in each other's necks. Will is holding back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Mike (and especially not in his arms). It was one of the few things he'd always tried to hide– his tears. With how much Mike already cares for and looks out for him, Will doesn't want to give him any more reasons. But right now it's all just too damn much, and that blockade of tears begins to fall.

"I'm sorry," Mike says, holding Will even closer, not letting go.

"It's not your fault."

"I know. I know. I love you."

"I love you," Will slips out, not even registering that he's done so.

Mike, however, realizes. He pulls back from Will just a bit, looking him in the eyes with wonder. Will wipes eyes and nose, trying to control the snot and tears running down his face. All the while, Mike just stares at him. Will wrinkles his nose, sniffling loudly as he looks at Mike with confusion.

"What?"

"You love me?"

"What?"

"You said that you love me."

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Sorry–? Sorry for what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"Loving you. I didn't want to. I tried so hard not to, but it didn't work. I tried everything, but no matter what it all came back to you, every single time."

"Is that not a good thing?"

"Not when you're you. Not after some of the things you've said and the things you've done."

"Will, I'm sorry."

"No, I know. I know you are. And I know that you'll say that a million times over until that day you die but...I can't forgive you. And yet I still love you anyways. I will keep on making up excuses for you in my head to give me a reason to keep on loving you, but I shouldn't. I shouldn't and I'm sorry."

"What does that mean, then?"

"It means that I can't let myself love you. No matter how much I do and no matter how much I want to, I can't let myself love you.

"So that's it?"

"Mike—"

"No, Will, I'm not mad. I just want to make sure."

"That's it."

"Okay," Mike says, finally letting Will go.

Will can feel himself cracking inside as Mike turns away and goes to the other side of the table, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on. With Mike no longer looking at him, Will lets the rest of his tears fall. He did it. He finally did. He finally ripped off that damned band aid, and as much as it is liberating, it also hurts like hell.

"Where are you going?" Will asks as Mike pushes his chair in and begins to walk away from the table.

"Outside."

"There’s a hoard of demodogs out there, in case you forgot."

"I'll take your gun."

"No," Will scoffs, Mike raising his brows.

"Oh well then are you coming with me?"

"No, because you're not leaving."

"I never said I was, I said I was going outside."

"I meant leaving the building."

“Well you can’t exactly keep me from doing so.”

"You know what? Fine. But don't call my name when you're getting mauled by a demodog and nipped at by demobats."

"Do you really have that little faith in me?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're trying to distance yourself. I get that. But hey, we're still best friends, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're still best friends," Will says, his face lighting up at the words and watching Mike smile before he leaves through the main door of the library.

Will stares for a moment longer before turning back to the table. He goes to his bag and grabs out their walkie talkie, tuning it to the designated channel. As he continues setting up their space, a book falls out, and it's all too similar to Nancy's. Must be Mike's.

Will knows that he shouldn't. He knows that he should put it back in the bag and forget about it, but he has an aching feeling that he has to look through it, and so he does. Despite every conscious move he's made to separate himself from Mike, and despite his brain telling him not to, his heart betrays him.

Grabbing the book, Will makes his way to a more secluded part of the library. During middle school, he'd often go there to work on his homework or to make art without any distractions. And usually, Mike was there too.

Will sits down in the beanbag chair, taking a deep breath before opening up the notebook. The month on the first page reads 'October, 1985'. It's the day Will moved to Lenora. He reads the first line, and immediately he shuts the book again. 'I love him' . The first three words in the book are 'I love him' . What a wake-up call. But that would mean, too, that Mike has been bottling these feelings up for at least three years. That long? Will hadn’t even realized his own feelings until a few months prior to the entry, and he definitely hadn’t accepted them right up until the very end– when he was sure he was never going to see Mike again.

That belief, that him moving was the end of the line, made it easier somehow to allow himself to love Mike. After all, he was loving him from afar (in more sense than one). Not seeing Mike for all that time, not talking to him much at all, not sending any gifts or letters– all of that had made loving Mike easier. Will eventually had allowed himself to express that love in the form of art. Sometimes it would get a little out of hand, yes (handhold doodles be bygones), but it always took a beautiful form. And no one had ever known. Not until Mike had brought up the painting today and said those words, shouted them at his face and into his ears. The words ring in Will’s head, and he slams the book shut once again.

What is wrong with me? The question stumbles throughout Will’s brain. What is wrong with him? Or is it not him that was the problem? Will doesn’t know.

The main door to the library creaks open before shutting with a bang. Will hides Mike’s journal next to him, making sure that if Mike comes in he won’t see. Will wasn’t looking to get into another fight today. It’ll happen, he knows, but he doesn’t want to make that happen sooner. He’d rather their next fight be their last– the one before Will does what he knows deep down has to be done. Mike will be pissed, Will knows, but he’d rather Mike live and never forgive him than be dead and not have a choice. At least alive, Mike can manage to do something .

“Will?” Mike calls, and Will shifts in his spot on the beanbag for a second, making himself more comfortable before Mike comes into the room. “Oh. There you are. Of course you’re in here.”

“Here I am.”

Mike simply stares. There’s a longing behind his eyes, one that Will has seen before but forced himself to forget. Mike’s eyes are encapsulating. They make you want to stare into them forever, never looking away or at anything else ever again. And because Will is looking so intently, he notices when Mike’s gaze shifts down the slightest bit, his mouth parting, but not to speak.

Will can feel his body begin to become hot all over, anxiety coursing through him. He knows what Mike is thinking, and he knows what Mike wants, and he wants it too but doesn’t at the same time and he wants to look away but he can’t . And because he can’t look away it gives Mike the advantage. Mike is standing right by the beanbag, the perfect distance to pull Will’s face up to meet his own. It feels surreal. Neither one says a word. It’s too much, too little, too messy, too perfect, too many things good and bad all at once.

“God, I want to kiss you,” Mike says finally, breathlessly, practically choking on his own words.

Their faces are nowhere near close, but it feels like they’re already touching, noses brushing, lips melting into each other. Will can picture it so clearly in his mind, as if it’s more of a memory than anything else but he knows that it isn’t and so desperately wants it to be. And he knows Mike loves him, and Mike knows he loves him, and now Mike is saying he wants to kiss him even though Will has made it clear that he can’t . Will has put everything he has into pushing Mike and his feelings for Mike far, far away, but—

Will can’t do this. He can’t take it any longer. He gives in. He urgently pulls Mike down by the back of his head and neck and into a fervent kiss. Will grips at Mike’s hair and Mike’s hands roam to hold onto Will’s body so they don’t fall to the ground, but it happens anyway when Will rolls them over, tongues slipping in and out of each other’s mouths and saliva covering both their lips and chins and cupid’s bows. There’s life in it and joy in it and it’s solemn and full of sorrow. It is every emotion the two boys have felt toward each other in their seventeen years of living and fifteen years of being best friends and being in love without the other knowing and it is wonderful and amazing and it is extricating .

“I love you,” Will breathes, his lips barely parting from Mike’s for more than a second to let the words slip out of his mouth as Mike sits the two up so he doesn’t choke on his own spit.

“I love you,” Mike whispers back, trailing a line of kisses from Will’s ear back to his mouth.

“I hate you but I love you,” Will says now, he and Mike still kissing, still holding each other.

“I know,” Mike says, giving Will another kiss before continuing, “And you have every right to hate me but I could never hate you.”

At this point they’re both just adding fuel to the fire. Will feels like his life depends on this kiss and that if he doesn't get enough he’s going to simply die . And he could.

As they press their lips together and swap germs and breath in each other, Will’s mind is racings between ‘I love Mike’ , ‘I hate Mike’ , and ‘I could die before this is over’ . And every one of those statements is painstakingly true. And Will only wants one of them to be, that he loves Mike, but that’s not the reality that he lives in and so he decides to pretend like it is so he can keep kissing Mike, keep loving him, keepin holding him in his arms.

“God, I love you,” Will says, holding back tears because fuck , he loves Mike and he wishes he didn’t.

“I love you. I have loved you for years, Will. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And they’re kissing again, unable to keep themselves from doing so. The world is ending and they’re kissing in the corner of the library of the Upside Down confessing their love to one another for the tenth time already. So fucking selfish , Will thinks to himself, but only for a moment because he’s kissing Mike Wheeler .

Will’s not sure what to say. He feels liberated yet disgusting at the same time. He feels awful knowing that Mike wasn’t honest with El or himself while they were together, that he wasn’t honest with Will. He feels awful because he never told El about his feelings and because he pretended like everything was okay, all the time. He let everyone believe that the painting was for a girl and that he liked a girl and that he brought it to the roller rink because the girl was going to be there . It made Will absolutely lose his mind and now he’s kissing Mike . Mike, the ‘girl’ he made the painting for. Mike, the ‘girl’ that he liked. Mike, the ‘girl’ that he brought the painting to the airport for because Mike is the girl that everyone thinks he’s in love with , and now he’s kissing him .

“Mike, I swear I’ve loved you my whole life.”

The two continue kissing, Mike only now moving his hands up to cup Will’s cheeks, palms flat against his face, only his fingers being bent at all. Will holds onto the collar of Mike’s leather jacket. It’s the one thing Will deep down has always known Mike has wanted to do, something that he himself has fantasized about a time or two before– but Mike was different. Will knows. He knows every time Mike has looked at his lips because he’s clocked it into his brain, saving it for a later date. For a time when it might be useful, helpful, necessary . He’d drawn Mike’s lips thousands of times from those moments engraved in his brain because he couldn’t help but look too.

“My whole fucking life,” Will emphasizes, somehow managing to pull Mike closer, Mike’s hand traveling to Will’s back to keep him from falling backwards.

“God I love you, Will,” Mike says in response, deeping their kiss further.

And yeah, they’re no longer kissing. Not anymore. Now they’re simply full-on making out, but neither one cares . Fuck the world, fuck Vecna, fuck the Upside Down. They don’t care that everything’s gone to shit. Not at this moment. Not while they have their lips on each other, spilling out their love to one another time and time again because now that they’ve started they just can’t stop and there’s nothing else for them to do other than kiss each other , but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Will, you’re amazing. So fucking amazing,” Mike mumbles between kisses. “I should’ve told you sooner. Should’ve made the connections quicker.”

“Mike stop talking and just kiss me,” Will begs, not in the mood for explanations or hearing any words other than love and praise.

“I love you.”

“Mike, I love you.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I hate that I love you.”

Will presses his lips firmly to Mike’s again, and they continue on like that for a while. The constant ‘I love you’ filling the air, Will’s desperate attempt to sabotage the moment that consistently fails and only makes them both swoon harder, their hands holding each other’s faces— Will is sure this is what heaven feels like. Mike’s lips on his, breathing each other in, words barely reaching above a whisper but someone sounding like the loudest part of a song, one that only they could recite and memorize and sing to each other. And by the end of their makeout session Will is tired and breathless but so full of love and laying in Mike’s arms with Mike lazily kissing his lips and forehead and nose and eyelids and ears and cheeks and jaw and neck and shoulders and collarbones, leaving no bit unscaved by his lips. Yeah , Will thinks to himself, brain shuffling through all the movies he’s seen– all the show’s he’s watched, all the books he’s read, all the life he’s lived– this is love .

Just as Mike is leaving another light kiss to Will’s collarbone, the walkie talkie crackles to life. Mike’s eyes blink slowly, Will detangling himself from Mike’s grasp. He walks over to the table, picking up the walkie talkie and listening to it for a second again. The voice is only slightly shaky, mostly firm and strong. A woman’s voice. Nancy.

“Mike, do you copy? Over.”

“It’s Will. I copy. Over.”

“Is Mike still with you? Are you both okay? Over.”

Will looks at Mike who’s slowly getting up from the floor, readjusting his leather jacket as he does so. Will smiles, resulting in Mike blowing him a kiss his way with a wink, and Will chuckles a little when afterwards Mike nearly falls forward onto his face.

“Will?”

“Yeah–” his voice cracks, “–yeah, we’re good, Nancy. We’re good…Over.”

“When was your last contact with Lucas and Dustin? Over.”

“When we left the gate. Why? Over.”

“Since getting through watergate we haven’t been able to get a hold of them. Over.”

“Have you contacted Mom and Hopper and El? Are they okay?”

“I don’t know, but we wanted to reach you guys first. Shit—”

The line goes silent, only crackling on the other end. Then, after a minute, a new voice enters. It’s Steve.

“We’ve got problems and I have no idea how to work this thing. We are getting swarmed by bats right now and we still haven’t gotten to our location and—” he sounds like he’s on the verge of a breakdown.

“Listen Thing 1 and Thing 2, whatever you do, do not leave the library. Capiche?” Robin .

“You got it, Robin. Over,” Mike says, taking the walkie talkie from Will.

“Over and out,” Robin says, and the crackling stops.

Will immediately grabs Mike’s bag, beginning to empty everything out and only put inside things he might need to kill Vecna. He leaves his jacket, not wanting to have that extra added weight. He doesn’t care if he gets Upside Down on him. He’s had it inside him. Outside wasn’t that bad. He ties his bandana around his neck again, putting on his shoes.

“What are you doing?” Mike asks as he tries to signal for Lucas and Dustin.

“I’m going.”

“Obviously, but where?”

“Creel House.”

“Cr– Creel House ?”

“Yup.”

“Will, you heard what Robin said. We’re supposed to stay here.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You can stay here with me and we can sit together in the beanbag with the walkie talkie and our books and Nancy’s journal and wait for them to need us to find any information for them that they might need.”

“ You can do that. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t want you, Mike! He wants me. Me and El. We’re what he wants, so I’m going to give it to him.”

“Why?”

“Because Steve and Robin and Nancy and Erica and Jonathan are getting attacked, Lucas and Dustin are probably dead, Max is in a coma, and four other people have already died. I don’t want to add anyone else to that list when by going with him I could prevent it. If my mom had just let me die that day in the Upside Down—”

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Mike, and you know it is. You said yourself that I’m what One wants, right? I’m what he’s after? Not just El, but me too. That’s what you said. And if you really believe that then you’ll know that we’re the only ones that can end this, even if that means our deaths.”

“I’m not letting you get yourself killed!”

“You don’t get to decide that! I’m not your boyfriend. We’re not dating. All we did was kiss and admit that we love each other. It’s a done deal. I can die happy with that. Why can’t you?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to!”

“No one should, but that’s the reality we’re living in. Wake up, Mike! This isn’t some fairytale fantasy movie where the good guys win every time. People are going to die. Let one of them be me.”

“Will, I can’t.”

“Mike, please. I am standing here begging you to let me do one thing right. One thing, Mike. Let me make things right. Let me fix this. If you really love me—”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. Don’t do that, don’t do this . Don’t do this to me, Will. Don’t do this,” both have tears in their eyes, Will’s mournful and Mike’s begging, Will’s heart breaking for the final time, never to be fixed again.

“—If you really love me you’ll let me go.”

“Will—”

“Mike, please .”

“Fine. Go. But the second you get there, I want you to call me on their walkie talkie.”

“Deal.”

“Will, I love you.”

“I know.”

“I love you so much.”

Mike pulls Will into a quick firm kiss, pulling back again but not wanting to let go. Then, he does one thing the two haven’t done since they were fourteen years old. They hug. Mike pulls Will in, tightly wrapping his arms around him, breathing him in. They sob into each other’s arms, the hug tight and warm and familiar, but just as heartbreaking as their last. It lasts for longer than it probably should, neither one really wanting to let go. When they do, Will doesn’t waste any more time. He grabs the bag and slips the straps onto his shoulders, turning and leaving for the front doors of the library. He picks up his shotgun, leaving out the giant doors. This ends now .

Will walks. He walks for a while. He walks for what feels like forever, but he keeps up his energy the entire time. Does a part of him wish he’d accepted Mike’s offer and lied in a bean bag with him, wrapped in his arms just waiting for someone to call them? Abso-fucking-lutely. But he made his choice– the right choice , he reminds himself. He wouldn't be doing this otherwise. But he can’t let anyone else die. Not because of him.

When Will is finally standing in front of Creel House, it feels almost surreal. He’s seen drawings of the building, old photos from newspapers, but he’s never actually been here, standing in front of it. The most noticeable feature, in his opinion, are the windows at the top. It sticks out to him more so than anything else. There’s the stained glass window, too, of a single rose. Beauty and the Beast , Will references in his head, noting the yellow background to it. He pushes the door open and is immediately greeted by almost being speared in the face by his mom. Joyce drops the spear, pulling Will into a hug, but it doesn't last long.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Mike. Where is he? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, Mom. He’s fine, just– where’s your walkie talkie?”

“Here. Right here,” Joyce hands it to him, and he immediately switches it to the proper channel.

“Mike? Over.” “Will? Will, is that you? Over.” Mike’s voice through the walkie talkie is something Will will always know.

“It’s me. Over.”

“So you’re okay? Over.”

“For now. I have to go. I’ll let you know if anything happens. Over and out.”

Will shuts down the conversation quickly, not wanting to get too far into it. The walkie doesn’t crackle again, so he assumes Mike got the message. Will hands the walkie talkie back to his mom, smiling at her tightly before putting his bag down in the corner. The house is silent.

“Where’s Hop and El?”

“Upstairs in the attic. They have me standing guard.”

“Why is it so quiet?”

“Mind fight.”

Will nods, slowly making his way to the staircase. He makes sure not to have any of the steps creak. He doesn’t want to give himself away to Henry just yet. As he goes, he notices the clock on the wall, and that at the top his name is engraved there. But not just ‘Will’. It says ‘William’ . A cold chill shivers down Will’s spine as he continues making his way up, knocking once on the wall of the attic once he reaches the top. There they are. El and Vecna. They’re standing facing each other, but both have their eyes closed. Both look serious, and El’s nose is bleeding the most Will has ever seen.

“What are you doing here? It’s dangerous,” Hopper says when he hears Will’s knock.

“He wants both of us. Let him get me.”

“Kid, no. I have spent the last near decade keeping you safe.”

“Hop, trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Will brushes past Hopper, shoving his shotgun into his hands. He makes his way over to El, resting a hand on her shoulder. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s supposed to do. First he tries shutting his eyes, but that doesn’t work. He tries willing himself in there with her, but that doesn’t work either. Will looks at El next to him, his sister, the only person he could really talk to that entire week he’d been missing.

“El? I know you can hear me. I need you to stop fighting. For just one second, I need you to leave the mind space. Let him get me—”

Will can barely finish his sentence before El has an arm stretching out, using her powers to pin him to the wall. She’s not hurting him by any means, simply holding him there so he doesn’t get in the way and doesn’t get hurt. But Will can’t have that. Not right now.

“El, let him. I can fight.”

El doesn’t budge, focusing on her task at hand: killing Vecna.

Will shuts his eyes again, thinking back to the clock. The rose. Beauty and the beast. It all ties together. The beast had limited time. The rose is the same symbol as the clock. Time. Will squeezes his eyes shut tighter, his hands balling into fists before he loses his strength and gives up. But then he falls to the ground harshly, and when he opens his eyes everyone around him is still, all of the particles in the air are still– everything is still except for one thing. Vecna.

“It’s nice to see you again, William.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Will says, standing up quickly and brushing himself off.

“I see you’ve found out about your gift.”

“Is this why you took me? So I could freeze the world?”

“No. I wanted you for something far, far greater.”

“Well now you have me. Just leave my friends and my family alone. You have me. We can do whatever we want now, right?”

“I always knew you would join me. There was always just one problem.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“That party of yours. And Mike.”

“Don’t lay a finger on him– any of them.”

“Too late. Your time has come, William.”

“No. No, I don’t think it has because right now time doesn’t even exist. If you get to make up the rules, so do I. My rules are that if I join you, then you leave my dimension alone. We stay here. We rule the Upside Down. I can be your puppet. Sure. I don’t care. Just leave my dimension and all of the people who belong in it alone .”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Come on, Henry. Let’s start a new party, you and me.”

Everything starts up again, El opening her eyes and quickly turning to throw Vecna against the wall. He fights back, but instead of directly against El he raises Will up into the air, closing his throat in on him, choking him without being anywhere near him. This was Will’s plan, and it was working. El fights harder, and Vecna begins to turn to dust. Still, Will’s lungs aren’t getting any air, his blood isn’t getting any oxygen, and he’s beginning to feel lightheaded. He feels like his neck is about to snap and that his esophagus is going to break.

Will is close to death. He can feel it. He can feel as he starts to slip in and out of consciousness, but he doesn’t try to fight it. Henry is right. His time has come. But he’s not afraid anymore. If you had come to him a few years before, he would have screamed and been terrified at even the thought of encountering Vecna, let alone coming up with a plan all on his own to stop him once and for all. But he’s not scared. Not this time. Not anymore.

He watches as El continues to fight against him, as Henry continues to choke Will, cutting off his air. And Hopper is shooting at him and throwing t-shirts covered in gasoline and lit on fire at him, and his mother is fighting too, but El and One are both strong as hell and then Will feels it. That last breath. He falls, eyes fluttering shut for the last time as Vecna turns into complete dust. Will’s heartbeat goes from beating the fastest it ever has to very quickly slowing down. As he falls to the ground, Vecna finally turns to dust. And then, black.

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