Chapter Text
Will could still feel it lingering faintly in the back of his mind and deeper still at the back of his throat, a dull pulsing sensation that demanded attention he was far too exhausted to properly give. Every instinct he possessed rebelled against the idea of sleeping in the Upside Down at all, against lowering his guard in a place where the walls breathed and monsters stalked the dark, but whatever had happened after the vines and the memories and the eggs had drained him too thoroughly to fight it for long. So when sleep finally took him, it had been sudden and heavy.
Just absence.
A deep, consuming nothingness that swallowed him whole in a way he hadn’t let himself secretly wish for in too long.
Waking up, the first thing he noticed was the cold.
It seeped into everything there, into the damp floorboards and the spores drifting endlessly through the air and the ache buried deep in his bones as he shivered against it. His throat felt horribly dry, scraped raw enough that the first deep breath he took immediately triggered a rough cough against the thick air, though oddly enough the dryness itself came as some form of relief considering what had been inside him before.
Then came the second sensation.
Arms around him.
Will jerked instinctively before he was even fully awake, panic surging up sharp and immediate as his body tried to fight free on reflex alone, but almost as quickly as the thought formed, the arms around him tightened carefully rather than forcefully and a chest behind him rose with a small, shaky breath.
“Will, it's just me,” Mike’s voice came quietly above him, rough with simultaneous exhaustion and relief. “Just me. You okay?”
The panic vanished almost instantly.
Not completely. Never enough to stop the trembling buried in his muscles or the lingering terror sitting heavy beneath his ribs, only enough that the desperate need to fight melted away into something softer and far more rare.
Safety.
It took Will a long moment to properly force his eyes open through the haze of exhaustion and the dim blue-grey gloom of the basement around them. Warm breath ghosted faintly across the top of his head, ruffling his hair where Mike’s chin had apparently ended up resting against him while he slept.
Long legs bracketed either side of him, bent at the knees so that Will was effectively caged in against Mike’s chest, held upright by strong arms wrapped firmly around his torso. It wasn’t restrictive. If anything it felt protective in a way that made a painful ache in Will’s chest because of course Mike held people like this when he was scared of losing them.
Of course he did.
Will made a weak little sound, another cough scraping harshly at his throat before he managed a hoarse sounding, “Yeah.”
The relieved exhale above him was immediate.
Across from them came another quieter sound of relief too and it took Will several sluggish blinks to fully focus on Lucas and Dustin sitting nearby amidst the tangled shadows and vines. They both looked exhausted themselves, pale beneath the dim light and streaked with grime from the gate and the fight.
And sitting further back against the wall, deliberately distant from the rest of them, Chance remained silent.
He looked rough.
Really rough.
His face had lost every trace of certainty he’d once carried, replaced instead by hollow exhaustion and lingering fear while a bruise darkened one side of his jaw. But true to the warning he’d been given, he kept his distance entirely, hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets whenever Mike glanced his way. Like he understood now that getting too close to Will was no longer an option.
Will swallowed carefully against the raw ache in his throat before glancing between Lucas and Dustin again. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. “What happened?”
The silence that followed stretched just a little too long.
Not empty.
Awkward.
Really fucking awkward. Like they were all trying to work out how exactly to explain what had happened after he blacked out. Lucas scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck first, exchanging a brief look with Dustin before grimacing slightly. “Uh… okay, so, technically after you kinda… y’know…”
“Birthed alien eggs?” Dustin offered dryly.
Will looked horrified instantly.
Lucas winced. “Yeah, that. After that you pretty much passed out.”
“Oh.”
“Except,” Dustin continued carefully, “you were also screaming. Like… a lot.”
Will frowned weakly. “Screaming?”
Dustin nodded emphatically. “Dude, like end-of-the-world screaming. Like we-thought-your-brain-was-melting screaming.”
Mike shifted slightly behind him at that, arms tightening instinctively around Will’s middle again like the memory alone still unsettled him.
“You uh. Burst a bunch of blood vessels,” Lucas added quickly, waving his hand to gesture around his face and neck then immediately grimaced at how bad that sounded. “Not like actively bleeding though... They just kinda popped in your neck and face and stuff but it seems okay, so—”
“That does not sound better,” Dustin informed him.
“I was trying to make it sound better.”
“You failed spectacularly.”
Will blinked slowly through the explanation, exhaustion making everything feel oddly distant while the lingering soreness in his throat and chest made it difficult to fully process.
Then Dustin added quietly, “Mike held onto you the whole time.”
Will stilled and beside him, Mike immediately went rigid too. As though he hadn't anticipated it being acknowledged aloud.
“You only really calmed down when he was talking to you,” Dustin continued, entirely oblivious to the fact both boys were suddenly avoiding hyper aware of each others presence. “Like seriously, every time you heard his voice you stopped trying to like, claw at yourself.”
“It was actually kinda disgusting.” Lucas’s mouth twitched faintly like he was trying not to smile, something knowing in it that had Mike almost bristling.
Mike’s face went bright red almost instantly. “Shut up.”
Will could feel heat crawling embarrassingly across his own cheeks too despite the freezing air around them, which was frankly ridiculous considering the amount of horrific things they’d all experienced within the last few hours alone.
Still…
Will couldn’t stop himself from leaning back just slightly further into Mike’s chest afterward.
And Mike, after only the briefest hesitation, tightened his arms around him again.
Truthfully, Mike didn’t think he would ever really sleep again.
Not properly.
Not without hearing the sound of Will screaming the way he had earlier, raw and agonised to the point it barely sounded human anymore while Mike held onto him helplessly and prayed it would stop. The memory lodged itself somewhere deep beneath his ribs alongside every other terrible sound attached to Will over the years—the desperate coughing after a week in the Upside Down, the terrified gasps in the field back in ’84, the screams echoing through Hawkins Lab while doctors restrained him and he cried that it hurt everywhere.
Mike had thought that first time in the lab would haunt him forever. Apparently the universe had decided he needed worse. Because whatever hell or purgatory the Upside Down truly was, it had sunk its teeth into Will Byers years ago and never fully let go.
It had been longer than Mike had ever really allowed himself to think about.
And even now, after everything, Will still wasn’t free of it.
Mike’s gaze drifted unwillingly toward the floor nearby where the smashed remains of the demo-eggs still clung wetly to the basement boards, sneaker prints stamped deep into ruptured grey sacs and slime that glistened faintly beneath the dim light. In the real Hawkins maybe it would have dried by now, crusted over into something easier to ignore, but the Upside Down didn’t work like that. Nothing there ever truly dried out or faded away. The entire place remained damp and rotting and horribly stagnant, like time itself had drowned there years ago and never recovered.
Will’s t-shirt still clung damply to his skin beneath Mike’s jacket where sweat, slime and holy water had soaked through the material hours earlier, and even tucked firmly against Mike’s chest he felt freezing cold.
Mike could feel the chill himself by now too.
It had worked its way through his jeans and shoes and settled into his hands until his fingers ached every time he moved them, but there was absolutely no chance he was taking the jacket back from Will even if the place eventually gave him hypothermia.
Not happening.
Across the basement, Lucas was checking the flashlight batteries they’d scavenged while Dustin fiddled nervously with the compass in his hands despite it spinning uselessly there. The plan itself was fragile at best: make it to the section of the gate near Mirkwood, regroup with the others and get the hell out before Vecna or another swarm of monsters found them first.
Simple in theory.
Terrifying in practice.
“We should move before it gets worse out there,” Lucas said quietly, glancing toward the stairs overhead where distant groans echoed through the vines threaded inside the walls.
Dustin nodded quickly. “Especially if those demodogs are still roaming around.”
At the mention of those things, Chance visibly stiffened from his place near the wall. “You seriously expect me to go back out there?” he asked, voice sharper now with panic clawing beneath it. “After what we saw?”
Mike looked up slowly from where he still sat beside Will. “Yes.”
Chance stared at him incredulously. “That thing had ripped people apart!”
“And?” Mike replied flatly.
The other boy blinked at him like he genuinely couldn’t comprehend the response.
Mike honestly didn’t care.
Not after the memories.
Not after seeing Will terrified and cornered in that cemetery while Chance grabbed at him and kissed him like he was trying to prove something to himself rather than caring what Will actually wanted.
And definitely not after the ridiculous excuse of a fucking exorcism. Mike still couldn’t fully wrap his head around it no matter how many times he replayed the memories through his mind. Chance acted like Will was evil one minute and then looked at him like... that the next, all tangled-up guilt and longing and violence twisted together into something ugly and confusing.
What game was he even playing?
Because Mike knew what he’d seen in Will’s face afterward.
Fear.
Not confusion.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
The thought made something hot and vicious twist sharply in Mike’s chest all over again. “You can stay here if you want,” Mike said eventually, though the offer sounded more threatening than reassuring. “I’m sure Vecna’ll keep you company.”
Chance paled instantly.
Dustin snorted despite the tension while Lucas shot Mike a look that clearly said maybe don’t threaten to abandon people in monster hell, though notably he didn’t actually argue against it either.
Chance dragged a hand shakily through his dark hair again before glancing toward the basement staircase like he expected another Demogorgon to burst through it at any second. “I just think maybe we should wait until daylight or something—”
“There is no daylight here,” Will rasped quietly before anyone else could answer.
The entire room fell silent for a second.
Will still looked exhausted beyond belief, slumped heavily against Mike’s side with his curls flattened awkwardly from sleep and sweat, but his eyes had opened a little more now, dull hazel focusing weakly on Chance.
“It doesn’t change,” he murmured. “Not really.” The closest they would get to light would be the occasional strike of lightning between the chorus of thunder.
Something in the way he said it made Mike’s chest ache painfully all over again because it sounded too familiar, too practiced, like Will knew this place intimately enough to say it from experience rather than observation. He shouldn't have that knowledge at all.
Chance looked distinctly unsettled by that too.
Good.
Mike carefully pushed himself to his feet first before immediately offering Will both hands without hesitation. “C’mon,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”
Will hesitated only briefly before taking them.
The second he swayed, Mike’s hands moved automatically to steady him at the waist and elbow, keeping him upright while Will gathered himself again beneath the weight of the leather jacket hanging off his shoulders.
Too thin.
Still freezing.
Mike swallowed tightly against the rush of relief that thought brought him before glaring over Will’s head toward Chance again.
“Try keeping up this time,” he muttered coldly. “And make sure you keep your distance.” Will was sure he heard a mumble under Mikes breath that sounded far too similar to piece of shit.
The back door of the Wheeler basement groaned softly as Lucas eased it open, the sound immediately drawing everyone's attention despite how small it was. In the Upside Down, every noise felt amplified. Every creak became a warning. Every footstep carried the possibility of something hearing it.
For several long seconds, nobody moved.
Mike found himself gripping the handle of the kitchen knife tighter as he listened.
The distant hum of the place surrounded them, an unnatural sound that wasn't quite wind and wasn't quite alive either. Vines creaked somewhere in the darkness. Something shifted several streets away. The spores drifting through the air caught in the dim blue-grey light and hung there like ash from a world that had already burned down.
Eventually Lucas nodded once.
“Clear.”
As clear as anything ever got there.
One by one they slipped outside. The neighbourhood stretched around them in eerie stillness, familiar and alien all at once. They had all had grown up on these streets. As neighbours, Mike and Lucas knew every driveway and mailbox, every shortcut and fence and patch of cracked pavement. Yet the Upside Down transformed it all into something haunting.
The houses stood silent beneath a sky frozen in perpetual twilight. Thick vines wrapped around gutters and chimneys like veins spreading across a corpse. Windows stared back at them as dark, empty eyes. The trees lining the street sagged beneath grey fungal growth, their branches twisted into skeletal silhouettes.
It looked dead.
Not abandoned.
Mike hated it. Beside him, Will stepped carefully over the threshold. The leather jacket hung heavily from his shoulders, swallowing his hands almost entirely. His hair was damp and flattened in places and waved in others. Dried blood still stained his skin in sickening tear streaks despite the tears that had leaked through. Sleep had helped, but only barely. He wasn't swaying as much anymore and there was more focus behind his eyes, yet exhaustion still clung to him like a second skin. He looked haunted. It was the only way Mike could think to describe it.
Mike noticed every little sign of the fatigue. The way Will favoured one side slightly when he walked. The occasional tightening of his jaw to push himself forward. Even way his hand drifted unconsciously toward his throat every now and then before dropping again.
Without thinking, Mike moved closer. Not enough to crowd him. Just enough to be close so that if Will stumbled, he'd catch him. And he would.
Lucas and Dustin seemed to have reached the exact same conclusion.
The first time they encountered a thick knot of vines crossing the pavement, Lucas automatically offered an arm to steady him.
The second time, Dustin physically stepped in front of Will to redirect him around a patch of pulsing growth that stretched across an entire section of road.
Nobody commented on it.
They simply adjusted around Will the way they always had. The difference was that now Mike understood just how much Will had spent years hiding.
Not just the Upside Down.
Not just the treatment of the town.
Everything.
The thought settled heavily in his chest as they moved through the ruined streets. Because Vecna hadn't merely shown them what Chance had done. He'd shown them everything.
Every fear.
Every humiliation.
Every heartbreak.
And Mike couldn't stop thinking about it. No matter how hard he tried. Every time he looked at Will, another memory surfaced.
Will crying silently beside the van window while talking about the painting. Will standing in the rain outside Castle Byers. Will watching everyone else drift away toward relationships and girlfriends and things that never seemed to include him anymore. Will trying over and over again to reach for people only to convince himself he shouldn't need them.
And worst of all—
Mike swallowed hard.
The painting. The pep talk in the van and the way Will had used his own feelings as a shield for Eleven's.
No.
Not Eleven's.
Will's.
The memory made something twist painfully inside him. It was so painful obvious now. Beyond obvious. Every word Will had spoken in that van had come from his own heart.
Every trembling sentence. Every desperate reassurance. Each declaration that Mike was the heart. Will hadn't been talking about Eleven but about himself.
And then he'd turned away to hide his tears. Because he'd thought Mike wouldn't want to see them. But Mike knew if he'd seen it he'd have realised that it wasn't Eleven.
The guilt alone was enough to make Mike feel sick.
The worse realisation, however, was what came after. Because now that he knew— now that he understood— He couldn't stop examining everything else.
Every moment with Eleven. The awkward kisses. How each conversation felt more and more... rehearsed somehow. Then there was every attempt to force himself into being the person he thought he was supposed to be.
The truth sat in the centre of it all like a splinter he could no longer ignore. He loved Eleven.
Of course he did.
She was important to him.
She always would be.
But he couldn't deny that there had always been something missing.
Something that never quite fit no matter how hard he tried to make it.
And now he knew why.
The realisation terrified him almost as much as it relieved him. It meant facing a truth he'd spent years avoiding.
A truth currently walking beside him in an oversized leather jacket. A truth who still looked convinced those feelings were entirely one-sided.
“Still can't believe it." Dustin's voice broke through Mike's thoughts.
The other boy looked furious. Not irritated and certainly more than simply annoyed. His curls bounced slightly as he shook his head.
“Seriously.”
Nobody asked what he meant. They already knew. Chance's shoulders visibly tensed.
Good.
Dustin jabbed a finger in his direction. “You.”
Chance grimaced. “Henderson—”
“No.” The response came immediately, as though he'd been bottling it up the entire time. Sharp and utterly ucompromising. “You spent an entire year helping people blame Eddie for things he didn't fucking do.” A flicker of pain crossed Dustin's face at the mention of Eddie.
It never really left anymore.
“And somehow you looked at Will and decided he was the dangerous one.”
“Dustin...” Lucas sounded more cautious than disapproving.
Dustin wasn't interested. “Will.” He gestured broadly toward him, deeming his tone insufficient. “Will has literally never hurt anybody.” The statement hung in the air. It was true. Painfully true.
Lucas sighed quietly. “I've known him since I was like, six, I think, and the closest thing I've seen to him throwing a punch was when he was shaking his dice and slipped.”
“Exactly!” Dustin threw both hands into the air. “He's nice to everyone.”
Will immediately looked uncomfortable. Which only made Dustin more determined. “He helps people who don't deserve it. He apologises when things aren't his fault. Half the time somebody could punch him in the face and he'd probably ask if their hand was okay.”
“Dustin.” Mike warned, even if it wasn't untrue.
“I'm serious!” The anger in his voice softened unexpectedly. Not disappearing but changing... becoming something sadder. “He doesn't deserve any of this bullshit.”
Nobody spoke.
Not even Chance.
Especially not Chance.
After what they'd all seen, there wasn't really an argument to make anymore. The silence stretched between them.
Will stared at the pavement.
Mike stared at Will.
And for the first time all night, Chance seemed unable to meet anyone's eyes. As though seeing those memories had finally forced him to confront the reality of who Will actually was beneath all the fear and rumours and accusations.
Eventually Will spoke. Quietly. “I really don't want to talk about it.” His voice sounded tired. Emotionally more than physically this time. As though he simply didn't have the strength left to endure people discussing the worst moments of his life in front of him.
Mike answered immediately, pointedly. “Then we won't.” The response came so fast that everyone glanced toward him, including Will.
Their eyes met briefly.
Hazel on brown.
For a moment neither looked away. Mike saw confusion there. Vulnerability. A gnawing fear that was unmistakable now Mike could see it for what it was.
Underneath it all, the lingering certainty that now everyone knew the truth. That everyone knew about the crush he'd spent years trying to hide.
That everyone knew about Will. That what his father had said, what the town whispered and the bullies hurled wasn't entirely far off. Because Will liked Mike.
What Will didn't seem to understand yet was that Mike wasn't looking at him with disgust.
Or pity.
Or discomfort.
If anything, he looked guilty. Terrified in a way that weighed on his shoulders more than the need to be aware of their surroundings. Stubborn now that he'd made his mind up. And desperately protective above it all.
Because the more Mike thought about everything Vecna had shown them, the more certain he became of one thing.
The person he was angry with most wasn't Will. Never Will.
It was himself.
For taking so long to see it.
Will tried not to think about it. He really, really did. The problem was that there was nowhere for his thoughts to go except inward.
The streets stretched endlessly around them as they walked through the ruined reflection of Hawkins, each familiar landmark carrying memories he would have happily buried forever. The damp air sat heavily in his lungs. Every breath tasted faintly of rot and spores. Every step squelched against something soft or organic that he tried very hard not to identify.
And through it all, his thoughts kept circling back.
Mike knew.
The realisation kept replaying no matter how hard he tried to shove it aside.
Mike knew.
Not the safe version. Not the watered-down version Will had spent years crafting and reshaping into something harmless, something society didn't blink twice at.
There wasn't a way he could even think to start addressing it. A crush? Not really. That word felt stupid now... Too small.
Too childish.
But then Will always was too childish. What he'd felt for Mike wasn't some fleeting thing he'd grow out of after a few months. It wasn't passing and he had wished for it to be temporary time and again.
Yet, it had rooted itself somewhere deep inside him years ago and simply never left. It had survived monsters and possession and moving across the country and heartbreak and distance and everything else life had thrown at him.
It had survived all of it.
And now Mike knew.
Dustin knew.
Lucas knew.
Chance knew.
The thought made something twist painfully in his chest. Because Lucas was Lucas. Lucas had known, had taken it as a simple fact like he'd listed it out. "I'm Will Byers and I read Fangoria, love Jaws and I'm gay." But he'd even guessed the Mike of it all when Will himself had been too overwhelmed and shy to outright deny it.
Dustin...
Dustin was still Dustin. If anything, he'd looked angrier on Will's behalf more than anything else. Dustin had accepted differences openly. Something he'd not gotten from Eddie but had certainly embraced more openly after knowing the older boy.
But Chance—
Will swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat. Chance had confirmation now.
Proof.
Of the thing he'd already suspected. The thing that made him look at Will like there was something fundamentally wrong with him.
And eventually Chance would go back. Back to Hawkins... to his friends. Back to people who already thought Will was strange and different.
The rumours were bad enough already.
This would be worse.
So much worse.
His breathing became a little shallower. A little tighter. Will focused harder on walking. One foot. Then the next. Then another. Forcing himself forward to stop himself running back.
Just keep moving.
Keep going.
The rhythm helped for a little while. Not nearly enough for what Will needed. The further they walked through the Upside Down, the more he found himself staring at the endless decay surrounding them and feeling a horrible familiarity settle over him.
The dampness.
The cold.
The loneliness.
Perpetual twilight in the most skin crawling way. Sometimes it felt like he'd never really left this place. Like part of him had been trapped there ever since he was twelve years old.
Maybe that was why Vecna kept coming back. Why the Upside Down always seemed to want him.
Maybe this was simply where he belonged.
The thought slipped into his mind so quietly he almost didn't notice it. Almost... but once it was there, it refused to leave.
His chest tightened further. His throat felt constricted. He huffed out a tight exhale, closer to a cough than a breath.
The beginnings of panic started creeping up his spine.
Run.
The thought came suddenly. Sharp. Instinctive in a way that wasn't built into his DNA but embedded into his nervous system after the longest week of his life.
Run.
His pulse quickened.
Run.
The feeling only grew stronger as they rounded another corner and emerged onto a road Will recognised instantly. His feet slowed, sneakers scuffing along wet cement.
Then he stopped, completely. The others took several steps before realising he wasn't moving.
Mirkwood.
The intersection where Kerley met Cornwallis. The road leading toward the lab. The same road he used to take home and rarely ever found himself on it with the sun set. It was the road where everything had started.
Will couldn't breathe.
The empty stretch of asphalt disappeared beneath layers of memory so vivid they felt real.
Early November mist meeting familiar autumnal darkness. Not quite cold enough to need a coat just yet but the first frost wouldn't even be weeks away.
A glimpse of something impossible stepping from the trees. The sound of his bike hitting the ground and the crisp leaves on the forest floor. It rang in his ears.
The overwhelming certainty that he needed to run. Needed to hide. That he had to get away with more urgency than he'd felt even with his dad around.
The memory slammed into him with such force that for a second he wasn't sixteen anymore.
He was twelve.
Smaller.
Terrified.
Alone.
The glowing wound of the gate pulsed faintly ahead through the gloom. Vines crawled across the road. The darkness beyond seemed endless, stretching through spore thick fog and skeletal trees.
Waiting.
Watching.
The fear crashed over him so suddenly his knees nearly buckled.
Run.
Run.
Run.
His body screamed at him to move. To flee. That he had to hide somewhere small and dark and safe. Instead he froze.
Completely.
Every muscle locked in his body. Every breath trapped within the cage of his ribs. His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead as panic climbed steadily higher.
Somewhere nearby, someone was speaking.
Maybe Dustin... Maybe Lucas. The words didn't register. All Will could see was that stretch of road.
That terrible run of cement that haunted him for too many years. The nightmare he'd relived countless times suddenly laying in front of him again.
Then someone stepped into his line of sight.
The road vanished.
The gate disappeared.
The vines evanesced.
All he could see was Mike.
Mike dropped into a crouch directly in front of him without hesitation, blocking his entire view of the street. Blocking the memories and the panic.
Everything except himself as dark eyes focused in on him, checking for something invisible that Will couldn't place.
“Will.”
The name cut through the noise immediately.
Will blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Hazel eyes finally focused. Deep, familiar bown eyes stared back. Steady. Concerned enough to make Will's chest hurt.
Mike's hands settled carefully on his arms, long fingers curled around the leather covering his arms. Not gripping and certainly not tight enough for Will to feel trapped.
Just there.
Keeping him anchored. “Hey.”
Will swallowed hard. His breathing remained uneven. Hitching in places he couldn't force to normalcy.
Mike's expression softened immediately. The panic must have been obvious. The fear too. Because Mike shifted even closer until Will couldn't possibly look past him if he tried. “It's okay.” His voice was quiet. Firm. The same voice that had guided them through impossible situations for years. The confidence that somehow always sounded most convincing when directed at Will. “It's okay.” He repeated, grounding and Will's eyes burned.
Mike didn't look away. “Stay close to me, alright?” The words weren't a request. They were a promise. A lifeline as much as a guarantee. As though Mike had already decided there was absolutely no scenario in which he was letting Will out of his sight again.
Will's breathing stuttered, a sound slipping out. It was too much like a whimper, a crack caught escaping before Will could control it. Pathetic. Childish—
Mike squeezed his arm lightly. “Eyes on me.”
Nothing else.
Not the road.
Not the gate.
Not the memories.
Not the monsters.
Mike.
“Can you do that for me?”
For a long moment, Will simply stared at him. Then, slowly, shakily, he nodded. And Mike smiled. A curve of chapped lips that still looked pink against the paleness of his complexion.
Relief warmed his features. Like that answer mattered far more than it should have. “Good. That's good.” Only then did he straighten again, staying close enough that he could throw his arm heavily around Wills shoulders as they started moving forward once more.
This time, when Will's feet obeyed, it was because he was watching Mike instead of the road.
They continued through the streets in uneasy silence, moving cautiously between houses and overgrown gardens that had long since been swallowed by the Upside Down. Every step had to be considered. Every corner had to be checked before they rounded it. The place seemed to breathe around them, the vast network of vines stretching over roads and rooftops pulsing faintly beneath layers of grey spores that drifted endlessly through the stagnant air.
The familiar neighbourhood had become something nightmarish.
Will remembered riding these streets on his bike. He remembered cutting through back gardens with Mike and Lucas. He remembered summer evenings spent chasing Dustin through sprinklers and arguing over whose turn it was to roll the dice during a campaign.
Now every memory felt distant.
Buried beneath rot.
The world seemed quieter here, but not in any comforting way. It was the kind of silence that made his skin crawl. The kind that made every creak and scrape sound deliberate, as though something was always listening from just beyond sight.
A distant chitter carried through the darkness.
Immediately all five of them froze. Mike's arm shot out automatically. Like it was instinct to block Will from any harm that might come his way.
The sound faded after several agonising seconds, disappearing back into the endless gloom. Only then did they start moving again.
Nobody commented on it.
Will was kind of thankful for that. He kept his gaze lowered as they walked, focusing on the back of Mike's shirt rather than the streets around them. It was simpler that way. Easier than looking at the vines, than looking at the familiar houses transformed into rotting shells. More uncomplicated than letting himself remember all the reasons this place still lived beneath his skin.
Mike's white T-shirt was no longer white.
The fabric was stained with dirt, dark patches of slime and streaks of dried blood that stood out starkly against the material. None of it belonged to him.
Will recognised the rusty red smears as his own. Other stains carried a darker tint. Almost black like tar.
Demogorgon blood.
The sight should probably have been alarming. Instead he found himself staring at the way the shirt clung slightly to Mike's broad shoulders from sweat and damp, at the familiar shape of him moving steadily ahead by only half a step through the darkness.
Mike looked exhausted.
They all did. Yet somehow he still carried himself like he had since they were five years old. Like he had a plan. As though he could keep everyone safe through sheer stubbornness alone.
Will's chest tightened. Not from fear this time. Not entirely. The memories Vecna had shown them felt embedded beneath his ribs like broken glass, each thought threatening to cut deeper the moment he allowed himself to examine it.
Mike knew.
The thought refused to leave him alone. Not just about liking boys. Not even about liking Mike. Those things felt almost small compared to the rest of it.
Mike knew everything now. He'd seen the painting. The tears he'd tried so desperately to go hide.
The longing he hadn't been able to stifle no matter how Mike had snapped at him or ignored him. Too many years of wanting something Will had never allowed himself to believe he could ever have.
And somehow that felt worse than the church. Worse than the monsters... Even worse than the fucking eggs. There was no fighting it. No escaping it. He couldn't just go on pretending anymore.
The humiliation lingered like a bruise he was too hollow to clot. It bloomed bigger and brighter with each thought and memory. His breathing grew slightly tighter. Mike was being nice but he wouldn't want him in his basement after all of this.
His fingers curled around the handle of the kitchen knife he wasn't sure he'd be able to use if it came down to it. Only then did he notice his hand was shaking. Not subtly and easily more than a tremor.
The sort of trembling that started somewhere deep inside and worked its way outward until he couldn't stop how his hands shook.
A moment later something brushed against his knuckles.
Will blinked.
Looked down.
Mike had fallen back slightly without him noticing.
Not enough to stop walking... Just enough.
Their hands brushed once.
Then again.
Before Mike quietly threaded his fingers through Will's.
The motion was so natural it took Will a second to process it.
No hesitation. No awkwardness. No visible thought behind it.
Just Mike noticing. Reacting to something Will thought he was still a master at hiding. Mike was fixing the problem the same way he'd spent most of his life trying to fix every problem involving Will.
Will stared.
His own hand looked small trapped within Mike's larger one.
Mike's skin felt cool from the air around them, slightly damp with sweat and stress, yet it still carried more warmth than anything else in this place.
The grip wasn't tight. It didn't need to be because Will couldn't quite register it enough to even consider pulling his hand back.
It was simply there.
The sort of touch that asked for nothing in return. Which somehow made it infinitely worse. Will looked away quickly. His pulse was suddenly much too loud. The sensible part of him knew Mike was only trying to help. The same way he'd always helped. Because that was what Mike did.
He helped in different ways. Like how he'd spent the entire night refusing to leave his side.
The dangerous part of him wanted to think about it.
Wanted to wonder.
Wanted to hold on.
So he forced his attention elsewhere. Forced his eyes back to focus on the road and the slickness of the vines. On breathing.
On literally anything else.
Behind them, Chance saw everything.
And the bitterness festering inside him only grew. At first he'd thought it was anger... Then frustration.
Now he wasn't entirely sure what it was.
The visions hadn't helped. If anything, they'd made everything worse. After witnessing a creature tear itself from the earth, after seeing a nightmare world hidden beneath Hawkins and hearing a voice inside his own head, some deeply buried part of him felt vindicated.
Jason hadn't been crazy. Andy hadn't either.
Not entirely. There really were monsters. There really was evil. There really was something deeply wrong lurking beneath the surface of their town. And yet every conclusion Chance had built around that certainty seemed to crumble whenever he looked at Will.
Will Byers was queer.
That much had become impossible to deny. The visions had made sure of it. The feelings directed at Mike had been obvious enough that even Chance couldn't misinterpret them... And somehow that should have settled something.
It was supposed to have proven he was right. Instead it left an ugly feeling in his stomach. Will hadn't wanted him. Not even slightly.
The realisation scraped at his pride in a way he wasn't accustomed to. Girls liked him. They always had. They laughed at his jokes and smiled glossy strawberry flavoured lips when he looked their way. They found reasons to stand close, to fawn over his athleticism and looks.
Chance understood that game.
He knew how it worked.
But Will had looked at him like a threat. As though he was dangerous.
Even before the quarry.
Even before the church.
The memory sat sourly in his chest. It forced him to confront a truth he didn't particularly like. It felt visceral, the weight of it heavy on his mind.
None of this had ever been about Will wanting him.
It had been the opposite. Despite everything that had happened, despite the terror and monsters and bloodshed, despite the fact they were currently walking through what looked suspiciously like hell itself, Will's attention still drifted toward Mike fucking Wheeler whenever fear threatened to overwhelm him.
Chance caught the way Mike tightened his grip around Will's hand. Watched Will unconsciously step closer. He didn't even get to miss the way Mike positioned himself slightly ahead of him whenever they crossed open ground.
Instinctively protective. As though he'd decided sometime during the endless night that nothing in this world, or the next, was getting near Will without going through him first.
Something twisted unpleasantly inside Chance. Not because he wanted Mike. Not because he doubted what he'd seen. It was all because Mike Wheeler had something he couldn't force, couldn't bargain for and couldn't take away.
Trust.
The genuine kind. The sort that survived years. The quiet, purest kind that built slowly with time like how fruit ripened and wine grew finer.
The sort Will clearly gave only to a select few people.
Ahead of them another distant shriek echoed through the darkness, long and animalistic enough to make everyone's blood run cold.
Mike reacted instantly.
Without even thinking about it, he shifted position until he stood between the sound and Will, shoulders tense and knife raised slightly as his eyes searched the darkness.
Will didn't even seem completely surprised.
As though Mike throwing himself between him and danger had happened so frequently through his life that it barely registered anymore.
And somehow that bothered Chance more than any monster they'd encountered all night.
The further they travelled from the familiar streets surrounding the laboratory and into the woods beyond, the more the Upside Down seemed to shed even the faint illusion of being Hawkins. Houses and roads at least carried the ghost of something recognisable beneath the rot, but the forest belonged entirely to this place. It stretched endlessly in every direction beneath a sky that never truly changed, a landscape of dead trees and sprawling vines that looked less like vegetation and more like exposed nerves spread across the body of something impossibly vast.
Every branch overhead appeared skeletal, stripped bare and warped into unnatural shapes that clawed towards the darkened sky. Thick curtains of spores drifted through the air, settling in hair and clothing and lashes, coating everything in a layer of pale grey dust. Even the silence felt alive. The forest groaned and shifted around them, wood creaking somewhere in the distance while the hive pulsed invisibly beneath the ground, creating the unsettling impression that they weren't simply walking through the woods but through something sleeping.
Will kept his eyes firmly fixed ahead.
The longer he spent in the Upside Down, the harder it became to separate memory from reality. Every tree threatened to become another nightmare. Every shadow threatened to become another monster. Every familiar landmark carried some buried horror attached to it, waiting to be unearthed the second he let his guard down.
It was Lucas who slowed first.
The change was subtle enough that Will might not have noticed under normal circumstances, but everything felt heightened there. Every movement stood out. Every hesitation. Every glance.
Mike followed Lucas's gaze upwards.
Will didn't.
He already knew.
The certainty settled heavily in his stomach before either of them had a chance to say anything.
His backpack.
It was still there.
Years had passed. Gates had opened and closed. Entire sections of Hawkins had been swallowed by earthquakes and vines and monsters. People had died. The world had nearly ended more than once.
And still it remained, frozen in time in a place that shouldn't exist.
The image existed vividly enough in Will's memory that he didn't need to look to picture it. The faded material. The torn strap. The branch where it had snagged after he'd jumped. The branch he'd managed to catch after falling through the bare canopy, exhausted beyond reason and running on little more than terror and instinct. He remembered the brief moment of relief before darkness had taken him. He remembered waking afterwards in the library. He remembered the vine. He remembered the feeling of something alive forcing its way down his throat while he was too weak to fight back.
His stomach turned violently. So he kept walking. Refused to look... To acknowledge it. Some memories felt too dangerous even now.
The silence lingered between them until distant voices echoed through the trees.
At first they were little more than fragments carried through the forest, difficult to distinguish from the countless strange sounds produced by the Upside Down itself, but gradually they became clearer. Shouting. Multiple voices. Familiar voices.
Dustin's entire expression changed.
The exhaustion disappeared from his face almost instantly, replaced by a sudden brightness that felt jarring after everything they'd endured.
“Steve!” The relief in his voice was immediate and unmistakable.
Will felt dread settle in his chest. Not because he'd recognised Steve. It was that he'd recognised what was happening.
The hive had been screaming at the back of his mind for several minutes now, an escalating pressure that grew stronger with every step they took through the thinning woods. He could feel movement. Panic. Pain. Feral anger. The sort of frantic chaos that only came from a fight.
“Wait—” The warning barely left his mouth before Dustin was already moving.
Lucas followed immediately.
Even Chance broke into a run at the opportunity to be saved.
Mike swore under his breath and tightened his grip on Will's arm before pulling him forward.
The forest blurred around them as they pushed through the undergrowth. Branches snagged clothing. Vines shifted beneath their feet. The distant shouting grew louder and louder until it finally stopped sounding distant at all.
Then they broke through the treeline.
The road beyond looked like a battlefield.
Demobats filled the air in such numbers that they seemed to darken the sky above them, twisting and diving in violent swarms that moved with terrifying speed. Their shrieks overlapped into a single deafening chorus, wings beating frantically as they descended on the group below from every possible direction.
Nancy stood near the centre of the clearing with her modified shotgun raised, firing into the swarm with practiced precision despite the sheer number of creatures surrounding them. Every muzzle flash illuminated fragments of the fight in brief bursts of light, revealing Steve swinging wildly at anything that got too close while Robin stumbled backwards trying desperately to light a Molotov cocktail with shaking hands.
Jonathan was already on the ground.
One of the bats had wrapped its tail around his throat and was dragging him backwards through the mud while he fought for air, clawing desperately at the constricting appendage as the creature beat its wings furiously.
And Eleven—
Eleven was trying to hold the line almost entirely by herself. The creatures weren't attacking one at a time. They were attacking all at once. Every bat that she threw aside seemed to be replaced by three more.
Will barely had time to process what he was seeing before Nancy fired again. The instant the bullet struck one of the bats, pain exploded through his side with enough force to nearly knock him off his feet.
It wasn't sympathy and certainly not imagination.
It was real. The connection surged alive inside him, carrying the creature's suffering directly into his own body.
Another shot followed.
This time the agony bloomed through his stomach.
Then his shoulder.
Then somewhere behind his eyes.
Each injury reverberated through the hive and into him, turning his body into a conduit for every ounce of damage being inflicted on the creatures.
Mike caught him before he could collapse entirely, one arm wrapping around his waist as concern immediately overtook whatever else he might have been thinking.
Will barely heard him. His attention remained fixed on the clearing.
On Jonathan and the swarm closing in and the growing pressure building inside his skull.
When Robin finally managed to throw the Molotov, the resulting explosion sent flames cascading through the air and across several of the bats at once. Fire engulfed wings and bodies, illuminating the clearing in violent shades of orange and gold.
The pain that followed was indescribable. It felt as though molten metal had been poured directly into his veins. A strangled cry escaped him before he could stop it. His knees buckled. The world tilted... and then Eleven reached out with her powers.
One of the bats froze in mid-air.
Its body folded in on itself.
Bones shattered.
Flesh tore apart.
The sensation ripped through Will with such force that his vision flashed white. His fingers dug into Mike's arm hard enough to bruise. His entire body shook.
He could see Jonathan. Really see him... The bat dragging him backwards through the mud while the others struggled to reach him. The desperation on his face. The pale panic. His mind circled around a desperate chant of no no no.
And suddenly every other thought vanished.
Because Jonathan wasn't just another victim.
He was Jonathan.
His brother. The person who had spent years standing between Will and the worst parts of the world whenever he could. Jonathan was the person who had never stopped looking for him even before Will went missing.
He had never stopped protecting him.
Beyond him were Dustin and Lucas.
Nancy.
Robin.
Steve.
Mike.
All of them.
Everything that still mattered. Everything Vecna hadn't managed to destroy but had tried to. The goodness in Will's life he hadn't managed to corrupt.
The realisation struck harder than the pain.
Something inside him finally broke.
Not from fear.
Not from weakness.
From sheer desperation.
Vecna had spent years using him. Turning his body into a doorway. A weapon. A tool. Every violation, every possession, every nightmare came rushing back at once until anger eclipsed all of it.
If the connection existed, then he would use it. Vecna had forced it into him, then he would turn it against him.
His head snapped backwards.
Blood immediately spilled from his nose.
His eyes rolled white.
The forest disappeared.
The clearing disappeared.
Everything faded except the connection.
The vast network stretched beneath the Upside Down like an endless web, binding every vine, every creature and every fragment of the hive together.
For years Will had been forced to receive.
Forced to endure.
Forced to listen.
This time he grabbed hold and pulled.
The reaction was immediate.
Every bat in the clearing convulsed violently.
Their shrieks rose in pitch until they became almost unbearable, dozens of creatures suddenly dropping from the air as though their strings had been cut. Wings folded at impossible angles. Bodies twisted. Bones snapped audibly beneath skin.
Will felt every single fracture.
Every rupture.
Every scream.
Blood poured from his eyes, thickening the tacky tracks from the earlier torture.
He huffed out a desperate growl of a sound, the kind he'd never realised he was capable of making. The burst vessels bruising his skin with mottled pink and purple seemed to move with the tension burning through him.
Still he held on.
Still he pulled.
Because Jonathan was breathing again.
Because Dustin was alive.
Because Lucas was alive.
Because Mike was alive.
Because if sacrificing himself bought them even a few more seconds, he would do it without hesitation.
The bats continued falling from the sky around them like broken winged birds, crashing into the damp ground one after another while the forest itself seemed to recoil from the violence being inflicted on the hive.
Somewhere deep within that connection, beyond the pain and fury and terror, Will became aware of something watching him.
Not a creature.
Not the bats.
Something far worse.
Vecna.
And finally, since he'd first set foot in the Hellscape and he had been a terrified twelve-year-old hiding beneath a bed in the Upside Down, Will didn't run from him.
He pushed back.