Chapter Text
El’s absence felt like a heavy coat on everyone’s shoulders.
Which, if Will was honest with himself, sometimes felt strange. For probably half the time he’d known her, she hadn’t even been there.
A weird little girl who came out of nowhere, found by Mike, Dustin, and Lucas in the dark woods. Even now he could remember the faint but noticeable feeling in his chest the day he woke up in the hospital and heard from his friends about a strange girl named Eleven — like the number. Of course, there was no real reason for it, but the fear of being replaced in their party by this Eleven lingered in his mind. He wasn’t a superhero, he wasn’t special, he didn’t save lives. So he wasn’t all that upset about her disappearance or possible death.
And then she came back. And even though he still felt that slight discomfort in his chest, he could see what the guys saw in her. What Mike saw. It was the same with Dustin and Lucas, both immediately obsessed with sharp and independent Max when they first met her. So he was ready to accept Eleven into their party as long as it made his friends happy. Though it didn’t mean he had to spend much time with her — not with Hopper’s strict rules.
Of course, everything changed that summer — one tragedy, and suddenly he had a sister. Which wasn’t bad, because El was anything but bad. He actually liked having her with them in California more than he ever expected. Maybe that’s what Jonathan felt toward him — being an older brother, helping, guiding. They were the same age, but even after everything he’d been through, he still understood the world better and knew more about what to expect from it than El did. Unfortunately, he couldn’t protect her from bullying, but he was there when she needed someone to cry to, someone to remember Hopper with, someone to ask about the millions of things she didn’t know or couldn’t understand. She listened to everything he said, and he felt flustered — not because someone feared something might happen to him, as it always used to be, but because she truly wanted to hear him. And just a few months were enough for her to become one of his favorite people, to find a place in his heart somewhere near Mike.
Then they came back to Hawkins, where the world began to fall apart. And they were separated again. He stayed with the Wheelers, she stayed with Hopper, forced once more to hide and wait for the next battle. No more talking in the middle of the night, no more ice cream after a hot day, no more hugging on the couch while watching stupid TV shows. He had to let go of those things — at least until they won, and El could find her place among them again. That’s what he told himself.
So no, he wasn’t ready for what was waiting for them. Maybe he’d grown too used to living with danger around every corner to truly feel fear anymore. Because it felt irrational, unfitting — the idea that someone among them could really die, not after everything they’d survived. But with his sister, it felt even more unfair that she might not get her happy ending. Certainly not after she defeated Vecna and saved all of them. She was a superhero, and superheroes were supposed to stay in the final frame, looking toward a better future.
Eleven wasn’t in every memory he had; he didn’t know her even half as long as he knew Mike and the others. Most of the time she stayed reserved and quiet. Until the end, she didn’t quite fit into this world — it didn’t want to accept her. But she didn’t go unnoticed.
Will could feel it all the time. Eighteen months had passed since the last battle with Vecna and the Mind Flayer. More than a year since they lost El. They were all moving on — nothing else could be expected after so long. But sometimes Will thought they’d never truly defeat this internal mourning.
Some days it was the smallest things. Like one of the old magazines in Hopper’s cabin she used to read, or the hair ties she was always losing. Other days — darker ones — even the air felt different. They could sit in Mike’s basement, but it would feel as if she were there among them, only they were somehow ignoring her. On such days it was harder to find safe topics, harder to look each other in the eyes without letting her ghost slip between them.
Before all of this, she was probably the quietest, most unnoticeable part of their group. But now, after her death, she always took her place between them.
Of course, all of them were coping with grief in different ways. For example, Lucas and Max found peace in each other. Both of them became calmer and more attentive. Their temperamental, sharp Max could now come to Lucas herself and openly say she needed him. She didn’t do it all the time, but she had stopped being so afraid of letting others see her vulnerability — at least around her friends. Sometimes Will could notice the silent dialogue between them: shared looks that said more than words, exactly the way Robin once described it.
Joyce and Hopper, just like Lucas and Max, were devoted to each other and created a small comfort zone around themselves. No one could truly understand how wounded Hopper was after losing the girl he called his daughter, but Will’s mom was always there to show him that there was still a future, not only darkness and grief. No one could forget El, but both of them focused their attention on Jonathan and Will — on everyone, honestly — trying to write a new page, to build a normal life where happiness was still possible.
Dustin stayed himself — just as passionate about science and knowledge as he’d been as a kid. He craved information, and now that he finally had time, he poured his attention into exploring the world. It probably helped him deal with his darker thoughts and memories. He and Suzie were no longer together, and once her father found out, he allowed them to communicate again. Now Dustin could simply call her as a friend and talk about things he couldn’t discuss with the others.
Jonathan decided to use the moment and give himself fully to his passion — cinematography and photography. He expressed his feelings through his art; many of the beautiful things he created during those months were dedicated to El.
Not surprisingly, Mike was the one who concerned Will the most. Without a doubt, the day he met El was the day his life changed — and the second time was when he lost her. It wasn’t that he stopped existing or spending time with friends or thinking about the future. It was just that… often Will felt like everything Mike did, he did only halfway. Will kept catching himself thinking how much he missed the spark in Mike’s brown eyes. Even before the final battle, his best friend had become more reserved and closed off, though back then Will wasn’t ready to deal with it — too insecure, too scared of his own feelings, too focused on himself.
After El’s death, Mike became even more shut down. His grief was visible, but he clearly did everything he could so people wouldn’t pay him too much attention. The problem was that Will wasn’t “people.” And as much as he wanted to heal their friendship, to make it something as sweet and pure as it had been when they were kids, he couldn’t.
Will believed Mike had figured it out — that the “crush” he mentioned during his coming out was actually about him, even though Will never said the name. They never discussed it openly. Will doesn’t think there was anything to talk about. The day he came out to his family and friends was also the day he decided to shut away the part of his life he called “His first love: Mike Wheeler.” He chose to be Mike’s friend — to protect the one thing that had kept him sane since he was eight years old: their friendship. And he tried to do exactly that. To be Mike’s best friend, to share his grief as well as his beautiful memories of El. But for some reason, he couldn’t make it work. As much as Mike tried to convince him on that crucial day that they were still best friends, nothing in his actions afterward felt like it.
No, of course the days of the rude, selfish, and sometimes even cruel Mike Wheeler — the one he’d been at thirteen to fifteen — were long gone. Now Mike was nothing but loyal, kind, and polite. Will still enjoyed how warm and deep his brown eyes were; they still shared jokes, studied together, went to the cinema or the library or the mall. They just didn’t… talk. At least not the way they used to when they were kids.
Because when Mike was clearly lost in his thoughts and Will asked if something was wrong, Mike would only give him a small, gentle smile and deny it — and then, shortly after, he’d go home. Another day, when the party was brave enough to talk about El, Mike would shiver, but he’d stay mostly quiet and wouldn’t even let Will touch his shoulder. He stopped accepting Will’s invitations to come over — something, Will noticed, he didn’t do with Lucas or Dustin.
Mike said they were best friends and that he was right there with Will, but the distance between them had never felt so sharp as in these past months. And Will wished he could say it hurt him only as a friend — but the truth was, he had never stopped being in love with Mike. And so sometimes Will wondered if it was his fault. That he no longer knew how to be just Mike’s friend. That the boy who once came to him without hesitation now didn’t anymore. Mike was his friend, yes — but he wasn’t close to Mike anymore. That was what their relationship felt like.
Then the party at Steve’s happened, and it made Will even more confused about where they stood.
It was one week after their high school graduation. Steve had the house to himself — his parents, as always, were away on business trips. Which was more than enough reason for them to organize a party, so their closest group could celebrate the end of school and their last summer before college.
Will was excited about it — it wasn’t so easy anymore to gather all of them in one place. Their last year of school had been decent; all of them had become more social, now that they finally had time and energy for something other than catching monsters and saving the world. But it still wasn’t anything close to what they had with each other. And of course, it wasn’t just because they were childhood friends and practically family — they had survived things no one else would ever believe. Sometimes it scared Will — what if he would never find someone he could share those memories and pains with?
So he wanted to cherish every single moment he still had with his friends. It wasn’t hard to guess the others felt something similar. Everyone was full of energy that evening. Steve drove him, Dustin, and Max to the store so they could buy all kinds of fast food, snacks, and desserts. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan had an important mission — to bring drinks. None of the younger ones were invited to help because, as Robin said, “You don’t have taste yet, babies. Let the adults handle it,” which earned her Lucas’s “Whatever you say, granny.”
Speaking of Lucas, he and Mike were tasked with bringing anything they considered decent for entertainment. It wasn’t particularly important — most of them believed their main entertainment would be beer and music — but the guys needed a job, and it was only fair. Their parents weren’t expecting them home; everyone had said they’d be staying at Steve’s for a sleepover. Everything pointed to the best party.
Will and the others arrived at Steve’s a little later — probably not the best idea to let Dustin and Steve decide what to buy. The two of them nearly fought over it, while Max whispered to Will, “We should’ve left them in the car for our own sake,” which was exactly what Byers was thinking.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last disappointment of the day. As they parked in the driveway of the Harrington mansion, Will spotted Mike and Lucas standing near the house with a couple of bags. A few seconds were enough for him to sense the strange mood between them. Lucas had that hard expression he wore when he was angry, and it looked like he wanted to march toward them even before Steve stopped the car. Mike, meanwhile, was staring off to the side, somewhere into the trees.
Will didn’t need to be close to recognize the expression he’d grown to hate — the look of complete emotional absence. Mike always looked like that when he was overwhelmed by people and chose to shut down instead of dealing with the problem. Will also noticed Max, sitting beside him, shiver slightly — she clearly felt the strange tension too.
The moment she stepped out of the car, Lucas dropped the bag on the ground and went straight to her. He placed a hand on her waist, and she kissed his cheek, trying to calm him down. Even though Lucas kept his voice low, Will overheard him because of how close he stood:
“This guy is testing my patience.”
Max soothed him with another kiss along his jaw.
Will turned his gaze back to Mike, who was still staring somewhere else. But it wasn’t enough to fool him — Will knew Mike had noticed everything Lucas did. It was obvious from the way his jaw tightened and the crease between his eyebrows deepened.
Without a second thought, Will decided to go to Mike. But before he could take even a few steps, Mike was already turning his attention to Steve and Dustin, helping them with the bags. Will tried not to think about how Mike had probably seen him coming and chosen to escape his attention — especially since the guys clearly didn’t need his help.
But that was that. And so they all headed into the house. Not long after, Nancy’s car pulled up next to Steve’s, and a second later an excited Robin jumped out, practically shouting:
“Now you’ll finally learn what a real party looks like, kids!”
Jonathan shook his head, Nancy rolled her eyes — but they couldn’t fool Will. He knew they loved Robin exactly because she was who she was. The same thing Will loved about her too.
After the last preparations, they finally relaxed outside near the big pool. Max, Lucas, and Robin didn’t waste a single moment before jumping into the water, screaming with excitement. Jonathan and Steve watched them, amused, before turning back to their conversation.
Will settled into a pool chaise and let himself relax. The heavy feeling in his chest — the one that had been consuming him for months — was almost unnoticeable now. This early evening outside with his friends, more than friends really — his second family — felt precious and right. Almost like the sweetest dream, made even more endearing after the constant nightmare his life had been.
He knew he needed to cherish this time while he still could. Soon it would end, or at least stop being part of his everyday routine. Though he couldn’t complain too much about what was waiting for him. Hard work, good luck, or both — but soon Will would start studying in New York, nothing less than art, exactly what he’d always dreamed of. And more than that — he wouldn’t be alone. Fortunately, Dustin and Mike would be at the same college. After such good news, their parents didn’t need long to agree that the three of them should live together in an apartment. Which, by the way, they had already found. Cheap, simple, small, and quite far from the campus buildings — but still an apartment just for the three of them.
Which also meant Lucas and Max could visit often. The couple had decided to take a gap year after graduation. The reasons were understandable: Max had worked incredibly hard these past eighteen months just to catch up and graduate with them despite the time she’d spent in a coma. She was exhausted — studying and preparing for exams more intensely than any of them. So she decided she needed a break to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Lucas felt similarly: for the past few years, his whole world had been Max, and now he felt a bit lost about his own purpose and what passions he had outside of his girlfriend.
Not like Dustin, who — it often felt — had always been consumed with studying and exploring the world. For him, there were no other options but to continue learning science. He was probably the most excited about the upcoming fall the three of them would spend in NYC instead of Hawkins.
Of course, Will and Mike were excited too. For Byers, even now it was hard to believe he would study art at a university. Because it was just him — Will Byers, an average, or even weird in some people’s eyes, boy from a very poor family. A boy who had spent years fighting his trauma and had forgotten how to live the real life of a carefree child or an ambitious teenager.
Yes, most of his life had been tied to his passion for drawing. Sometimes it was the only way to express his feelings, to cope with stress, or to spend a few moments imagining a life he never had. But for an insecure, shy, and traumatized child he still felt himself to be, it was more than a shock to realize he could actually combine his career with his passion.
Now, thinking about it, Will would say that the last meaningful, deep conversation he’d had with Mike was the one when he decided to take a chance and send his application to the college in New York. The thought brought sorrow again — it had been several months since that conversation.
Will hoped that living together would help them feel comfortable around each other again. Though another part of him was terrified to imagine things getting even worse, making it painfully clear that they were nothing more than neighbors. With how little Mike wanted to talk about himself or touch serious topics, both outcomes felt equally possible.
Even at the party, he sat with his sister, but Nancy did most of the talking — Mike once again looked distracted and strangely passive.
Once again, Will swore at himself for paying so much attention to everything Mike did. He swore he would stop, that he wouldn’t hang on Mike’s every word or notice every tiny detail he might be trying to hide.
But it turned out it was much easier to vow he wouldn’t be in love with his friend than to actually stop being in love with him.
Lost too deep in his thoughts, Will needed a couple of seconds (at least he hoped it was only a couple) to realize Mike had caught him staring. Embarrassed, Will did the first thing that came to mind — he got up from the chaise and joined his friends in the pool. He forced himself to return to his plan for the day: relax, enjoy the company, and stop analyzing everything.
And for a while, he thought he succeeded. The next hour or so was full of laughter and joy.
Then something happened none of them expected.
Lucas and Mike started a fight.
At first, almost no one noticed it. Will, Max, Dustin, Robin, and now Steve with Jonathan were in the pool — playing, splashing water, screaming with childish joy. The noise drowned out everything else. Will had just helped Dustin throw Max into the water as high as they could, making her squeal from adrenaline, when Jonathan suddenly noticed something and jumped out of the pool, shouting. That caught Steve’s attention; he looked over, his smile vanished instantly, and he was out of the water a moment later. Only then did everyone else finally get distracted enough to see what had gone wrong.
Max, who had barely a few seconds to stop coughing and wipe her eyes, started shouting too, and the next moment she and Will were climbing out of the pool. It was hard to tell how bad it was — all Will could see were the boys’ hands swinging at each other while his older brother and Harrington tried to pull them apart. The girl beside Will clearly wanted to run toward them, but he didn’t let her — he wrapped his arms around Max, holding her in place. He knew her too well: strong and brave to the core, but she would never stand a chance physically against Lucas or even Mike. Will didn’t want her getting hurt just because one of them wouldn’t notice her through the rage.
It was probably the right call, because Lucas accidentally hit Steve with his elbow when the older guy tried to restrain him. Luckily it wasn’t too hard, and Steve still managed to hold him back. At the same time, Jonathan kept Mike pinned — quite successfully, since he had Mike’s arms blocked, leaving the teenager only able to twist and jerk his body, trying to shake Jonathan off.
Now they were separated, each held tightly by one of the older guys — but that didn’t mean they stopped shouting.
“You disgust me, Lucas!” Mike yelled, his voice sharp enough to make the others gasp. Will felt Max tense instantly in his arms, and he tightened his hold around her.
“You sure you’re not talking about yourself?” Lucas shot back, not holding any of his anger. “Look at you — you’re pathetic, but for some reason you want to make us feel bad about it.”
Even in the chaos, Will saw the words hit Mike. His expression, once pure anger, now twisted with denial too.
“Sorry if I can’t pretend as well as you do that everything is fine and nothing bad happened!” Mike spat, his voice cracking with fury. “Or maybe you’re not pretending — maybe you just don’t care, as long as everything’s good with your precious Max!”
The words flew from Mike’s mouth like poison.
Predictably, they made Lucas even angrier, while Max screamed from Will’s arms:
“Fuck you, Wheeler!”
But nobody paid attention to them — not after Lucas’s next words:
“I’m sick of you, Mike! I’m sick of you acting like you’re the only victim here. El is dead, and we can’t change that! It’s a loss for all of us, but you keep making it only about you. You don’t let us move on. And I hate to say it, man, but she’s dead — and none of us are!”
For a few seconds everything went still. Max froze in Will’s arms, just as shocked as he was by what her boyfriend had said. It even looked like Lucas immediately regretted it — or at least regretted how he’d said it.
But before he could apologize or explain, Mike used Jonathan’s moment of shock to break free and lunged at Lucas. In one second, Sinclair stumbled backward into Steve as Mike punched him in the face.
Will let Max go and ran toward Mike, and he and Jonathan grabbed Wheeler again. It didn’t even seem necessary — Mike himself looked stunned by what he’d done. Still, both Byers brothers pushed him away from Lucas.
Max was already kneeling beside her boyfriend. Lucas hadn’t passed out, but he was clearly disoriented.
“What is wrong with you?” Max shouted at Mike, her voice full of rage, her eyes shining with tears. “What is wrong with you, Wheeler?!”
“That’s enough,” Steve said heavily, more serious than Will had ever heard him. “Jonathan, Nancy — take Mike to the guest room. He needs to calm down. We’ll take care of Lucas.”
“No,” Nancy responded firmly. “I’ll stay here with you. I can’t look at him right now.”
She turned to Will, and he understood what she wanted before she even said it. So he spoke first.
“I’ll go with him.”
Even though Will had never seen such open aggression between his friends, they had fought before — usually over something stupid and unimportant. When they were kids and something like this happened (and Mike usually provoked it, or was at least involved), Nancy would always send Will to calm her brother down. Because they were the closest of friends, and Will had what Nancy once called “the Bambi calming effect” on Mike — his gentle face and soft nature somehow made Mike relax faster than anything else. Others would say or do something that would provoke Mike even more; Nancy herself knew she was too emotional to calm her brother down. So usually it was Will who stayed with Wheeler after fights and helped him think rationally again.
Though Byers doubted he still had that effect on Mike, he knew at least he wouldn’t make him more aggressive or miserable the way others could.
So Will joined his brother and followed Mike upstairs.
Harrington’s mansion had a couple of guest rooms. They hadn’t had time to decide who would sleep where yet, so they simply took the first empty bedroom — clearly meant for guests, judging by the lack of personal belongings.
They brought Mike to the bed and let him sit while they remained standing. For a minute or two, none of them moved; the air between them felt thick. Will saw the heavy look Jonathan gave Mike. He didn’t rush to say anything, but Will knew him too well — he knew his older brother was upset about what Mike had done, even if he probably also felt bad about what Lucas had said. Even though she wasn’t their biological sister, accepting El’s death and moving on had been one of the hardest things both Will and Jonathan ever had to do. But Jonathan had always stood firmly against violence; he would choose any option over physical aggression. No surprise, considering the kind of biological father they had.
Then Will shifted his gaze to his friend. Mike wasn’t looking at them; Will could only guess what he was feeling or thinking. But he did notice the blood on Mike’s hand. Without a second thought, he stepped closer and took Mike’s hand gently, not asking for permission. That surprised Mike — he finally lifted his head and looked at Will — but Will was focused on the wound. It wasn’t deep, just the result of one punch; Mike would be fine. Still, Will used it as an excuse when he turned to his brother and said:
“He’s hurt. Could you please bring something to bandage it? We’ll wash it in the bathroom in the meantime.”
Judging by his facial expression, Jonathan clearly wanted to say something like, “Let him be. Maybe next time he’ll think before punching someone.” But Jonathan hated seeing anyone in pain, so he only huffed and left the room.
Will turned his attention back to Mike, noticing that he was still holding his hand gently — and that Mike was still staring at him. There was an unspoken question in his eyes.
“Let’s go to the bathroom. Your hand needs to be washed,” Will said softly, his tone as gentle as his touch. That was what Will always did. He knew they needed to address the elephant in the room and talk about what had happened between Mike and Lucas. But he also knew Mike’s anger always came from fear or pain. Scolding him wouldn’t help right now.
Half-expecting Mike to insist he could handle it himself, Will was surprised when he didn’t. Instead, Mike quietly stood up from the bed and followed Will to the bathroom — which, fortunately, was right next to the guest room. Will tried not to overthink the fact that they were still holding hands. It had been so normal — even necessary — between them when they were children, but those days were long gone.
Scared to break the fragile silence between them, Will turned on the tap, adjusted the water so it was cool but not too cold, and began washing the blood from Mike’s hand. Mike didn’t protest — only a few low whimpers escaped him when Will pressed a little harder on the damaged skin. Will explained it to himself as exhaustion, as Mike being too deep in his thoughts to react, so they stood in silence.
While performing these simple actions, Will felt the faint tremble in his friend’s hands. A habit only a few people ever noticed — but of course Will was one of them. Whenever Mike faced a stressful situation, he would either shake his leg or his hands would tremble. When he couldn’t, or didn’t want to, say something was wrong, his body always told Will enough.
After a few minutes, Will decided he was done. Mike’s hand had stopped bleeding; a few scratches were visible, but they hardly looked painful. He turned off the tap and finally let go of Mike’s hand.
When they returned to the bedroom, Jonathan was already there. He sat on a short sofa opposite the bed. A bandage and what looked like a healing salve lay beside him. In his hands, Will noticed the clothes they had brought to change into after swimming. The older Byers glanced at Mike’s hand, assessed the damage, and said:
“Lucas is okay. Well… the black bruise under his eye probably isn’t what he wanted, but he’ll live.”
Mike’s shoulders loosened slightly — the relief that he hadn’t seriously hurt his friend was obvious. Still, all he managed was a small nod. Jonathan, however, wasn’t finished.
“Which is still not okay. I’m sure you both could’ve found better ways to deal with your issues than—”
“Jonathan,” Will interrupted softly. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
He stepped out of the room and waited for his brother to follow.
“Please, let me talk to him alone,” Will said immediately. Jonathan’s confused expression made him add, “I know him. I can predict his reactions. I know… I think I know what to say so he’ll listen and understand.”
“You know he’s not right, even if I get that he was hurt by what Lucas said… right?”
For a moment, Will didn’t understand where the question came from. And then it hit him. If anyone had figured out who Will’s “crush” was, it was his older brother. Jonathan had never pushed him to talk about it openly, but it had been obvious even a couple of years ago, when Mike arrived in California. His brother knew better than anyone that Will had a soft spot for Mike.
“Of course I know. And I believe he knows it too. But this didn’t look like a typical friendly fight between them. If there’s a deeper reason behind his reaction, I can at least try to understand it and… and help.”
Jonathan stood there for a moment, studying him.
“Then I hope you’ll be able to do what you want. Because, between us…”
They had been speaking quietly, but now Jonathan lowered his voice even more.
“…even if Lucas was too direct and aggressive, in some things I… can’t say I disagree with him.”
The silent “Jane is no longer with us” remained unspoken, but they both felt it hanging in the air.
“Yes,” Will whispered.
Jonathan brushed a hand through his brother’s hair and left, heading downstairs to the rest of the group.
Will stayed in the hallway for another minute before returning to the room.
He tried not to show it, but he was confused that Mike hadn’t bandaged his hand while he was gone but he changed in his clothes - blue t-shirt and old jeans. Now Mike was sitting where Jonathan had been, the bandage and salve untouched on the sofa. Will chose not to comment — maybe Mike simply wanted someone else to take care of him, to offer comfort through something so small.
Jonathan had brought one of his old yellow T‑shirts for Will — so old the color had almost vanished and now looked more like a dirty white — along with a pair of shorts. Will quickly pulled the clothes onto his still slightly damp body.
He sat beside him, opened the salve, and silently reached for Mike’s wrist. With a generous amount of ointment, he began rubbing it gently into Mike’s skin. Wheeler hissed a little when Will touched the more sensitive spots, but they stayed quiet. Will could feel Mike watching him. Sometimes he wondered if Mike had some kind of superpower — the way Will could feel his gaze almost physically, like warmth against his skin.
The silence finally broke when Will finished with the salve and picked up the bandage.
“When are you going to say something? Your brother definitely had things to say,” Mike murmured, his voice husky — almost like after crying, though he clearly hadn’t.
Will kept his focus on Mike’s wrist, suddenly unsure what exactly he should say.
“Come on, I’m convinced you’ve got something to say,” Mike repeated.
This time his tone sounded almost sarcastic, even accusing, which confused Will. He finally lifted his head and looked at him. After a moment of studying Mike’s face, it hit him: Mike wasn’t being sarcastic or accusatory — he was scared.
It had always been like this. As a child, after ignoring Will for some reason, Mike would come back acting as if it were somehow Will’s fault. He always started by defending himself, even when he knew he was wrong. Because he hated being wrong. But even more, he hated admitting — even to himself — that he had hurt someone he cared about.
This was what Will had tried to explain to Jonathan. Many people would react to Mike’s behavior with shouting, accusations, scolding — assuming he didn’t care or was even proud of what he’d done. But Will knew it was all just a shield. Just an attempt to protect himself from emotional pain.
That was why Will hoped he could help him — because he knew what Mike needed.
At least… he hoped he did.
“You know you shouldn’t have hit him,” Will said calmly, not surprised when Mike tried to pull his hand out of Will’s grasp. He was ready for it and tightened his hold.
“Maybe he shouldn’t have said what he said!” Mike snapped, his voice rising. The accusation on his face looked almost shocked — as if he hadn’t expected Will to call him out.
“Yes, he shouldn’t have,” Will answered in the same steady tone, and Mike froze instantly.
“Then why should I apologize?”
“You know why, Mike. Because you hurt him physically. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t apologize for what he said.”
The confusion in Mike’s eyes shifted into something else — something that looked like readiness to talk. Really talk, not just argue. Exactly what Will had been trying to reach. Mike’s inner guard was lowering. Now Will had to be careful not to let the moment slip away.
“But that still doesn’t explain what exactly provoked this fight between you two.”
Will felt Mike tense again, though he didn’t flare up this time.
“Why does it matter?”
To Will, it mattered a lot. And he was almost certain he already knew the reason, even without Mike saying it. But he needed Mike to say it himself. Because Jonathan had been right — not the way Lucas said it, but what he said was true.
They all loved Eleven. She was one of them. She had saved them, loved them, protected them. She was special to all — or at least to many — of them. She was Hopper’s daughter, Max’s best friend, Will’s and Jonathan’s sister. Their grief wasn’t just grief. It wasn’t about how long she’d been in their lives — it was about how much she meant.
In the first nights after the final battle, Will had slept in Jonathan’s room — something he hadn’t done in years. He could handle nightmares about the Upside Down, about Vecna, about the Mind Flayer. He was used to waking up drenched in sweat, silently crying in the dark without disturbing his mom or brother.
But after the Abyss, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing the desperation in El’s eyes, the tragedy on her face, the knowledge that she was going to die. So he went to Jonathan’s room, where his brother wasn’t sleeping either. Jonathan only needed one look at him before Will broke down. He fell into his brother’s arms, the sobs unstoppable.
He saw the same thing in Max — how she started playing D&D with them not because she suddenly cared about the game, but because she needed a stronger connection with them, needed to fill the void with something.
He saw it in Lucas — how he couldn’t let Max out of his sight for a moment at first. Not just because of the coma and the time they’d lost, but because he finally understood none of this was a game, and he really could lose her.
Hopper and Joyce didn’t know how to keep themselves busy enough to stop thinking only about El.
But there was a difference between all of them and Mike. And today, Will saw it clearer than ever. Their families, their friends — Will himself — they were fighting their grief with distraction, searching for new purposes and new meanings. They used everything they could: studying, playing, spending time with their families — anything to pull themselves away from the pain and sorrow.
Mike, on the contrary, did everything to stay there. To hold on to every traumatic memory and relive it again and again. No one said anything for a long time. “Everyone grieves differently, darling,” Joyce once told him. But now, eighteen months later, Will still didn’t see real change in Mike. Until today, he had been living in mourning.
“Of course we’re worried about you,” Will said softly.
But something in those words truly infuriated Mike. He yanked his hand out of Will’s grasp now that the bandage was fixed.
“You’re worried. And what exactly about me worries you, Will?”
Mike stood up and began pacing across the room. It reminded Will of their first day in California — Mike arriving sharp and cold, ready to attack him for anything he might say or do. Now it was the same. Wheeler expected anything but real understanding.
“Everything is fine, isn’t it? I finished school with good grades, I got accepted into college. We’ll live in our cheap student apartment, drink beer after lectures, go to parties on weekends. Everything is just great.”
Probably only El wouldn’t have understood that everything Mike said was sarcasm — she never got sarcasm. But Will did. And the realization hurt: Mike didn’t imagine their future in college as something good at all.
Once again, Will didn’t know what to say. Any words he could find felt wrong. So he just stared at Mike, noticing how he clenched his fists every few seconds, how his thick brows furrowed as if he himself didn’t know whether he felt anger or sadness.
Mike continued when he noticed Will’s stillness:
“Isn’t it right, Will? Wasn’t Lucas right? That I’m just a piece of shit who won’t let you guys move on? Because isn’t that what she wanted? Isn’t that why she died? So we could all be happy?!”
By the end, Mike’s voice had dropped lower, huskier. His face showed not fury, but injustice and desperation. His eyes were wet with tears he couldn’t hold back.
And then Will did the only thing that felt right — he stood up and hugged his best friend. He wrapped his arms around Mike’s waist, locking him in a tight hold.
Will couldn’t remember if he had ever done this before — if he had ever initiated such physical closeness between them himself. He had always been afraid of it, afraid that Mike would hate it. Even now he froze, almost expecting Mike to pull away. But he kept his arms wrapped tightly around him, resting his head in the spot that felt made for it — against Mike’s chest, his forehead tucked into the curve of Mike’s neck. Every second stretched into a long minute, and with each one Will felt his confidence slipping, unsure whether what he was doing was the right thing.
But then he felt Mike’s hands — slowly, hesitantly — wrap around his shoulders. Mike’s body relaxed as he leaned into him. His chin came to rest on the back of Will’s head. And then Will felt it: the trembling that came with sobbing, the warmth of tears soaking into his hair.
When Mike’s grip on his shoulders tightened even more, Will understood. No matter what had happened between them in the past, no matter what waited for them in the future — he could never leave Mike behind. Their friendship, their bond, Mike’s wellbeing… it meant the world to him.