Work Text:
The choice was death or hurting Adam, which wasn’t much of a choice at all.
-Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven King
Will doesn't actually remember much from his time in the Upside Down. Mostly, he remembers feeling scared and alone. He remembers his body shaking from fear and the lack of warmth. His teeth clacking because of the cold seeping into his body, the kind that you could feel all the way through your bones. He remembers something else forcing itself into his body, lodging against his insides and defiling him from the inside out.
One of his doctors once told him his memory loss could be his brain's way of trying to protect him. When you go through so much trauma at such a young age, she said softly, your mind might try to forget to spare you some of the pain.
Will doesn't know if he believes that. His time in the Upside Down changed everything, and he hasn't been able to forget anything since.
The Mind Flayer. Being pushed out of his own mind, forced to watch the people that he loved die for him, because of him. The isolation that came afterwards, the years stolen, the unfairness of it all. The realization that there were too many things that set him apart from the rest.
Some minds, it turns out, simply do not belong in this world.
"Will." Jonathan interrupts his train of thought, bringing him back to reality. He places a hand on his arm, effectively stopping him from stepping on one of the vines covering the floor. "Careful, buddy."
Mike notices the exchange immediately, rushing his pace before he's standing right next to Will and Jonathan. Nancy's still behind them, holding a rifle, and Will notices the way his brother's shoulders tense slightly at Mike's sudden emergence.
"Everything okay?" He asks, his attention focused exclusively on Will.
"Fine." Will interjects, aiming for a soft smile and probably landing on something resembling more of a grimace.
Mike opens his mouth to say something else, the concern visible in the way his brows furrow, but he's interrupted by Nancy's voice rising from behind. "We need to keep going." She insists. "Stick to the plan."
"Yeah." Jonathan agrees, before squeezing Will's arm once and smiling at him. "You sure you're okay?" He tries to confirm, his voice dropping so Will is the only one that can hear.
"Yes." He quickly restates. "Just—thinking. This is my first time being back since—"
"We won't let anything happen to you." Mike repeats what appears to have become his new mantra since they came up with the plan. His eyes look into Will's for reassurance, the corners of his mouth lifting imperceptibly.
"I know."
They keep going after that. Will pays more attention to his surroundings, stepping carefully in between the vines and the rot covering the floor. The uneasiness settles, intertwining with the nervous anticipation of what's to come. This is it. After today, he'll either be dead or free. At least he hopes so.
The walk ahead is disconcerting, the trees and vines blending into each other making it impossible to distinguish between what's real and what's a part of Henry's creation. Their pace is tortuously slow, each step calculated with precision and caution as to not give away their surroundings. Everyone else is doing the same, somewhere else in the Upside Down.
It happens in between one blink and the other. His vision becomes blurry, the trees, roots and vines blend together into a dark mixture of decay. Vecna appears in front of him, but no one else seems to notice him. Will's breath catches, becoming completely paralyzed by fear.
"You shouldn't have done that, William." He sounds furious when he says it. He doesn't attempt to touch him, only staring at him from between the shadows. Will immediately knows what he's talking about. This is about Max. About taking control of Vecna's movements and helping her escape. "Did you really think it'd be that easy? That you could control me better than I control you?"
He doesn't know what to say. His heart is ricocheting unsteadily inside of his chest. He hears other people calling out his name, but it sounds far away because of the blood rushing to his ears.
"You will pay for what you did." Vecna concludes, before disappearing and leaving behind the concerned faces of Mike, Jonathan and Nancy.
"Will? Will!" Mike is saying, both hands pressing against his shoulders as they try to shake him from whatever trance he'd been in. He notices the newfound focus on Will's gaze and relief washes over him. "Was it him? Was he trying to talk to you?"
"Mike—" Will starts, but that's as far as he gets before both arms are shooting forward and pushing him with every ounce of strength that exists within his body.
It takes him a second to realize what's happening. Mike gasps out his name, confused and hurt, while Jonathan and Nancy stumble backwards as well. Will looks down at his own hands and realizes they're moving without his permission. He can feel them moving, can sense everything they touch, but the orders are not coming from him.
He's watching it happen but there's nothing he can do about it. His body does not belong to him anymore. (Maybe it never did?) Henry has made sure Will has a front seat to his worst nightmare as he watches his fingers wrap around Mike's neck and press down hard.
"Mike," Will sobs, somehow still in control of his voice and thoughts. This is what Henry wants, for him to be aware of what is happening but unable to stop it. Mike's brows are furrowed, a painful expression on his face as his shoulder hits the trunk of a tree because of Will. His entire body weight is being put on the single point of contact between their bodies, Mike's eyes becoming unfocused as he struggles to breathe.
"Fight back! What are you doing? Hit me!" Will pleads, desperate.
"Will!" Jonathan screams behind him, but he doesn't try to come near him. Nancy is standing next to him, shocked, unable to move.
"No," Mike manages, determination shining from his pupils. Henry forces him to press harder against Mike's throat, and he makes a gurgling sound once he tries to speak again. His hands are resting on top of Will's shoulder, but he's not pushing against him, he's simply resting them there.
"Stop!" Will screams, loud enough for his own head to start pounding. "Please, please, stop! I'll do anything!" Somehow, Henry relents. Mike takes a shuddering breath. "Mike! Stop me, hit me, please!"
Mike's fingers wrap around Will's wrists delicately, a stark contrast to the violence that Will is enforcing on him. "I can't," Mike says. "Not you." His voice sounds rough, pained.
Will can hear Henry laughing inside of his head.
"No, no, no! Don't let me do this to you. Mike, please!" His vision becomes blurry, tears falling down his cheeks. "Hit me." He's basically begging at this point, but Mike only gives him a pitiful look. His eyes are starting to become unfocused again, clearly losing consciousness because of Will's pressure against his windpipe.
Will has survived unimaginable horrors. He's been chased by monsters through forests, he's had tentacles forced down his throat, he's lost control of his body completely. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to him. Hurting Mike is the one thing that he might not be able to forgive himself for.
"I l—" Mike tries to say, but Will's grip becomes tighter. His eyes start to flutter shut.
No. No, this cannot be happening. This will not happen. Focus, Will, he tells himself, eyes closing and breaths coming out in short heaves.
He forces himself back with every ounce of strength in his body, his hands dislodging as his body collapses against the nearest tree trunk. His ankle catches into one of the vines, forcing him downwards.
"Stop me!" He yells desperately at the others as he hits the ground. He loses his grip after the impact, and Vecna forces him to stand up almost as quickly as he fell. Mike's recovering, leaning down against his knees as he tries to catch his breath. Henry goes straight for him again.
Jonathan grabs one of his arms, but Will shakes him violently and frees himself easily. They're being too gentle on him. "Someone do something! Please!" He tries again, begging, his throat hurting with how much he's been screaming at them. This time Nancy takes pity on him and grabs him, but Will shakes her off before digging his nails on the side of Mike's face. Will can feel the wetness of the blood underneath his fingertips.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Will chants, as both Jonathan and Nancy try to force him back again. A hiss leaves his lips while his body shakes uncontrollably but this time his brother and Nancy refuse to let go. His shoulder might dislocate with how hard he's pushing against them.
"You're hurting him!" Mike yells, a hand pressed against the side of his face. "Don't hurt him!"
"Will." Jonathan says, heartbroken, his voice rough and face tear-stricken. "It's okay. We know it's not you, I love you Will, don't worry."
"He's too strong!" Nancy tells them, eyes focused, grip iron-clad against his wrists.
"You're going to break it!" Mike tells her, before wrapping both of his arms around Will and pining his upper arms, effectively containing him. Will is still shaking uncontrollably, but somehow Mike has managed to keep him in place, unable to escape the embrace. "It's okay, Will. I've got you." He whispers against his ear. Will can feel the wetness of the blood currently drizzling from the side of his face against his own cheeks.
Will's body sags against him, the tears continuing to flow. "You're an idiot." Will tells him, sobbing. "Why would you let me do that to you—?"
"It isn't you, Will." Mike says softly, voice strained because of the effort it takes to keep Will upright and contained. "I know that."
"Mike." Is all he's able to say, before closing his eyes and letting himself sob against Mike's shoulder.
He doesn't notice the noises from behind him, his brain loud with every thought about hurting Mike, with Jonathan crying behind him and Nancy's ragged breaths.
"I'm sorry, Will." Nancy's voice is the last thing he hears before darkness takes over.
He's still completely engulfed in gloom once he regains his consciousness. There's muffled sounds coming from somewhere close, and his arms start moving without his permission almost immediately. Will hisses when his wrists struggle against what he can only assume is rope, the rough texture wounding his skin.
The noises come to a sudden halt. There's ruffling before a warm hand is being pressed against his shoulder, and Will's body tries to shake it off, convulsing against the surface holding him upright.
"Hey, buddy." Jonathan mumbles quietly. "You're awake."
"What's happening?" Will questions, eyes filling once again with unshed tears as the memories come rushing back. "Is Mike okay? Can I talk to him?"
"I'm okay, Will." Mike's voice comes from the other side, and Will desperately wishes he could see him, hold him and make sure everything's alright between them. "It's almost over, okay? But we can't—We can't let you go until we know for sure he's gone, alright?" His tone is sweet, the familiar careful tone that Will has grown used to. His heart aches at the sound. Mike's hand rests against his cheek, and the touch seems to be enough to quieten his mind.
Will feels tapping against the back of his hand, still being restricted by the rope. It takes a second for Will to recognize the Morse code, a few more until he's able to spell the message out: I love you.
"Me too." Will replies immediately, choking back a sob.
"I know." Mike promises.
It isn't until hours later that his body becomes his own again. The final battle takes place, and with his body taken out of the equation, he's forced to fight it within his mind. He passes out almost immediately once Henry is gone, his physical body exhausted from all the effort it took to try and break free from the constraints keeping him contained, his mind unable to cling into consciousness a second longer.
There's brief moments that he remembers after that: Jonathan and Mike carrying him back to the gates, his mom and Hopper fuzzing over him, reuniting with El. The ride back home, his body pressed against Mike's warmth, an arm draped protectively over his shoulder. The exhaustion, the effort it takes to keep his eyes open for longer than a minute. The complete surrender now that he knows freedom lies ahead.
The next time he wakes up, there's faint rays of sunlight sneaking through the curtains. It takes him a few seconds to recognize the place: Hopper's cabin.
His eyelids flutter against the unwelcome intrusion, until there's a light chuckle next to him and a warm palm brushing the hair from his forehead. "Hey, baby."
Will smiles at that. "Mike."
"Yeah?"
It all comes crashing down at him with full force, leaving him breathless. The smile slips away from his expression, a sort of dread taking over. His eyes open, finding Mike's concerned eyes before dropping lower. There's red, angry marks alongside his face. And then he moves to his throat. And there it is.
"Will—" Mike starts, almost as if he could read his mind. He tries to cover the bruising with the neck of his shirt, but it's too late. Will has already seen it.
"I'm sorry," Will pleads as his eyes start filling with tears. "I'm so, so sorry Mike. I didn't—I never—I should've fought harder."
"Hey," Mike tries to stop him softly, placing both of his hands against his face. "This wasn't you. And now he's gone, and he's never going to touch you again."
Will sniffles at that. The guilt is so overwhelming he needs to shut his eyes for a second, because he can't meet Mike's eyes without a new wave of sadness overtaking him. His hand did that. His hands wrapped around Mike's throat and pressed hard enough to stop his breathing.
"Here." Mike's hand wraps around one of his wrists, and he takes Will's hand and places it against his throat. Will flinches at that, trying to take it away, but Mike's grip is unrelenting. "You would never hurt me, Will. I know that."
Will could've killed him. And Mike would've let him. He's not only taller and broader than Will, he's stronger. Will knows he is. If he really wanted to, he could've stopped him. He could've protected himself. He didn't have to stand there and take it.
"Why didn't you fight harder? Why didn't you stop me? You're stronger than me, you could've—" Done something. Anything. The tears continue trailing down his face, all of his emotions intertwining into a complicated, unexplainable mixture.
"Will, if I had to choose between dying or hurting you—Do you really think that'd be much of a choice for me?" Mike says it like it's simple. Like he's talking about the sky being blue, or The Smiths being a better band than The Clash. It only makes him sob harder.
He always knew Mike cared for him. Maybe even loved him, the way friends loved each other, platonically, restricted by the boundaries of friendship. It wasn't until recently that he understood Mike's feelings were deeper than he thought, closer to devotion than affection. There was still a part of him that refused to believe it. The part of him that remembered a choked-back deceptive confession in the back of a van, harsh words being thrown as the rain splattered brutally around them, the lack of communication and drifting further apart from each other.
And yet. Somehow, they always found their way back to each other. Even as they changed, as they became newer, older versions of themselves, the one thing that remained the same was the way they felt about each other.
So what if it took Mike longer to understand. To name the feelings for exactly what they were. And what if Will had to carry the burden of nonreciprocal feelings for longer. If it meant they would find each other in the middle once more, he'd do it all over again.
"Does it hurt?" He asks instead, his fingers trailing softly over the fresh bruises. He forces himself to watch, swallowing back his nausea.
"A little." Mike admits softly. He wraps his hands around both of his wrists, caressing over the irritated marks left after struggling against the rope. "But it'll fade away."
Will nods at that, still unsure.
"C'mon." Mike continues. "I promised your mom I would wake her up as soon as you did, or she'd kill me—She didn't say that, but she looked like she might."
He laughs at that, feeling some of the tension on his shoulders dissolve. Maybe Mike is right. If the bruises can fade away, who's to say the rest won't?
It's over now, but it isn't the end. His life is just beginning.