Archive of Our Own ^beta

Will awoke to the feeling of the room moving and jolting around him, the walls vibrating and objects crashing to the floor. 

He was in the Wheelers’ basement, as he often was when a campaign went on too long, and he didn’t have the energy to cycle back to his own home. A worn mattress, layered with a few spare quilts so that he didn’t feel the springs when he lay down, stayed on the sticky carpeted floor every night. Mike had argued that there was no point putting it away if Will was going to sleep over more often than not anyway. 

And, as per usual, when Will stayed in the basement, Mike was asleep on the sofa beside him. The sofa itself was notoriously uncomfortable, older than both of them and worn so heavily in the middle that it sagged inwards. Mike complained every morning that his bony hips hurt from having the metal framing (that was supposed to be cushioned by the pillowy seats, which evidently did not do its job anymore) digging into them, yet he insisted that if Will was to sleep in the basement, then he would too. Will had been too nervous to suggest they sleep in Mike’s bedroom instead, where Mike could fall into his memory foam mattress and snuggle under his duck feather quilt, as Will hadn’t slept in Mike’s bedroom since before he left for Lenora, and he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to anymore. 

At the sound of a glass falling from their D&D table in the middle of the room and smashing on the floor below, Will shot up and took in the room around him. 

It was like a tornado had ripped through the basement; the chairs were flipped, discarded pages from their campaign thrown halfway across the room, figures scattered and rolled across the floor. Will’s drawings that were once pinned to the walls had ripped and floated to the floor, pages lying uselessly by the skirting board. Even through the mattress and layers of thick quilt, Will could feel the floor rumble beneath him. 

“Will?” Mike said from behind him, voice quivering slightly with fear. Wide-eyed, Will turned to look at the boy, seeing Mike’s own brown eyes wide and glassy. “What the hell is happening?” 

Will barely had time to open his mouth to respond before the shaking in the room seemed to become stronger, the noise of the foundations shifting becoming almost earsplitting. In his fear, Will scrambled towards Mike, his quilt tangling in his legs and wrapping around his feet. He felt himself reach for his best friend, a trembling hand shooting out and wrapping around his inner elbow tightly, before the shaking turned to dropping. 

His grip on Mike’s arm tightened as the trashed and rumbling basement changed abruptly to a vast space of nothingness; no light, no dark, just the swoop in his stomach as they fell and Mike’s sweaty inner elbow against his palm. 

But just as quickly as it had started, the falling had stopped. Instead, they both stood atop a grassy hill, the sudden brightness of the sun causing them both to wince. Will’s mouth was open as if he’d been screaming, and he closed it with a snap so he could swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat. 

Once his eyes had adjusted to the light, Will timidly took in the scene around him. The grass below was green, greener than any grass Will had ever seen, and was dotted with an array of flowers that seemed to shimmer and sparkle under the sun’s rays. The sky, too, was a brilliant, clear blue, one Will would only reach for if he was painting a landscape that he wanted to have a dream-like feel. Will didn’t recognise where they were, and it definitely wasn’t Mike’s basement. 

“Where the hell are we?” Will eventually asked, turning his head towards Mike. Mike himself appeared to care less about the mystical place they’d landed in and was instead staring intensely at Will’s hand still wrapped around his arm. Immediately, Will slipped his hand away from where they were connected, mumbling a quiet “sorry”, hand flexing unconsciously as the feeling of Mike’s warm skin under his palm lingered. 

Mike continued to stare for a fraction of a second before he, too surveyed the area, eyebrows drawn in confusion. 

“I have no idea,” Mike mumbled as he looked out over the miles and miles of plush green that spread out in front of them. 

“How did we even get here?” Will asked, a bit frantic now. This definitely didn’t look like the Upside Down, which, to his knowledge, had been destroyed almost two years ago, but he couldn’t help the frightening thought of what if. Holly had said that when she was taken, she’d stayed in Henry’s house, where she could have all the clothes, cake and music she wanted. Was this the same thing?

Mike had opened his mouth, likely to respond in the same way he had before, when something ran past them. A whole group of somethings, to be exact. They were clunky in their armour, panting gruffly from exertion out of their tusked mouths. They carried a variety of weapons, though most seemed to favour a battleaxe almost the size of them and wielded high above their heads.  

Will flinched and instinctively moved closer to Mike again, though this time he made sure not to grab him. Although it appeared Mike had beaten him to the chase as one of his large hands snaked its way around Will’s waist and tugged him closer and out of the way of the charging army. 

Though it appeared useless as the creatures ignored the two of them completely, some even seemed to phase through them as if they were ghosts. Still, Mike’s grip remained steadfast on Will’s waist, protective and grounding and caused Will’s heart to flutter from more than just fear. 

It took a few minutes for the running creatures to taper out as they seemed to disappear down the hill towards their collective enemy, and Will let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Snarls and bellows echoed below them, the clash of metal on metal as the creatures fought whatever it was below. 

Mike cleared his throat beside him, and Will felt the vibration of it against his chest from where they were still pushed flush together. “I don’t want to sound crazy,” Mike started, voice barely above a whisper and face as white as a sheet. “But did they look like Orcs to you?” 

It took Will a second to realise what Mike was talking about, but his eyes widened in realisation once it clicked. The tusked teeth, the green skin, the imposing stature - he’d seen them before in several Dungeons and Dragons handbooks. He’d drawn them before, sketching battles between them and the party as he eagerly awaited the next session of their campaign. 

“I don’t think you sound crazy,” Will whispered back, eyes locking with Mike’s as they fully took in the situation they’d landed themselves in. Will almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. 

Before they could discuss further, however, an anguished shout sounded from below, followed by a strangled “William!” Will knew that voice immediately; he’d heard it not even two seconds prior, dreamed of it more times than he could count, and he felt himself moving before his brain had computed what was happening. 

His steps were slow at first, almost careful as he dragged himself through the field of, now flattened, flowers. But, as a responding “Michael!” resounded across the field, his cautious pace turned into a frantic sprint. Behind him, Mike was protesting, begging him to wait, but soon he heard his quick footfalls join his own. 

They stumbled down one hill and up another, following the sounds of clanging, slicing and yelling, and once they reached the peak of the second hill, they could finally see the battle happening in the valley below them. 

The orcs were swarming and relentless, but the six individuals in the middle were able to hold their own. Every downwards slash of a battleaxe was countered by the clang of a sword. Sharp and quick arrows hit their mark in seconds, thunking into a chest or squelching into an eye. Spells were mumbled and cast with terrifying proficiency, shooting into the orcs and sending them scattering. But even from this far, Will could see that the six were growing weary and overwhelmed from the sheer number of orcs surrounding them. 

From the centre of the group, an individual clad in deep purple flowing robes seemed to grow taller, towering over his comrades, before Will realised he was actually levitating. 

It was Mike who seemed to lead this time, walking towards the floating individual as if possessed, eyes shining and mouth parted in wonder. Will followed, and they phased through the battling orcs to get a closer look. 

Will had realised what was happening about halfway down the hill, but seeing the situation up close was still incredibly strange. Suspended above them with nothing but his own magic, William the Wise had a face of intense concentration contorting his features, eyes rolled so far back into his head that only the milky whites remained. His purple robes flapped around him fiercely, the whipping noise like a crack of lightning. His hands, with his palms faced skyward, crackled with electricity and became more intense the higher he levitated. Below him, the battle continued, no one seeming to realise what was happening. That was other than- 

“William!” A shout sounded beside Will and Mike, thick with fear. Will and Mike’s heads turned at the same time, and Will couldn’t help but gasp at the sight before him. 

Michael the Brave was expertly fending off Orc after Orc, his long and heavy sword slashing, slicing and cutting into any creature that got close. His silver armour was stained red with blood, almost matching the crimson of the heart on his chest plate and his torn cape. His hair was long, longer than Mike’s had ever been, and was matted with grease and sweat but, Will thought with a barely contained blush, he was still incredibly handsome. His features were sharper and slightly older, a long scar cutting from his chin, through his lip, and stopping just barely under his right eye, but he was still undeniably Mike. 

Michael the Brave’s face was drawn in determination and terror as he continued to fight, looking quickly over his shoulder and up at William the Wise every few seconds. Every time he looked over, he appeared even more scared, eyes quickly tracking from William’s white eyes to the electricity in his palms getting stronger and stronger. 

The battlefield seemed to pulse with the energy, Michael’s hair sticking up with static electricity, before everything went eerily silent. It seemed even the flowers stopped sparkling. Michael’s eyes widened in realisation before he screamed “Duck!” the word ripping out of his throat and reverberating around the field. 

The five individuals on the ground threw themselves to the floor just in time before a burst of fiery energy erupted from William the Wise. Blue flames struck out in a wide circle, immediately singeing the Orcs in its wake to a smelly crisp. Those that weren’t immediately burnt were hit by the shockwave, an invisible pressure that knocked the Orcs back with the force of it, leaving them in heaps on the ground with blood trickling out of their pointed ears. 

Will and Mike were the only ones left standing, both the heat and the shockwave passing through them as if they were nothing, as they stared up at William the Wise, transfixed. 

“Holy shit,” Mike breathed from beside him, successfully grabbing Will’s attention. When Will looked over, Mike was grinning at him, sharp with excitement and leftover adrenaline. “Fireball.” 

Mike started laughing then, a sharp sound that seemed to erupt out of him without his control, and Will couldn’t help but join in, a little shaky as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth. 

“Fireball indeed,” Will agreed, remembering how he’d drawn this exact scene before, back when he was twelve and it was his favourite spell to cast. 

The sound of William collapsing to the ground brought them out of their hysteria, snapping their heads to his form now lying in a heap on the ground, the hood of his purple robe obscuring his face. 

Besides Will, Mike reached out his hand towards William, almost as if he couldn’t stop himself. But before he could move closer, there was a loud clanking of armour, and Michael the Brave fell to his knees beside William. 

“William?” He whispered to the man’s form, adjusting so that he could cushion William’s head on the warm metal on his thighs. The movement revealed the state of William’s face, his complexion ghostly white as rivulets of blood fell from his eyes and down his cheeks like crimson tear tracks. 

With a hand as delicate as the flower petals surrounding them, Michael wiped away the blood as he whispered to the man below him. Will shifted as if to move forward, but a steady hand stopped him, pushing lightly against his chest. Will looked over in curiosity, only to see Mike’s face scarily neutral, although sickly pale. He watched the scene in front of him, arm extended as a blockade, displaying no outward emotion, but his eyes were shining. 

“M-Michael?” The word was slurred but loud in the quiet of the field, William blinking his hazel eyes open, face softening into a tired smile when he recognised Michael. 

“Hello, my love,” Michael responded with an equally soft smile, blood-stained fingers combing through William’s hair.

Will felt his breathing catch as he registered the words, eyes widening and filling with tears almost instantly. His heart clenched as he watched Michael stare lovingly at his magical counterpart, ripples of jealousy and longing flowing through his body. He’d never seen Mike make that face before - that soft look around his eyes, that small smile that lit up his face, that look of pure, unrestrained love. Will wanted it directed at him so badly, he needed it. 

Will swallowed forcefully against the lump in his throat, exhaling a shaky breath. He refused to look over at Mike, instead watching Michael and William on the floor below him. 

“Are you alright, my love?” Michael eventually asked, skirting his fingers across the high points of William’s cheekbones. Some crimson blood remained there, staining the soft skin, but neither seemed to mind. 

“Yes. A tad weary but I’m okay,” William reassured Michael, lifting a shaky arm up and pushing a strand of matted hair behind Michael’s ear. Almost subconsciously, Michael leaned into the warmth of William’s hand, eyelids fluttering slightly as he let out a shaky breath in relief. 

“I’m glad,” Michael whispered back. “You were very hasty with your choice of casting,” he chastised, the softness of his voice betraying his words. “You should have informed me first.”

William simply grinned up at him, eyes crossing as he gazed at Michael. With a little effort, he pulled himself up and twisted so that they were both kneeling in front of each other. “But it worked, did it not?” 

Michael did not take his eyes off of William for even a second, not needing to look around the battleground to see the evidence of William’s spell. He already trusted his skills implicitly. Instead, he huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are hopeless.” 

William’s grin merely brightened, a delighted chuckle escaping his own mouth before he leaned in and pressed their lips together. Michael’s hand immediately lifted to wrap around the nape of William’s neck, tilting to slot their lips together perfectly, a content sigh escaping him. 

Will felt that ugly feeling of jealousy and longing clamber up his body, burning his throat like acid as he watched the way the two men fell into each other, movements like a second nature to them. It was almost too much to bear, and Will tore his eyes away from the scene in front of him with a harsh swallow. Almost as if to torture himself, Will lifted his gaze towards Mike beside him, who continued to watch the scene. 

The boy next to him was still staring at Michael and William, his jaw harshly set and nostrils flared. His eyebrows were tilted upwards like they often did when he was fighting off tears, and his fists were tightly clenched beside him. He cleared his throat eventually, eyes drifting from the scene before landing on Will. 

Will knew his face was betraying the cocktail of emotions he was feeling thrumming through his body, but Mike seemed to look as wrecked as he felt. They stared silently at each other for a moment before Mike took in a stuttered inhale. 

“Will,” he started, arm reaching out minutely so that his fingertips brushed against the skin of Will’s arm, but before he could continue, they entered that state of nothingness once more, falling and falling and falling. 

They landed, this time, in Mike’s room. For a second, Will thought maybe they’d been thrown back to their own reality, before he noticed two girls sitting on Mike’s bed. 

The first he could see had curly black hair, styled into a harsh, short fringe and fell to just below her shoulders. She had strong, sharp features; a prominent nose, high cheekbones and a jawline that could cut. Her eyes, however, were soft like a puppy’s, gazing down at the other girl painting her nails a deep blue. 

The other girl was bent over the black-haired girl's nails, brown bob falling over her ears and tickling her chin. From the angle they had landed at, Will could only see the curve of this girl's spine, clad in an oversized yellow plaid shirt. 

The black-haired girl smiled to herself slightly before she reached out her free hand and tucked a stray hair behind the other girl's ear. 

“Michelle,” the brown-haired girl tutted, lifting her gaze towards the now grinning girl. “Stay still!” 

The black-haired girl laughed loudly at the others' protests, seemingly delighted “Sorry, Willow.” 

Mike seemed to clock onto what was happening before Will, immediately moving so that he could see the brown-haired girl - Willow, it seemed - more clearly. As he often did, Will followed suit. 

From this angle, he could see Willow more clearly, her wispy bangs falling into her eyes, the hazel irises shining as she attempted to look up at Michelle angrily, but her lips parted to reveal cute bunny teeth as her smile betrayed her. 

And oh, Will thought, this was them. Just a different them. Girls this time, he presumed. 

“You’re pretty as a girl, Will,” Mike said beside him, smiling as he looked over at Willow. 

“Thanks, Mike,” Will whispered back. “You are too.” And he was, Michelle was very pretty, all harsh lines and unruly curls. But still, Will couldn’t stop the way his stomach dropped slightly at Mike’s comment. 

Mike had never called Will pretty before. Sure, he’d called him “handsome” when he’d worn his suit for the Snowball, but that was mainly to boost his confidence. He’d said his hair “looked nice” when he’d started wearing it more textured, less bowlcut-y - said it “suited him” as he bit the inside of his cheek to hide a smile. He’d said he looked “beau- badass” when he’d killed those Demogorgons in the MAC-Z, holding him at arms' length as his eyes frantically searched his face for signs of injury. But he’d never called him pretty. 

Will wouldn’t mind being called pretty. 

Willow, it seemed, was pretty in Mike’s eyes. It made sense, Will was well aware of the similarities between himself and Jane, which was likely what Mike was thinking as he looked down at Willow. 

The girl herself was delicately cradling Michelle’s long fingers in her palm, her other hand swiping the nail polish brush over her nails. 

“This colour suits you,” Willow mused absentmindedly as she took the corner of her own thumb to clean up the slight overspill of nail polish on Michelle’s middle finger. 

“Thank you, baby!” Michelle responded enthusiastically, still grinning. And God, was it going to hurt every time a pet name fell from “Mike’s” mouth?

“Baby,” Mike repeated so quietly Will wasn’t even sure he’d said anything at all, a thoughtful expression falling over his features. 

Willow quickly finished up Michelle’s right hand, silently motioning for her left hand as she continued her painting. Michelle brought her painted nails up towards her face, blowing against the wet paint to aid its drying process as she continued to watch Willow work below her. 

Will and Mike watched the scene silently, unsure what to say. It was weird, that’s for sure. Will had never really thought about what he’d look like as a girl, but it was nice to see his main features hadn’t changed too much. He was still soft in the cheeks, doe-y in the eyes, pink in the lips. Honestly, it sort of just looked like he’d shoved on a wig and some lip gloss and called it a day. Michelle too, her haircut eerily similar to the one Mike had when he’d come to visit in California. 

“Okay,” Willow eventually broke the silence, elongating the vowels as she brushed one more swipe of polish against Michelle’s pinky nail. “All done.” She smiled up at Michelle as she adjusted her posture, and Michelle brought her other hand to her mouth to blow on as well. It looked almost like she was playing the harmonica, hands moving back and forth in unison against the exhale of her breath. Willow giggled slightly at her ridiculousness. 

“Thanks, Willow,” Michelle responded after maybe ten seconds, hands reaching out and cupping the swell of Willow’s cheeks. Before Willow could protest or reprimand her, Michelle’s fingers were curling around Willow’s jaw as she dragged her forward to plant a loud, smacking kiss against Willow's pouty lips. 

Michelle drew back quickly, laughing as Willow hit her playfully on the shoulder. Strands of Willow’s hair had gotten caught in the still tacky polish, leaving thin streaks of blue against the white of Michelle’s skin and smudging Willow's tidy work. Michelle only laughed harder as Willow harshly took both her hands in hers and inspected her ruined work, whining about how much effort she’d put in. 

Before they were both falling again, Will saw Michelle leave a lingering kiss on the crown of Willow’s head and felt his heart break a little more.

This time they landed in an alleyway, dark, dank and only partially illuminated by the occasional flickering of a street lamp. A few feet in front of them were two figures, both leaning heavily against each other with the taller one's arm around the other's shoulder. 

Beside him, Mike let out an incredulous huff. “I wonder who we’ll be this time,” Mike joked, turning to look at Will with a tight smile. His eyes were somehow both amused and still slightly scared - they still were not sure what the hell was happening, and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop any time soon. 

Will flashed a shaky grin in return before they both followed behind the two figures. They were walking quite slowly, so it didn’t take long for Will and Mike to catch up and also notice the other individual who was in the alleyway with them. 

Walking slightly ahead was a young man, over-ear headphones attached to a Walkman, playing music so loudly that even they could hear the tinny melody of it. He didn’t seem to clock the two individuals behind him, happily continuing his jaunt down the long alleyway. 

In the dark, Will couldn’t get a good look at the two figures, but with flashes from the street lamps, he could tell it was another version of him and Mike. 

Mike’s hair was its usual midnight black, but long like Michael the Brave’s was. His sharp features were just as prominent, but his eyes looked almost jet black even under the harsh street light. 

Will seemed timid under other Mike’s arm, curled towards his chest, head down. The only reason Will knew for certain it was him was that notorious, harsh bowl cut. 

Will and Mike continued walking behind other Will and other Mike, sharing questioning looks as they tried to understand what was happening. 

It was when the man in front stopped to fiddle with his Walkman that the energy shifted, the sounds of the city surrounding them seeming to stop entirely as other Mike pounced. 

The walkman came clattering to the ground as other Mike attacked, mouth open and teeth bared as he manoeuvred the man’s neck at a painfully sharp right angle. Under the glow of the street lamps, Will saw his fangs elongate and glisten before they pierced directly into the man’s artery. 

Both Will and Mike flinched as flecks of blood spurted and sprayed from the man’s neck, splattering other Mike’s deathly pale face. Other Mike seemed to moan softly at the feeling, his throat bobbing as he drank steadily from the man, his victim’s gurgling slowly quietening. 

Despite the horror, Will felt like he couldn’t look away from the scene in front of him. Other Mike looked almost ethereal as he drank from the man, eyes closed in ecstasy and long eyelashes casting shadows against his skin. His fingers, adorned with long pointed nails had moved to hold the side of the man’s head, looking like he was cradling him in his final moments. 

Eventually though, other Mike removed his mouth from the man’s neck, lips and chin dripping with fresh blood as he panted and looked towards other Will. 

“C’mere,” Other Mike slurred, seemingly drunk on the taste of his victim's blood. Hesitantly, other Will made his way over to other Mike and the man, standing beside them. 

Other Mike used the hand he had wrapped in the man’s hair to guide him toward other Will, lowering him slightly so that his forehead was in line with other Will’s mouth. 

Other Will looked up at other Mike briefly, and that’s when Will noticed what was different about this other Will. Beneath the fringe of his bowl cut was one milky white eye, the other a gaping black hole surrounded by rotten and melted flesh. His mouth was slightly elongated as the skin on his cheek had weathered away to reveal the inside of his teeth and jaw. When he raised a hand to push the man’s fringe away from his tacky forehead, Will noticed that he could see the bones of his knuckles. 

A Vampire and a Zombie. Right. 

Will had only a second to brace before zombie Will extended his mouth wide and clasped down on the man’s forehead, his skull cracking under the blunt teeth and pressure. 

At the squelching sound of zombie Will hitting brain, Will felt himself gag and had to turn away, bending over slightly as he carefully breathed through the nausea. He jolted when he felt Mike’s slender fingers run through his hair in an effort to comfort him, and despite the situation he was in, he did start to relax. 

Will stayed in that position for a few minutes, cringing as he heard flesh and muscle tearing under teeth. “Have they stopped eating?” Will eventually whispered once the sounds seemed to taper out. 

It took Mike a second to reply, and Will peered up in question to see a slack-jawed Mike staring straight ahead. The ministrations in his hair had halted, too. “Yeah,” Mike eventually croaked out, coughing against the dryness in his throat before he continued. “Yeah, they’ve stopped eating.” 

At his confirmation, Will turned back towards vampire Mike and zombie Will, eyes shooting past the mangled body now lying limp on the floor, to the two of them entangled in a heated kiss. 

Their hands were everywhere, roaming and feeling and groping any part of each other they could, leaving smearings of blood and other fluids in their wake. Their mouths clashed against each other violently, all tongue and sharp teeth catching on each other’s lips and adding to their already messy faces. They were pushed together as tightly as they could be, and with the minimal lighting, Will wasn’t sure where vampire Mike ended and zombie Will began. 

This time when Will turned away, it wasn’t in disgust, it was because he felt like he was intruding. He could hear the duo’s delighted moans over the sound of nearby honking traffic, and he felt his face flame as he heard zombie him whimper. 

Mike, however, was transfixed on the scene in front of him. His eyes stayed steadfastly on the couple, his own breathing quickening as he took in their hungry and desperate need for each other. 

Once he registered they were falling again, Mike’s expression seemed like he was annoyed they were leaving so soon. 

Will didn’t allow himself to think it was over this time, despite having landed in the Wheelers’ kitchen. He had been tricked before; he was not going to be tricked again. 

It was largely the same as he’d seen it earlier today, although the old fruit bowl Holly had dropped six months ago sat primly in the centre of the large oak table, grapes, apples and bananas arranged artistically inside it. 

Distracted by the fruit bowl, Will didn’t notice the other person enter the kitchen until he heard the clunk of the phone being picked up and the tapping of a number being dialled. He looked over to see Mike, a few years younger, leaning against the kitchen wall with the chunky phone pressed to his ear as he fiddled anxiously with the spiral wire. 

Younger Mike had his haircut from California, although the bangs were a tad shorter. He was wearing his Hellfire shirt, Will noted, and a thrill of excitement shot through him at that. Mike had stopped wearing his Hellfire shirt after Eddie’s death and hadn’t bought it with him when he came to California, so Will had never seen him in it. 

He looked good, Will had to admit. The shirt clung to him nicely, and the three-quarter length sleeves showed off the lean muscle of his forearms, ones that shifted slightly as he continued to fiddle with the phone wire. 

Will felt himself smiling subconsciously as he took in the boy in front of him, eyes softening in a way he knew was from love. Beside him, Mike observed Will with a small, confused frown. 

Younger Mike jolted from his position resting against the wall when a muffled “Hello?” sounded over the phone, a grin erupting over his face. 

“Will? Hi!” Younger Mike said, voice high from excitement. “Did you get my letter?” 

Will felt his besotted smile drop at that, hurt settling deep into his chest. Will could count on one hand the number of letters he’d received from Mike whilst he was in Lenora, and he certainly hadn’t called to check whether he’d received them. 

Younger Will’s muffled voice on the other side of the line seemed excited as he raved about the letter, and younger Mike smiled at the floor as he listened, scuffing a Converse-clad foot across the floor. 

“Did you like the picture?” Younger Mike asked softly once younger Will’s ramblings came to an end, biting his lip to hide yet another grin. Younger Will’s answer was equally as soft, barely audible from where Mike and Will were standing. 

“Handsome?” Younger Mike gasped, cheeks tinted a bright red. “William Byers, did you really just call me handsome?” Younger Will’s response was spoken through a bright laugh, and younger Mike couldn’t help but match it. “Thank you,” younger Mike eventually replied, soft and earnest, if not a tad embarrassed. 

“I wish I could see a picture of you right now,” Younger Mike whispered into the phone, his eyes darting up and around the kitchen just to make sure no one was near.  “I bet all that sun has made you look so pretty”. 

And there was that word again, pretty. Only this time it was Mike calling Will that. Somehow, that hurt more - that there was a universe out there where Mike found Will pretty, even as a boy.

Even without hearing the muffled response, Will knew what his own reaction would be. He’d stutter and play it off, a deep red flush adorning his cheeks. From Younger Mike’s reaction, it seemed he’d hit the nail on the head. 

Younger Mike and Younger Will talked for a while longer on the phone, Younger Mike leaning his back against the kitchen wall like a lovesick fool as he continued his mindless fiddling. Not once did his smile drop from his face. 

Besides Will, normal Mike was looking down at his feet, jaw working and brows furrowed in what looked like mild distress. 

“Are you okay?” Will whispered, despite knowing Younger Mike could not hear or see them. 

Mike nodded once at the floor before lifting his head to meet Will’s eyes. “Yeah,” he responded. “Yeah, I just-“ Mike cut himself off with a deep inhale, eyes fluttering closed. “Never mind,” He continued, forcing a strained smile onto his face. 

Will wanted to pry, but something in Mike’s expression made it seem that it wasn’t a good idea, so he merely nodded and turned back towards Younger Mike. 

“Yeah, my flights are all booked,” Younger Mike said as Will tuned back into the conversation. “I should get there around 11 am.”

Will couldn’t stop the rueful smile that twisted onto his lips at the realisation. This was the trip Mike had taken to California over Spring Break when he’d awkwardly avoided hugging Will at the airport, when he’d blamed Will for ruining his and Jane’s “perfect” day, when Will had given him his painting, his confession, and broken his own heart in two. 

It was almost cathartic to know that, in this universe at least, Will was going to get that hug. 

“I can’t wait to see you again,” Younger Mike whispered into the phone, giddy. “I can’t wait to kiss you again,” he breathed, obvious excitement thrumming through his form. Whatever younger Will responded had younger Mike blushing so furiously that Will couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. 

Mike pushed him lightly in the arm at that, and Will turned around to see him blushing too, seemingly embarrassed for his own younger self. 

“Is that how you always flirted as a teenager?” Will asked, teasing. Mike’s responding “shut up,” and deeper blush had him cackling with delight. 

“Okay, I gotta go now,” Younger Mike eventually said in a rush as the sound of the front door opening reached them. “My mom’s home from shopping,” he clarified, and Will had a feeling he would’ve stayed on the phone for hours more had they not been interrupted. “I’ll phone again tomorrow, same time, okay? Okay, good, I love you.” The last part was whispered into the receiver and behind younger Mike’s hand for extra protection against his mom’s almost superhuman hearing, before he slammed the phone back against the wall and raced out to help his mom with the grocery bags. 

Will blinked rapidly as he took in what younger Mike had said, the words sounding foreign to his ears. Mike’s family weren’t the most affectionate, so they didn’t throw around “love yous” quite like the Byers’ did. Will had only heard Mike say “I love you” to Jane once, and that was during quite exceptional circumstances. They’d broken up before Will had been privy to hearing him say it to her again, if he ever did. 

But this Mike, younger Mike, Hellfire Mike, threw the word out across the phone like it was nothing, like he said it every day, like he felt it every day. Perhaps he did, maybe this was how he wrapped up all of his phone calls with younger Will, all the way in Lenora. Maybe the distance between them had made their feelings so strong that they needed to say it to each other. 

That certainly hadn’t been the case in Will’s universe. 

Without even realising, Will had let his gaze drift towards Mike, wanting to see his own reaction to those three sacred words. 

When they fell, Mike was already looking at him. 

“Did you order pizza again?” When they landed this time, they were greeted by Max’s annoyed voice, the words shouted over her shoulder as she wiped down the counter in front of her. 

“Well, this is new,” Mike mumbled beside him, almost to himself. Will hummed in agreement as he took in the scene around him. 

It was evident they were in Scoops Ahoy, with its blue and white tiled floors and diner-esque aesthetic. In front of them, Max was dressed in the full sailor get-up, little white hat and all. Will couldn’t help but hold back a laugh at the sight, knowing full well that Max was hating every second she had to be in her uniform. 

The door leading to the back swung open with a flourish, revealing a similarly dressed Mike who sauntered in with a mischievous grin. 

“Yep!” Scoops Mike exclaimed, popping the ‘P’. “Meatfeast for me, and an evil, disgusting Hawaiian for yourself.” 

Max rolled her eyes as she continued to wipe the counter, but they were bright with amusement. Her mouth was twisted tight in an attempt not to smile. 

And oh God, Will thought, were Mike and Max dating in this universe? Is that why Will wasn’t here? It sent a shiver down Will’s spine as his eyes flicked from Scoops Mike’s easy grin to Max’s private one. 

In Will’s universe, Mike and Max bickered like siblings who couldn’t stand each other, but loved each other all the same. They were eerily similar, both possessing a sharp wit and a no-bullshit attitude, which they clashed over almost daily. Will couldn’t imagine a universe where they loved each other romantically. 

But Will also didn’t think there was a universe where Mike liked him back either, and he’d been proven wrong several times already. 

“Try before you deny,” Max quipped back, before they both started to bicker perhaps a tad too strongly about the ethics of pineapple on pizza. 

Mike was smiling fondly as he watched his sailor boy counterpart argue with Max over a topic Will knew he would never back down on, and Will had to swallow against the jealous lump forming in his throat. 

Maybe his Mike did like Max that way. 

The duo’s bickering was cut off abruptly by an exaggerated cough, and Will and Mike turned to see another Will clad in a yellow ‘Surfer Boy Pizza’ t-shirt and brown shorts that ended a tad too high up his thigh than would have been standard regulation. 

“Pizza for Mike?” Surfer Boy Will asked, a small smirk on his lips. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Behind him, Scoops Mike appeared to stumble over his words, and Will turned to see his cheeks flushed a brilliant red. Max was beside him, biting her lip against a smile. 

Surfer Boy Will chuckled before he made his way towards the counter, two fresh pizza boxes stacked in his grip.

Beside him, Mike had not taken his eyes off the bottom of Surfer Boy Will’s shorts once. 

“You know,” Surfer Boy Will mused as he placed the boxes down in front of the duo. “You get the same pizza every time. Do you not get bored?” 

“No!” Scoops Mike let out in a rush, far too loud than what the situation required. He cleared his throat in embarrassment before continuing more quietly. “No, this pizza’s just really good. I could eat it every day.” Beside him, Max choked on a laugh and turned away to pretend to fiddle with the cash register. 

“Is that so?” Surfer Boy Will asked, amusement lacing his tone. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll make sure I’m the one who delivers it every day.” Will watched as Scoop’s Mike took in a fluttering inhale, barking out a sharp laugh that sounded almost panicked. 

Will looked on at the duo in mild shock, taken aback by the confidence that Surfer Boy Will seemed to exude. Will would never have the confidence to flirt with his Mike so openly; he didn’t even think he’d know how. He’d tried a simple push before, looking up at Mike through his fringe, and that had failed so abysmally he hadn’t tried anything since. 

This Will, however, was leaning heavily over the counter and into Scoops Mike’s personal space, eyelashes fluttering as he rested his head on his palm. 

“Cute hat,” Surfer Boy Will commented with a sharp grin as he lifted his arm up to flick lightly at the aforementioned item. Scoops Mike’s wide eyes flicked frantically over Will’s face, before he let out a small noise that bordered on a whimper. Surfer Boy Will’s grin widened. 

“Oh my god, I’m pathetic,” Mike whispered to himself from beside Will, seemingly flabbergasted by his counterpart's inability to flirt. Will let out an undignified snort at that, wholeheartedly agreeing. Scoops Mike was pathetic, but he was also devastatingly cute. 

Surfer Boy Will adjusted so he was standing up properly now, before he snatched the little white hat off of Scoops Mike’s fluffy curls. Scoops Mike didn’t even protest like Will expected him to; he simply stared wide-eyed at Surfer Boy Will as the boy placed the hat atop his own brunette, textured hair. 

Surfer Boy Will blinked up at Scoops Mike once the little hat was situated where he wanted it, hazel eyes wide and shiny with an innocence that was betrayed only by the twisting smirk of his lips. “What do you think?” 

Scoops Mike seemed to choke on nothing as he took in the boy in front of him, bending over and hacking into his elbow as Max thwacked him on the back half-heartedly. Surfer Boy Will watched the interaction with an amused but fond smile. 

“Good,” Scoops Mike eventually wheezed out, eyes watering from the force of his coughing. “No, yeah, you look good. My- The hat suits you.” He finished with a shaky smile, cheeks rosy from both the exertion and embarrassment. 

Surfer Boy Will’s smile softened at the edges, his own cheeks heating to a dusty pink. “Thanks, Mike,” he replied, voice laced with affection. 

The two continued to stare at each other for a short while, matching dopey grins and bright eyes, before Max pointedly cleared her throat and snapped them both out of their trance with a jolt. She passed a ten-dollar bill she’d taken from the cash register over to Surfer Boy Will, who accepted it graciously and tucked it into his back pocket.  

“I should probably head back now.” Surfer Boy Will’s confidence from earlier seemed to fade as he awkwardly pointed over his shoulder at the exit, already walking backwards towards it. 

“See ya, Will,” Max threw over her shoulder as she carried the pizza boxes towards the back room. Surfer Boy Will sent her a small wave in response, eyes not once leaving Scoops Mike’s. 

“Yeah, see you, Will,” Scoops Mike breathed, voice so soft it was almost intimate. At that, Surfer Boy Will smiled so hard his nose scrunched up slightly and turned so he was walking properly towards the exit. 

“Oh, Will, wait!” Scoops Mike exclaimed a few moments later, and Surfer Boy Will snapped round to face him instantly. 

“Yes?” Surfer Boy Will asked, a tad breathlessly. Silently, Scoops Mike pointed towards the top of his own head, void of his compulsory sailor hat. 

“My hat,” Scoops Mike merely stated, and Surfer Boy Will lifted his own hand up towards the hat that still sat primly atop his head. 

Surfer Boy Will let out a chuckle as the hat flattened slightly underneath the weight of his palm. “I’ll give it back to you tomorrow,” he decided before he continued his walk towards the exit. “I’ll probably have to deliver some more pizza to you anyway.” 

Will blinked, stunned as he watched Surfer Boy Will shoot Scoop’s Mike an easy wink before leaving the store. Will didn’t even know he was capable of winking; he’d never really needed to. As if to test his theory, he felt himself twitch one eye closed, copying it on the other side. He knew even without seeing it himself, it was awkward and stunted, definitely not as natural as Surfer Boy Will’s. He’d have to practice. 

In front of him, Scoop’s Mike waited a few seconds to make sure Surfer Boy Will was actually gone before he let out a loud, pained groan and sagged dramatically over the counter, pressing his flushed face into the cold ceramic. 

In the back room, Max let out a gleeful cackle. Besides Will, Mike pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in exasperation. 

When they landed this time, they appeared to be in the barren smoking area of a club. The only two individuals present were sat on a worn wooden bench, illuminated by the cheap string lights above them and their shared cigarette. 

The music inside the club was heavy and loud, the deep bass reverberating through the shut door and thrummed through Will’s body. The live vocals were raw and sharp, guttural when they screamed through the chorus. 

It was an alternative club, and Will felt a thrill of excitement shoot up his spine at the realisation. 

Will’s attention was soon drawn from the music back towards the two individuals sharing a cigarette. He knew it was going to be him and Mike, but he gasped at just how different they looked. 

The Will sat before him was dressed in a thick, long black skirt that draped down towards the wet concrete floor, heavy platform boots peaking out underneath. His top half was covered in an amalgamation of different black velvets, lace and fishnets, cinched with a leather corset. Bitten nails were painted roughly with black polish, and his hair, dyed dark, was teased and back-combed into a styled mess. His face was painted a striking white, sharp lines accentuated with dark makeup, and the cupid's bow of his lips was made more prominent by an inky black lipstick. 

He looked a bit like Siouxsie Sioux, Will thought gleefully, as he took in his goth form. 

Besides Goth Will, Mike’s form was even more striking. He was wearing tight red tartan trousers, shoved into worn Doc Martins. His ’Sex Pistols’ shirt was cropped just slightly above his waistband and at his sleeves, and he was wearing a well-loved leather jacket adorned with a variety of pins and spikes. Although not wearing makeup like Goth Will, this Mike had an array of facial and ear piercings, his lobes stretched wide and plugged with a circular black earring. He had two eyebrow piercings, a nose ring and a small spike underneath his lower lip. His hair, though, was what was throwing Will off the most. It was shaved to his scalp at the sides, making his already harsh cheekbones look even sharper, and the rest of his hair was spiked into a short and messy mohawk. His hair was also orange; faded slightly with his dark roots peaking through, but orange nonetheless. 

Will thought he looked kind of incredible. 

“Jesus Will you look amazing,” Mike exclaimed from beside him, the words tumbling out of him seemingly without his permission. As Will looked over and saw Mike’s stunned expression and flushed face, he assumed that was most likely the case. Despite the Will Mike had complimented not technically being Will, he still blushed at the comment. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Will replied truthfully, and Mike flashed him a small smile. 

“You know,” Mike mused. “I wanted to cut my hair into a bright orange mohawk at one point. Max bullied me out of it, though,” he finished with a laugh. 

Will already knew this, having initially been horrified at the thought of Mike tainting his beautiful curls with bleach and hairspray. But as he looked over at punk Mike, he couldn’t help but imagine a world where his Mike looked like that, too. 

“Hm,” Will began. “Maybe you should reconsider.” He looked up at Mike through his lashes, a teasing smile playing on his lips. Mike sucked in a stuttered inhale, the pulse on his neck fluttering quickly. 

“Yeah?” Mike said around an exhale, one side of his mouth lifted, canines glinting under the glow of the string lights. 

“Yeah,” Will agreed, biting away a smile. 

The song playing inside the club changed suddenly, and Will immediately clocked onto the first clanging strums of the guitar. 

“Oh shit, babe,” Punk Mike said from the bench, words mumbled as he kept the cigarette dangling in his mouth. “It’s your song!” 

And Will supposed if any song was to be his song, it would be this one - ’Should I Stay or Should I Go’ by The Clash. That song had gotten him through many nights at home, cowering behind his door as Lonnie hurled abuse at his mom in the living room. It comforted him whilst he was in the Upside Down, the lyrics falling easily from his lips as he shivered against the biting cold. More recently, he liked to listen to it whilst he painted, trying to reassociate his favourite song with happier memories. 

“Oh yeah,” Goth Will responded, leaning over to snatch the cigarette from between punk Mike’s lips to take his own long drag. “Hopefully the band don’t fuck it up.” 

Punk Mike let out a small chuckle at that, clearly used to this Will’s pessimism. “You wanna go back inside and check it out?” 

Goth Will hummed in thought before eventually shaking his head no, exhaling smoke and tapping the ash from the cigarette onto the floor. “No, it’s okay, I’ve heard this song a million times before. I wanna chill out here a bit longer.” 

Punk Mike nodded, immediately agreeing with Goth Will. Still, he stood up and stretched with an exaggerated groan, lifting his already cropped shirt up higher to reveal a pierced navel. Will was surprised he didn’t pass out then and there. 

“Wel,l c’mere then,” Punk Mike said, moving away from the bench and gesturing for Goth Will to follow. “Let’s dance.” 

Goth Will let out a disbelieving chuckle with an amused shake of the head, but at Punk Mike’s responding eyebrow lift, his smile settled into something small and private. 

“You’re being serious?” Goth Will asked, already standing up and taking Punk Mike's offered hand. Punk Mike wasted no time, tugging Goth Will in with ease towards him so that their chests were pressed together. 

Punk Mike snaked one arm around Goth Will’s cinched waist, the hand he’d used to tug him in lacing with Goth Will’s fingers as they began to sway to a rhythm that did not match the song at all. 

“I don’t think this is how you’re supposed to dance to The Clash,” Goth Will commented, amused, and yet his polished hand settled against Punk Mike’s chest automatically. 

“Maybe not,” Punk Mike agreed with a shrug of his shoulder. “But it’s how we dance to The Clash.” Punk Mike flashed a bright and mischievous smile, which only widened further as he heard Will’s responding laugh. Punk Mike’s eyes tracked his movement as Goth Will leant his forehead against Punk Mike’s chest, shoulders shaking as he giggled into it. 

Eventually, Goth Will lifted his head to look up at Punk Mike with a besotted smile. “You’re so stupid,” he whispered, affection dripping from each vowel, before he raised himself up on his tiptoes to press a soft peck against Punk Mike’s lips. 

The kiss lasted barely a second, but when he drew back, there was a black print in the shape of Goth Will’s lips left on Punk Mike’s own, slightly off centre and smudged onto the skin above his upper lip. 

Goth Will noticed it immediately, scoffing slightly as he brought his thumb up to wipe harshly at the mark. “This lipstick is supposed to be kiss-proof,” he complained. 

“Oh, really?” Punk Mike asked, standing still so that Goth Will could successfully wipe off the kiss mark. When Goth Will’s hand dropped back to its place against his chest, Punk Mike continued their swaying. “Maybe you should try again.” 

Goth Will grinned sharply before he untangled his fingers from Punk Mike’s grip so that he could cup his face with both hands. Immediately, Punk Mike let his now empty hand drop to Goth Will’s waist. 

Punk Mike let his eyelids flutter closed in anticipation, but Goth Will bypassed his lips entirely, standing high on his tiptoes as he tilted Punk Mike’s head down slightly to kiss him smack bang in the middle of his forehead. 

Punk Mike let out a surprised little noise, but before he could do anything, Goth Will was moving down to kiss him on his left cheek, then his right, his chin, then the tip of his nose. 

In his wake, he left smudged lip marks, covering Punk Mike’s face in his black lipstick as he continued his relentless kisses. As Punk Mike laughed and scrunched up his face at the feeling, Goth Will got more dramatic, the kisses pressed harder to his skin with a loud “mwah!” 

“Okay, okay, okay!” Punk Mike eventually exclaimed once Goth Will had kissed frantically around the planes of his face maybe four times. “That’s enough,” he chuckled, only moving his head back slightly in an attempt to stop the onslaught. 

Goth Will let out a delighted giggle as he pulled away, black lipstick significantly lighter, patchy and smudged around his own lips. 

“I don’t think it’s kiss-proof,” Goth Will admitted with a whisper like it was a secret, tilting his head and squinting one eye as he took in his work. Despite the dark lip marks littering his face, Punk Mike looked like there was no place he’d rather be, eyes trained on the messy lipstick remaining on Goth Will’s lips. 

“I don’t think so either,” Punk Mike whispered back, already leaning back into Will’s space and pressing their lips together harshly as soon as he’d finished his sentence. 

Will felt that small twinge of jealousy in his chest once more as he saw his counterpart tilt his head to kiss Punk Mike the way they both clearly liked, but he didn’t feel that overwhelming need to look away. 

It was kind of nice, he supposed, that at least in these handful of universes Will was loved by the one person he wanted most. If he couldn’t have it, he was glad the seemingly infinite other Will’s did. 

He was falling again as he watched Punk Mike and Goth Will break apart just to reconnect their lips once more. 

This time when they landed, Will was sure it was finally over. They were back in Mike's basement, the same old sofa and flimsy D&D table, but as he looked around, he realised there were some clear differences. 

Whilst the sofa was the same, it was sagging considerably less in the middle. The D&D table had only two chairs around it, handbooks that Will had thumbed through so often that the pages were warped and spine fraying sat brand new upon it. There were some of Will’s drawings on the wall, though they were nowhere near the standard of the ones in the actual Wheeler basement; these were crude drawings of monsters and heroes sketched in crayon. 

But it technically was the actual Wheelers’ basement, just ten years in the past. 

This was confirmed when two small boys came barrelling down the basement steps and flung themselves into their respective chairs. 

“Show me, show me, show me!” The first boy exclaimed in a high, thrilled voice. His feet that didn’t touch the ground kicked excitedly. 

It was Mike, exactly as Will remembered him at age eight. His black hair was not quite curly yet, but flopped messily over his forehead. His cheeks were full and round with baby fat, his chocolate eyes just as wide as always. He was devastatingly cute, and Will couldn’t stop the bright grin that spread across his face. 

“Okay, okay, give me a second!” The other boy responded as he hauled his well-loved backpack onto the table. 

This was Will, evident by the harsh bowl cut that almost looked like a mushroom resting on his head. Will could see his own bunny teeth poking out as he bit his lip in concentration whilst he rummaged through his bag. His cheeks were even rounder than he remembered, and seemed to be perpetually dusted pink. 

Will felt his grin dampen into something sad, an ache settling in his chest as he looked on at the boy who had yet to experience the horrors of the Upside Down and everything that came with it. The boy who was already having to hide away in his room or Castle Byers when Lonnie came home drunk to make sure he wasn’t caught in the crossfire. 

He was so, so small. 

“Aha!” Little Will exclaimed, pulling something out of his bag with a flourish. Will had to squint at the items slightly to see them, but recognised them soon enough. 

They were the first D&D figures he’d gotten, a gift from Johnathan for his ninth birthday. He’d given him two, a Paladin and a Cleric, and Will had been so thrilled about them he’d been practically vibrating in his seat with the need to show Mike. 

“Woah!” Little Mike said, eyes shining with delight. “So cool!” He carefully took the Paladin figure from little Will’s grasp, turning it over to get a proper look at the miniature. “Look, look, it’s even got my sword!” 

Little Will moved closer, resting his chin on little Mike’s shoulder as he observed the figurine. “He does!” Little Will agreed, reaching out a finger to trace down the length of the miniature Paladin's sword. 

“We should paint them,” Little Mike decided abruptly, turning to look at little Will. Their noses bumped together from the closeness, but they both just giggled and inched back slightly. 

“We don’t have any paint for models, though,” little Will responded, a little dejected. Little Mike noticed the sadness in little Will’s tone and immediately got to work, striding over to the plastic drawers hidden in the corner of the basement and pulled them open in search of what he needed. 

Little Will stayed perched on his chair, but extended his neck in an attempt to see what little Mike was doing. Before long though, little Mike was walking back over to the table, grin stretching his lips and numerous items cradled in his arms. 

Little Mike dropped the items onto the table, and Will realised they were little pots of paint and a few paint brushes. They were definitely not the correct paints for models, more like the sort you’d use for paint-by-numbers, but little Will grinned up at little Mike in appreciation nonetheless. 

Little Will wasted no time, immediately reaching out and grabbed a few of the paints and a paintbrush that had gone crispy from leftover dried paint. Little Mike raced over to the small bathroom to fill up a cup of water, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get back to the table. 

“What colour should I do my robes?” Little Will asked, already painting his staff a shockingly bright yellow. Little Mike looked up at the ceiling as he tapped his chin in thought, gasping once he’d reached a verdict. 

“Purple!” Little Mike exclaimed. “It is very elegant,” he continued in a serious tone. Little Will immediately nodded in agreement, reaching for the purple that was more of a lilac than the deep, rich kind he’d envisioned but would have to make do. 

The two young boys continued to paint their miniatures as they threw ideas back and forth. The thick layers of paint and vibrant colours didn’t look good against the intricate designs of the figurine, but Will loved the innocence of it all. 

He remembered this day, the one where they sat for hours excitedly painting their figures. He still had his Cleric figure resting on his bookshelf, guarding his The Lord of the Rings collection. 

“I still have my Paladin figure, you know,” Mike spoke from beside him, mirroring Will’s thoughts. “It looks so shit, but I think it’s my favourite figure I own.” 

Will laughed at that, agreeing with Mike’s words. “I know what you mean,” He started, shooting a tight-lipped smile over at Mike. “Has the most sentimental value.” 

“Yeah,” Mike responded quietly. “That’s why.” 

“Lemme see yours,” Little Mike said once they’d both deemed their figurines finished. Little Will handed his Cleric over, and little Mike held it delicately by the unpainted base so as not to smudge his work. “Will this is amazing!” He exclaimed, turning the figurine around to look at it from all angles. “The purple definitely suits you.” 

Little Will giggled at that, before he too grabbed little Mike’s figurine to inspect it himself. The paint job was shoddy, and the supposedly gleaming metal of the Paladin's armour was instead a muted grey, but little Will seemed to like it well enough. 

“Wait,” little Will said after a short while. “Can I add something?” His words were hesitant, hoping not to offend little Mike, but little Mike merely nodded and gestured for him to go ahead. 

Little Will picked up his brush once more, dipping it into the water to rid it of its previous colour and drying the bristles, before he brought a pillar box red towards him. Delicately, he dipped his brush into the paint and swiped two curved lines against the Paladin's chest plate, dipping his brush into the colour once more before filling in the gap. 

“There,” Little Will said a few seconds later, turning the figurine towards little Mike. “Because you’re the heart.” 

Little Mike’s eyes widened as he took in what little Will had painted - a small red heart that adorned the Paladin's chest plate, the same red as his cloak. Little Mike let out a breathless giggle, smile shy. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against little Will’s cheek. Little Will giggled in response, his already pink cheeks deepening to a rosy colour, before he too leaned forward to kiss little Mike’s cheek. 

“You’re welcome,” little Will said, eyes glittering as both boys smiled at each other. 

Will felt himself smile, a true one with no jealousy or sadness hidden behind it as he saw little Mike reach out to clasp little Will’s hand in his own, already rambling about his ideas for their next campaign. 

When they fell this time, Will was still smiling. 

They landed in a living room neither of them recognised, a plush dark green sofa in the centre bearing a multitude of throws and mismatched pillows. There were two different side tables, each sporting its own peculiarly shaped lamp and a wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled to the brim with well-loved books and comics. 

On the coffee table, stained in places with an array of coloured paints, sat Will's Dungeons and Dragons handbook. He knew it was his, the pages worn and the spine frayed, but mainly because of the large black paint stain that covered a quarter of the hardback cover and obscured the head of the red dragon that was printed on the front. He’d accidentally knocked his paint onto it when he was eleven, and had cried hard as he tried to scrub away the staining to no avail. 

Will stepped forward to take a closer look, a flimsy floorboard creaking under his foot. 

“Mike?” a voice called from the adjacent room. Instinctively, Will froze, head snapping towards the source of the sound. 

A man walked through an archway that led to the next room, wiping his hands on a checkered tea towel. He seemed to pause for a moment, shocked as he stared in Mike and Will’s direction, before he continued walking to drop the tea towel onto the back of the sofa. 

“Oh, hey,” the man said, smiling towards the boys. Will and Mike both turned around to see who he was talking to, finding only a deep brown wall there. Confused, they slowly turned back to the man who was now leaning on two arms against the back of the sofa, smirking. 

“Yeah, I’m talking to you two,” the man said, amused. Will blinked once, hard, then turned to Mike as they shared a confused look. 

“You can-,” Mike started, raising a thumb to point to himself and Will. “You can see us?” Mike’s voice went slightly too high and squeaky at the end, causing the man to huff out a laugh. 

“Yeah. I can see you,” the man confirmed, his smirk softening into something thoughtful. “Honestly, I’ve been waiting for you two to show up. Didn’t realise I’d be this old when it happened, thought I looked younger,” the man mused to himself, shrugging as he seemed to easily accept the situation. 

“How old are you?” Mike asked, and Will nudged him harshly with his elbow. That was definitely not the first question he would have asked. Maybe something more along the lines of who the hell are you?

“Forty-five,” the man responded easily. 

Mike hummed from beside him, “You do look good for your age,” he said, the tops of his ears flushed red. 

And the man did look good for his age. His hair was a mousy brown, flecked with strands of grey and swept back and out of his face in a way that looked natural but was most likely tediously styled. His skin was tanned and slightly freckled, like he spent a lot of time lounging in the sun, and he had crows' feet and smile lines indicative of a happy life. His attire was simple: a faded t-shirt with a band logo Will didn’t recognise and grey joggers speckled with paint. He also had one golden hoop pierced through his left ear. 

It didn’t take long for Will to piece together who this was, and if the Dungeons and Dragons handbook hadn’t given it away, the mole above his top lip definitely did. 

“You’re me,” Will breathed in disbelief. 

“Yeah, I am.” Older Will’s voice was deeper but still carried the same softness and cadence that current Will’s did. His smile was the same, too, slightly hesitant but scrunched up his cheeks nonetheless. 

“This is so weird,” Will said around a nervous laugh, eyes flicking up to Mike beside him to see if he agreed. Mike was still staring at older Will, an emotion Will could not name colouring his face. 

“Probably not the weirdest thing you’ve seen today, I’m sure,” Older Will joked back, and wasn’t that the truth. Will opened his mouth to respond when the click of the front door opening sounded behind him. 

“Honey, I’m home!” A voice sang as a tall man entered the living room. “And I come baring fo-ood.” The man’s voice caught on the last word as he clocked the two younger boys still standing awkwardly in the living room, the white plastic bag he was brandishing dropping and swinging uselessly by his side. 

It took Will less than a second to realise that this was older Mike, as not an awful lot had changed. Like older Will, he had a few wrinkles here and there, but his sharp and handsome features remained largely the same. His hair was still a fluffy mop on his head, curling around the nape and on his forehead. He was wearing a white button-up shirt tucked neatly into black slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal the lean muscle of his forearms. And oh god, he was wearing glasses. Will felt himself get a little hot under the collar at that. 

Older Mike puffed out a long exhale as he stared at the ceiling, bringing his free hand up to scrub at his eyes. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” Older Mike said eventually as he plopped the white plastic bag onto the coffee table, moving over to Older Will’s side to press a delicate kiss to his lips. Neither of them seemed to acknowledge the action much, as if it were part of a ritual they did every day. “Mike, follow me,” Older Mike continued, not looking at the boys as he walked towards a closed door on the other end of the room and pushed it open. From where Will was sat, he could only see the corner of a king-sized bed, a blue cotton quilt thrown over it. 

Will turned to see Mike blink a few times rapidly, likely still shocked at seeing his older self, before he quickly stumbled after him, mumbling a quiet “thank you” to older Mike as he held the door open for him. 

And with a final click of the door closing that sounded too loud in the silence of the room, Will was left alone with his older self. 

He had no idea what to say, too many questions running through his mind and catching in his throat like Do we live with Mike? When do TV’s get this big and flat? What do I do for work? Am I happy? I seem happy. Luckily, older Will had no problem leading the conversation. 

“So, which universe was your favourite?” he asked, moving around the edge of the sofa and falling onto one of the plush pillows. He patted the spot beside him, and Will hesitated for only a second before he lowered himself slowly onto the sofa. It was ridiculously comfortable. 

“Um,” Will started, scratching his cheek as he thought. Beside him, older Will folded his legs beneath him and turned so his full attention was on Will. “Um, I-I’m not sure,” he stuttered out, slightly intimidated by the intensity of older Will’s gaze. 

Older Will hummed as he nodded his head, before something mischievous twinkled in his eye. “Paladin Mike’s pretty hot, right?” 

Will immediately flushed a deep red, spluttering and stuttering out the start of excuses, but felt himself relax as his older self laughed beside him. He sounded younger when he laughed, identical to his own. It was weirdly comforting. 

“Yeah,” Will eventually quietly agreed. “Yeah, he is.” He smiled softly to himself, raising his eyes to see older him grinning down at him fondly, those same bunny teeth still present. 

“Um, so,” Will started after a moment of quiet. “What universe is this?”

“Yours, I suppose. Just around twenty-five years in the future,” older Will explained, that smile never once dropping. 

“But-,” Will started, pointing at his older self before looking back at the closed door behind them and back again. “You and older Mike kissed!” 

Older Will’s responding laugh was bright and amused, crow's feet wrinkles scrunching up even more. “Yeah, we do that a lot.” Older Will leant forward so he was breaching Will’s space, and Will felt himself do the same almost as if there was some kind of magnetic pull. Older Will’s next words were whispered like they were sharing a secret. “We’re together.”

Will snapped back wide-eyed like he’d been slapped, heart racing inside his chest. It felt like it wanted to pound through his ribs and skin and flop onto the gap between himself and older Will, a useless lump of muscle staining their pretty green sofa. “Together?” Will repeated. “Like dating?” He felt lightheaded. 

Older Will’s teeth glinted, nodding in confirmation. “Yeah, like dating.” 

Will couldn’t wrap his head around it. The other universes made sense, Will was different in those, be it a Cleric, a confident pizza boy, or a girl. But this universe? Will was dating Mike. Mike was dating Will? What? 

“Mike likes me?” Will asked hesitantly, so quiet he wasn’t sure if older Will had heard him. 

With a soft smile, older Will reached out a hand to rest against Will’s knee, reassuring. “Mike loves you.” 

Will felt his breath catch in his throat, tears starting to prickle behind his eyes at the words. His heart continued to slam against his chest. 

“Now? Does he love me now? In- In my time?” Will croaked out, his breathing erratic and eyes wide. 

With one last squeeze to his knee, older Will leaned back with a small shrug. “That’s something you’re going to have to talk about with him, I’m afraid.” 

Will felt sick at the prospect. Despite the confirmation that at some point in time Mike did love him, it was still terrifying to think about airing out his own feelings. What if Mike didn’t love him as much as Will did? What if Mike had actually just settled because Will was nice and would never leave him and needed him more than anyone else? The possibilities were terrifying and endless. 

Older Will immediately noticed Will’s internal struggle, frowning as he saw that familiar spiral happening on his face. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Older Will rushed out, voice quiet like he was talking to a scared animal. “I know it sounds scary, but I promise you it’ll be okay. It’s Mike.” 

It seemed silly that those two words comforted him instantly. Because it was Mike, his best friend since he was five years old, his safe space when things got bad with Lonnie and the Upside Down, his first and only love. 

"You know how I know it’ll be okay?” Older Will asked. Will carefully met his older counterpart's eyes, his own swimming with unshed tears. 

Older Will smiled shyly down at his lap, right hand fiddling with something on his left. “Because he loves you so much, he asks to marry you.” 

The simple gold band stood out against older Will’s tanned hand, glinting under the overhead light in a way that suggested it was well looked after. It wasn’t dull like the ones he’d seen on Mike’s parents’ hands, chipped and scratched as if it were a plastic ring from the dollar store. This ring was polished and gleaming like it was brand new, but if the tan line that was left on his skin when older Will took it off was any indication, it definitely was not. 

Older Will held the ring out towards Will, nodding towards it. Will got the hint a second later and held out both his hands in wait. Older Will gently placed the ring in Will’s palms, and Will carefully raised the band towards him. 

At first glance, the ring seemed inconspicuous enough, a rather plain and normal Wedding band, but as he peered closer, he noticed three words engraved in Mike’s messy script on the inside. He gasped in realisation, a single, happy tear rolling down his cheek. 

'In Every Universe’

When Will came to, the first thing he felt was his quilt tangled around his feet and legs, and the second was the sweaty crook of Mike’s inner elbow. 

Will opened his eyes, not even realising they’d been closed in the first place, as he took in the scene in front of him. They were back in the Wheelers’ basement, the interior the same as they’d left it before going to sleep the night before. The chairs were upright and tucked neatly under the table, character sheets and figurines left in their usual places on top. Will’s drawings were still pinned to the wall, and the floor wasn’t rumbling. It was as if nothing had happened at all. 

He waited for a moment, frozen in position to see if another version of him and Mike were about to come bounding down the stairs, but as the seconds continued and nothing changed, he couldn’t help the disappointment that filled his chest. 

Had it all been a dream? 

That was the most plausible option. Will had had numerous dreams about dating Mike, kissing Mike, marrying Mike. This dream had just been hyper-realistic, that’s all. And left a gaping hollow hole in his chest, the shape of his heart. 

Embarrassed, Will slipped his hand out from the crook of Mike’s elbow. 

“Oh, thank fuck we’re back,” Mike said behind him, sounding relieved. “Older me was really annoying.” 

Will turned slowly at that, looking up slightly at Mike still lying on his front on the old sofa, arm dangling off the side as his long fingers trailed against the floor. 

“What?” Will breathed, eyes wide. 

Mike ignored him, moving to sit up on the sofa properly, feet planted on the floor beside Will. 

“Was older you also annoying?” He looked down at Will sat on the floor, arms crossed. 

Will’s mouth opened and closed a few times, gaping like a fish out of water before he spoke. “Oh, um, no. No, he was nice.” 

Mike let out a small huff through his nose in amusement. “That makes sense,” he mumbled to himself. 

Will stared up at Mike for a moment, wide-eyed. So it wasn’t a dream, Mike remembered it all too. Unless, was this a dream? A dream inside a dream? Will reached up to pinch harshly at the soft skin under his bicep, sucking in a harsh breath as pain throbbed from the contact point. 

Mike looked down at him, eyebrow raised in confusion at the sudden noise. Not a dream then. 

“Mike,” Will started. “What the hell was all of that?” 

Mike stared down at Will, face drawn and serious. He blinked once before he trailed his gaze up to stare at the wall in front of him, the one covered in Will’s drawings. “No idea.” His lips twisted into a rueful smile, chocolate eyes tracing the flowing lines of Will’s art. “Guess the Universe thought I needed some kind of cosmic intervention to pull my head out of my ass.” 

Will let out a sharp laugh at that, shaking his head. “What?” 

Mike turned lazily back towards Will, eyes glinting. “Could you come and sit up here for a second, please Will?” 

Will did as he was told immediately, scrambling to tug the quilt from between his legs and pulled himself up to the sofa, immediately sinking into the low dip. 

He sat there silently, hands tucked into the gap between his thighs, and looked at Mike as he seemed to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why, but his heart thrummed in anticipation. 

“I think I’ve been an idiot,” Mike began, silencing Will with a simple look when he instinctively tried to argue against him. “I think I’ve been an idiot for a really long time.” 

Mike let out a humourless laugh, dragging his hand down the side of his face before dropping it into his lap, fingers immediately playing with the sleeve of his sleep shirt. Will watched his bitten nails pull at the frayed edge, only snapping back to Mike’s face when he continued talking. 

“When I asked you to be my friend on the swings, it felt like I’d met my person.” Mike spared him a small smile that Will returned, albeit shaky, before he continued to stare at the wall in front of him. “We had so much in common, and yet we were still so different. I was loud and outspoken, you were quiet and thoughtful. I was quick to anger, you always liked to see both sides of the story first before you reacted. I acted on impulse, you overthought every action you did. We balanced each other out, we still do. We’re good for each other.” 

Will couldn’t agree more, he’d known Mike was the best person for him since he was twelve and realised he looked at Mike as more than a friend. 

“I think- I think the reason I’ve been so confused for so long is because I’ve always felt this way about you.” His sentence tapered off into a whisper, the hand playing with his sleeve shaking slightly. 

“There was no dramatic shift or realisation, it was just always there. And I never took the time to dissect those feelings because I think subconsciously I just knew. I knew I felt for you the way I was supposed to feel about Jane.” 

Will had imagined this scenario a million times over in his head, imagined the different ways he would react. In some, he’d cry hard, years of repressed feelings and want spilling out of him. In others, he’d pounce on Mike, smashing their mouths together and conveying everything he wanted to say with the slide of their lips and tongues. 

In reality, however, he simply sat there, frozen still as he tried to compute Mike’s words. Mike spared a glance over at Will, and upon seeing his lack of reaction, became increasingly more agitated. 

“I-I guess, um,” Mike stuttered out, reaching a hand up to brush against his eyebrow, back and forth and back and forth. It was a nervous habit he’d always had, he said it helped to soothe him. “I guess what I’m trying to say is seeing all these other versions of us together, in-in love made me realise that that was an option. For us. This universe us.” 

Will continued to stare at Mike in shock, thoughts racing a mile a minute. It seemed Mike was done with his little speech now, large eyes observing Will and his reactions with his signature upwards tilted eyebrows. 

Will sucked in a sharp breath before he spoke, words tumbling out of him, eyes wide. “Mike, I’m gonna need you to be a bit clearer with what you’re saying because I think I’m having a panic attack right now.” As if to prove his point, he felt his breathing get significantly quicker. 

Immediately, Mike fell into himself, the shimmer in his eyes dimming as he reached out to comfort Will. “Hey, no, I’m sorry, Will, I didn’t mean to make you upset. Just forget everything I said; it doesn’t matter, just focus on your breathing. Come on, like this.” Mike inhaled deeply and held it for a few seconds before he breathed out slowly. He exaggerated the chest movements, eyes locked on Will’s as he tried to calm him down. 

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s like a good panic attack,” Will explained, words a little too loud and hysterical. 

Mike stopped his box breathing at that, head tilting to one side like a confused puppy. “I don’t think good panic attacks are a thing, Will.” 

“I know that,” Will brushed him off, trying to gather his thoughts enough to explain how he was feeling. “I’m just overwhelmed, I think. I’m feeling a lot right now, and it's making me feel panicky, but it’s all good feelings. Really good feelings.” He gazed up at Mike through his lashes, lips twitching up into a smile. 

Mike responded in kind, visibly perking back up. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “Now please, can you say what it is you’re really trying to get across because I don’t want there to be any confusion about this.” 

Mike nodded at that and turned back towards the wall for a second as he bobbed his left leg frantically and chewed on his lip. With one final sharp inhale, he turned back towards Will. “I love you, Will. I’m in love with you. And I’m sorry it took me so long to realise.” 

The words were spoken with so much conviction that there was no way they weren’t true. Mike was staring directly into Will’s hazel eyes, a determination behind them that Will had never seen before. From a quick glance, Mike was the embodiment of confidence, jaw set and gaze strong, but Will saw the way his irises shook and his lips quivered. It had scared him to say those words out loud, and yet he still did it, just because Will asked him to. 

Will didn’t think it was possible to be more in love than he was right now.  

The laugh Will let out was wet with tears, eyes already brimming with them as he grinned up at Mike. “I’m in love with you, too.” 

Mike’s responding smile was blinding and beautiful, but Will only had a second to look at it before Mike was clambering over into his space and pulling him flush against his chest, arms wrapped tight around him. 

Will giggled as he reciprocated the hug, winding his arms around Mike’s waist and burying his face into the crook of Mike’s neck. The scent of him was so strong there, all warm musk, sleep and Mike that he couldn’t help but take in a small sniff. 

Mike, too, had buried himself into Will’s neck, and Will could feel his hot breath against his skin. Mike’s mouth was resting on the juncture between his shoulder and neck, the pressure almost like a kiss. 

They stayed like that for a minute or so, neither one wanting to move and instead chose to nuzzle their heads further into each other’s necks. It was Mike who eventually moved back, pulling away so that he could look at Will’s face. 

Mike tentatively reached a hand up to cup one of Will’s cheeks, his eyes flicking over his face before eventually settling on Will’s lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. 

It was Will, though, that closed the gap, his eyes squeezed shut as he rocked forward to softly connect his lips with Mike’s own. 

The kiss lasted barely three seconds, and Will’s lips were slightly chapped, but when he pulled back, Mike looked like he’d just figured out the secrets to the universe. 

Will barely had time to react before Mike was lunging at him, moving both hands to the nape of his neck to pull Will in as he smashed their lips together. 

Will let out a small yelp of pain as they crashed together, but it was instantly soothed by the slow drag of Mike’s lips. 

In his eighteen years of life, Will had never kissed anyone before - being a gay guy in rural Indiana had made it a little trickier than normal to find someone willing to kiss him. Still, he had no idea kissing could feel like this. 

Each time their lips connected, Will felt it shock through his entire body, fingertips and toes tingling with what felt like static electricity. His heart was beating so hard that Will was sure Mike could probably hear it, the frantic badump, badump, badump, along with the clicking of their lips disconnecting and reconnecting being the only noise in the room. And Mike was so close, closer than he’d ever been before, pushed right up into Will’s space. His nose was nudging Will’s cheek, digging in and bumping his own every time they moved. His slender fingers were buried in the hair on the nape of Will’s neck, pulling him in even further. Will’s own hands were gripping the sides of Mike’s shirt like a lifeline, scared that if his white-knuckled grip loosened for even a second this would all fade away. 

Will hoped his kisses were okay, feeling a little self-conscious as Mike easily took the lead, but Mike let out these pleased little sighs every so often that Will felt deep in his stomach, which made him think he was doing something right. 

This time, it was Will who broke away first, their lips smacking apart wetly as Will panted into the space he’d made between them. Mike was also breathing heavily, eyes still on Will’s lips that were likely puffy from the friction. 

“Fuck,” Mike breathed, huffing out a giddy laugh. “I didn’t know kissing could feel like that.” 

“Me neither,” Will agreed, his own eyes subconsciously falling to Mike’s lips. They were red and slightly swollen, glistening with spit, and so kissable that Will had to physically restrain himself from falling into him again. 

“I don’t think I ever want to stop.” His words were whispered, eyelids drooping over his blown-out pupils. 

“Then don’t.” Will had barely finished his sentence before Mike’s lips were back on his own, right where they belonged.