Chapter Text

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Will can’t remember how he got here, but that’s nothing new. A chill sweeps through him, the thin hospital gown he’s been forced into doing little to help him from the always-too-cold A/C that blows through the sterile lab hallways.

Will still doesn’t know where (or when) he is, he thinks, the thought slithering between his ears as he blinks, turning his attention to his immediate surroundings.

He’s holding a purple crayon, the wax leaving an uncomfortable stickiness on his fingers. When he looks down, he sees a drawing lying on the table.

It’s a rough sketch of El, younger than Will ever truly knew her, hair buzzed short. It’s definitely not his best work, Will’s pink and purple lines uneven and wobbly, but he still tried to shade in the shadows under huge eyes set on a small heart-shaped face.

“Good.” A soft voice whispers, causing Will to jump and turn.

It’s Eleven, or at least Will thinks it’s her, an eerie echo of his sketch sitting silently beside him.

Her chocolate-brown eyes meet his, looking up to Will. 

“You think so?” Will asks, “It’s not my best work but–”

El places a small hand on Will’s, stopping his words in their tracks.

“Good.” El emphasizes before she turns her eyes down to look back at the picture she’s been scribbling away at, stick figures starting to take shape on the thin white paper. She holds the crayons awkwardly, grasping them tightly in her fist because she’s clearly not been taught how to write.

Will’s not quite sure how to correct her and instead simply watches as she focuses on her wobbly lines with a fierce intensity. 

She’s as determined in this as she is in everything else Will ever saw his sister attempt back in Lenora.

Not that Will’s even sure that this is his Eleven instead of some other unfortunately numbered child because she’s so different, almost completely silent and struggling to respond with more than one or two words. She never smiles but follows the rules without question, letting the lab assistants move her around like she’s a doll instead of a child. 

Will’s memories are muddled, but he remembers seeing a small girl, wandering the hallways. How she’d watched him with wary eyes for days, hovering nearby but moving away whenever Will tried approaching her in this sad excuse for a playground. 

Eventually, she started to seek him out as well. It was only when Will saw the black 11 tattooed on her arm that made him begin to realize, with a shiver striking down his spine, that he had no idea what was happening or where he was.

Because other than the scientists, Will only saw El. It was only the two of them after all, two child experiments in a laboratory that was meant for far more, their footsteps echoing down the empty hallways. El’s desperate longing for human companionship overwhelmed her fear of new people and soon she attached herself to Will’s side whenever they were allowed to spend time together.

It’s such a far cry from the inquisitive sister who would lie on Will’s bed in California, long hair pulled back in a messy ponytail as she struggled through her homework, asking Will a million questions about homework while Will painted.

And so, Will’s spent the past few days trying to teach El how to color by drawing little crayon sketches. It’s far from his best work, but El looks so astounded by every sketch of the outside world he shows her that he can’t help but draw more.

He drew a few rough sketches of his family and friends earlier, hiding them from the cameras and whispering their names into El’s ear.

Joyce, Jonathan, Hopper, Lucas, Dustin, Max… Mike.

They were rough, and Will immediately colored over them in black after showing them to El, smearing the crayon across the page to block out their faces. Just in case.

“Look.” Eleven says simply, holding up the picture she’s drawn.

El’s in the middle, a short stick figure without a face holding hands with two others.

“Us.” El explains, pointing to the two of them. El, the small one in a shapeless white gown and Will, a tall stick figure with brown hair that’s grown way too long, bangs dangling in front of his eyes. He’s smiling.

A shaky rainbow in only four colors arches overhead, just like the one on the wall in front of them along with a few heavy yellow lines that make up a light, shining down on the three of them. Will initially thinks it must be a sun, until he sees the odd shape of it dangling in the center of the page. It’s a lightbulb, because El’s never seen the sun.

But the thing that makes Will pause is the other man standing beside her, unsmiling and almost glaring at Will from the paper.

PAPA is written above him in stumbling handwriting.

When El slowly lifts up her drawing to give Will a better glimpse, Will feels it.

The world shifts, flickering between the bright white light of the lab and the dark curdling walls that Will recognizes instantly, the horrible familiar feeling jolting up his spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

“What–” Will instinctively grabs the back of his neck, eyes darting around.

He’s back in the Upside Down, but it’s not like the usual twisted version of Hawkins Will hates that he’s familiar with. 

Instead, it’s like a bomb went off when Will blinked. Shards of the wall are scattered everywhere and yes, the familiar vines slither through the cracks that remain. The vines are moving, pulsing. 

They’re searching for something, Will knows in an instant, twisting his neck to look around and find it.

In El's place across the table, Will startles when he sees a horrifying inhuman face crawling with veins. Instead of El’s family, It’s holding up Will’s drawing of the Mind Flayer, torn non-existent lips curling into an inviting smile.

“Welcome home.” It says, a deep voice booming.

The drawing bursts into life, black wisps of smoke flowing out in wispy tendrils that crawl off the page, covering the twisted figure entirely and wrapping around Will, choking him—

There’s a crash and a clang and a bang and Will’s shooting up, blindly fighting whatever has him trapped in its clutches.

He can’t breathe, heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he grabs onto a tendril that’s curled around his neck, choking him, and pulls at it.

It comes away with ease, but Will’s fingers find a soft threadbare fabric instead of the slime-covered veins he’s expecting. At first Will can’t make out what he’s looking at but after a few seconds of panicked breathing, Will recognizes it as an old quilt, red and blue checkered with a few rips across the surface, but soft and a bit musty from the many years it's spent in Mike’s…

Basement?

Will looks around and sees the wooden walls, toys scattered everywhere and it’s all still so confusing because it looks off, different from the last time he was there just a few days… Wait, when was he here last?

“Shit.” Will sighs and then flinches as another loud clang echoes through the house, wrapping his arms around his knees as he tries to focus.

It’s a struggle, the Upside Down and cold lab still looming large in his mind. The Wheeler’s basement is a bit chilly, but the clutter and mess of it helps Will remember where he is, especially compared to the spotless white of the Hawkins lab—

Ugh, Will doesn’t want to think about any of that.

It takes him a minute of trying to slow his quick gasping breaths, his eyes closed as he tries not to think about anything to place the sound before it repeats and Will realizes what it is: Pots and pans clanging around in the kitchen.

Karen must be cooking breakfast at a horribly early hour. Probably pancakes, because she always makes pancakes when Mike or Nancy had a rough day.

Will guesses that finding his dead body would at least justify a pancake breakfast in the Wheeler household.

His fake twelve-year-old body that Will never saw but vaguely knew existed from late-night whispered explanations that would happen a year in the future.

Will Byers is used to impossible situations, but this whole time travel thing is definitely a contender for the top spot.

“This can’t be real…” Will can’t help but whisper, trying to wrap his mind around the whole thing.

Will had vaguely guessed that he might be in the past or some sort of weird memory simulation after realizing that the only other child they’d kept in the lab was probably a young Eleven. Will’d never actually met her until she grew her hair out a bit and spent a year with Hopper, so this solemn little Eleven who’d never known a world outside the lab still felt like a completely different person to him. 

Will sighs, leaning back on the couch. He looks over to the blanket fort where El’s still passed out, curled up in her simple blanket fort that Mike set up for her. Will only knows about it because the fort had stayed up like a monument. The only tangible reminder of the girl Mike lost.

Will never actually saw Eleven in the fort though and it’s odd, seeing that little piece of history click together. 

But Mike, Lucas, and Dustin? Will had known them so well at this age that the way they’d blinked up at him last night like they’d stepped out of his old photographs is surreal, makes him feel like he’s still dreaming.

It was so easy to forget how young they’d all been, how shocking they found the supernatural weirdness of Hawkins. Will forgets that sometimes, forgets that there was a time before it all, when everything that happened was new and almost unbelievable. When other dimensions only existed in the fictional stories they read and pretended to exist in.

If Will had somehow time traveled around the friends he’d grown up with, he’s pretty sure they’d have believed him with nothing more than an exhausted sigh, instead of the stunned disbelief he’d been met with last night.

Will sighs, pulling the blanket tighter around himself as he looks around the Wheeler’s basement. It’s a trip, the old books and pictures and toys that Will remembers from his childhood littered around the room. In Will’s time, most of them had long since been donated or thrown away, but Will’s more surprised by how little things had changed. It’s always a bit of a mess, but a comforting one with the same worn-out comfy blankets. A slightly musty smell permeates the air that he’d last been in not too long ago, chatting quietly with Mike and his friends about anything other than the looming apocalypse growing and engulfing their town. Seeping into everything that had avoided its touch before.

Will wonders what Mike, age 16, would say about it all.

Thundering footsteps coming down the basement stairs pull Will from his thoughts, even as he recognizes them as Mike’s in an instant. 

Mike, twelve years old with unbrushed hair and a wrinkled shirt, trips down the last stair in his haste, throwing his arms out before he catches himself at the bottom.

Looking around frantically before spotting Will on the couch, Mike lets out a long sigh of relief.

“Whew, you’re still here.” Mike breathes out, then pulls himself together, pulling at his shirt to flatten it out before he stands tall with better posture than Will’s witnessed from Mike Wheeler in years.

“’Morning.” Mike says, as he gives Will an awkward stilted wave and then frowns at his own actions, visibly trying not to squirm with embarrassment.

Mike’s so tiny, Will can’t help but think with delight as Mike blinks at Will with huge dark eyes. His hair’s a ruffled poofy mess and he’s wearing clothes that Will’s Mike despised now, would get embarrassed about when anyone  teased Mike about his old polo shirts.

The dark circles under Mike's eyes make Will pause though, a weird feeling of residual guilt rising at the thought that he, or some version of him, caused Mike to lose sleep.

“Did you sleep alright? Do you need anything?” Mike asks earnestly before Will can ask him the same question.

“I’m fine.” Will responds, a bit amused. Will wasn’t sure what else this younger version of Mike could realistically offer, but that had never stopped Mike before.

Mike’s always been very convincing to Will as a leader, the leader of their party, but seeing him now as a little kid acting authoritative, hands on his hips, has Will barely suppressing a smile.

It’s more than a little cute, frankly, and Will kind of wants to ruffle his hair, but he swallows down the urge because he knows how much Mike hated being treated like a child even when he was one.

“What about you? Everything good?” Will asks instead.

“Mmhmm, Mom’s making pancakes and she’s leaving me alone. Everyone found out about, well, you know…” Mike trails off, mouth turning downwards at the edges before he changes the subject, “... At least she never checks the basement except on Sundays when she does the laundry, so you’ll be fine ‘till then. She won’t find you.”

“I figured.” Will says, “Your parents never seem to notice any of the… more unusual stuff.”

“My parents never notice anything,” Mike complains with a roll of his eyes, “Except when I get in trouble at school or Nancy tattles on me for not doing the dishes.”

“But anyway, I know the couch isn’t the best to sleep on, but—”

“It’s fine Mike, I’ve slept down here before.” Will replies, stretching his arms out as he pauses to yawn, “I know I used to grab the top bunk in your room, but I don’t think I could fit up there now anyways.”

“I guess that makes sense ‘cause you’re… really tall now…” Mike trails off, voice going quiet at the end.

Will snorts, “Don’t worry, you’re still taller than me. A lot has changed, but you remain the tallest member of the Party.”

“I-I wasn’t worried about that!” Mike sputters, waving his arms like he can stop that entire line of thought.

“Then why does my height matter?” Will asks, curious and confused by Mike’s strong reaction.

“It’s just… new. Different.” Mike explains, “I mean, I knew we were all gonna get taller someday but I haven’t thought about, you know, the details.”

“Makes sense. I guess I would be surprised if I was in your position too.” Will remarks, thinking aloud. Will can’t imagine himself four years into the future, has barely even thought about it because, honestly, most of the time he’s a bit amazed that he’s made it to sixteen.

“Are we… really that different in the future?” Mike asks tentatively when Will’s been quiet for a moment, but Mike grimaces like he wishes he could take the question back the second it leaves his mouth.

“Um well… Uh, it’s… That’s a really hard question to answer.” Will hedges, “I mean, it’s like… your basement’s still comfortable. It’s always been comfortable and it’s not like I haven’t fallen asleep down here a million times. But the details have all changed, so it’s different in a lot of small ways but it’s still the same basement, if that makes sense.”

“What’s changed?” Mike asks, curiosity clear in his voice as he looks around his basement like he’ll be able to see the differences.

“I don’t think you keep that many toys down here anymore. And it’s a little weird to see all this old art again honestly. I think you’ve gotten rid of most of it in the future.” Will says, pointing at the wooden basement walls that have multiple Will Byers original drawings displayed like a miniature museum dedicated to all his shitty childhood doodles of monsters and warriors.

Sixteen-year-old Mike still kept Will’s drawings on the wall for some unknowable reason, but he’d swapped them out for new ones that Will didn’t love but were still significantly better than the ones he’s currently witnessing. There’d been so much growth in Will’s basic skills that seeing his childish scribbles (the lack of proportion… the ugly crayon colors… lore inaccurate green fireballs…) makes him cringe.

Twelve-year-old Mike catches him looking at the drawings closer and must see the frown on his face and glares at him, almost daring Will to say something so that Mike can prove him wrong.

It’s absolutely adorable, the way Mike’s nose crinkles up and his cheeks puff out in anger, ready to fight anyone, including Will himself, for the horrible dishonor of insulting Will Byers.

Will feels a crushing sense of… self-pity. Of course a younger Will Byers couldn’t help but crush on someone so willing to fight for him. Will can’t remember a time he hadn’t been a little bit in love with Mike Wheeler, but he’d only come to the horrifying realization of what it meant for him a few months before the Upside Down took him.

God, that was happening to some version of himself right now, Will realizes with rising horror.

What was he going through right now? Will tries to imagine what his younger self must be doing, what he did at age 12, but his memories of the Upside Down are blurry at best, taken over with fear and exhaustion.

Mostly, Will remembers feeling like he was the last person alive in the world, abandoned and left to rot. Kept alive by… something that wanted to toy with him.

Will groans, frustrated by the blanks in his head. It’s like someone took a pen and neatly crossed out pieces of his memories, blocked but almost like he can still see the edges of them if he squints correctly. Something about the Upside Down, the lab… Eleven? Something that wasn’t the Mind Flayer.

“—do you think? Will?” 

“Sorry, what?” Will blinks.

“... Are you sure you’re okay?” Mike insists, stepping towards Will.

“I’m fine, just got a lot on my mind.” Will says with a small shrug of his shoulders. Mike squints up at him, clearly suspicious. 

He’s so serious, too serious compared to the Mike Will remembers from before his time in the Upside Down.

They’d all changed after his initial disappearance, but Mike had been the one who changed the most in a way other than Will. And at the time, Will had appreciated it. But now, Will can already see the beginnings of it, the worry creasing Mike’s face into a frown.

“Are you okay? You seem…” Will hesitates, not sure how to word it, “On edge.”

Mike lets out an annoyed huff, “Why’re you asking me that? I’m not the one trapped in another dimension.”

Will opens his mouth to continue but Mike moves away before Will can say anything else, walking across the carpeted basement floor. He leans over and picks something up from beside El’s fort, where she’s still asleep, utterly exhausted.

Mike turns around and holds his hand out, “Here.”

Will looks and sees Mike’s familiar calculator watch resting in his palm.

“Don’t you need this?” Will asks hesitantly, looking over the watch that Mike’s worn since he got it for Christmas in elementary school and will continue wearing for years to come, “I don’t want to take it from you.”

Will’s watch that his mom bought him around the same time had been taken from him by the people in the lab along with the rest of his things. Will can’t help but mourn the loss of it, even though it’s something so small and stupid in the grand scale of things. 

“No no, it’s fine, I don’t mind.” Mike says, shaking his head, “It’s…”

Mike pauses, looking around uncomfortably before leaning in close to Will like he’s sharing a secret.

“Your… tattoo.” Mike says, lowering his voice to be almost inaudible like when they would whisper answers to each other in class, “You’re still too young to have one, right?”

Ah.

Will sighs, wincing a bit at the reminder. When did Mike see it, anyways?

“I… You’re not wrong.” Will says, shifting around on the couch as he tries to figure out how to explain it.

There’s a heavy pause that passes, Mike’s face scrunching up like he’s fighting with himself to stay silent before he loses the battle.

“Why do you and El both have tattoos if you’re both still kids?” Mike blurts out, “Is that legal? And why the number–”

“I don’t think it’s legal, but I didn’t exactly have a choice. And neither did El.” Will states and then changes tracks in a hurry when he sees Mike’s eyes shoot wide in alarm, “Uh, I mean, it wasn’t too bad, though!”

“... Really?” Mike asks, disbelief dripping from the words.

“Of course!” Will lies, “Actually, I’m been thinking of a new tattoo I can cover it up with. Maybe a giant tree? Like the two trees of Valinor or something?”

Mike hums, contemplating it. His lips are still pulled into a worried frown though.

Will can’t resist, remembering what Mike was like as a kid, “Or maybe a dragon?”

“Definitely a dragon.” Mike responds immediately, eyes lighting up at the thought, “If you gotta get a tattoo, it should totally be a dragon.”

“Totally,” Will agrees, feeling a spark of amusement rise within him, “What color do you think would be best?”

Will watches Mike’s eyes narrow, lips pursed as he fully considers the question.

“Hmm, well red dragons are the most powerful– No, wait, red dragons are too evil though… Maybe purple? They’re evil too but they fight off monsters in the Underdark even if they don’t look as cool…” Mike trails off, deep in thought, twelve-year-old brain absolutely caught up in the importance of deciding the coolest dragon.

“Eh, we can workshop it later.” Will says as he takes the watch from Mike’s hand, latching it around his wrist.

Will’s unable to suppress a smile when he sees Mike looking back and forth between Will’s drawings on the wall as if Will’s artistic renderings of dragons will be the deciding factor, “Thanks Mike.”

Mike looks up at him, a small smile blooming on his face, clearly pleased. It doesn’t last for more than a few moments though before it slides off his face, back into the same exhausted frown.

“What is it?” Will asks.

Mike doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, staring at Will as he fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Was it… bad? Where you came from.” Mike asks, hesitation clear in his voice.

“… the future?” Will tries to clarify.

“No no, not that, you were with El, right?” Mike says, “And she said that bad men were after her.”

Will nods slowly, wondering where Mike is going with this.

“And if they’re after her… they’re probably after you too.” Mike concludes.

Will isn’t surprised that Mike put some of the pieces together. He’d always been a bit too perceptive for his own good when they were younger. But Will pauses, unsure how to explain it.

Will remembers awakening in the basement of the Hawkins’ Lab, his head pounding from pain with no memory of how he’d gotten there. Most of his memories were intact, but he knows he’s missing time and memories, the feeling vaguely similar to the Mind Flayer’s possession. But Will doesn’t know what he’s missing.

He remembered every second of his time in the lab though and well…

It was… not something Will particularly wanted to think about at this moment, with Mike staring up at him with large innocent eyes.

“The lab people are after us, you’re right. I was with El and I’m not really sure how it all worked, but whatever threw me back in time–” Some Upside Down thing probably, Will thinks “–It threw me back in the lab with her.”

“‘The lab’?” Mike asks, head tilting to the side and Will curses.

“It’s… ugh, crap I thought Eleven already told you this, sorry.” Will says, frustration shooting through him as he runs a hand through his hair. It’s not like anything all that bad happened after all, but the thought of telling anyone about it, especially the sweet little kid version of his best friend makes him feel awful, shame tensing up his shoulders.

“She didn’t, just something about bad men and…” Mike says and visibly swallows before he raises one shaking hand in the shape of a gun and points it at Will.

He keeps it pointed for only a second before he lowers his hand, pulling it into a tight fist as he stares up at Will, eyes blown wide with fear. 

“… That’s…” Will pauses, swallowing, “… Well, she’s not wrong. The lab people are definitely looking for us and they’re… not afraid to use force. We’ve avoided them so far, but we had to split up immediately after escaping.”

“Did they experiment on you?” Mike asks, dark eyes so big and concerned that it makes Will feel like one of the bad men, seeing Mike’s face filled with worry.

“It really wasn’t that bad. Not like, X-Men level. More like… a really boring summer school?”

When Will started living with El in California, he spent several boring classes periods wondering about El, her life before any of them knew her. He had, admittedly, created several horror stories of her being trapped alone and mistreated as a child because she never talked about it with him. The truth wasn’t nearly as harsh as the paths his paranoid brain wandered, but some parts of it had been silently worse, far more insidious in the effects it had on his sister.

El calling Brenner “Papa” made Will’s insides squirm with discomfort, watching the way the man manipulated a little girl who had no concept of family because he denied her any knowledge that could be used against him.

And worse, whenever Will saw the two of them interact, a voice in the back of his head would whisper, over and over and over about how Papa always lied. The voice was a terrifying rasp that made him shiver in fear, but it kept Will wary and paranoid, lying about his name and past even while Brenner pushed him further and further, to unlock some “hidden” power.

It had sucked, the constant experiments and tests, but it also could have been a lot worse, Will acknowledges silently.

But Will doesn’t want Mike to worry about him. It’s yet another thing out of his control right now.

“I was lucky. I knew a world existed outside of the lab. But El…” Will sighs, looking at the fort where she’s still asleep, “She never had a chance. I think you should be more worried about her than me, honestly.”

“She’ll be fine.” Mike says dismissively, hand swatting away the concern and shocking Will into a stunned silence, “She’s got us, and we can find her, I dunno, a family or something, after we get Will back.”

“I… huh, okay.” Will lets out after a moment, caught off guard. Lucas and Dustin hadn’t been able to shut up about how obsessed Mike was with Eleven and seeing Mike so… nonchalant about her felt weird.

“Mike, breakfast!” Karen’s voice comes from upstairs, loud and demanding as always.

Mike jumps up, turning his head towards the stairs as he screams back, “In a minute!”

“I gotta go, but I’ll be back, okay? I’ll bring you some food.” Mike says quickly before he runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

After Mike’s noisy exit, Will moves from his spot on the couch to kneel next to El’s fort. He can hear her soft barely-there snores from behind the blanket walls and decides to leave her be for a bit longer.

Standing up, Will walks around the basement, running fingers over old drawings and toys that lay scattered all over the basement, each bringing back a rush of memories, both happy and sad, that leave him feeling intensely nostalgic.

Lost in his thoughts, Will doesn’t hear the usual tell-tale sign of leaf crunching that occurs whenever someone approaches the basement in the fall.

Instead, Will only hears the slow creak of the door opening, startling Will out of his thoughts. He jumps, ducking down to hide behind the couch before he sees who it is.

Lucas stands there, peering into the room. He’s early and looking a bit nervous, but it’s still just Lucas. Will lets out a relieved sigh, standing up.

“Good morning.” Will says but before he can say anything else, “You’re–”

Lucas holds a hand out, stopping Will from continuing as he looks at Lucas with confusion. 

Lucas takes a deep breath, psyching himself up for something. Will can’t help but to compare him to the older Lucas, who does the same thing, putting a hand on Will’s shoulder and taking a deep breath before revealing whatever was bothering him. This younger Lucas had the same fire in his eyes, determination obvious, but it didn’t weigh as heavily on his shoulders.

“Sorry I didn’t believe you earlier, man.” Lucas states firmly, clearly fighting through his embarrassment, “I was… upset.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I wouldn’t believe me either.” Will replies which isn’t quite true, but Will knows how crazy it all feels to him, so the rest of the kids before all their supernatural experiences must find it almost impossible to believe.

“But still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Lucas insists, “Even if you were some wacko, I should have helped you anyway. That’s what the good guys do.”

Will smiles at the determination in his voice, “No worries, you’re our ranger. Mike’s too busy charging ahead to question things sometimes. We all need you to watch our backs and that’s all you were doing. Protecting the Party.”

“Yep, you’re definitely Will.” Lucas says with a bright toothy grin that tells Will he said the right thing, “No mistaking that.”

Will and Lucas chat quietly for another minute, Will dodging all of Lucas’ questions, but it’s not long before he hears the tell-tale sign of loud thundering footsteps down the stairs, Mike’s familiar pattern keeping Will standing where he is instead of ducking down behind the couch again.

This time, it’s loud enough to wake Eleven up.

Throwing the curtain of the fort open, El’s head swivels around as she searches the entire room. When El sees Will standing nearby, she lets out a small, relieved sigh that turns into a yawn.

“Good morning.” Will says smiling, “I guess Mike woke you up.”

“Good morning.” El repeats, then blinks at Lucas who squints at her like he’s trying to figure her out. Before he can say anything though, Mike reaches the bottom of the basement stairs.

“Look what I got!” Mike says with pride, holding out two Eggo waffles like they’re treasured possessions instead of the breakfast food Will can’t admit to being slightly sick of in the future because it would make his sister sad.

Mike passes Will the Eggo waffles he must have just thrown in the toaster, still warm to the touch. They’re cooked well but…

“God, is this why El likes Eggos so much? Because that’s all you fed her?” Will asks, horrified by the realization.

“I– it’s all I know how to cook. Besides, she likes them!” Mike says defensively, gesturing to El.

El raises a single eyebrow, not confirming or denying the statement before she turns her head away from Mike, ignoring him.

“... Wow.” Will says, looking between the Eggo in his hand and Mike.

Lucas laughs while Mike’s cheeks start to turn a pale pink, clearly embarrassed.

“Shut up, it’s not like you guys can cook either.” Mike mutters, glaring at all three of them.

“Can too! I know how to make scrambled eggs.” Lucas claims with pride. It’s true too, Will remembers Lucas making him eggs with toast at sleepovers when they were younger. Simple, but good.

“That’s not cooking, that’s like– breakfast stuff.” Mike snaps back.

“Still more than you can do.” Lucas says in a sing-song tone, taunting Mike who groans and throws his arm out to shove Lucas. Lucas dodges it easily with a laugh.

Will sighs, wondering why Mike’s so touchy about everything. Or maybe they’d all been like this at twelve and Will’s blocked out how annoying they all could be.

“Guys seriously, stop fighting. Where’s Dustin?” Will asks as he steps between the two of them.

“He’s gonna meet up with us at school later, said he needed to check out a book on HAM radio equipment first.” Lucas responds, “But first…” He turns to look at El, who’s rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and blinking at them.

“We need to make her look normal.” Lucas declares. Will sighs.

“Normal?” El asks, still half asleep as she nibbles away at her Eggo waffle.

“You’re already normal, El. Lucas meant like… we need to blend in with the other kids. Which means we need to get some new clothes.” Will says, immediately taking over. He wouldn’t trust Mike and Lucas with the task of dressing themselves, much less his sister. 

He tells the boys to look through some of the boxes in the basement to find El shoes or something while Will escorts her upstairs. Mike’s parents are gone, so it’s easy to walk through the house, searching for wherever Karen Wheeler stores her kids’ old clothes as he wonders what sort of clothes El would like at this age.

She’s in an old pair of Mike’s sweatpants and a T-shirt that doesn’t fit her at all and Will quietly despairs for a moment because he doesn’t know a thing about normal girl’s clothing. He’s horrible at fashion beyond “comfortable, plaid, and blends into the background” but he thinks that’s exactly what this situation requires.

And it’s not like Will’s dressed that well either. Stuck in a tight plain white undershirt that stretches at his shoulder and bunches up at his waist along with some loose sweatpants, Will feels like he’s trying to be one of those weird sporty jocks he would occasionally see jog past his window in California. He does stop to grab an old black leather jacket that’s clearly been left to rot in the back of the Wheeler’s coat closet and grabs a pair of adult sneakers, unused without a speck of dirt on them, hiding in the corner.

Maybe later he can sneak into his own home to borrow some of Jonathan’s clothes, Will thinks with growing despair, because the Wheeler’s have such a weird rich person sense of fashion, all bright colors and obnoxious patterns meant to stand out for a year before being replaced.

El watches him with confusion when he heads into Nancy’s room (that’s surprisingly unlocked) while Will hunts for her old clothes, fully planning on raiding Nancy’s closet. Luckily, he finds a small box of Nancy’s old clothes in the bottom of her closet along with some old pants and a few shirts.

“So, which do you like the best?” Will asks, holding the shirts out for El like he did when they first moved to Lenora and she’d realized that her few outfits from her time in Hawkins didn’t fit quite right anymore. 

She ignores him at first, transfixed by the various trinkets in Nancy’s pink bedroom, trailing her fingers over Nancy’s pictures of herself and her friends until Will clears his throat to get her attention.

“El, which shirt do you want to wear?” Will tries again.

“... Why?” El turns to him with a question, completely lost. She glances between Will and the shirts like she has no clue what he’s asking.

She probably doesn’t, Will realizes with a sinking feeling, because she’s never been allowed to choose. Not for the first time this morning, Will feels horribly out of his depth.

“...Because they’re more comfy than the clothes you’re wearing right now. And we need to sneak into a school so… gotta blend in.” Will explains after a long pause.

“Comfy?” El asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“Hmm…  Comfy things are like… they feel good when you wear them. They’re… warm?” Will tries, gesturing to his own clothes.

El still seems baffled by the multiple options, looking between a frilly pink shirt and a purple sweater like they’re particularly complicated math problems instead of clothes.

“Let’s… try this one? We can try them all on.” Will says instead, and hands El the pink shirt.

Then, Will turns and starts rifling through Nancy’s closet for more clothes to give El some privacy, silently begging that El knows how to change herself and letting out a sigh of relief when he hears her start to move behind him, changing.

When Will turns back around with an armful of shirts and pants, El’s looking at herself in the mirror, the frilly top with lace a bit too big, slipping off her shoulder.

“Not pretty.” El says with a frown, pulling at the lace like she could tear it off while she stares at herself in the mirror. Will… doesn’t know what to do with that. But in spite of that, he crouches down next to her.

“You are pretty. This is just the wrong shirt, okay?” Will insists, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Nancy’s got a ton of stuff here and I’m sure we’ll be able to find something that fits.”

El looks up at him, disbelief clear on her face.

“Friends don’t lie.” El says, her response firm and immediate before her voice wavers a little, “Right?”

“Right.” Will says in what he hopes is a comforting voice before handing her an old purple sweater.

This continues for another few outfit changes, Will handing her every possible shirt he finds in Nancy’s wardrobe, wondering what El is looking for.

After the first few failing to get more than a frown out of El, she starts to get into it a bit more, waving her arms around in the long-sleeved sweater he hands her, flapping the way too big arms around. She’s smiling as Will keeps passing random items to her, an old raincoat, an ugly paisley scarf, a bright pink beret that he’s never seen Nancy wear.

At one point, he hands El a giant Christmas sweater with a hideous reindeer bulging out of the front of it and El takes it, then looks at it with disgust before passing it back.

Will moves to put it back in the storage of Nancy’s closet, but El shakes her head.

“No, for you.” She says, then points at his shirt. Will blinks at her for a moment before laughing.

“You want me to wear this?” Will asks with amusement, taking a better look at the world’s ugliest reindeer sweater.

El nods, smiling. Will sighs, pretending to be annoyed but secretly delighted that Eleven’s asking him for something. The sweater’s just big enough, he thinks. He squeezes into it and then throws his arms out, modeling it. The reindeer on the front is stretched weirdly across his torso and Will’s thankful that no one his age or older is around to see him.

El’s eyes go wide and for the first time, Will hears her giggle, soft and barely there.

“This is peak fashion alright. You’ve got a great eye.” Will says and El giggles again before Will passes El a skirt and then pulls the sweater off.

They continue swapping clothes for a while until finally, El pulls on a faded blue overall dress with several pockets over a lavender shirt.

El looks at herself in the mirror in the new outfit, her eyes wide as her eyes look up and down.

“Do you like it?” Will asks softly.

“Comfy.” El says with a nod but then looks up to Will, shy and uncertain, “Pretty?”

“You look great,” Will says sincerely, hoping she believes him because he has no clue how to convince her, “Very pretty.”

Even better than pretty, Eleven looks like a kid who could be in middle school, though Will’s not quite certain what to do about her hair.

There’s a knock on the door and before either of them answers, Mike’s sticking his head in, waving a blonde party wig.

“Look what we found!” Mike says, looking far too proud of himself.

“Do you know how to put a wig on?” Will asks, giving him a flat look, “Because I don’t.”

After an intense discussion, an argument over hairclips and Mike’s horrifying suggestion to use scotch tape, they’re able to just barely get the wig on El’s head.

It looks weird and when El shakes her head, it comes loose, sliding down her head.

“Not comfy.” El says with a frown.

Hmm, okay… Will suddenly remembers the knit cap he asked Lucas for yesterday, pulling it out of his pocket with an “Oh right, here, try this on!”

El slips the red knit cap on over her head, pulling it down to snugly cover the tops of her ears.

“Comfy.” El says, her eyes shining.

El still looks a bit off, the red hat not quite matching the rest of her outfit, but it fits her. Reminds Will of his sister, more grown up but who’d still never quite understood fashion no matter how hard she tried.

“It’s perfect.” Will agrees.

“We’ll just say she’s from Sweden or something,” Lucas suggests with a shrug, causing Will to squint at him judgmentally, “What? They probably dress super different than us!”

Mike looks at Lucas like he’s crazy, but doesn’t say anything as they head out the basement door into the cold morning to grab their bikes. Will grabs Nancy’s old bike, El hopping on behind him as they take off into town.

Will can’t help but shiver from the November wind. He hates this weather, hates November as a concept in general at this point, but he doesn’t have time to think about that now, shoving all his discomfort down deep while he tries not to shiver noticeably as they all pedal down the road, taking the longer way back through winding backstreets instead of the main town drag.

The last few dying leaves are barely hanging onto their branches as they speed past and the woods that Will always loved feel threatening, like they’re looming over him and hiding a terrible secret. Will almost feels like he’s back in the Upside Down, dodging through trees and constantly aware of a waiting threat he can’t name but can feel in the way his spine tenses and the goosebumps crawl up the back of his neck.

The ride isn’t too long though, and Will finds himself in front of his Hawkins Middle School in record time.

It looks the exact same as Will remembers, old stained brick walls with a fading blue paw print emblazoned on the side. He’s oddly surprised to see it though, almost like it shouldn’t be standing here for whatever reason.

“Will, c’mon, Dustin’s waiting inside.” Lucas says, pulling Will from his thoughts.

They rush into the middle school, ill-fitting sneakers squeaking on the dirty tiles as they rush through the back door on their way to the AV room. Will towers over the lockers and can’t help but hunch his shoulders more than usual, feeling like a giant in a place he’s only ever been small.

It doesn’t take them more than a minute before they bump into Dustin who’s cursing at the door handle of the AV room, jiggling it like that could somehow make it open.

“It’s locked!” Dustin exclaims angrily as he waves them over. They all peer at it for a moment, trying to think of a solution. Will vaguely remembers being given a key to the AV room after everything happened, Mr. Clarke giving it to him as a ‘so glad you’re still alive’ present. 

“Can you open it with your powers?” Mike asks El. El nods and stretches out her hand. They hear footsteps approaching and Will hopes with all his heart that it’s not one of the strict gym teachers who would kick this obviously-too-old-to-be-here teenager out of the school.

It’s Mr. Clarke, thankfully, appearing from around the corner,

“Hey kids, what’re you up to?” Mr. Clarke asks as he walks towards them. All the kids except for Will jump, Eleven throwing her hand behind her back.

“Mourning.” Lucas says bluntly, then remembers to frown.

“I know…” Mr. Clarke says, concern evident in his soft voice and he looks genuinely sad, his mustache trembling a bit under sympathetic eyes, “I’m sorry, kids, I know this must be so hard for you.”

“Soooo hard.” Dustin agrees, making a face that looks more constipated than anything else.

None of them will be winning an award for acting anytime soon, Will thinks, but Mr. Clarke looks like he’s about to cry regardless.

“I understand.” Mr. Clarke says with such genuine sympathy that Will feels immediately guilty before Mr. Clarke notices Will and Eleven, “Oh, and who are you?”

“I’m a, uh, cousin of the Byers. Just wanted to, you know, look around.” Will says awkwardly, “See the sites.”

“You do look remarkably similar to Jonathan… What’s your name?” Mr. Clarke asks.

“Luke.” Will says, this particular practiced lie rolling easily off the tongue, “And this is my sister Le-… Ellie.” 

All the kids nod rapidly.

“They’re visiting… you know, for the funeral.” Mike adds.

“Yeah exactly, Ms. Byers wanted W– Luke to stay with us for the day. Y’know, because we’re sad.” Dustin says, his entire face melting into the biggest pout Will’s ever seen.

“So so sad.” Mike agrees with a large sigh before he stares off into the distance of the middle school hallway.

“Sad.” Eleven adds in.

“So sad… and all we really want now are the keys to the AV room. So that we can show… Luke one of Will’s favorite places. And mourn.” Lucas finishes.

Mr. Clarke blinks at them for a moment before tossing the keys to Dustin, who catches them.

“Well then, how about this? After the assembly, the room’s all yours for the rest of the day.”

“Assembly?” Will can’t help but ask because he doesn’t remember ever hearing about that from any of the Party members.

“Oh right, you probably haven’t heard. We’re having a memorial assembly for Will and it’s just started. You’re more than welcome to attend.” Mr. Clarke explains as he starts to herd them towards the gym, “And boys, I’m afraid you also need to attend. Let’s do it for Will, okay?”

✕

“Today, our community suffered a terrible loss. Will Byers was a beloved student here at Hawkins Middle School–”

Tightly wedged between Mike and El on the bleachers in the middle of the gymnasium listening to an entire crowd of adults Will’s never met in his life talk about Will Byers like he’s some Saturday News tragedy makes Will want to flee the country and never return. Too busy trying to disappear through the floor forever, Will completely misses the first several minutes.

“–he will be dearly missed–” The principal continues with such grim sincerity that it almost makes Will laugh, the insanity of there being an actual school assembly, just for nobody Will Byers, completely overpowers Will’s embarrassment. 

Will’s pretty sure that the principal and all these other adults never even knew his name before all this.

It’s surreal, and more than a little uncomfortable. Feeling weirdly paranoid that people will put two and two together and realize that he’s the supposed dead kid makes Will curl in on himself even more. Not that it helps, because he still towers over the surrounding middle schoolers. Which doesn’t help things feel any more normal, because Will mostly remembers how all the kids in middle school had seemed so huge when Will walked down the hallways, one of the shortest in their grade.

Tuning out the rest of the assembly for his own sanity (because it’s filled with a bunch of useless platitudes and lies about how sad everyone is when Will knows that’s not true), Will can’t help but to glance around to see how everyone else is reacting to it all.

The rest of the Party keep sneaking nervous looks between Will and the adult speakers, like they’re worried that he’ll be upset by it all. Mike in particular can’t seem to stop frowning, brow furrowing more and more with every word that comes out of the principal’s mouth.

“–When someone leaves our life, it can be difficult to cope, an impossible change that takes hold of the entire community. Grief shows itself in funny ways, you know–”

A few middle schoolers do look genuinely upset, faces down-turned into concerned frowns. But most of them just look bored at having to sit through a school assembly, ready to get on with the rest of their day.

Will can’t blame them; the principal always talked a lot without saying much of anything. But Mike, Lucas, and Dustin can’t seem to help looking around at all the other students, growing more and more annoyed at the other kids' reactions.

“Fakers. They never even liked him.” Mike grumbles, followed by Lucas letting out a huff of agreement.

Eleven’s holding tight to Will’s wrist, right above the watchband Mike let him borrow as she looks around the gathered kids with wide eyes.

She probably doesn’t have a clue what’s happening, Will thinks, but she’s really sticking it out.

A loud whisper from behind him breaks the somber mood and causes Will to look over his shoulder only to see Troy Walsh, a horrible reminder of all the times he threatened and shoved Will around during recess. He’s snickering about Will Byers being dead, making fake boo-hooing noises as he elbows his buddy.

Will can’t even find it within himself to be surprised, not when Troy was the one who’d taught Will dozens of different cruel words Will could use to describe himself that he mostly tries not to think about.

“We all cared deeply for Will, and if anyone needs to talk about the sadness of his passing–”

Troy laughs a little too loudly, causing Mike to flinch badly beside him before he tenses, shoulders shaking with barely constrained fury. Will knows Mike’s about one more bad comment away from doing something stupidly courageous in Will’s defense.

It’s admirable, always has been, Mike’s unstoppable sense of black-and-white, right-and-wrong. Mike never defends himself, but the bullies know better than to say a bad word about one of Mike’s friends around him.

It sets him off like a badly aimed firecracker every time. By the end of middle school, Mike Wheeler would develop a truly cruel sneer and enough snappy comebacks to send most wannabe assholes flying for cover. 

But he wasn’t there yet.

Instead, Mike Wheeler’s just a scrawny middle school kid with a horrible habit of refusing to back down against opponents he can never beat, the still-healing scrape on Mike’s chin a blaring reminder.

The assembly ends before Will can say anything though, Mike slipping out of his attempt to grab him as he runs down the bleachers.

“Hey!” Mike yells, storming towards Troy, “You think this is funny?” 

Troy and his friend stop and turn around, watching Mike like they can’t believe he’s even talking to them. Will can relate.

“I-I saw you guys laughing over there.” Mike says, face blank, but his hands are clenched into fists at his side. 

“What’d you say, Wheeler?” Troy asks, eyes narrowing like he can’t believe Mike would even talk to him.

Will starts to move through the crowd, untangling El’s hand from his arm as he goes.

“I saw you guys laughing over there,” Mike states, voice firm even as his knees shake, ever so slightly, unnoticeable to anyone but Will, though he can’t tell whether Mike’s trembling from rage or fear, “And I think that’s a real messed up thing to do.”

“Weren’t you listening to the counselor, Wheeler? Grief shows itself in many ways.” Troy’s friend, James, says with a smirk, looming behind Troy.

“Besides, what’s there to be sad about, anyway? Will’s in fairyland now, flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay!” Troy spits out as he starts to flap his arms, mockingly.

Will freezes, shame flooding him and rooting him to the floor. 

He knows it’s stupid, so so stupid to be scared by a kid like this when Will’s sixteen now, but it’s like he forgets that he’s outgrown this, like he’s a dumb kid being shoved into lockers all over again. Completely helpless.

Troy and James snicker, high-fiving one another before they turn to walk away. Will senses more than sees Mike snap.

Mike takes a determined step forward and the realization that Mike is going to attack Troy forces Will out of his own fear, overwhelmed with concern for Mike like they’re both twelve and about to get beaten up again if Will doesn’t do something. 

Lunging forward into motion, Will takes two large steps forward, and grabs Mike by the shoulder, holding him in place.

Mike’s head snaps around to look at Will, utter betrayal clear in his eyes.

“Why would you–” 

“Just ignore them.” Will insists, hoping his voice is steadier than he feels.

“But Will–!” Mike cuts himself off, teeth clenching around the rest of that sentence when he sees that there’s a group of middle schoolers staring at them, James included.

“It’s a future thing,” Will whispers before raising his voice, “Just trust me. They’re not worth it.”

Will’s never gotten the full story of why exactly Eleven and Mike Wheeler broke Troy’s arm while he was missing, but he’d rather not repeat it. Will can only think of how Troy moved away in eighth grade, clearly terrified of Mike and Dustin and their demon friend who could break arms enough to the point that he was able to talk his mom into transferring him to some private school.

Troy turns back around and James’ glares at them.

“What was that?” James asks, glaring up at Will, “We’re not what?”

“Nothing.” Will says quickly, kicking himself for saying anything at all, “We’re leaving.” 

Will tries to pull Mike back, but he’s stubbornly planted his feet on the ground like a statue and Will can’t move him.

“No we’re not,” Mike exclaims, indignant as he shoves at Will’s arm, trying to push him off, “These guys are such–”

“Mike, not now.” Will interrupts him.

“Yeah Wheeler, listen to your friend.” Troy says, pointing at Will while he takes a threatening step towards them, “You always take everything so seriously, we’re just joking.”

“Can’t take a joke, huh?”

Will feels a sudden pressure on his back, like someone’s tugging harshly on his shirt. It makes him stumble backwards, towards the exit of the gym. Mike’s also pulled to the side almost as if by magic, tripping and falling harshly to his knees.

A crowd of people are staring at them, with several of the middle schoolers starting to laugh.

“C’mon guys, let’s go, go, go, go!” Dustin says as he tries to shove Will forward. Lucas pulls Mike up by the arm, dragging him away from the scene.

Mike yanks his sleeve out of Lucas’s hand with a glare, but doesn’t say another word. Will turns to check that El’s following them and she is, wiping her nose with her sleeve as she runs after the rest of them down the middle school hallway.

Everything feels claustrophobic now, the walls closing in on Will as they all race back towards the AV room, the feeling of people’s eyes on them threatening and pushing them into action.

They’re all very experienced in this particular maneuver, years of bullying having turned this into something almost routine and Will falls back into it easily. Dustin unlocks the door in no time, followed by Will checking to make sure they're all inside before Lucas slams the door shut, locking it behind them.

An audible sigh of relief is shared the moment the door closes, the old protection of this room something that hasn’t changed. The old tech equipment turned into a fortress they all could hide in to gather their strength before being forced to face the rest of the world.

“Troy’s such an asshole.” Lucas exclaims angrily, pulling off his jacket and throwing it down in the corner with a huff.

“None of us believe any of that stuff, for real.” Dustin insists, making serious eye contact with Will like he’s pleading for Will to believe him.

Will’s entire body locks up in terror, Dustin’s words hitting him like a physical blow because this? This conversation? 

It’s never happened before. 

His friends have always defended him, stepping in when the other kids got really nasty, but they never said anything to him about the many cruel words people threw at him like weapons. The usual response was just an awkward supportive pat on Will’s shoulder after they told whoever was calling him names to fuck off.

All the insults that had always been directed towards Will from when he was a child who barely knew what they meant beyond “bad” “wrong” “mistake” still hurt, but Will’s numbly resigned to them now.

Because they’re all true. Will knows he’s a– 

Shaking the thought away, Will wonders if the younger versions of his friends would still step in to defend him if they realized Troy was right. Wonders if his friends, back in his time, would still step in to defend him.

He doesn’t know, has never truly known how they’d react. And it’s the scariest unknown in his life.

“... Thanks.” Will says awkwardly way too late, hoping none of the kids can hear how weak it sounds.

Dustin smiles at him opening his mouth but before he can say anything else, Will interrupts him.

“Guys, we need to focus.” Will says, deciding to ignore everything else completely before realizing that he actually has no clue how they got El to tap into the Upside Down through radios.

Will kind of wishes someone who actually knew the details of what happened had been thrown back in time instead of him, the kid who got kidnapped.

“So El, what do you need?” Will asks, “Just a better signal?”

El looks at all the equipment with confusion, but Dustin starts messing with it and setting it all up while El pokes at a few of the dials curiously. Dustin starts to make an annoying clicking noise into the mic, testing it until Lucas smacks Dustin’s hand away from the microphone.

Will turns away from them, amused.

Mike scoffs, causing Will to suddenly remember what sparked all of this in the first place. Will turns to him, more than a little hesitant.

The younger Mike is shaking beside him, filled with an anger he clearly doesn’t know what to do with as he stares off, caught up in some train of thought Will can’t decipher.

“Hey, you okay?” Will asks, trying to keep his voice soft. Mike just grunts, turning his head away.

“I don’t speak that language Mike, c’mon.” Will says lightly before leaning down and quieting his voice so the others can’t hear them, “Seriously, you look pissed.”

“I just!” Mike starts loudly before pulling himself back when the others look up at the outburst, lowering his voice into an angry whisper, “I hate this. They all think you’re dead but Troy’s still talking shit about you? Why?!”

“I don’t know.” Will says truthfully. And it is a truth, albeit one with a bitter lie hidden inside it, the truth that Will hasn’t ever said aloud.

“It’s just– it’s not fair!” Mike exclaims, all righteous twelve-year-old paladin anger boiling over into stumbling furious words, “It’s mean and wrong a-and—”

“Hey hey, I know. Believe me, I get it, I totally get it.” Will says, recognizing this mood in an instant, knows it’s better to divert Mike before he starts crying because there’s no coming back from that and Mike’s eyes are already getting misty, “It sucks to hear all this stuff, but they don’t really get it, do they?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, it’s not like they’re the ones caught up in a crazy time travel alternate dimension situation, right? And I’m super glad they’re not! Can you imagine if I’d had to be rescued by Troy Walsh of all people?” Will exclaims, hoping it’ll cheer Mike up.

Mike looks at Will with horror clear on his face, eyes wide.

“He’d leave you to die.” Mike whispers with a horrified frown like he’s imagining it and Will winces, tries to recover,

“Yeah, but– but you wouldn’t! Mike, you didn’t give up on me when everyone else thought I was dead. Neither did Dustin or Lucas. I’m super lucky that you guys are my best friends and not that–” Will pauses, not wanting to curse out a twelve-year-old.

“Mouthbreather.” Eleven chimes in. Will wonders where the hell she learned that word.

“Exactly. Thank you, El.” Will says and Eleven nods back at him in solidarity, “You all have done so much more to help me and– and the entire world than the rest of those mouthbreathers will ever know.”

Mike’s still frowning but he gives Will a hum of acknowledgement, loosening the guilty knot in Will’s chest. He doesn’t seem convinced, but at least he’s not shaking anymore. Will counts that as a win.

“... Ho-ly-shit, do we save Hawkins?” Dustin breathes out excitedly, breaking out into an overly excited grin, “Wait, do we save the entire world?!”

“How was that what you got from everything I just said?” Will asks wryly.

“Guys, shut up!” Lucas interrupts, gesturing at Eleven. Her eyes are closed, static audibly blasting through the speakers as she tunes the radio.

The boys all stop talking immediately, watching her in amazed silence. El’s powers are still something so new and exciting to witness for them as she casually turns knobs and adjusts wires without touching them.

There’s a few muffled hints of sound, before Will’s voice, young and clear, comes through loud and clear.

“–I’m– Mom, I’m here! Please–” The speakers crackle. Eleven adjusts them without moving an inch.

“It’s Will.” Mike breathes out, voice shaking. There’s a few muffled voices, but it takes El a second to find the right frequency.

“–the wall, Mom, please! Break–”

A horrible roar blasts out the speakers, drowning out the rest of the words.

“Oh no…” Lucas whispers.

Will’s about to reassure him, but before he can say anything, something impossible happens.

“–Mike! Find Mike Whe–”  A second, deeper voice rings out through the static.

“Who is that?” Mike asks, turning to all of them desperately.

“How are we supposed to know?!” Dustin yells back.

“Wait, that can’t be…” Will says aloud, a horrible idea coming to him, “But how–”

“–Run, you– run!”

It is him.

That’s Mike’s voice. His Mike, sixteen-year-old Mike, screams from the radio.

“Mike.” Will whispers, stunned. The lights flicker violently before cutting off, leaving them in complete darkness.

Mike’s stuck in the Upside Down with his younger self, Will realizes with horror.

Before they can hear anything else, the radio in front of El bursts into flames.

⧗