Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mike Wheeler knows what to expect if he ever heard the ticking of a clock in the back of his mind. 

Or at least he thinks he does. 

He knows that Vecna, or One, or whatever nickname anyone's given him- likes to toy with his prey before sinking his claws in. Like a cat that has a little too much fun pawing and pouncing on whatever small mammal it’s caught, letting it think it can run away before catching it again. 

He won’t admit it to anyone, but he has Smalltown Boy loaded up on a cassette when needed. They all have their own stuffed into front pockets at all times. He doesn't know everyone’s- too hard to memorize- but he did see Will gripping something from The Cure at one point. Familiar. 

He also thinks over what he could see if his eyes ever rolled into the back of his head. He knew he shouldn’t wish for it in any aspect- he’s seen Max laying corpse still in her hospital bed. It was terrifying, to know that could happen to you at any point if you weren’t looking over your shoulder every two seconds. To anyone in The Party. 

At the same time, however, Mike still traced over deepest fears and bone-chilling ideas brought to life, folding and unfolding till the memories had creased and the visions faded around the corners. 

Mike lay awake at night, thinking over scenarios where he and El were just talking, and then she was slamming doors in his face or force-choking him against a wall. El bleeding out of her eyes, or just lying there, no breath in her lungs or joy on her face. He would roll over and think about his sisters, Nancy screaming in pain possibly, or Holly, dear sweet Holly caught up in his mess somehow. 

He thought about it, long and hard, and liked to think if he thought of every outcome, that he might be able to tell the shift in the room, when Els' demeanour changed or if Holly showed up and just knew because he thought of the same thing happening just two days ago. 

Sometimes, however, thoughts skimmed past the living nightmares in his head, and he knew he had to push them deep deep down, not even entertain thinking through them. Because on the off chance he was the one Vecna decided to curse, he couldn’t know those types of things went through his head, causing his heart to sink to the core of the earth with just the brush of an idea. 

He was terrified that even if he played the thoughts out, carefully and slowly as he did with every other one he was scared of happening, that as soon he was faced with his true terrors, they’d root him to the spot and kill him. 

So he didn’t think about them. Let the thoughts stuff themself into a chest in the back of his head, padlock shut tight. 

When they did, Mike could only clench the cassette tighter in his fist, hoping the waking fears wouldn’t come to life anytime soon, choking him out. 

When Mike heard the first chime of a grandfather clock, he almost felt a spark of relief before the pure dread washed over him. 

As soon as the confession left his mouth, his cassette tape was pressed into a music player and headphones were diligently wrapped around his neck, and he was firmly told to never let it stop playing. 

Through the terror, however, sometimes calm crashed over like waves. 

Mike was just a tad bit thankful it was him who befell whatever wicked game Vecna was playing. He could control this, and if anyone was hurt, it was him, and not someone else, someone important. He could do the one thing he wanted to protect by being the test dummy, the bait when they needed while the smarter, cooler people worked away. 

He thought, maybe he would be able to outsmart Vecna. He’d imagined his worst fears a million times as he drifted to sleep, what could phase him now? 

Mike could hear a muffled knock on the door and could see it slowly swing open in the corners of his vision. Shuffled to sit up from where he was sprawled across the guest bed he’d been regulated to in the Byers-Hopper makeshift safe house. Pulled his headphones off and looked up to meet Will Byer's eyes. His fingers found the portable cassette player and hit the pause button. 

“Are you okay?” Will asked, settling next to Mike on the bed. His face was soft, a caring look laid bare across gentle plains of cheekbones and eyelashes. 

Mike thought he could look forever. Trace the slope of his nose with his fingers, his cupid’s bow, the dip of his lips…

Nope. Nope. Padlock shut tight. 

Mike shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” His eyes traced across the wooden panelling walls, ones he’d stared at a million times since he’d been told to stay put. “It’s just all so boring.”  

Will chuckled. “Never thought I'd hear that in the middle of an apocalypse. “ 

Mike smiled, Will's respite of joy was contagious. “Yeah well… you be the one stuck in one room forced to listen to one song over and over again.” 

Mike could see Will's eyes glaze over at the mention of his curse and Mike mentally kicked himself. Maybe don’t bring up uber depressing topics when you were just chatting dipshit! he thought. 

Caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed Will tapping on the headphones that hung from his neck. “That has to get tiring,” Will said, smiling. “Take a break?” 

A single warning bell went off in the back of Mike's head but was quieted when Will laid his hand on his own. “Don’t worry, I'm here if anything happens.” 

Mike could feel himself nod, sliding the plastic and orange foam off his neck to place next to him on the bed, a little glad for the moment of silence, of calm. He could feel his eyes close slowly, the calm washing over him once more. Will hadn't moved his hand yet, and Mike could feel his thumb gently run up and down the back of Mike's hand. It felt nice. 

He thought he knew. 

When Mike opened his eyes, he was immediately splashed in the face with a cold bucket of horror . 

It was like he suddenly could see through the rift as Will could- like Mike had True Sight and could see the tentacles and rot that permeated the twisted version of the room he had just been sitting in. Everything wrong about the room, everything that hadn’t been there earlier seemed to pulse and ooze like some sort of disgusting sore. 

Mike fumbled for the headphones that had just been sitting next to him, only to find empty bed sheets and more tendrils. Shit shit shit shit! The one thing he’d been tasked to do and he went and fucked it up. 

“Will?” He dared to whisper when he realized his best friend wasn’t sitting next to him. His hand felt cold. 

Fuck , he swore he only turned the music off when the door opened, how long after that had been Vecnas sick vision? 

It was alright. He’d be fine. Soon someone would check on him- had to if Will hadn’t already been sitting next to him when whatever this was, started. 

“Mike…” He heard, coming from the floor. 

Mike's eyes snapped open from where he’d squeezed them shut, and his gaze went to the floor. 

Mike choked. Laying on the floor, in what seemed to be a puddle of his blood, was his best friend. 

“Mike.” Will whimpered, clutching his middle with one hand and reaching up to Mike with the other. He slid off the bed to kneel by Will's side, his throat closing up. 

“Will- oh my god Will ,” Mike whispered, hoarse. His hands couldn’t find a place to land, fluttering across the broken boy's body. He had bruises and cuts on every surface Mike could see, and his shirt was darkening at his stomach and chest with his blood. “Wh- What happened?” 

Will opened his mouth to respond, but blood came out instead, the coughs spraying the substance everywhere. Mike flinched. “It’s okay, take your time.” he tried to reassure, doing his best to rub up and down Wills' back. His eyelashes fluttered, cheekbones pale and gaunt. Mike wanted to hold his face, reassure him it would be all okay, that he was right here, but he restrained himself. Will was hurt- he didn't need to throw his own feelings into the mix. 

“I’ll actually,” He started, stumbling over words at the sight of his friend hacking. “I’ll go get the first aid kit and you just breathe, you can tell me when I patch you up “ 

A hand grasped his wrist as he turned to the bathroom, and Mike could feel the fingers clench around his wrist, pain blossoming through. 

“Will.” Mike was the one to whimper this time. “You're hurting me, I have to get to the first aid-“ 

“No.” said a voice, that was very decidedly unlike Will, Mike was slow to turn around, terrified of what he would see. 

He kinda wished he hadn’t, as soon as his eyes draped over Will's body. 

It seemed like his injuries had rapidly gotten worse, the blood pooling from Will's torso seemingly coating the whole floor. His eyes were glazed over, empty and hollow, devoid of emotion- of pain that Mike had just seen. 

“Mike.” 

He whimpered again, trying to wretch his wrist from Will's ironclad grip. “Let go.” 

“Why are you trying to run Mike?” Will whispered, his voice still not like him. He seemed to stare through Mike, blood pouring from his mouth. “It’s too late now.” 

“Let go!” 

“It’s too late to save anyone.” Will sneered. “You couldn’t even save me-“ Mike was suddenly yanked forward, collapsing from where he was crouched to assess Will's injuries, knees and elbows and chin landing in blood. 

“You couldn’t even save me, and I was sitting right next to you.” Will hissed. Mike could only shut his eyes tight, tears burning in the back of his eyes, throat itchy and dry. 

He could feel Will let go of his wrist, only to feel a swift kick to the ribs, sliding him through the pool of blood. His back hit the desk, knocking the wind from his chest. “After all,” Mike looked up to see Will standing over him, blood dribbling down his chin, his shirt stained all the way through and still gushing. “Who could love the freak, the dirty queer? ” 

No, no no no this couldn’t be real. This wasn't. He- he had been so careful- he’d he hadn’t said anything- 

“MIKE!” 

The fearful shriek seemed muffled and far away, but it tore through Mike's chest and the vision of the world around him. Not-Will staggered, and when Mike blinked, Vecna was leering over him instead of Will. Not-Will. Whatever. 

“MIKE PLEASE! ” He could hear- and it was like his senses were snapped back into him. Will . 

He could faintly hear the starting riffs of Smalltown Boy, but he could honestly care less, more concerned with scrambling to his feet- and running, running far away. Looking around, he could see the faded surroundings of the safe house- and a bright portal, leading back home. 

Will- his Will, unbloodied and unmarred, was shaking his body- he could see himself like this, eyes bloodshot, and he was convulsing in a concerning manner. 

“ Mike .” Vecna said from behind him, but he refused to look back. His legs ached, and he thought his lungs would collapse in his chest, but he had to keep going. 

“Do you really think they’ll accept you when they find out?” 

He’s lying. 

“Mike, do you really want to fool yourself any longer?” 

He was so close. 

“Do you truly think Will would love you back?” 

Mike pushed the thoughts invading his mind away, squeezed his eyes tight, and jumped through the portal. 

“Mike? Mike come back to me!” 

Mike gasped as air filled his lungs- real air this time. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” He heard before Will tackled him into the bed, bringing Mike into a bruising bear hug. 

“Will- your crushing me-“ 

“I thought I lost you.” Will rasped, and Mike could feel his heart do a backflip. This was fine. It was fine. 

Will continued to crush him, instead taking a moment to nose into Mike's neck. His throat didn’t catch, not at all. “I walked in and you were shaking and I couldn’t find the cassette -“ 

“Will- I'm fine, it’s going to be fine.” 

And yeah, even though his breathing was quick, and when he rubbed a hand up and down Will's back trying to comfort him his wrist flared in pain, and maybe he’d be seeing visions of Will sneering at him in his dreams for months, he knew, right then, that he wasn’t lying.