15.

Will wakes to the steady beeping of machines and a headache that feels like his brain is about to explode. He cracks open his eyes. Early morning sunlight floods between gaping blinds, illuminating the white walls of a hospital room. He groans.

"Will? Will, baby, you're awake."

His mom's face hovers over his, smiling but her eyes red rimmed.

"My head," he manages to say.

Her expression falters, but only for a moment. "I'll go and get someone. I'll be right back, baby, promise."

Will scrunches his eyes shut. It wouldn't be so bad if it was just the thumping in his head, but it feels like the memories of what happened are crashing around inside his brain too, making it hurt even more. He remembers El throwing him across the room. He remembers his body being responsible for pinning her against the wall, almost choking her to death. He thinks of the lost souls that whispered to him, their memories as open to him as his own. He remembers being locked inside his own head, trembling on the floor, tied up in chains. He recalls slipping into Vecna's mind, then struggling to do the same for Max. He thinks of fighting, of freezing, of battling to regain power and Mike's arms around him in the van.

By the time his mom returns with a doctor, he's breathing heavily, his eyes damp with tears. The examination is a good distraction. He dutifully lies back, reciting his own name and birthday when asked, and listening as his mom insists the doctor administers pain relief without a sedative, saying he reacts badly to them. It's not far from the truth. As the doctor complies, Will realises there's an IV line in the crook of his arm. He searches the rest of his body with his eyes, finding both hands are bandaged and there's a monitor clipped to his finger.

His mom stays close while the pain relief kicks in, stroking his hair and giving whispered reassurances that Will barely listens to. As his head becomes clearer, he finds he can sort through the memories a little easier, and is pretty confident he knows what happened. There's no blanks like before.

"He's dead, isn't he?" he says to his mom. "Vecna."

"Yes," she nods. She gives him a sad smile. "I saw him myself. One hundred percent dead. He's not going to hurt you anymore, sweetheart."

"And El, is she-?"

"El's okay. Hop's looking after her. She'll come and see you as soon as she's rested up."

"Really okay? You promise?"

"I promise. Really okay." His mom pauses. "She told me you helped her beat that Vecna."

"Oh. She felt that?" He tries to push himself a bit more upright but a sudden pain shoots up his side. He winces.

"Don't do that, honey. Just lie still. Doctor says you have some broken ribs."

It reminds Will where he is. He sniffs and realises there's oxygen going up his nose as well. He groans "I hate hospitals."

"I know. But you needed help, sweetheart, Jonathan did the right thing going to get a doctor. Your friends were all really worried about you." She gives him a knowing smile. "Mike didn't want to leave here last night."

Even sore and slightly disorientated, warmth spreads through his body at the mention of Mike. He tries not to visibly react. Even though he suspects his mom has guessed something, he's not ready to talk about it yet.

"What about Max?" he asks. "Has anything changed?"

"She woke up."

"She did?" He sits up again, this time ignoring the pain in his ribs. "Is she okay?"

His mom takes his hand and starts stroking it over the bandages. "She's still badly hurt, honey. Her bones should heal but from what the boys told me it sounds as if she's not able to see."

Will feels his lip tremble. He knew what the doctors had said about her eyes, but he'd still hoped with Vecna gone her sight would have returned.

"I- I thought we- we would have been able to help her."

"You did help her. Will, whatever you and El did… it saved her life. Saved a lot of lives."

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing. You did it, baby." She leans towards him, gives him a kiss on his head. It's lopsided and he suspects she was having to dodge the cut and bruised parts. "I'm so proud of you I can't even put it into words. You're so brave, my boy. You're like one of those heroes in your comics."

"Mom!" he says, embarrassed. He knows he's nothing like those heroes, they're far cooler than he is.

"I'm being serious," she insists. "And I bet the others would say the same, Mike and Lucas and Dustin." She's smiling at first but then she grows quiet, and it gradually fades. "Do you want to talk about it? About what happened in there with El? Or with Max?"

He considers. He's sure everyone has a lot of questions and he's not sure he'll be able to properly explain. But they've been on this journey together for years now, and it's only fair he gives everyone a decent explanation of what happened.

He's saved from having to answer, for now at least, by the opening of the door. Mike stands there looking awkward in a jacket that's far too big, that Will knows doesn't belong to him. They stare at each other.

"Mike!" his mom says, breaking the silence. "We were just talking about you."

"Oh, uh, hey," Mike says, looking embarrassed.

Will suspects his own face is just as red. "Hi."

"Come and sit down," Will's mom says, indicating the chair on the opposite side of the bed to her.

Mike follows her instruction, but his eyes never leave Will. "You look… terrible," he says.

"I'm okay."

Mike finally looks away from him, and flicker towards his mom. "Really?"

"Well, I wouldn't call broken ribs, a concussion and multiple cuts and bruises okay," she says, somehow looking both stern and fond at the same time. "But all will heal."

"Good," Mike says. The worry on his face softens slightly. "Because you-" he reaches out and trails a finger along Will's cheekbone. It's a light touch, but Will can feel the cold of Mike's skin. "You look like you got hurt real bad."

Will stays completely still, hyper aware of Mike's hands on his face and his mom watching every moment of it. Mike suddenly seems to realise too, for he pulls his hand away and shoves it beneath his thigh.

"I- I mean, I'm just glad you're okay," Mike finishes, limply.

"Thanks." Will manages a weak smile but then drops Mike's gaze, the intensity too much. He fiddles with a loose end of bandage. "I can go home today, right, Mom?"

There's a pause. "I don't know, honey. The doctor said you probably could, but… well, you know what state our house is in. How can you recover without a bed or even a couch to rest up on? With those broken ribs, you-"

"He can stay at mine," Mike interrupts.

Will turns to look at him.

"Yeah," Mike continues, as if his brain has only just caught up with his mouth. "He can have my bed and I'll take the floor. My mom won't mind."

There's a humming in Will's chest. It's the best of both worlds, no hospital and spending some time with Mike. "Can I, Mom?"

She sighs. "I don't know. I'd need to speak to the doctor again, and to Karen, make sure she's able to keep an eye on you."

"I'll be better there than here," Will adds.

"I'll think about it."

Will groans. There's no way he wants to spend another night in hospital.

"Oh yeah," Mike says into the silence. "I was meant to tell you. Hopper's here. He said you can find him outside Max's room. El's in there with Max."

Will glances up at his mom. He's not sure what is going on between her and Hopper but she's got a faint smile on her face at last. "Why don't you go see him, Mom? You've been with me all night."

"Nancy said the hospital coffee is better than it used to be," Mike adds.

His mom looks from him, to Mike, then back again. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" she asks. "You could have just said you wanted a moment to yourselves." She gets up. "Fine, I'll go see Hop. Just for a minute!"

Will waits patiently for her to leave before he turns back to Mike. "So, how do we convince her to let me stay at yours?"

"I'll come up with something," Mike says. "Don't worry."

Will feels Mike's eyes flickering all over his face. He's still trying to work out what it means, when he sees a familiar tremble of Mike's chin.

"Mike-" he starts.

"You scared the absolute shit out of me," Mike says. He sniffs loudly. "I thought you were dead, Will. When Hopper pulled you out, I literally thought that was it, that I'd never see you again."

Mike's lips are pursed and Will can tell he's trying not to cry. He extends his arm towards Mike's, nodding when Mike looks at him queryingly. As their hands connect, Will feels like all his nerve endings immediately shoot to that hand.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I never wanted to scare you."

"I know. I just didn't want to lose you."

"You didn't. You won't." He squeezes Mike's hand. It makes the cuts on his own hand stings, but it was worth it. "Thanks for, you know… keeping me going in the van."

"Oh." There's a tinge to Mike's cheeks. "Yeah. It was nothing. I just wanted to help."

"You did."

There's a few moments of silence during which Will becomes acutely aware that Mike's hand is still in his. He doesn't understand how it feels both awkward and yet comfortable at the same time.

"Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Actually…" Will hesitates, unsure if he should say.

"What?"

"Actually, I feel kinda good. I know, I know I look terrible, but… this is the first time in years I've not been able to feel him in the back of my head. In California it was, like, turned down proper low. You know when the TV volume is on number one and you only hear it if you really, really listen. It was like that. Easier to ignore, but still there. And you know how it was for me in Hawkins. But now…" He risks a smile. "Now, I feel… I dunno, it's like my whole body is lighter. Like I'm free."

"I'm glad."

Mike shifts his position in the chair, moving closer to him as he does so. Will can't tell if it's inadvertently or not, but they seem to both realise how close their faces are at the same time. Will, already laid back against the pillows, has nowhere to go, and Mike freezes, stooping as if he can't decide whether to move further forwards or lean back.

Will can't bear to let the awkward silence linger. "Did you say El was here?"

"Uh, yeah." Mike sits back, their hands disconnecting as he does so. "Yeah. She'll be in to see you in a bit, just as soon as she's had time with Max. But she said hi and that she's sorry and she loves you. I think I got that right."

"She's okay?"

"Yeah. A bit banged up. Nothing like as bad as you, and you're fine apparently, so."

There's a teasing smile on Mike's face that Will can't help but smile back to. It makes the emptiness in his hand now Mike's let go feel a little better.

Will lies awake on Mike's bed, propped half-upright by cushions to make his broken ribs feel a little more comfortable. Mrs Wheeler had apologetically but firmly banned them from using the decorative cushions from the lounge and so Mike had lugged the old ones in the basement up two flights of stairs for him. They'd agreed these ones were better anyway. Lumpy foam and Coke stains aside, these were practical and comfortable, unlike the firm lounge cushions adorned with dozens of tiny pompoms.

The other problem with Mike's house is that Mrs Wheeler had installed so many mirrors, it had been impossible for Will to keep avoid catching sight of his reflection. Once he'd seen his face, he understood why everyone kept freaking out at the sight of him. Blue and purple bruises stretch from his right cheekbone to his hairline and across his forehead, the background to cuts and grazes, some starting to scab over, others still oozing blood. He decides against asking El how he got the injuries.

His head still hurts a little now, but he doesn't think it's what's preventing him from falling asleep. There's too much to think about. All those memories he has to digest, both good and bad, falling inside Vecna's head, and then doing the same to Max. He can't believe he managed it, actually did something useful for once, fought and won without needing to be saved. And then he thinks about Max and all the trauma she's been through and still has to face. He thinks of El and her guilt for hurting him – he knows how that one feels and it's horrible.

And he thinks of Mike, visiting him in hospital, holding him in the van and kissing him in the abandoned Italian restaurant. Asleep on the floor beside him.

He glances over the side of the bed, expecting to see his friend sleeping peacefully like he was the last time he checked. But this time, Mike's face is scrunched up, his brows creased and his mouth slightly open as if he's choking or screaming.

"Mike," Will hisses. "Mike, wake up!"

Will waits for a moment, watching as Mike's rapidly chest rises and falls. A small whimper slips from his mouth. Will pushes himself upright, leaning over the side of the bed to reach Mike. It hurts a little, but he doesn't care.

He shakes his friend's shoulder. "Mike!" He tries again, a little harder this time.

Mike comes to with a gasp.

"Mike, hey." Mike looks up at him, blinking in the darkness. Will recognises the disorientation from himself, from El. From that time with Hopper. "I think you had a nightmare."

"Oh." Mike rubs at his eyes. "Uh, yeah."

Will nods in sympathy. The whole party had admitted to each other a while ago that they all had nightmares, but he'd never witnessed anyone besides El having one.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

Mike moves into a sitting position, his back against the side of the bed. "Yeah. Think I'll stay up for a bit though. You can go back to sleep."

"No, no, if you're staying up, I will too." Will doesn't bother mentioning that he wasn't sleeping anyway. "Hey, come sit up here for a bit, it can't be comfy on the floor."

Mike doesn't respond other than to heave himself upwards onto the bed. Will pushes himself a little more upright, bending his knees so there's room for Mike to lean against the wall, his legs hanging off the side.

"Want to talk about it?" Will asks. "Your nightmare, I mean."

Mike shakes his head. "It's just a dumb dream. Let's talk about something else."

"Okay, like what?" There's a long silence. Mike makes no suggestions so Will supposes he'd better try. "What about… lets think of what we want to watch first when the movie theatre finally reopens."

Another pause.

"El dumped me," Mike says.

"What?" Will's heart jumps straight up into his throat. "Why? When? Are you okay?"

"That's a lot of questions."

Mike leaves a pointed pause, his eyebrows raised.

Will doesn't dare ask anything further.

"Yesterday, before I came to see you in the hospital," Mike continues. "She said something about how I liked her powers more than her, that I didn't treat her like a girlfriend." Mike shrugs. "Didn't I?"

Will freezes. He's not sure how to answer this. "You made out a lot," he says. "That's like a girlfriend, right?"

"Yeah, but not really. Not for a while, anyway."

"Oh," Will says, embarrassed.

"I messed it up. I'm messed up."

"Mike, you're… Look, there's not a single one of us who's not messed up. How could we not be after everything that's happened?!"

"No, but- not like that, okay?"

"Then like what?"

Mike's silent for a long time and Will wonders if he's pushed him too far, if he's not going to answer at all. He watches Mike and through the darkness he sees the familiar twitch in his jaw as he battles whatever is going on inside his head.

"How do you… know what you want?" Mike asks. "Like, how are you meant to know?"

Will shrugs. "Does anyone?" he asks. It sounds hollow, even to him.

"Lucas," Mike says, instantly. "He just wants to be with Max, right? He still wanted that even when we didn't know if she was going to wake up."

"Yeah, but- well, you know he saw everything that happened to her."

"So you think seeing all that was what made him realise? Made him know for sure?"

"I don't know," Will says, confused where the conversation is going. "I mean, he liked her anyway, didn't he? I guess that just… amplified it. Or- or made him realise life's too short to hold back with how he feels."

Even in the dimly lit room, Will can see Mike give him a funny look.

"But then that negates your theory that I can blame being a screw up on what we've been through. Lucas literally saw Max die and, like, die in the worst possible way! That's enough trauma to fuck with anyone. But if it hasn't made him mess up with Max, how can I use it as an excuse for messing up with El and with-" he shakes his head. "With everyone."

"You haven't messed up-"

"Will, don't lie to me just because it's easier!"

There's an undertone to Mike's voice that Will doesn't quite understand. He looks away.

"I think… I think it always feels worse on the inside, you know?" he says. "These things, these mess ups, they feel far bigger to you than they do to anyone else."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He takes a deep breath. "I mean, sometimes I think I'm… all wrong. And it's like… pulsing inside me so loud that I think even strangers must know. They must know that I'm wrong." He can feel Mike watching him, but keeps his gaze looked on the poster on the far wall. "And it's such a big thing that my friends, my family, they must know and they must hate me, secretly, but then"

"You're not wrong, Will."

"-but then my brother figures it out. And then I tell my best friend. And they're both… still here. You're still here. And maybe… maybe it was bigger on the inside after all."

Mike chews at his lip. "You're talking about you not liking girls?"

"Yeah. That's crazy, right? After the Upside Down and Vecna and everything and I'm talking about… that."

"I've heard crazier." Mike gives a lopsided smile. His chin drops and he plays with the edge of the bedcovers, anxious. "But how did you know? That you didn't like girls?"

Will stares at him. He never imagined this was something anyone would ask him, let alone Mike. It feels like his brain is going at a million miles an hour trying to figure out why, but somehow, when he speaks, the words come out slowly. "Mike, you've been by best friend for, like, forever. You've heard what people say."

"People say things, doesn't make them true."

He shrugs. "I just… knew," he says, lamely.

"You've never liked a girl?"

"No," he says, trying not to add obviously.

Mike sighs as though that's the wrong answer, but it's not tinged with disgust. It's more like when Mike doesn't understand a math problem or that time his new comic was missing the final page, the climax of the plot.

"I still don't get it," Mike says. "About… how you know."

Will shrugs. "You knew you liked El," he suggests.

"Yeah." Mike rubs at his forehead, avoiding Will's eyes. "But."

"Mike…" Will falters, thinking about Mike saying 'I liked it' about their kiss. He'd discounted it at the time, but now, with all these questions, he's beginning to consider whether he was wrong. His leg bounces with nerves. But he knows if he has an opportunity to help Mike out here, he can't let his own nerves defeat him. "Do you think… do you think you might like both?"

"Both?"

"Yeah. Both girls and boys."

Mike's eyes flicker up towards his. "Um." A tremble crosses his face. "Yeah. Maybe. Well… a girl, anyway. And- and… a boy. I don't know about anyone else. I've never really… looked."

Will nods, offering a small smile in the hope it's reassuring. Something feels wrong with his stomach and chest, a fluttering of fear and excitement and hope. He replays Mike's words, a boy. He remembers Mike kissing him, Mike holding him in the van, Mike's fingers tracing the delicate skin on his face.

"Sorry. Is that weird?" Mike asks.

"No," Will replies, instantly. "No, I don't think so." There's only really been a boy for him too, although he wasn't blind to some of the Seniors in Lenora. "Everyone's different, you know. And that's… that's okay."

"Is it?"

"To me it is." Will swallows down his nerves. "And is it… is it okay to you? About me?"

"About you liking boys?" Mike's eyes scan over Will's face. "Yeah. Yeah, it is." He pauses. His eyes drop to Will's lips. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"That painting… the D&D one, the one with the heart… it wasn't from El, was it?"

Will's fluttering stomach suddenly races up into his throat so fast that his breath is stolen from him. As his heart, and his breathing, returns to normal, he struggles to find the words.

"I hadn't planned to lie," he says.

"It was from you." It's not a question.

"Well, you always liked my D&D drawings the most," Will says. "That's all it was, at first. A painting for you, just like the drawings I used to give you when we were kids. I'm not sure what point it started to become something more than that."

"More?"

"Like a way of recouping the old days, you know? A way to tell you how much I missed you without having to really tell you. A way to get that close again. Or… or, I dunno. Something more," he repeats. "But then, there was this distance between us and it felt silly and wrong and I just…" He can feel tears prickling at his eyes and blinks furiously, ashamed. "Well, I made it for you, I still wanted to give it to you, I just didn't know when, or how you'd react. And then you were so worried about El, about your relationship and it felt like… like a win-win. I'd get to give you the painting and you'd feel better about El."

"But, what you said… about El. And about me-" Mike's talking unusually slowly. "I don't get it. If the painting was from you, was that… was that you too?"

Something sticks in Will's throat and he can't seem to get any words past it, not a lie, not the truth. He stares down at his hands, picking at an unhealed scab. Against his will, a tear trickles down his cheek.

"Will. Please. Just tell me, whatever it is."

"I-" Will manages. "I thought that was how El felt."

"You just guessed? Made it up? Like- like an English assignment or something."

Will opens his mouth to say yes, to write it off as a failed attempt to predict her emotions. "No," he says, instead.

"You didn't make it up?"

Will takes a shaky breath, trying to breathe through the tears. A hand lands on top of his, gently stalling him from picking the scab.

"I just…" Will tries to memorise the feeling of Mike's hand on his in case this is the last time it happens. "I said what I felt. I said what I felt about you and pretended it was El."

Mike doesn't reply but he doesn't remove his hand either. He's silent for so long that Will can't help but to chance a glance up at him. He can tell from his creased brows that Mike's working through something, but, unless Will's imagining it, there's also a slight smile on his face.

"You're scared of losing me? You need me?"

"Yes, Mike. All those things and-"

"-and more?" Mike asks, hopefully.

"Yeah. And more."

Mike moves closer, resting a gentle hand on Will's cheek, the side of his face which is less injured, and wipes at his tears. Then his gaze drops and Will knows what he's about to do. And even though he keeps telling Mike he can't kiss him just to make him feel better, this time he really wishes he would.

But there are still things Mike doesn't know and so Will drops his head, taking Mike's hand and gently moving it from his face.

Mike looks down at their hands, still joined together despite Will stalling his advances.

"I don't understand," Mike says. His voice breaks on the final syllable. "I thought…" He breaks off, looking away from Will, frowning, his shoulders sagging. "I thought you liked me."

"I do," Will whispers.

"Then why won't you let me kiss you?"

Will can't help but notice Mike's volume dropped to match his own.

"I- I do like you too, Will." Mike says.

Will feels tears spring to his eyes at the relief of hearing the words he'd wanted to hear for so long. Of being so close and yet so far. "I want to," he says. A lone tear trickles down his cheek, in the exact spot where Mike's hand had been just seconds ago. "But there's something you need to know."

Mike looks half dejected, half hopeful. "Go on."

"What he showed me, what El and I saw when she went inside my head… the visions of me- me hurting everyone. We didn't tell you everything."

"What?"

"Just hear me out. Please." Will takes a deep breath. "He kept showing us too. Me and you. Like, it was all weaved in together… everyone dying and then us making out in your room."

"Making out?"

"It has to mean something. It felt like… that was part of it. As if us doing that led to all the other things he made me do."

"That makes no sense."

"I just thought it was some kind of sign."

"Will, Vecna's dead. Whatever he showed you, it doesn't matter anymore!"

"But why did he show it?"

Mike shrugs. "To fuck you up some more? To put you in a bad place so he could keep hold of you?"

Will sighs. "I guess."

"You don't believe me?"

"No, it's not that. It's just… I know Vecna's dead. I do know that. I trust El and besides, I can feel the difference. It's just I can't seem to shake those memories of what he showed us."

Mike gives his hand a quick squeeze. "It's just the trauma, Will," he says gently.

"Yeah, that's what Owens said right before the mindflayer got me."

"That's different."

Will shakes his head, frowning at himself. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just… I'm so sick of that word. Trauma. I'm sick of having trauma."

Mike nods. "I get it. You know what my nightmare was about?"

"No?"

"It was about you," Mike says. "About that time with the mindflayer when we had to tie you up and try to bring you back a bit with memories."

Will shudders at the reminder.

"Except it was you now, not then, and El was there and Dustin and Lucas. And I just somehow knew that the only way to bring you back, to free you from Vecna, was to tell you the truth about how I felt about you. But every time I tried, a vine would get me. And no-one seemed to notice, not even El, and they kept getting tighter and tighter and then you were, like, having a seizure or something and Vecna was taking control of you and I couldn't do anything to help. I couldn't save you."

Will rubs at Mike's arm. "I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have to be sorry, you just have to understand… we all have this- this bullshit inside our heads, memories and- sorry, but yes, trauma too. But I just told you how I feel and no vines attacked me and you haven't got possessed. What I'm trying to say is… we can move on from this. We can and we will and we have to, Will, because things have been so crazy for so long and we deserve to finally be happy. You deserve to be happy."

Will doesn't know whether to cry or smile. There's an aching inside his chest. He doesn't have the words so instead moves forwards and joins his lips with Mike's.

He hears a sharp intake of breath but then Mike is on him, kissing him back. It's almost a little too firm, at first, as though Mike's still trying to prove that he really does want to do this. Will's hand falls onto Mike's jaw, gently stroking it with his thumb and the force of the kisses ease. It's then he begins to take it all in, how Mike's lips feel both chapped and soft, how he still smells like the mint of toothpaste and how their lips seem to fit perfectly together. He wonders how something entirely new and weird can feel so familiar, like they've been doing this for years.

With each kiss, his confidence grows. His hand moves of its own accord, from the side of Mike's face to the back of his head, letting his fingers tangle in surprisingly soft hair. Their kisses speed up and a noise escapes Will's mouth, half way between a sigh and a moan. He feels himself flush with embarrassment, but then Mike responds, breathing Will against his lips, and Will feels the vibration and it sends a shiver right down his spine.

They pull away, breathing heavily, staring at each other, wide-eyed and with uncertain half smiles. Through the darkness, Will spots a glisten of dampness on Mike's cheek. As he goes to wipe it away, Mike's fingers brush at his cheeks too and Will realises he's also succumbed to tears of relief. The ridiculousness of the situation catches up with him. He's just kissed his best friend, just done the thing he's wanted to for so many years, and yet he's crying. It makes so little sense that he laughs. Mike seems to follow his train of thought and laughs too, stretching an arm around his neck and pulling him back in for another kiss.