[He closes the door behind him - habit, another blessed trace of the last two years - and crosses the few feet to the bed, and then he's climbing up and collapsing against Will's tiny, shivering frame, and he doesn't even care if he's got it wrong, if he's misread something in his best friend's eyes and this is the wrong version, because he's okay. They're both okay.]
I- [It's muffled against hair still damp with sweat, and Mike pulls back, but the words are lost already, swept away in a crash of incredible, beautiful relief. Will's face, pale and exhausted but unscarred, unweathered, swamped by pillows that still smell like they used to, looking up with so much hope and joy and love that it must be true. Mike must be right.
Before he can ask, there's a clamor in the hallway, their friends swarming and buzzing and asking why they can't go in, why they closed the door. For a second Mike freezes, waiting for the turn of a knob, but - thank fuck - Mrs. Byers ushers them away with soft words ("Give them a few minutes, okay? They both had a long couple days.") until the rest of the house is just white noise in the background.
Then, Mike turns back and asks, barely above a whisper:] What- what do you remember?
No, wait, come back. [It comes out sad and a little pathetic as Mike pulls away, and Will lifts an arm, reaching out weakly. He's trying to use muscles that simply don't exist anymore -- he'd never realized how much fighting and running for his life had resulted in him getting stronger. His reach is off too, counting on a few more inches of arm length that's also vanished.
Frowning, he tries to push himself upright, hissing softly as that pulls at his burned side. Nancy had bandaged it as best as she could, apologizing all the while, but moving has it firing up with a dull ache again. Giving up, Will just reaches out again, bruises ink-dark around his wrists. Like they were when he first arrived in Deerington.]
Everything. I remember everything. [He says it, tremulous and stunned and awed, then again:] Come back.
[The panicked strain in Will's voice feels like a punch to the stomach, and Mike quickly curls back against him, one arm wrapped around a chest that wasn't this small, this fragile, a mere hour ago. Beneath a distantly familiar shirt, Will's heart beats steady and frantic, and it's wonderful. It's like waking up on Christmas morning.]
I'm here. I'm right here, okay?
[He toes off his filthy sneakers, letting them drop to the carpet, and wrestles the goggles out of his (soft, short) hair with his free hand. Then, with an exhale that trembles from relief, he slots his face into the crook of Will's neck, nose (straight, unbroken) under jaw, the same way he has every night for a year and a half, the same way he did this morning as Mrs. Byers cooked their last breakfast in the Castle Road kitchen. Five more minutes, and then five more, until it was finally time to let go of each other
Except... except-]
I'm not going anywhere. [A quick pause.] Not 'til tomorrow, at least.
[Tomorrow, when he's going to ride his bike - his old bike - home, and see his parents for the first time in more than two years. Nearly two and a half, now. Just the knowledge that his mom is right across town puts an unexpected ache in his chest, one that nearly wells up into tears.]
[Only an hour -- maybe, barely -- but Will is still shivering all over with the relief of having Mike cuddled to his side again. Even younger and smaller, he fits just right, and that feels the most like home out of anything so far. He'd been so ready, he thought, first to forget and then to be the only one who remembered. But like this, mustering up all the strength in his scrawny arms to hold onto Mike and bury his face against his hair, Will knows for a fact that it would've killed him. Losing the memories would've been nothing to being the only one remembering.
He's exhausted, and Mike smells like dank tunnel dirt and smoke, but Will could so easily fall asleep right there, unafraid of what he might wake up to. It's okay, Mike's there, he's safe, just like at home--
Out in the hall, someone walks by, doesn't even stop by the door, and Will remembers where they are. An old, dormant instinct wakes up again, and for the first time in two years, he pulls away from Mike's touch.]
You -- your mom. You have to see her. [It's sort of a diversion, because the old fear is rising up again, and Will's blissful happiness is draining away in the face of it. It takes him a moment to figure out how to say it, how to be gentle, but honest.] And we...have to start...being careful. A-And decide what we. What you want to do.
[Because when it comes down to it, Mike is the one with the burden of changing the course of the next year. Will's life wouldn't change much, not externally, but Mike's absolutely would. He can either live out what they've heard happens, or decide to sneak around, living a secret, until they can figure out who is and isn't safe. It's...not a choice Will envies.]
[Mike blinks, confused at first, and then solemn. He drops his head to the pillow, vaguely aware he's getting the linens dirty but too distracted to care. Only one thought in the world matters, and it's contained between the two of them in the glow of the bedside lamp.]
... Do about what? [A bit slow on the uptake, but the gears are working behind tired, wild, adoring eyes.] I don't- I'm not gonna date El, if that's what-
[His tongue fumbles, certainty faltering, not about his wants but about Will's. Something anxious and fretful starts to stir in his chest, right where that reserve of fear always lies in wait.]
You- I still want to be your- boyfriend. [His voice drops on the last word, barely over a hoarse breath.] Even if it's a secret again.
[Will lies down too, head resting on the pillow, almost nose-to-nose with Mike. Realistically it's not any less close than they were before, but this way he can roll away easily if someone barges in. He can also reach out, take Mike's hand -- the one he's used to having fewer fingers, accustomed to the feel of scar tissue against his knuckles every time he reaches out. It's smaller too, and the fragility of it is scary in a way that makes Will want to wrap Mike up in blankets and safety for the rest of time.
The stammering, stubborn words get another of those brilliant, smitten smiles from Will, and he nudges forward to bump their foreheads together.] I do too. Of course I do. But... [A frown, now, and he looks down at their hands.] But we have to figure out how to be safe. If something...bad happens here, we aren't just gonna wake up in a week.
...plus we have to figure out how to tell El in a way that doesn't make her sad. [Will's very firm on this fact. It's never been about "winning", or hurting El. Especially not now that he's gotten a chance (in Deerington, but still) to actually get to know her.] And what to tell the rest of the guys, and how to be careful and keep it secret and -- how to fix things and save everyone too. [He breaks off in a yawn, covering it with his free hand and repeating, in a voice of wonder:] We can fix it. We can save everyone.
[It's... a lot. More than a lot. For all they know about the next year, it stretches out like a chasm in front of them now, full of pitfalls and mistakes. A treacherous story without a narrator, where every choice could be linked to the ending Steve described. Or rather, the one Billy did, once Mike finally found someone willing to give him the whole, awful truth.
But it's more than just the mall, and the monster made of people-sludge. That's the part Mike anticipated, the part he knew he'd be facing. Navigating the rest of it had fallen to the wayside, behind the certainty that his memories would be wiped clear. There was never a sure path where he got to keep this part of himself, and now that he has it... he feels paralyzed by its weight.
So, he tables it, at least until the morning.]
Maybe we could stop Billy getting possessed at all. [A long shot, but it's been a night for miracles. Why not suggest another one?] I should've asked him more questions.
[Will nods emphatically-- well, he tries, but his weaker, smaller muscles have been through enough tonight, and all he manages is a slight shift down, then up.]
We'll have to watch him. He never told me how it happened, but we know it's in July, right? So we have some time to plan. [Another of those big, jaw-creaking yawns, one Will doesn't bother to cover.] Lots and lots of time.
[Reminding himself of this helps, and Will let's himself relax, pulls Mike's healed, whole hand to his chest and holds onto it tight.] ...you remember everything too. Right?
[Mike tucks himself in close - a less arduous puzzle than normal, with his limbs about half the size he's used to - and laces his fingers through Will's. His own exhaustion is lagging a ways behind, still too caught up in adrenaline, but he'll lay here and keep watch if Will wants to nod off. Warn away loud visitors, if nothing else.]
Everything. [From the second he awoke in that town, alone and terrified, to the last step he took through the lighthouse door.] I'm gonna write it all down, tomorrow. The important stuff, at least. In case it goes away.
You're a good writer. [Will says this emphatically, like he's mid-argument with someone about it. He isn't, he's just tired. His whole body is exhausted, like he's been wrung out. He shifts closer, realizing that a room-sized blanket fort is much more conducive to cuddling than a single-sized bed. He wonders if he'll wake up when Mike goes. He wonders if it'll take a long time to get back to sleep.]
It won't go away. [His eyes are closed now, just for a second. Just a second.] It can't. It's never stayed this long before. [A pause, then Will forces his eyes open, sleepy and bleary, but intently fixed on Mike.] If I forget, you have to remind me. You have to. Okay?
[Well, that's assuming someone actually manages to get Mike to leave, which won't be an easy task. As anxious as he is to see his parents, that will only be after Nancy has to physically drag him out of Will's bed and halfway across town.]
I'll tell you every single day, if I have to. Like that stupid movie from the future that Steve liked.
[That gets a sleepy snort of a laugh.] If you're a boat I'm a boat. Or something. Right?
[He's quiet for a moment, almost long enough to have fallen asleep, then his eyes open again and he bumps his nose against Mike's.] Bird. If you're a bird I'm a bird. [Stupid movie. Nonsensical, sad when it didn't need to be. But he'd liked that part.]
[Mike gives a snorting, sputtering laugh, one that rattles into life and fills up his whole chest, shaking the both of them. He hears Mrs. Byers usher someone else away from the door and wonders again if she knows - and if she knows - but it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters. They get to keep each other. Whatever happens after this, they're going to face it together.]
I'll write down all the movie endings I remember, too. We can pretend we're psychic.
Shhhhhh, don't be so noisy. [Will says it around a giggle that makes his sore muscles ache, one he has to bury against his pillow. It hurts to laugh, but the giddiness in his chest can't be stifled. They did it. They're back and together and they did it.]
Spoil the endings of all the movies. Dustin will be so mad.
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[He closes the door behind him - habit, another blessed trace of the last two years - and crosses the few feet to the bed, and then he's climbing up and collapsing against Will's tiny, shivering frame, and he doesn't even care if he's got it wrong, if he's misread something in his best friend's eyes and this is the wrong version, because he's okay. They're both okay.]
I- [It's muffled against hair still damp with sweat, and Mike pulls back, but the words are lost already, swept away in a crash of incredible, beautiful relief. Will's face, pale and exhausted but unscarred, unweathered, swamped by pillows that still smell like they used to, looking up with so much hope and joy and love that it must be true. Mike must be right.
Before he can ask, there's a clamor in the hallway, their friends swarming and buzzing and asking why they can't go in, why they closed the door. For a second Mike freezes, waiting for the turn of a knob, but - thank fuck - Mrs. Byers ushers them away with soft words ("Give them a few minutes, okay? They both had a long couple days.") until the rest of the house is just white noise in the background.
Then, Mike turns back and asks, barely above a whisper:] What- what do you remember?
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Frowning, he tries to push himself upright, hissing softly as that pulls at his burned side. Nancy had bandaged it as best as she could, apologizing all the while, but moving has it firing up with a dull ache again. Giving up, Will just reaches out again, bruises ink-dark around his wrists. Like they were when he first arrived in Deerington.]
Everything. I remember everything. [He says it, tremulous and stunned and awed, then again:] Come back.
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I'm here. I'm right here, okay?
[He toes off his filthy sneakers, letting them drop to the carpet, and wrestles the goggles out of his (soft, short) hair with his free hand. Then, with an exhale that trembles from relief, he slots his face into the crook of Will's neck, nose (straight, unbroken) under jaw, the same way he has every night for a year and a half, the same way he did this morning as Mrs. Byers cooked their last breakfast in the Castle Road kitchen. Five more minutes, and then five more, until it was finally time to let go of each other
Except... except-]
I'm not going anywhere. [A quick pause.] Not 'til tomorrow, at least.
[Tomorrow, when he's going to ride his bike - his old bike - home, and see his parents for the first time in more than two years. Nearly two and a half, now. Just the knowledge that his mom is right across town puts an unexpected ache in his chest, one that nearly wells up into tears.]
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He's exhausted, and Mike smells like dank tunnel dirt and smoke, but Will could so easily fall asleep right there, unafraid of what he might wake up to. It's okay, Mike's there, he's safe, just like at home--
Out in the hall, someone walks by, doesn't even stop by the door, and Will remembers where they are. An old, dormant instinct wakes up again, and for the first time in two years, he pulls away from Mike's touch.]
You -- your mom. You have to see her. [It's sort of a diversion, because the old fear is rising up again, and Will's blissful happiness is draining away in the face of it. It takes him a moment to figure out how to say it, how to be gentle, but honest.] And we...have to start...being careful. A-And decide what we. What you want to do.
[Because when it comes down to it, Mike is the one with the burden of changing the course of the next year. Will's life wouldn't change much, not externally, but Mike's absolutely would. He can either live out what they've heard happens, or decide to sneak around, living a secret, until they can figure out who is and isn't safe. It's...not a choice Will envies.]
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... Do about what? [A bit slow on the uptake, but the gears are working behind tired, wild, adoring eyes.] I don't- I'm not gonna date El, if that's what-
[His tongue fumbles, certainty faltering, not about his wants but about Will's. Something anxious and fretful starts to stir in his chest, right where that reserve of fear always lies in wait.]
You- I still want to be your- boyfriend. [His voice drops on the last word, barely over a hoarse breath.] Even if it's a secret again.
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The stammering, stubborn words get another of those brilliant, smitten smiles from Will, and he nudges forward to bump their foreheads together.] I do too. Of course I do. But... [A frown, now, and he looks down at their hands.] But we have to figure out how to be safe. If something...bad happens here, we aren't just gonna wake up in a week.
...plus we have to figure out how to tell El in a way that doesn't make her sad. [Will's very firm on this fact. It's never been about "winning", or hurting El. Especially not now that he's gotten a chance (in Deerington, but still) to actually get to know her.] And what to tell the rest of the guys, and how to be careful and keep it secret and -- how to fix things and save everyone too. [He breaks off in a yawn, covering it with his free hand and repeating, in a voice of wonder:] We can fix it. We can save everyone.
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But it's more than just the mall, and the monster made of people-sludge. That's the part Mike anticipated, the part he knew he'd be facing. Navigating the rest of it had fallen to the wayside, behind the certainty that his memories would be wiped clear. There was never a sure path where he got to keep this part of himself, and now that he has it... he feels paralyzed by its weight.
So, he tables it, at least until the morning.]
Maybe we could stop Billy getting possessed at all. [A long shot, but it's been a night for miracles. Why not suggest another one?] I should've asked him more questions.
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We'll have to watch him. He never told me how it happened, but we know it's in July, right? So we have some time to plan. [Another of those big, jaw-creaking yawns, one Will doesn't bother to cover.] Lots and lots of time.
[Reminding himself of this helps, and Will let's himself relax, pulls Mike's healed, whole hand to his chest and holds onto it tight.] ...you remember everything too. Right?
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Everything. [From the second he awoke in that town, alone and terrified, to the last step he took through the lighthouse door.] I'm gonna write it all down, tomorrow. The important stuff, at least. In case it goes away.
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It won't go away. [His eyes are closed now, just for a second. Just a second.] It can't. It's never stayed this long before. [A pause, then Will forces his eyes open, sleepy and bleary, but intently fixed on Mike.] If I forget, you have to remind me. You have to. Okay?
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I'll tell you every single day, if I have to. Like that stupid movie from the future that Steve liked.
[He means The Notebook. We're going there.]
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[He's quiet for a moment, almost long enough to have fallen asleep, then his eyes open again and he bumps his nose against Mike's.] Bird. If you're a bird I'm a bird. [Stupid movie. Nonsensical, sad when it didn't need to be. But he'd liked that part.]
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I'll write down all the movie endings I remember, too. We can pretend we're psychic.
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Spoil the endings of all the movies. Dustin will be so mad.