Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Mike Wheeler’s ten-year-old son arrived in Hawkins looking every inch his father. They could have been twins if they were the same age; he looked as though somebody had recreated Mike but with deliberate mistakes. His hair was slightly lighter, he was shorter in stature and had a rounder face, but in the barest sense of the word they were identical.

Joyce took control of the situation first. It was hardly the strangest thing that had ever happened to them—Will simply added time-travelling children to his long list of fictional things that, as it turned out, were not so fictional after all—and the adults handled it from there.

Though it was not immediately obvious who the child’s other parent was, they deduced fairly quickly that it had to be El. The boy knew every person in their party with a fond recognition, and though he was unfamiliar to them, everybody warmed towards him inexplicably quickly. It only made sense that his mother was somebody they all knew.

For this reason, however, Joyce decided that Mike and El should not speak to their son, in case they altered their own lives by accidentally hearing something that hadn’t happened yet. It seemed a logical decision to make, and Mike and El agreed (though they looked slightly disconcerted); but this then led to the boy latching on to somebody else in their place — someone he clearly knew well, and who he wasn’t afraid of.

Will first noticed him on the morning after his arrival. The boy had been instructed to sleep with El and Hopper in Hopper’s old cabin; so when Will turned up the following day to help with renovations, he felt oddly trapped being stuck in a house with him.

He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut at the mere thought of the boy nearby, convincing himself he was happy for his friends as he sat on the wood panelled floor in Hopper’s living room, sorting through a pile of jigsaw puzzles just to give himself something to do.

There was a rustling sound behind him. So quiet that he might not have noticed — only with all that he’d been through, he had developed an alertness that followed him everywhere like a constant shadow. He glanced out of the corner of his eye.

A figure-like shape lurked at the door to El’s old bedroom. Not quite showing itself, but not far enough into the bedroom that it could feasibly be an accident. It was almost as if — it looked like the boy was hiding. Still as a statue, just watching Will as he rifled through boxes.

“I can see you, you know,” said Will, careful to keep anything accusatory from his voice, “You don’t have to be scared.”

The door swung all the way open. The boy appeared at once beside Will, standing with his arms crossed and a frown creasing his brow.

“I’m not scared,” he said resolutely, and suddenly Will could not fight a smile creeping its way across his face. It was exactly what Mike would have said.

“Of course you’re not,” said Will, trying to keep the fondness from his voice. He looked back down at his jigsaws to avoid meeting brown eyes. The boy did not say anything for several seconds, and Will was beginning to feel awkward — what did he normally do with his face? How was he supposed to hold it?

“You’re Will Byers, aren’t you?” said the boy, surprising Will into looking up again.

Will nodded, “Yeah, I am. I suppose you know me then, in your time?”

The boy’s face contorted inexplicably, “Um — yeah. Sort of.”

Will frowned at the reaction, then a terrible, awful thought hit him, and he let out a quiet gasp. “I’m not — I’m not mean to you when I’m older, am I?” he said worriedly.

The boy’s face relaxed in surprise, and he let out a laugh, “Mean to me?” he said, “Of course you’re not mean to me! You’re not mean to anyone.”

Will relaxed at once, “Oh, okay, well—“

“Actually, I think you should be a bit meaner sometimes,” he continued thoughtfully, sitting down boldly next to Will, apparently deciding that Will would be decent company if he could not be with his actual parents, “Especially to Dad. He’s so annoying and you hardly ever get mad at him for it.”

Will laughed, though his stomach flipped unpleasantly. That did not suggest that he had gotten over Mike when he was older, but he hoped he was just reading into it too much. He supposed he was never really mean to Mike anyway, even before the whole awkward crush developed. It could just be because of that.

“What’s your name, then?” said Will, hoping to steer the conversation into safer waters, “Or has my mom told you not to tell any of us?”

“She did tell me not to tell anyone, but my name’s Hugo,” said Hugo, and Will snorted — it would also be very typical of Mike and El to ignore instructions. He wondered subliminally what they were like as adults, if their son had already picked up their habit of disobeying authority. “Anyways,” continued Hugo, “it’s not like you’ll tell her I told you, and if we’re hanging out then you’ll need to call me something.”

Will raised an eyebrow, “How do you know I won’t tell her?”

Hugo shot him a betrayed look, brown eyes widening, “You wouldn’t!”

Will hummed thoughtfully, feigning an expression of consideration, “Hmm… I don’t know…” he said as he fought back a laugh at Hugo’s horrified face, “It does seem pretty dangerous to mess around with time…”

“Don’t tell her!” begged Hugo, gripping Will’s sleeve, “Grandma is the—“ he stopped suddenly, eyes widening as he glanced worriedly at Will.

Will blinked in surprise.

“Grandma?” he repeated, puzzled, “My mom is your Grandma?”

Hugo blanched. “Um — well—“

“Wait, does — does Hopper marry my mom?” he said incredulously. Although really, now that he’d thought about it, he wasn’t that surprised. She did go all the way to Russia for him.

“Oh! Uh — yeah,” said Hugo, looking strangely relieved. “I mean — I know you shouldn’t know that, but everyone says they saw it coming for years before it happened so really—“

“It’s fine,” said Will, smiling, putting an end to Hugo’s worried rambling, “I’m glad she’s happy.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, and Hugo shuffled forward so that he could help Will decide which jigsaws were still in good enough condition to keep. The sun was high in the sky by the time they finished, and judging by the sounds outside, some of the other party members had turned up.

Will glanced at the door, trying vainly to hear the voices mingling together just beyond it. Suddenly, Hugo sat up very straight. The front door opened with a creak to reveal a tall figure standing in the doorway, with dark hair and tired eyes.

“Oh,” said Mike, looking surprised to find them sitting there, “Um — I’ll just…” he glanced nervously at Will, then at Hugo, who was watching him with an expression of great interest; like he was hoping Mike would come and join them.

“Is my mom out there?” said Will.

Mike blinked. He shot a cursory glance over his shoulder, then turned to face them again, “No, and neither is Hopper. I think they’re with Jonathan and Nancy at my house.”

Sensing the unspoken question, Will nodded and patted the ground beside them, “Come sit. Where’s El?”

Mike walked over and took his own place on the floor, watching Hugo with a sort of wary indecision as he crossed his legs and brushed Will’s knee with his own. Hugo, blatantly uncaring of Mike’s discomfort, was staring at him like he was something beautiful and impossible, impenetrably out of reach — Will had a sharp, pathetic moment of sympathy.

“Not here,” said Mike with a sigh, “I haven’t seen her that much actually, since we got back. And I’m not sure all this time-travel stuff has helped—“ Mike paled, then glanced worriedly at Hugo, “I mean — it’s not that she’s — we’re good, and everything. Me and her. It’s just a bit…” he trailed off lamely.

“Oh, it’s fine,” said Hugo brightly, not the least bit perturbed by the suggestion that his parents’ relationship was not as good as it should be, “I get it. It’s probably pretty weird for you, what with me being here.”

Mike relaxed at once, calming down once he realised that Hugo would not be bursting into tears anytime soon over his and El’s stilted relationship status. Will couldn’t blame El for steering clear of Hugo — she and Mike had just gone through several ups and downs in their relationship, even without the curveball of a supposed future child thrown into the mix. He doubted he would have wanted to be around him either if he were in her situation.

“It’s okay,” said Mike, “I mean, now that Hopper and Will’s mom aren’t here, you can tell us some stuff about what happens, right? Does everyone in our party stay friends? Do we kill Vecna?”

Hugo blinked up at him, then glanced at Will as if asking for his permission to answer. Will shrugged, “I’m not going to tell them,” he said — as if he had any authority over what Hugo was allowed to do.

Hugo jumped into his response at once. “You do kill Vecna,” he said eagerly, “It’s something to do with you—“ he looked at Will, “—and El and a lot of fire and powers and things but nobody has told me the whole story yet. They said I needed to wait until I was older, because it’s ‘scary’.”

He rolled his eyes at the last part of the sentence, and Will shared a private grin with Mike, who — he realised with a start — looked more carefree than Will had seen him in a very long time.

“That’s okay, as long as we defeated him it doesn’t really matter how we did it. That’s awesome — and the party?” prompted Mike.

Hugo stared between them, a curious look on his face, “I think it would be spoilers if I told you,” he said quietly.

Will snorted, then crossed his legs and settled back against the bookshelf behind him, “That would be spoilers, but everything else you’ve said isn’t?” he asked sardonically.

Hugo straightened, shooting him an important sort of look, “Well, this stuff is more spoilery than finding out you kill Vecna and that Hopper marries Grandma. Anyone could’ve predicted that.”

Mike raised his eyebrows, “Hopper marries Will’s mom?”

“What do you mean ‘more’ spoilery?” said Will, ignoring Mike’s question, “Is it like — do some of us stop being friends? Or does somebody break up? Max and Lucas… they’re still together, aren’t they?”

Mike looked suddenly worried by this suggestion, but to their relief, Hugo nodded. “Lucas and Max are still together. They come ‘round for dinner quite a lot, and both of you always get so drunk because Lucas brings too much wine.”

Will blinked in surprise.

“I come around too?” he said curiously, “Or… I mean — are we still a group? Do I…” Will trailed off, not entirely sure what he was asking.

Hugo froze.

“Um — yeah. You come around,” he squeaked, “We see — uh — well, everyone comes around quite a lot. But you’re friends with Lucas and Max, so you kind of come together.”

“Is Will married to someone?” asked Mike abruptly, surprising them both.

A pit formed in Will’s stomach, and he hoped Hugo wouldn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the truth to be, but he knew with certainty that it would disappoint him no matter what it was. A choice between an unhappy and loveless marriage, or a long life of loneliness? He wished Mike had never asked the question in the first place.

Hugo, however, looked giddy at this question as he nodded with renewed vigour.

Mike’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he looked suddenly pale, “What?”

Will shot him a raised brow, “Is it really that surprising?” he said, trying to ignore the helpless swoop of sadness in his chest at Hugo’s words.

“What? No! I mean — I just meant—“ said Mike, struggling with the words, “I… I mean… who is it?” he turned back to Hugo, “Can we know their name? It might be somebody we know already.”

Will frowned, “I hope it’s not,” he said, “I don’t like anybody we know enough to marry them — except our friends, obviously, but that’s different.”

Hugo, if it was even possible, looked somehow immensely more excited by these words, “I can’t tell you who it is,” he giggled, “That’s a really big spoiler.”

Will had no idea what Hugo was even talking about now, but Mike was undeterred. Apparently the knowledge that Will’s future partner was a ‘spoiler’ — meaning it probably was somebody they had already met — had given him a new sense of determination.

“Is it someone we knew in middle school? Or did Will meet her in California? Or — or does he get a job, and then meet somebody at work? Is she nice? How old is she? Have you met her?” he asked, so quickly that Will could not be sure he had even heard every question.

Hugo appeared almost hysterical by this point, as tears had formed in his eyes and it looked to Will as though he was holding his breath to keep himself from laughing. Will did not understand what was so funny.

“Yes. No. No. Sometimes. The same age as you both are, and yes, obviously I have,” Hugo said calmly, having gotten control of himself enough to answer.

Mike stared, eyes locked on Hugo, “It is someone we knew in middle school?”

Hugo raised an eyebrow, and Will thought warmly that he might have actually picked up that habit from his older self — it certainly looked the same as when Will did it.

“Yes, it’s someone from your middle school,” he said airily, “Anyway, can we talk about something else now? I’m not going to tell you who it is, and this is getting a bit boring for me.”

Despite his words, Hugo looked anything but bored, and Mike seemed extremely disappointed by this suggestion. Feeling quite conflicted about the news himself, Will decided to change the subject.

“What about you, then?” he asked Hugo, and Hugo blinked up at him curiously, “What’s your life like at home?”

Hugo pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them loosely.

“Oh, I don’t know, really. I’m not supposed to tell you, am I?”

Mike leaned back on his haunches and put his hands down flat on the floor, “Come on,” he said, nudging Hugo’s elbow, “We already know almost everything. How about school, or Hawkins? Are things different now than they are in… um, when are you from, again?”

Hugo blinked. “I was born in 1998.”

Will nearly choked, “What?” he glanced at Mike, whose eyes were very wide, “That’s — I mean—“

He wasn’t sure if Mike would appreciate him saying ‘that’s really soon’ because he didn’t seem all that excited by the prospect.

“What?” said Hugo, his little face pinched in a frown.

“Nothing,” said Will hurriedly, “So yeah, how’s your life in…” Will counted up in his head, “2008? God, that’s weird to think about.”

Hugo grinned. “It’s good,” he said, “Things have improved, mostly. Except the fashion. It’s sort of weird being back here, when everyone’s dressed like it’s some retro party,” he glanced at Mike, “Even you get a bit more style when you’re older.”

Mike spluttered in outrage at this, “I’m stylish now!”

“Right,” said Hugo disbelievingly, and Will had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“What else?” he prompted, and Hugo rested his head on his knees, brows drawn in as he thought.

“Um, Dustin is a scientist, but you probably could’ve figured that out yourselves—“ Mike and Will grinned at each other, “Lucas is pretty cool. He’s a firefighter, I think, or something big and important like that, he doesn’t really talk about it.” Will exchanged an amused glance with Mike. Lucas almost certainly wasn’t a firefighter, but little Hugo probably knew very few professions. “Oh, and you’re an artist.”

He looked at Will, and Will’s heart suddenly began rabbiting with excitement. “Really?” he said, “I’m an artist full time?”

Hugo nodded. “You’re really good, too. Your paintings sell for loads.”

Will could have cried with relief. This small tidbit of information suddenly seemed like a beautiful, glistening silver lining in what was otherwise a rather dull future. Mike leaned back again beside him and let out a low whistle.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, and Will turned to meet his eyes. Mike smiled warmly. “Your paintings are amazing.”

Will flushed pink with embarrassment, “They’re not that good—“

“—Yeah, they are!” Mike insisted, brightening, then he turned to Hugo, who was watching their exchange with wide eyes. “If you think he’s good in your time, you haven’t even seen what he can do already. He made me the most incredible painting last spring—“

“It was nothing,” said Will hurriedly, hoping to move the topic onwards, lest Hugo ask further and he need explain what that painting had truly meant.

“That’s cool,” said Hugo, but he didn’t seem very interested in the supposed incredible painting. Instead, he was looking back and forth between Mike and Will as though he was trying to puzzle out a problem between them.

At that moment, the door to the cabin swung suddenly open with a bang, causing all three of them to jolt with surprise. Nancy appeared in the doorway, looking thunderous.

“Mike,” she said sternly, and Mike blanched.

“Oh shit,” he muttered.

“You explicitly agreed to learn how to shoot today, Jonathan heard it. I can go and get him if you need a witness—“

“No, okay, I’m coming!” said Mike, getting up and usurping a pile of jigsaws in the process. He shot a cursory glance back at Hugo, then Will, who raised an eyebrow, before offering a reluctant shrug and following an irritable Nancy out the door.

Nancy shut it with a slam behind him, and once again, Will and Hugo were alone.

Will wasn’t really sure what to say, now that Mike was gone. He’d thought he knew how to handle Hugo earlier, but it suddenly seemed all very confusing and easy to fumble, with Hugo always watching him with that wide-eyed stare of his, exactly like Mike had been at his age. So endlessly curious. Always thinking and connecting and calculating.

It was almost hurtful how similar they were. Will tried everything to avoid it but he couldn’t help drawing comparisons in his mind. Hugo’s face, his pointed features and rounded jaw, the deep brown of his eyes, the way he carried himself and the way he spoke. Only his hair was a little different than Mike’s; lighter, maybe, and smoother.

Mike’s hair was a dark, black-ish coal colour, and it would curl at the nape and behind his ears. Hugo’s hair grew straight, sleek and brown. Like the coat of a rabbit.

“What about your life?” Hugo asked eventually, voice quiet like it hadn’t been with Mike, and Will wondered if he was nervous now that his dad was gone or just calmer with only Will to hear him.

“What about it?” said Will, “You must know everything already.”

Hugo dropped his legs and crossed them, pulling a blanket off the couch nearby and draping it over his shoulders like a cape. He looked suddenly much younger than he was, and Will’s heart ached.

“Not really,” he said, “you don’t talk about your childhood much — or,” he waved a hand vaguely, “teenager-hood.”

“Adolescence,” Will corrected, feeling a surge of affection for him.

Hugo smiled and said, “Yeah, that. You don’t mention it that often — but I guess I haven’t really asked either. So…”

He looked up at Will inquiringly, and Will let out a heavy sigh, averting his eyes, “I don’t know what I should tell you,” he said, “It’s pretty… complicated.”

Hugo laughed, “You could say that. What with the inter-dimensional monsters, and everything.”

Will smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “Yeah, but there’s more than that — it’s just difficult, I guess, being a teenager,” he glanced down to find Hugo watching him again, he sucked in a breath, “you never seem to know what anyone’s thinking, or how they really feel. It gets confusing.”

“Do you know what my dad is thinking?” Hugo asked, and Will stared at him in surprise.

“Mike?” he asked, and Hugo nodded. Will laughed, “No. Definitely not — I think I understand him least of all, if I’m honest.”

Hugo looked equally surprised by this, and Will hurried to correct himself, “Not that there’s anything up with him,” he said, “or — or with me, it’s — things are different than they used to be, between us. It’s not wrong, necessarily, it’s just—“

“—different,” Hugo finished for him, an almost vacant look in his eyes. “Is that a bad thing?” he said, “I mean, you’re still close aren’t you? You are when you’re older. Really close. Maybe different is good.”

Will’s heart thudded erratically at Hugo’s words, and he wasn’t sure if he felt good or bad about the confirmation of that fact. He and Mike were still friends in the future, and, by the sound of it, closer than ever. That did not bode well for his happy-and-not-loveless-marriage prospects.

“I — I don’t know,” he said, and Hugo looked suddenly uncertain. Will glanced at him. It felt like he had bared his soul, like Hugo could somehow see what he really was, and suddenly Will couldn’t take it any longer. He rose abruptly, upsetting the pile of jigsaws just as Mike had done.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a rush, “I just need a bit of air.”

He tripped on his way to the door, and Hugo watched his retreating back until he stepped outside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Mike and Nancy were standing a few feet away, absorbed in what looked like a very unsuccessful attempt to teach Mike how to use a projectile weapon. Will didn’t particularly want to speak with them, either, and so he took the hammer Hopper had left on the porch some days earlier and resorted to fixing the few broken planks on the outskirts of the cabin.

It was fairly easy work, the hammer loose and not too heavy in his hands, but it didn’t last very long. Most of the cabin was only ruined from the inside — but inside there was Hugo, and those insightful eyes of his like he knew exactly what Will was thinking. Will couldn’t go back in there.

And so, he hammered pointlessly at any nail he could see, until the clouds rolled overhead and the light in the cabin suddenly flickered on, bathing him in yellow. He eventually took a break on the porch, rolling the hammer between his hands, trying to think of anything but Hugo’s words.

A calm, comfortable quiet had settled over the forest, with a a thin mist hanging in the air. The trees swayed darkly in the wind, their tallest branches only just visible through the fog, and the foliage was long and damp beneath Will’s feet as he ran them through it rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth.

Mike was still standing beside Nancy between the trees, his posture pulled taught as she talked him through how to shoot a rifle. Her arms were on his back, twisting him into the correct position, muttering something scathing in his ear that had him snapping back at her irritably. Will watched him move, the sharp line of his jaw, the jut of his wrist against gunmetal, the shape of him silhouetted against the sun.

He was like something out of a museum. His body cast different in the faded light, like he changed with the hour, and Will imagined running his hands across his waist, holding his hips, his face, feeling the warm press of his skin, the softness of his mouth—

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” said a voice from behind him. Will startled and dropped his hammer with a yelp of alarm.

He turned to find none other than Hugo seated on the decking, wearing an uncharacteristically wolfish grin, and Will flushed red to the tips of his ears.

“Nothing,” he said, far too quickly, with the air of somebody who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Right,” said Hugo, still grinning, “So what’s my dad up to, then?”

Will stilled like a deer in headlights. “Um, I wouldn’t know,” he said, keeping his voice carefully light, “Why don’t you go and ask him?”

Hugo levelled him an unimpressed stare, and Will felt once again as though he could see right past Will’s indifferent facade and into his head. Although he had decided he liked Hugo rather a lot, this miraculous sort of social perceptiveness he possessed was unfamiliar, definitely not inherited from Mike, and was beginning to take quite a toll on Will’s nerves.

Hugo, however, did not seem at all perturbed by Will’s unusually strong interest in his father; on the contrary, he was consistently intrigued by it. Will wished he would be intrigued by absolutely anything else. He felt it was hideously inappropriate to be thinking about kissing Mike senseless when the product of his happy future with someone else was sitting right there.

Will cleared his throat embarrassedly, and Hugo finally turned his piercing gaze away, fixing it instead upon Mike, who was still holding the rifle completely wrong. He smiled at the ground.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” he said suddenly, and Will blinked in surprise.

“What?”

Hugo looked back at him again. “You,” he repeated, then gestured vaguely around them, “This. I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d be like you are now — back in my time.”

Will frowned, “Is that a bad thing?”

Hugo laughed softly, then shrugged, “No. I mean, it’s not a good thing either,” he said, and Will wasn’t sure if he should feel offended or not, “but it’s not bad. It’s sort of funny. You’re so… teenager-ish. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Will let out a laugh, and Hugo smiled at him again; that heartbreaker of a grin. His dad’s.

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” he said, and Hugo snorted, “but I don’t really know what you were expecting. Unfortunately for me, I am a teenager, so… it sort of comes with the package.”

Hugo stared into the distance, something almost wistful in his gaze. “Yeah,” he agreed, then paused. “I think you’ll like your older self, when you get there,” he said quietly.

Will allowed himself to think of it, if only for a moment — his own future. What might that hold? Could that even be real for someone like him? Did Hugo know what he really wanted? He didn’t know.

“Can you tell me about him?” Will asked, “My older self, I mean. What’s he like?”

Hugo tensed beside him. “Grandma said—“

“I know,” said Will, “You don’t have to go into specifics. Just — I mean—“ he swallowed, felt his heart pick up speed.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t ask. He’d been trying so hard not to ask. He wished he could blame it on the weird situation, the hope that Hugo might not hear him, but he was half thinking of this, the ease of conversation, the fun of laughing with someone you loved, and whether that would be left for him. Whether Mike would drift off into his beautiful family and his inevitable marriage and would forget all about him. He wondered how lonely the future was. He wondered what he might have left to live for.

“When I’m older… I’m not — I’m not in prison, am I? Or, like… sick?” he asked finally, his voice no more than a breath in the air, blood roaring in his ears, his palms slick with sweat.

“Prison?” Hugo stared at him, looking offended at the mere suggestion of it, “Why would you be in prison?”

Will swallowed, ignoring the question, “And I’m not sick?” he repeated despite himself, almost wishing he wouldn’t hear the answer.

“No,” said Hugo, his small face very serious now, “You’re not sick — you—“ he shuddered, breath catching, and Will thought with a rush of panic that he seemed like he was about to cry.

“I know — you can’t tell me anything, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I’m — I shouldn’t have asked.”

He couldn’t talk to Hugo about this, it wasn’t fair to burden him with something so heavy. He wished he’d never said anything in the first place.

“My parents say it’s dangerous, to meddle with time,” Hugo said. “Just in case they can’t fix things, but — I would tell you everything, if I could. What happens to you.”

Will smiled a little sadly, half-glad Hugo wasn’t able to. Perhaps it was better not to know. “That’s kind,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You — you do alright,” Hugo said, voice catching, and he blinked imploringly at Will. His lips were pressed tight together, like he was expecting the floor to give way beneath him.

“Okay,” Will said gently, and touched Hugo’s shoulder. “That’s okay. You don’t need to say anything else.”

Hugo looked a little comforted, turning back again to watch Mike make a fool of himself with the rifle. It was good news, Will thought, and he should take it as such. ‘Alright’ couldn’t mean incarcerated or outcast by his family and friends, and if Hugo was too young and too naive still to know all the things it could include, that wasn’t his fault. A quiet, boring life would be just fine, Will supposed. It would be more than he deserved.

It was just that he was so desperate. It was just that he wanted so much, and he was so full of love and it had nowhere to go. He almost blamed Hugo, for reminding him of everything he still wanted, everything he’d dreamed about having when he was young and stupid enough to think he’d get it. Normality. Family. Being the kind of man who’d raise a child who laughs shamelessly at his father, who wouldn’t flinch every time a door slams.

He was so proud of Mike and El, though he would never tell them. Hugo was a perfect, sweet gift of a child, and they’d raised him that way — Will’s best friends in the whole world. Of course they’d be incredible parents. He knew it was selfish, but he only wished he could be a part of it himself.

Chapter Text

After a while, Mike joined them on the porch, in a much worse mood than earlier; an unfortunate fact at which Will couldn’t disguise his amusement.

“Is it really that hard?” he asked, though he already knew. He had learned to shoot a gun when he was eight.

“I do not want to talk about it,” said Mike stiffly, and Hugo let out the laugh that Will had been holding in.

Mike scowled over at him, “You should watch it,” he said grumpily, “Maybe I’ll make you do that when you’re older, and it won’t be so funny then.”

“I already can,” said Hugo smugly, leaning right over Mike and bracing his hands on his shoulders, some of his natural affection clearly slipping out accidentally.

“What?” said Mike incredulously, “You know how to use a gun?”

“You think Auntie Nancy wouldn’t teach me?” said Hugo, and Mike scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Figures,” he said, “She’d be able to teach everyone except me.”

“Maybe it’s an operator error,” said Will airily, and Mike shot him a betrayed look as Hugo collapsed with another bout of laughter.

“Oh, that’s low,” said Mike, “And I’d be more careful in the present company if I were you. He thinks you’re an angel now but I’ve got some stories — Hugo, did you know that in second grade Will called—“

Will slapped a hand over his mouth, “Shush!” he said, his cheeks turning pink.

Hugo, no longer laughing and now watching them with rapt attention once again, sat up very straight at this.

“What is it?” he said eagerly, “What happened in second grade?”

Mike tugged at Will’s arm, trying to free his mouth, and Will wrapped the other around his neck, pulling him backward into a headlock in a way they hadn’t done for years.

“Do not say anything!” he exclaimed, and Mike laughed, trying to shove Will off him.

Mike wrestled with Will for another thirty seconds before giving up and playing dirty, and he licked Will’s hand. Will pulled away sharply, going “Eurgh!” and then made quite a display of wiping his licked hand on his shirt, but Mike was now laughing so hard he could hardly get the story out.

“Will — he — the teacher — Mom — for a week!” he cried, tears pooling helplessly in his eyes, and Hugo was watching them, apparently torn between fond amusement and simple incredulity as Mike collapsed into another round of desperate giggles.

Will knew his cheeks were pink, and not only from embarrassment. He stood up in a huff, “I’m going for a walk,” he said, glancing at Mike, “That beats hanging around with you all day.”

Mike was still recovering from his bout of uncontrollable laughter, but at Will’s words Hugo got to his feet at once, and as Will began to walk away he hopped right off the porch to follow him.

“Wait!” cried Mike breathlessly from behind them, now capable of full sentences again, “Hold on — wait for me!”

He jogged to join them as they walked through the woods and towards the hatch that led to El’s tunnels. Once they reached the muddy, leaf strewn ground, however, El appeared. Her hair was already growing back steadily, now a soft fuzz of brown atop her head, and her face was pinched with worry.

“Hey, El,” said Will, and El looked up before offering him a small smile.

“Hi,” she said, glancing over at Hugo nervously. He grinned at her, and she grinned back — though it looked forced — then she spotted Mike hovering uncertainly behind them, and waved him over. “Mike,” she called, “Can we talk?”

Mike moved over, a frown creasing his features, “Yeah, what’s happened?”

El cast a wary look at Will, then at Hugo, who, Will realised quickly, was not supposed to hear this conversation.

“Come on, Hugo,” he said, taking the ten-year-old by the arm and leading him away, “Mike can find us later.”

“What?” said Hugo petulantly, “Can’t we just wait for them?”

Will did not release Hugo as he walked away through the trees, and Mike smiled at him gratefully as they disappeared from sight. Once they were far enough from Mike and El that Will could be sure Hugo wouldn’t try to run back to them, he relinquished his hold on the boy’s arm.

“What are they talking about?” said Hugo at once, something dark in his gaze that hadn’t been there earlier.

“I don’t know,” said Will, continuing to trudge through the leaves, “But we should give them some privacy.”

“Why?” said Hugo, and Will stopped.

“Because it’s probably something personal,” said Will, feeling suddenly annoyed by Hugo’s carelessness for his parent’s space, “They haven’t been totally normal with each other recently — what with everything that’s happened. It might all be perfect back where you’re from, but things are more complicated than that here.”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. Hugo looked thunderous, “Oh, of course,” he snapped, and Will blinked in surprise, “Am I just ‘too young to understand’, is that it? It’s all just too big and too complicated for little Hugo’s tiny brain—“

Will stared at him, completely taken aback by the abrupt switch in demeanour.

“—‘Oh no, Hugo, we can’t tell you anything because you wouldn’t like it,” and ‘Oh, Hugo it’s all just so much bigger than that, you wouldn’t understand—‘“

Will stopped walking, frowned, then turned and crouched so that he and Hugo were eye-level, “That’s not what I’m saying at all,” he said gently.

He realised with a pang of guilt that Hugo was blinking away tears, and thought that perhaps this was a common point of contention for him at home. It made sense, especially if his parents refused to tell him anything about the complexities of the past; not that Will could really blame them, it was a pretty horrible story to tell a child.

“I understand how you feel,” said Will, placing a hand on Hugo’s shoulder, “Really, I do — I felt like that all the time at school, and I still do sometimes.”

Hugo sniffled, and stepped a little closer into Will’s space, as if by instinct.

“This stuff is really complicated, and if your parents aren’t telling you the full story yet then I’m almost sure it’s for a good reason,” Hugo looked as though he would have liked to dispute this, however Will continued before he had the chance, “I’ve only spent a few hours with you and I can already tell that you’re clever, and perceptive and curious—“

Hugo brightened at once, “Really?”

Will smiled, “Really. I saw you watching me this morning, I wouldn’t have even noticed you if I wasn’t so good at finding hiding spots myself,” Hugo grinned, “But being clever is only half the package. Sometimes it can be upsetting to hear the truth about people you love — especially if it isn’t what you want to hear.”

Will felt his own eyes getting wet, and swallowed thickly before he did something stupid like cry.

“If your parents aren’t being completely honest with you, it isn’t because they think you’re silly. It’s probably just because they care about you, and they’re worried that they might upset you — whether that’s now or in the future.”

Hugo stared up at him, his eyes so wide and so brown that they were almost unbearable to look at.

“Okay,” he sniffed, “But — but can you tell me why they’re talking, at least? What’s happened? Why does Dad seem so…” he trailed off, and Will sighed.

“I don’t know if they’d want me to tell you,” he said weakly, “And I don’t know if you would want…” he paused at the glare Hugo was fixing upon him, then let out a quiet laugh. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you,” he agreed, “But you mustn’t think differently of them — this is all a long time ago compared to where you’re from, and it hasn’t changed anything between them.”

Hugo‘s brow furrowed, “What d’you mean? Changed what?”

“Their feelings for one another,” said Will, somewhat awkwardly, “They’ve always loved each other. Even when they do fight they get back together eventually… they always fix it. It’ll be the same this time.”

Somehow, Hugo did not seem remotely reassured by this. If anything, he looked even more miserable than before.

“So is that what they’re fighting about then? Their feelings?”

Will nodded, “That’s it. Sometimes Mike just has trouble… saying what El needs to hear. But he’s working on it. You have to remember that we’re still young too.”

Hugo nodded but said nothing. He was watching his shoes as they walked, staring at the ground.

“They’re good together,” said Will, and Hugo looked up, “Really. I’ve never met two people better suited to one another.”

Will’s heart thudded in his chest as he spoke, but he needed Hugo to know that it was okay — that his parents were okay, even now.

There was a prolonged silence, broken only by the rustle of a bird in the empty trees overhead or the scuffling of their shoes in the dirt. Will had let himself relax, allowing the wind to blow his hair from his eyes and finally letting his guard drop, when Hugo spoke again—

“You don’t really believe that.”

“What?” said Will, confused.

Hugo stopped walking. Turned and looked at him.

“You don’t believe that they’re the people best suited to each other, or whatever you said,” he replied firmly, his eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly up his forehead.

“I do,” said Will, “Of course I do. They love each other.”

“No you don’t,” said Hugo, and Will stared at him, “I know you don’t. I know you know there’s somebody better for my dad. You told me yourself.”

What? thought Will with an increasing sense of panic. Had his older self committed the worst mistake in the history of all mistakes, and told Mike’s own son that he used to have a crush on his dad? Surely not. Hugo must have been referring to something else.

“I’ve got no idea what you mean,” said Will, feeling troubled.

“Sure you don’t,” said Hugo, but he was smiling now, and so Will thought he must be referring to some secret inside joke that he had with the older Will, because if he knew the truth it would certainly not be funny.

Chapter Text

They walked for a while longer, until the sun was setting in the sky and casting blueish shadows on the forest floor. Hugo asked a lot more questions about Will’s life and his family, as well as his relationship with Mike and El. Will asked him as many questions as he could without steering into dangerous territory — like what his job actually consisted of when he was older (Hugo wasn’t sure), and what Mike’s job was… did El work, was she still on the run from the government… etcetera etcetera.

It so happened that Mike from the future worked at the same company as Nancy, a local newspaper where he was an editor and she was a journalist; a fact which Will was sure they would be pleased to hear.

El was apparently travelling a lot, working with some big agency because she still had her powers and they liked to do a lot of experiments with them — but Hugo made it very clear that El liked working with her agency. It sounded nothing like Hawkins Lab, and according to him, on her free weekends at home she ran a gardening club with Will’s mom. Some of the scientists at her job would come around to Hugo’s house for dinner, and it sounded like she worked very closely with Murray and Hopper.

Lucas and Max lived a few streets away, and had a daughter at the same school as Hugo. Jonathan was between jobs by the sounds of things, but Hugo said he liked it that way and that Nancy liked being the sole breadwinner of the household. Steve was apparently still working with Robin, and Dustin was generally travelling, though when he wasn’t he lived alone (save for his three cats) in New York. All in all, the future didn’t sound too bad; it seemed to Will that the only missing piece of the puzzle was his own mystery partner.

“You know, you can tell me who I marry now that Mike’s not here. I probably won’t care much, whoever it is.”

Hugo shot him a secretive smile.

“I told you,” he said, “It’s spoilers.”

Will scoffed, “Oh, come on, it can’t possibly be a bigger spoiler than everything you’ve just—“

He paused suddenly. What felt like the footsteps of a hundred spiders crawled up his nape, and he touched the back of his neck with his hand. His blood ran cold.

“Hugo, come here,” he said sharply.

Hugo stopped walking, looking nervous though it was obvious he did not know what was happening. Will took him by the hand and pulled him close to his side, turning in a slow circle so that he could see all around them.

He could not believe he had been so foolish as to walk out in the dark, not telling anyone where they were going, with a child who had no idea how to defend himself — no weapons. Nothing.

“What’s going on?” trembled Hugo.

“Don’t speak,” said Will, straining his ears for any sound of movement.

It was silent for several moments. The only noise was the crackle of leaves underfoot and the rustling of the trees as wind whistled between them. Then —

He heard it. A deep, low chittering sound. Like the whine of a dog but louder — colder. More sinister. It was coming from no more than a metre away, hidden between the bushes and the trees.

Will crouched down, so that he and the terrified Hugo were eye-level once again.

“All right, Hugo I need you to listen to me very carefully,” he whispered, doing his best to keep his voice even and clear. Hugo nodded. “When I say run, you run. Understand?”

Hugo nodded again and gripped him still more tightly.

“Don’t turn around. Don’t look back. If you hear anything behind us, ignore it. If anything happens to me, ignore it. Okay? You get back to the cabin. That’s it. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Hugo shook violently, “B-But—“

“No,” said Will, “Tell me you understand. I need your word.”

Hugo shivered, then nodded slowly, “Okay,” he breathed, “Okay. I’ll do it. I understand.”

The chittering growl grew louder. They had mere moments before whatever that thing was could see them.

“Right,” said Will, standing up straight again. Hugo squeezed him so tightly Will thought he might be cutting off the circulation in his fingers. “All right… ready…” he said, and Hugo took a preparatory step back.

The growling ceased abruptly.

“Now!” said Will, and they took off, full-pelt back through the trees.

He could hear the monster behind them immediately. A bellowing screech, then the thundering of gigantic feet. They had an advantage; in the dark trees it would be a struggle to see exactly where they were or where they were headed, but as soon as they reached the cabin, if El had left, then…

Will’s chest seized with effort. It was like being back there — back in the Upside Down. He was twelve again, and the Demogorgon was on his tail and he could think of nothing else but run and hide.

There was a light through the trees. The cabin was getting nearer. Will prayed to every god and every deity that had ever existed that by some miracle, El was still there.

They broke through the trees and there it was, imposing but empty. It seemed that nobody was inside, and the growling was approaching quickly, when suddenly, the door of the cabin swung open and Mike stepped out. He stared at Will and Hugo for a split second, before another screech rent the air and he reached forward, tugging them both up the stairs and into the cabin. He slammed the door behind them, locked it and tugged all the blinds shut in one swift motion.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, brow creased but a fierce determination set in his brown eyes.

Though it was a deeply inappropriate time for such thinking, Will felt a terrible, desperate swoop of affection for him in that moment, so strong that he wobbled dangerously on the spot, and had to grip Hugo to keep from falling over.

“A demogorgon,” said Will, hoping his voice sounded stronger than he felt, “Or… maybe one of the demo-dogs? I don’t know. It’s right on us — probably outside now.”

Mike looked down at Hugo, who was staring at him in fascination again even despite his fear.

“Okay,” he whispered, “Let’s go to El’s room. We don’t have any weapons here, but if we have any luck it might get bored if it doesn’t realise where we’ve gone.”

Will thought privately that it was extremely unlikely it would just get bored, but he knew that Mike was trying to make Hugo feel better, and so he followed him through the cabin, tiptoeing silently until they reached El’s room.

Mike shut the green door behind them with a click, and as soon as they reached the farthest corner, the growling, low chittering of the monster outside was audible through the walls. Will held his breath. Hugo squeezed his hand, and when Will glanced down, realised that Hugo was gripping Mike’s hand with equal fervour.

He was sandwiched between them, eyes tight shut, as though he truly believed Mike and Will would be able to protect him if worst came to worst. At least, Will thought, he knew both he and Mike would do everything they could to keep Hugo safe — even if it was not enough. He would not die today if they could help it.

There was a sudden banging, scraping noise outside, like something was trying to forcefully break in through the locked door. Nobody spoke. With what Will knew about the demogorgons and demo-dogs, it would be only seconds before it got through. He closed his own eyes — prayed for a miracle — and then —

BANG!

Will’s eyes flew open. A deafening noise like a gunshot but louder, sounded from outside the cabin. The scratching at the door halted at once, before an echoing, monstrous screech rent the air, followed by a man’s voice:

“Jesus Christ!”

Will thought the man sounded oddly familiar, though it was not somebody he recognised immediately, when all of a sudden every noise was drowned out by another ear-splitting sound; this time more like the roaring of a gigantic fire.

A flash of bright, vibrant white light glared from under the door, shining from outside even through the shuttered windows. There was a horrible, strangled sound like something getting killed, before the light disappeared so quickly Will had to blink to adjust his eyes to the change.

Hugo continued to grip Will and Mike, but his eyes had gone very wide.

Will had no idea what was happening. There was the sound of footsteps approaching the cabin — presumably the man — but the demo-dog-slash-demogorgon appeared to have been completely eradicated because the scratching and hammering at the door was gone.

Will leaned forward, pulling himself away from the wall so as to hear better what was happening outside. There was the sound of a door handle jiggling, then the same familiar voice from earlier spoke.

“Oh, shit — ugh this stupid door. Does Hopper still—?“

There was a scuffling noise like somebody was rummaging around on the floor, followed by silence. Then, there was a creak and Will knew immediately that the man had somehow gotten inside — he shrank back against the wall beside Mike and Hugo.

Footsteps grew nearer. Will watched the green door to El’s bedroom, tense with anticipation even though it sounded very much as though the monster had gone. The handle clicked. The door began to swing, then several things happened at once.

A man was revealed, standing in the doorway wearing what looked like a gigantic gas-mask that concealed his face from view, but before Will could so much as glance at the rest of him; Hugo had released Mike and Will and flown across the room towards the newcomer.

“Dad!” he cried, flinging himself at the man and making him stumble backward from the force of the hug, dropping what he had been holding — a large metal object like an oversized flamethrower.

Mike and Will stared at each other, twin expressions of blank shock on their faces, but Hugo had not stopped talking —

“Oh, Dad, I thought you wouldn’t come — it’s been so bad here — you’re pretending you don’t even like each other and you — you both — and Dad looks so different — and the monsters! Grandma told me not to speak to Dad — I haven’t been able to say anything —“

He was babbling such a fast, incoherent string of sentences that it was completely impossible to understand a single point he was trying to make; but apparently, the man — Hugo’s dad — could understand every word.

“I know, I know,” he said softly, cupping his son’s cheek and holding him tight, “Oh, I know, we were so worried — it’s all right, it’s okay now. I’m right here.”

He lifted his mask, made up of what looked like metal and some kind of thick, amber-ish glass in a visor across the front, to reveal a face — but it was not Mike’s face.

It was a face that Will had never seen before, but that he could recognise anywhere. Even without the brown hair, and the hazel eyes and the slightly unfamiliar lines of age in his face; the scar he had gotten when he was five and tripped over in kindergarten was still plainly visible on his chin. The man looked up, away from Hugo and —

Will’s own eyes stared back at him.

“You — you — what?” he choked out.

The older Will smiled, “Surprise?” he said with a shrug.

Hugo, now looking unbelievably smug and still gripping his dad’s shirt like he thought he might disappear if he so much as slackened his hold, grinned up at him.

“I told you,” he said, “Spoilers.”

“But — But — I don’t understand,” said Will, his thoughts travelling a mile a minute, “I thought Mike was your dad.”

The older Will laughed, and Hugo rolled his eyes, “He is my dad,” he said, as if it was obvious.

“But then—?” said Will, flabbergasted.

Hugo blinked, “Really? Has nobody heard of being gay in the eighties? You’re worse than Hopper.”

Will stared, slack-jawed. There was a pointed silence, in which Will chanced a glance over at Mike; who looked quite dazed as though somebody had hit him very hard over the head with a baseball bat.

The older Will frowned awkwardly at him, still holding tightly onto Hugo, “Alright, Wheeler, I get it’s a bit of a shock, but it’s nothing to cry about.”

But Mike was not crying. Mike was not doing anything at all. In fact, he looked more unreadable than Will had ever seen him — his eyes wide and bright, his mouth hanging open. He shut it abruptly, then cleared his throat.

“I’m not crying,” he said hoarsely, “What about El?”

Hugo frowned and looked up at his father. The older Will smiled kindly at Mike, “She’s okay. She’s back at home.”

“But — But I’m not married to her?” said Mike.

The older Will glanced a little sadly at his younger self, and Will felt a small pang of humiliation amidst the numb shock and the thrill of unbearable, hopeless adoration.

“No,” he said, “I’m afraid not. But it all makes sense when you get here, don’t worry.”

There was an uncomfortable sort of silence for a moment, before the older Will spoke again, now looking down at Hugo, “Right, well, we’d better find your dad so we can fix this whole mess. He’s somewhere around here—“ the older Will glanced behind himself through the open door, “—he kept insisting we’d miscalculated and that it was 1997, but he should be nearby.”

Mike coughed in surprise, “The older — the older me is here, too?” he said, and the older Will grinned at him.

“Obviously. You don’t think you’d just let me do all the work, do you?”

With that, he pulled Hugo — who was still clinging tightly to his arm — and turned around to walk back outside. For lack of anything to say to Mike that didn’t include cheering or sobbing or trying vainly to explain himself, Will followed them out, squinting into the dark until he reached the porch and a cold wind suddenly whipped at his face.

“Mike?” called the adult Will, “Mike — I’ve found him! Where are you?”

Will did not expect that one shouted summons would be enough to draw the older Mike to them if he was truly somewhere in the forest; it was enormous. But apparently the older Mike was closer than he thought, because instantly, another voice echoed through the trees.

“Will?” it shouted, achingly familiar, and Will felt Mike, who had also joined them, tense up beside him, “Will, where are you?”

“Hopper’s cabin!” Will called back.

While they waited for the arrival of the older Mike, Will’s eyes were drawn again to the flamethrower and the funny-looking visor that his adult counterpart was wearing.

“What’s that?” he said, pointing at the thing in his hand, “And that helmet-visor-thing?”

The older Will turned, then glanced down at the weapon as if he hadn’t realised he was holding it, “A precaution,” he said, “When you know there might be monsters about, it never hurts to be safe.”

Will stared at him, “And the visor?”

The older Will laughed, “El helped make these. If you use the flamethrowers it can damage your eyes to look at the light directly — so she got us some armour. Pretty cool, right?”

It was cool, but there were much bigger things to think about at the present moment, and so Will merely nodded and said nothing.

His older self turned back around. There was no sound for several moments, and Will watched the forest as Hugo beside him scanned the trees impatiently, before loud stomping and crunching preceded the arrival of a tall figure — this one not clad in the strange armour, and his face was clearly visible.

Will knew at once who it was. He would have known him blind, and when the older Mike caught sight of them standing there on the porch, his gaze softened.

“Hugo,” he said weakly, dropping to his knees as Hugo finally released the older Will, running full speed over to him.

He flung his arms around the older Mike’s neck, burying his face against his shirt, and the older Mike gripped him at once; one hand coming up to rest against his hair, stroking it gently.

“You are more grounded than you have ever been,” mumbled older Mike. His words seemed strict — even angry, but his voice was gentler than Will had ever heard it, “You’re not seeing Alice for a week, you’re not going to that party on Saturday — and you are never going near the damn Wayback ever again.”

Will watched, expecting Hugo to complain, but the boy only laughed and clutched his father tighter. It became suddenly clear that Hugo was crying, silent tears streaming down his face, and beside him the older Will stepped off the porch.

He walked over to where the older Mike was still kneeling in the dirt and sank down beside them, putting a gentle arm around Mike and pulling his family into an embrace. Hugo began to sob; heaving great, gasping breaths as he tried vainly to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“It’s okay now,” said the older Will, running a slow hand over Hugo’s trembling back, “We’re here. We’re going home.”

Will felt like he was watching from inside a dream, as though he was intruding on a private moment — but he could not tear his eyes away. It was something that was so good; so pure and perfect and raw, that it did not feel real. It did not seem possible that something so incredible could truly happen to him. It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense.

He looked over at Mike — his own Mike — and startled when he realised that Mike was already watching him.

Will frowned worriedly, as the reality of his current situation came crashing back down, “I — I don’t—“ he started, as Mike took a step closer.

Will watched his eyes, and before he knew what was happening Mike had dropped his head against Will’s shoulder, looped his arms around his back and sighed quietly, his breath ghosting over Will’s skin.

Will’s heart began to thud so fast he was worried it might beat right out of his chest. They were closer than they had been in months — almost a year, since the day Will had left for California and they’d been forced to say goodbye.

“Mike,” he whispered, “Mike, I know it’s—“

“—Don’t.” Mike said, and Will was suddenly aware of something hot and wet against his neck.

“Are you crying?” he asked, surprised.

Mike pressed his head further into the crook of Will’s neck, and Will was sure that he would never recover. This had to be it for him. This was as good as it could get, nothing could possibly top this — until the hands on his back slid higher, and Mike pulled him impossibly closer.

Will’s mind blanked.

“I — um — are we — um—“ he said stupidly, and Mike laughed wetly against him before pulling away. They locked eyes. A silent question passed in their midst.

“I’m not upset,” said Mike, answering it openly, and Will’s eyes widened.

“You’re not?” he asked, “But what about El?”

Mike sighed, then looked at the floor, “She broke up with me.”

Will gasped, “What? Why?”

Mike let out a derisive laugh, “Why do you think?” he stared at Will, “I love her. Of course I love her — but it’s not…” his brow furrowed deeply, and he stared up at the sky as though he could not bear to look at Will as he spoke, “It’s not how she wants me to love her. It isn’t…” he paused, then turned his head.

Hugo and his parents — their older selves — were still sitting amongst the leaves, now in deep conversation but all holding one another tightly, as though they would never get another chance. A ring glinted on the older Will’s hand where it rested against Hugo, just catching the faded light filtering from inside Hopper’s cabin.

“It’s not like that,” finished Mike, inclining his head toward the family, and he looked back at Will with a small smile.

Will could not bear it. He needed something to bring him back down — to prove it was a dream now before he got too far in and never wanted to leave. It was impossible.

“But I thought you weren’t… you know,” he glanced quickly over at the group on the floor then back at Mike. “What Hugo said earlier. I mean, you did love El, didn’t you?”

Mike shrugged and jumped up to sit on the wooden bannister which ran across the porch, more casual about it than Will would ever have expected.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I’m not really sure what I am. Like, did I even love El?” Will stared in surprise, and Mike backtracked quickly, “I mean, of course I loved her, but was it love love, or was it like it is now? Where it’s just… you know. A friend thing.”

Will nodded, then sighed softly and leaned beside Mike where he perched on the bannister. “Well maybe you don’t have to know,” he said, “And if this—“ he gestured behind them at where their future was huddled on the floor, “—is okay to you, then maybe that’s all it has to be.”

Mike nodded, then frowned suddenly at his feet.

“And is it okay to you?” he asked, voice carefully empty of emotion.

“What?” said Will.

“This—“ Mike gestured behind them as Will had done. “It’s okay to me, but… well, is it okay to you? Aren’t you upset about it? If it means you never get to meet someone else or… I don’t know…”

Will could not believe his ears. He laughed before he could help himself, and Mike looked dismayed.

“Are you kidding me?” said Will, unable to fight the smile on his face, “Upset about it? Mike, I’ve been in love with you for, like, two years.”

Mike slipped backward so suddenly Will had to grab him to keep him from falling off the porch.

“What?” he said once he had jumped off the bannister in the correct direction; his brown eyes wide and confused, face slack with shock.

Will started laughing again.

“What?” repeated Mike, shaking him by the arm, “What? You — what?”

Will only laughed harder.

“You can’t be — you’re not serious?” he said, voice disbelieving as though this was as outrageous as Lucas suggesting that Max join their party when they were thirteen.

“I’m completely serious,” Will grinned, feeling a lightness in his chest now that he was sure Mike would not react badly. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice. I’ve been a mess.”

“Didn’t notice?” repeated Mike incredulously, “Who did notice? Why didn’t you — why did you never say anything?”

Will raised his eyebrows, “Why? You think it would be a good idea for me to go, ‘Oh, hey, Mike. By the way, I’m gay and I’m in love with you. I know you’ve got a girlfriend and stuff but I just thought I’d let you know!’ Yeah. I’m sure that would’ve gone really well.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but a smile pulled at his lips, “Well, you wouldn’t have had to say it exactly like that.”

Will shoved him playfully, “Right. How would you do it, then? If you’re so good at confessions.”

Mike grinned at him, then hopped back up on the bannister again, “Well,” he began, “First, I’d make sure you knew who the better partner would be.”

“Oh really?” said Will, “So if I was dating somebody as amazing as El, you’d just waltz right in there and—“

“—of course,” said Mike, smoothly cutting him off, and Will glared at him, though he was secretly pleased. “I’d show you my incredible boyfriending skills—“

“—which are?” said Will sardonically, and Mike shot him a betrayed look.

“What do you mean? You’ve seen me and El! I’m a great boyfriend!”

“You mean I’ve seen you and the El who just broke up with you because of your ‘boyfriending’? Or are we talking about someone else?” replied Will, grinning, and Mike scowled — though it was obvious he was fighting back another laugh.

“Anyway,” he said loudly, “I’d show you my incredible boyfriending skills, and so then you’d fall for me instantly,” Will scoffed, “Then, I would tell you you’re the best looking guy I’ve ever seen,” said Mike, sliding off the bannister and staring straight at him.

Will felt his heart pick up speed again, and hoped his cheeks had not gone as red as they felt.

“Really?” he asked, in what was meant to be a bold voice but came out as more of a squeak.

Mike took a step closer, then grinned at him, “Yep. Then I’d tell you that you’re the best friend anyone could ask for, and that I felt completely lost without you in Hawkins, like somebody had taken a part of me away to California when you left.”

Mike was standing very close now, and Will forgot what was happening, and that it was only supposed to be a hypothetical —

“And what else?” he breathed, as Mike’s hand reached up to brush his fringe from his eyes.

“And I’d tell you that I’ve never known anybody like I know you. That there’s nobody I’d rather spend my life with…” he took another step closer, speaking so softly now that Will could barely hear him over the wind. “That I’m sorry I stopped listening to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t write more.”

Will let his eyes flutter shut. Mike’s hand drifted down to stroke his cheek, and Will leaned into the touch.

“I’d tell you that I wish we’d done this sooner.”

Will let out a breathless gasp and blinked his eyes open, “I can’t do this,” he said shakily, “It’s — this can’t be real.”

“It is real,” said Mike, so quiet the words were no more than a breath between them, “It’s all real. I’m right here.”

“Prove it,” said Will without thinking, and in the next moment Mike’s lips were on his.

Will slid an arm around Mike’s waist and settled the other on his hip, pulling him in close, flush against Will’s chest, warmth radiating from him. Mike’s hands found Will immediately — curling in his hair, against his cheek, on his back and his arms. He smelled like warmth and woodsmoke and something faintly flowery that was reminiscent of the Wheeler’s living room. Will felt dizzy with longing, almost completely drunk just on the scent of him.

They broke away momentarily, and Will couldn’t help the giddy grin breaking out across his face as he rested his forehead against Mike’s, just barely touching. He let his eyes fall shut once more and leaned in, however their lips had only just met when there was the sound of footsteps on wood and a sudden gasp.

“What the fuck?” cried Hugo, and they leapt apart.

“Uh—“ said Mike blankly.

“We were just—“ started Will, when his older self, alongside the older Mike, appeared behind Hugo, both staring at their younger counterparts as if they had never seen anyone do something so insane in their lives.

“We really need to fix this,” said the older Will, glancing between them with shock writ across his face.

“What do you mean ‘fix’ this?” said Mike, watching their older selves with suspicion.

“Fix this mess of a timeline that Hugo’s created,” said the older Mike matter-of-factly, “You two aren’t supposed to kiss for another year at least. We’re going to go back to the future to find a way to stop this muppet even getting here in the first place.”

“What?” said Will worriedly, gripping Mike as he stepped forward. “So we’re going to forget everything?”

“Pretty much,” said the older Mike.

“But this must have changed things somehow,” said the younger Mike from beside Will, “You — you can’t! It’s too good, and I — I love him—”

Will straightened at once, fingers spasming around Mike’s, but the older Mike pointed his finger in Mike’s face and said, “That is exactly the kind of shit that unnerves me. I didn’t admit that out loud until I was nineteen.”

“I mean, by then I’d guessed,” the older Will said, rolling his eyes. “You weren’t very subtle.”

“But still! When I said that it affected when we moved in together, which affected when we — um, well—“ he shot a glance at Hugo, who raised an eyebrow, then he cleared his throat loudly— “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, we’re looking at a situation where Hugo might not exist. And I will not,” he said, voice steely, “stand for that. Sorry. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Will only gripped his own Mike harder, feeling as though he'd been given everything in the world, only to have it snatched away from him again.

“Oh, don’t look so scared,” said the older Will, “You get your happy ending either way, and besides—“ he glanced back at the older Mike with a smirk, “—our actual love story is much better than this. I think you’d be pretty sad to miss it.”

“Gross,” said Hugo loudly, and all four heads turned to look at him. Hugo shrugged, “Just saying what we’re all thinking.”

Will was quite sure that absolutely nobody but Hugo was thinking that — but he didn’t care to say anything. In this moment, nothing mattered but Mike, and the fact that he would soon lose him again.

There was a sudden, sharp bang from somewhere deep within the woods. Everyone tensed.

The older Will straightened and brandished his flamethrower, glancing back at his family. “Get behind me.”

At once, the older Mike took Hugo’s hand in his and moved obediently back, which made Will feel hot all over for reasons he probably shouldn’t explore right at this point in time. He braced for impact, for another guttural growl, but instead he heard distant voices, saw a flashlight breaking through the trees, felt the echoes as a car door slammed. Hugo looked up at his parents, alarmed.

“How are we supposed to explain this to the others?” said Mike anxiously, and Will felt a sudden swoop of dread in his chest at the thought of it.

He opened his mouth uncertainly, but the older Mike shook his head. “Let us handle it,” he said, “We’re adults. They’re adults. We know exactly what happened and how we got here — it’ll make much less sense coming from you.”

“But what if—“

“It’s fine,” said the older Will, resting a gentle hand on his younger counterpart’s shoulder, “This isn’t your shit to deal with. Not yet, anyway.”

And with that, he slipped away, trotting down off the porch and into the woods, the dead foliage crunching beneath his boots. He glanced back, and the older Mike shot Hugo a look, which he responded to with a nod, before wordlessly following in Will’s wake. They lingered for a moment until the distant voices sounded again, nearer now than before, then disappeared into the trees.

After what turned out to be a very long discussion with Joyce and Hopper and whoever else, the adult Will and Mike were relegated to the Wheeler household, alongside Hugo and their younger counterparts for the rest of the night, operating under the assumption that the time-travelling trio would be gone in the morning. They carefully assured everyone that once they had left, the timeline would be re-altered so that nobody would remember anything about their futures, or even that they had met Hugo at all.

Will thought the choice of location was a sensible decision, as Hopper’s cabin wasn’t nearly big enough to host the new family alongside El and Hopper themselves. However, when they arrived at the Wheeler’s, everyone appeared to be awaiting them in the living room.

Will glanced at Mike, who frowned, before pushing the front door open and sidling between a wide-eyed Holly and a dumbfounded Ted to reach the living room, which was packed with people. Hugo and his parents, Joyce, Karen, Jonathan and Nancy were all seated around the room. Hugo, naturally was the centre of attention, and nobody was quite able to tear their eyes away.

The older Mike and Will looked politely awkward — a fact with which Will sympathised. The moment he and his own Mike walked through the door, every head turned to look at them, and the room at large seemed to draw a collective breath.

Will paused uncertainly in the doorway. “Um,” he said, and his voice sounded oddly loud in the suddenly silent room, “so, I see everyone’s met Hugo’s parents,” he said, and at once, the abrupt stillness was broken.

“Oh, Will,” cried Joyce, before she flung her arms around him and pulled him into a crushing hug. Will blinked in surprise, then felt himself flush pink with embarrassment.

“Mom,” he groaned, trying vainly to tug himself free from her grip.

“I’m so proud of you,” she continued, impervious to his discomfort, “And Hugo’s so — and the two of you are just—“ she broke away, gasping, to cup his face in her hands, before glancing over at a very sheepish-looking Mike and beaming. “I can’t believe it,” she said wetly, and Will realised with a start that her eyes glistened with tears, “I never would have thought… but it makes so much sense!”

Mike grinned somewhat embarrassedly, before allowing himself to be pulled into a three person hug, which continued until he and Will forcibly extracted themselves with the excuse of tiredness, then headed upstairs.

Karen and Ted Wheeler took the news of their son’s future relationship quite remarkably well. Karen, ever the tactful mother, merely joined Mike and Will later in Mike’s room, and began an easy though somewhat stilted conversation about how nice it was that he’d found a partner he knew so well.

It was as close to acknowledgement of any differences in sexual orientation as the Wheelers would ever get, and Will was simply glad that she hadn’t immediately responded with hostility at the thought of Mike potentially dating a man.

Will had expected Reagan-loving Ted Wheeler to be an entirely different story, however Ted did not speak a word to them or their elder counterparts for the better part of the evening. They heard a hissed discussion between he and Mrs. Wheeler in the kitchen, followed by footsteps ascending the stairs, and Will braced himself for the worst.

To his surprise, however, Mr. Wheeler appeared in the doorway with a pinched sort of expression on his face — almost annoyed, but not entirely different from his usual trademark apathy.

“You’re staying in the guest room, on the floor,” he said flatly to Will, eyeing him where he was lying on Mike’s bed, the sides of their bodies pressed up together. “Your mom and brother are in there too. It’s only one night, so it shouldn’t make much difference, then you can go back to the basement again.”

Mike frowned, “Why can’t he just sleep in here with me tonight?”

Will knew what was coming before Ted even opened his mouth.

“He is not sleeping anywhere near you under this roof,” Mr. Wheeler said sharply, “Not after that display downstairs.”

Will felt his cheeks heat, and Mike flushed a delightful shade of red. “Dad!”

“Nope,” said Mr. Wheeler with an air of finality, “No excuses. Jonathan doesn’t sleep in with your sister. You can say goodnight, but I expect him out of here in the next ten minutes, or there will be consequences.”

He shot them a pointed glance as he spoke, and Will quailed slightly, before he retreated into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door with a slam. Will had actually expected far worse than just a slap on the wrist for trying to bunk in with Mike, but Mike seemed to disagree, turning toward Will at once, eyebrows drawn into a frown.

“Sorry, I don’t know why he’s being all weird,” he began, cheeks pink with embarrassment, “He’s just being stupid. It’s not like we would… I don’t know—“ he muttered, casting around for the right words, and Will smiled awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” he assured, “I sort of get it. I mean, if we — y’know — um — y’know, when we’re older…” Mike’s cheeks flushed impossibly brighter, but Will barrelled on, “He’s probably just being careful. Not that — not that we would—“

“Right,” Mike agreed at once, straightening up, “Yeah, no, obviously not. That’d be, like, so weird.”

“Totally,” said Will, “Totally weird. And — I wouldn’t even, like—“

“Yeah, of course not,” said Mike hurriedly, and they both fell silent.

They sat there, on Mike’s bed, the lack of noise feeling simultaneously very loud and very heavy in a way that silence never should be, until Mr. Wheeler returned, slamming the door back open, startling them both. He watched Will suspiciously before taking him by the arm and dragging him up, apparently worried Will might make some sort of break for it back to Mike’s room, before he led him down the hall to the empty guest bedroom.

Will got ready for bed quite calmly, and eventually settled down to sleep by himself on the floor on a flimsy mattress. When he was on his back, staring at the ceiling, he felt a sudden burst of annoyance at Ted Wheeler.

Mostly, he thought irritably, because his suspicions about Will’s motivations were entirely correct. Now that he knew he would forget everything by the morning, he wanted more than anything else to taste Mike’s lips on his own just one more time. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered that kiss on the porch of Hopper’s cabin, and the scent of Mike and softness of his skin beneath his fingertips. He was better than any dream Will could have imagined, but when would be the next time they’d get to have that? A year? Five years? A decade? Will rolled over, groaning into his pillow. Stupid Ted Wheeler.

He knew subliminally that he was being irrational, and that mere hours ago he hadn’t thought he’d ever get to feel love like this at all, but now that he had it he could think of nothing else, and it seemed to him that Mike’s annoying father was the only obstacle between Will and the one thing he wanted. It was just so unfair.

After rolling over another six times and utterly failing to get to sleep, Will slipped up and out, into the hallway, listening the sound of voices in Nancy’s bedroom — presumably Jonathan had snuck in — and Joyce talking to Karen and Ted in the living room downstairs. He hovered on the upstairs landing, when two other voices drifted up from between those of the adults Will recognised. Mike’s and his own.

In a split-second decision Will tiptoed the rest of the way through the hall and downstairs, waiting on the bottom step and peering into the kitchen. The older Mike was standing beside the counter, a glass of wine clutched loosely in one hand, his cheeks flushed slightly pink. He looked happy — almost carefree, in a way that was so incongruous with the Mike that Will knew, he could hardly believe it was the same person.

This feeling only intensified as the older Mike murmured something quietly, and suddenly the older Will appeared in his space, quietly looping two fingers through his belt loops and pulling him in, bodies pressed together, before he leaned down to rest his head on Mike’s shoulder, lips against the bare skin of his neck. It was a gesture that was both achingly casual and startlingly intimate, so much so that Will wondered whether he should look away and give them some privacy.

The choice was made for him when he heard rustling from in the basement, the indication that someone was awake, and he retreated upstairs to the top step until he was just out of sight, concealed by the corner of the bannister halfway down. To his surprise, it was Hugo who appeared, though Will supposed it made sense. His eyes were red-rimmed, sparkling with unshed tears. His parents broke apart at the sound of his entry; though Will could not see them anymore from his new position, he listened carefully.

“Hugo?” said a voice, unmistakably Mike’s, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Will repeated in his mind, his body reacting with a sort of desperate ache. He’d never heard Mike say anything like that before. He wondered when it had started, if he picked it up from someone else — he wondered if he said it when he was speaking to Will, too.

Hugo hovered at the foot of the stairs until someone walked forward. Mike slipped into view beside him, crouching down so they were at eye-level with one another.

“I’m sorry,” Hugo said, voice quivering, then he threw his arms around Mike, pulling him into a hug. Mike blinked in surprise, before his arms came up to loop around his son and pull him in close.

“Oh, Hugo,” he soothed, “it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

Hugo trembled in his grasp, and Mike merely held him, not speaking, until Hugo resurfaced of his own accord, his nose running, eyes wide and aching. He turned towards the older Will, across the room, staring back and forth between both parents with uncertainty. "Y-You're really not mad at me?” he sniffled, “I thought — I thought maybe that was why you were taking so long."

"Hugo," said the older Will weakly, abandoning his post beside the counter to join them, "We could be furious with you and we’d still come find you no matter what. You know that." Hugo drew in a shuddering breath, nodding. "And we’re not angry, I think you scared yourself enough ending up in this godawful place. I'm sorry we took so long, I really am — but we didn't stop trying, I swear it."

“I know," Hugo said, but he was still upset, voice cracking over his tears. "Dad, it was so awful. I know there were monsters and that was — that was horrible but at least I knew to expect it. But—“ he looked between his parents again, as if searching for an answer. “You said you fell in love when you were teenagers — that you’d been in love now. But you’re not. You’re nothing like it.”

"Hugo…” Mike began, and he cupped Hugo’s face in his hands, stroking his cheek.

Hugo was still sniffling, red-eyed and confused. "Don't just — don't tell me that I'm a child and I won’t understand it. I know that’s not what it is.”

"Oh, Hugo, it’s not that," Will said, pulling him into another hug, “We were just kids, too. We were very young and scared — but we were. We were in love."

Hugo trembled weakly in his grasp, and then he lifted his head to look at Will, fixing his wide-eyed gaze upon him. “You… were?”

The older Will nodded. “Of course we were. We’d known each other our whole lives — I can hardly remember a time when we weren’t in love,” he said softly, and Will could feel his heart in his mouth, arms trembling, mind racing just hearing the words out loud. “Being in love doesn’t just mean dating, and kissing, and everything else most people do,” the older Will continued, “sometimes being in love is just being seen. It’s not your fault you were confused, I mean honestly, we were pretty confused ourselves—“

Hugo laughed wetly, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“But we’d never lie to you about that. We might not have known it, then, but we loved each other. More than anything.”

Will could not listen any longer. He needed to see Mike. He had to do something before the both forgot everything, before they’d have to wait another twenty years to get this memory back.

He half-tripped back up the stairs to Mike’s bedroom door, but when he shoved it open, unthinking, Mike was wide awake, sitting up in bed like he’d been waiting there for Will to come. He stood up at once, his brown eyes wide and gorgeous as they reflected the golden light filtering in from the street lamps outside.

They were pulled together like magnets. Will cradled Mike’s face in his fingers as they drew in huge, swelling breaths, rolling towards one another like waves. Mike shivered and half-jerked and Will murmured, “Don’t.”

Mike moved his face into view. Blinked at him, “Don’t?” he repeated back.

“Don’t break it,” breathed Will, and then they were kissing. Somewhere inbetween they fell back, Will’s shoulders pressed against the wall, getting lost in each other on the way before crashing forward again onto Mike’s bed.

Mike leaned over him, climbing over Will’s thighs into his lap, pressing them chest to chest, arms lifting, twining around Will’s neck, kissing again and again, sweet hot presses of his mouth and his nose brushing so endearingly against Will’s, his shirt collar catching Will’s cheek until Will pulled back to draw the shirt off altogether, staring as Mike chased after the lost kiss, mouth turned up, desperate and hopeful.

“I can’t lose you like this,” Will gasped between kisses, “Not after—“ Mike tugged at his shirt, “not after I’ve only just got you. I can’t do it.”

Mike slid Will’s shirt off, his hands freezing on bare skin. “Then stay with me,” he breathed into Will’s mouth. “Just stay here. Stay right here. Stay—” he broke off, and Will wasn’t sure if Mike was praying or pleading with him. Both seemed pointless, but it was better than what Will was doing, running his hands up and down Mike’s chest, trying to memorise the feeling of him, so that even if his mind forgot what this felt like then his body would remember. He could hardly breathe, let alone speak, so full of love and affection he was almost sick with it.

There was nothing to do except hold each other. Will kissed Mike until daylight broke through his curtained windows, and birdsong fractured the stillness of the air. Mike kept his face buried against Will’s neck until there was movement downstairs — the inevitable — and they both tensed.

Will couldn’t bring himself to look out of the window. He didn’t want to watch them leave, to remember what that meant, the promise of amnesia that came with it. He laid with Mike in silence, fingers linked, feeling like it was his own burial until that same, ear-splitting bang sounded again, and they knew immediately what had happened. Hugo was gone.