Archive of Our Own

New York always sounded angry.

Even on a Tuesday afternoon, even when nothing was technically wrong, it hummed and blared and growled like it had something to prove. Taxi horns ricocheted off brick buildings. Someone’s radio leaked static-heavy hip-hop from an open apartment window. A subway rumbled beneath the sidewalk, steel screaming against steel like the city was breathing through clenched teeth.

They spilled out of school together in a loose, uncoordinated cluster, five backpacks, worn sneakers scraping against concrete, and Dustin already talking too loudly about something nobody had asked him about.

“I’m just saying,” Dustin insisted, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulders like it strengthened his argument, “if Mr. Clarke gives us a pop quiz every Friday, it’s not really a quiz anymore. It’s a test. That’s false advertising.”

Lucas snorted. “You only hate it because you never study.”

“That’s not true,” Dustin shot back. “I study all the time. I just don’t retain the information.”

Max walked a few steps ahead of them, hands shoved into the pockets of her oversized denim jacket, skateboard tucked under one arm. “That’s a lie, we all know you’re pretending to fail so that Susie gives you tutoring lessons.”

Will laughed quietly, not enough to interrupt, not enough to draw attention. Mike heard it anyway. He always did.

Mike walked beside him, close enough that their sleeves brushed when the sidewalk narrowed. He told himself not to notice. The way Will’s backpack sagged lower than it should. The way his hair curled slightly at the ends now that he’d let it grow out. The idle, unhelpful thought that maybe Will had cut it himself again.

They were sixteen. Juniors in high school. Old enough that teachers expected them to care, young enough that no one took their complaints seriously.

Three blocks from the school, the city swallowed them whole.

A bodega on the corner had its door propped open, bell chiming with every customer. The smell of burnt coffee and frying oil drifted into the street. Above them, an electronic billboard flickered between ads-cell phone plans, a new Stark Industries venture, a grainy news crawl announcing that cleanup crews were still working downtown after “this morning’s incident.”

Dustin jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Can we talk about how we almost died today?”

Max didn’t even slow down. “We didn’t almost die.”

“A flying car exploded on Seventh Avenue,” he said. “That feels pretty ‘almost died’ to me.”

“It clipped a light post,” Lucas replied. “We were half a block away.”

“Half a block,” Dustin repeated. “Do you know how far flaming debris can travel?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “You say that like this doesn’t happen twice a week.”

“That’s the problem,” Dustin said. “It does happen twice a week. I’m gonna be late to calculus one day because a supervillain decided to punch a building.”

“It wasn’t even a big one,” Max added. “Just some C-list guy with a jetpack. The news said he didn’t even have a name yet.”

Lucas grinned. “Bet Spider-Man took him down anyway.”

That, of course, set them off.

Dustin practically vibrated. “Did you see the footage? He webbed the jetpack mid-air. Physics-wise, that shouldn’t even work.”

“He dropped him straight into an NYPD transport,” Lucas said. “Clean.”

They spiralled into speculation, about tensile strength, suit upgrades, whether Spider-Man had a day job like a normal person when he wasn’t swinging between buildings.

Max shook her head. “You guys are such nerds.”

“You love it,” Lucas teased, running up to her, playfully pulling his arm around her.

“I tolerate it.”

Mike glanced at Will, half-expecting him to jump in. Will usually did. He listened, always, even when Dustin rambled, and he always had something thoughtful to add.

But this time, Will stayed quiet, eyes forward, expression unreadable, as if he were tuned into the city instead of the conversation.

Mike noticed.

He told himself not to.

They stopped at a crosswalk while traffic tore past them, taxis, delivery trucks, a sleek black car that Lucas insisted looked “definitely villain-owned.” Something streaked overhead in a blur of red and blue, vanishing between buildings before Mike could really track it.

Dustin waved. “Hey! New suit!”

Mike craned his neck as it disappeared, that familiar, restless pull tightening in his chest. Heroes were just part of the skyline. He’d grown up with them. Like streetlights. Like scaffolding. Like the way the city rebuilt itself over and over again after being cracked open.

Still.

Every time.

“Mike,” Max said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Light’s green.”

He stepped off the curb with the others.

“Mom’s gonna kill me if I’m home late again,” Lucas said. “She already thinks school’s a war zone.”

“It is,” Dustin replied. “Just with more lockers.”

Will smiled at that, small and brief. When he looked over, his eyes met Mike’s for half a second too long. Something warm, and terrifying, settled in Mike’s chest, a feeling he didn’t have language for yet.

Mike looked away first.

They kept walking. Five kids swallowed by the sprawl of New York. Backpacks knocking together. Homework waiting. Sirens wailing somewhere far off, like background noise.

Just another afternoon.

And if anyone had asked, Mike would have said that was all there was to it.

The block split them up a few minutes later.

The street narrowed, brownstones packed tighter together, fire escapes zigzagging overhead. The noise shifted, less traffic, more voices drifting from open windows, the distant thump of music echoing down the block.

Lucas slowed first. “This is us,” he said, jerking his chin toward the apartment complex on the corner.

“Thank God,” Dustin said, already peeling off his backpack strap. “I have, like, three quizzes to survive tomorrow.”

“You say that every day,” Max said.

“And yet it keeps being true.”

They stopped in a loose half-circle, the kind that had formed so many times it was muscle memory by now. Dustin bumped Will’s shoulder lightly. “See you tomorrow, Picasso.”

Will smiled. “See you.”

Lucas gave them a short wave. “Later.”

Max pushed off on her board, rolling backward a few feet before calling, “Don’t get squished by a falling building, Wheeler.”

Mike snorted. “I’ll try.”

Then they were gone, Lucas and Dustin heading left, Max kicking off in the opposite direction, her skateboard rattling against the pavement until she disappeared down the block.

The city felt quieter without them.

Not silent. Never silent. Just… smaller.

Mike adjusted his backpack strap and kept walking. Will stayed beside him, hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket like he was guarding something warm.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

Mike broke first. “If I have to hear Dustin talk about tensile strength one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

Will huffed a laugh. “He’s just excited.”

“He’s obsessed,” Mike corrected. “All of them are. Lucas, Dustin… half the school. Like heroes are the coolest thing in the world.”

Will glanced over at him. “You don’t think they are?”

Mike shrugged, eyes on the cracked pavement ahead of them. “I don’t know. I guess I just think everything would be a lot less… on fire if there weren’t so many of them.”

Will frowned slightly. “But they save people.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, quick. “I know. I get that. I just-” He gestured vaguely at the city around them. “It feels like every new hero just means a new villain popping up to fight them. If there were no superheroes, there wouldn’t be supervillains either.”

Will was quiet for a beat.

Then he nodded, small and thoughtful. “I guess… yeah. That makes sense.”

The tension eased when Will spoke again, softer. “Hey, um. I finished another painting yesterday.”

Mike brightened immediately. “Yeah? The one you started last week?”

“Kind of,” Will said. “It changed halfway through.”

“Of course it did.”

Will smiled at that. “What about you? Still working on your story?”

Mike sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately. I’m stuck.”

“On what part?”

“Everything,” Mike said. “The middle’s a mess, the ending makes no sense, and I think my main character might be kind of unbearable.”

Will bumped his shoulder with his own. “You always say that. And then it turns out fine.”

“You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” Will admitted. “But you’re also wrong.”

Mike grinned. “Wow. So supportive.”

They laughed, easy and familiar, the sound weaving into the ambient noise of the city like it belonged there.

Their apartment building came into view, a brick walk-up wedged between a laundromat and a closed-down record store with a faded sign still clinging to the window.

Mike slowed, reluctant in a way he didn’t examine too closely.

“Wanna come over later?” he asked. “My mom said she’s ordering food.”

Will nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They climbed the steps together, shoulders brushing, the city roaring on behind them.

Just two kids walking home.

A few hours later, Mike was sprawled across his bed with his math textbook open and absolutely no intention of absorbing any of it.

His room glowed faintly blue from the desk lamp, posters half-peeling off the walls, notebooks stacked in uneven piles by his pillow. Outside, the city pressed in through the open window, sirens in the distance, someone shouting on the street below, the hum of traffic that never really stopped.

His phone buzzed.
Mike grabbed it instantly.

Will:can’t make it tonight, sorry =(

That was it.

No explanation. No “something came up,” no “maybe tomorrow.” Just a sad little emoticon and the unmistakable finality of a cancellation.

Mike stared at the screen, jaw tightening.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, tossing the phone onto his bed.

It wasn’t that Will was cancelling. It was that he kept cancelling.

Lately, it felt like every plan they made came with an invisible asterisk. Either Will bailed last minute, or he showed up late, breathing a little too hard, eyes unfocused like he’d just run three flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. Once or twice, he’d even looked… off. Distracted. Like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Mike rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

He’d tried bringing it up before. Casually, at first.

“Hasn’t Will been kind of… busy lately?”

Dustin had shrugged it off immediately. “Maybe he finally got a boyfriend.”

Lucas had smirked. Max had laughed.

Mike had shut that conversation down so fast it made his head spin.

Absolutely not. He refused to even entertain the thought. Not because it bothered him, he told himself, but because it didn’t make sense. Will wasn’t like that. Not secretive. Not flaky. Not with him.

Whatever was going on, Mike was sure there was a reason. There always was. And every time his frustration started to harden into something sharper, he reminded himself of that. Gave Will the benefit of the doubt. Again.

He picked his phone back up, thumbs hovering over the small screen.

You okay?

Everything good?

He erased both messages.

With a groan, Mike dropped the phone face-down and rubbed his hands over his face.

He wanted to be mad. He deserved to be mad. Plans mattered. Time together mattered. Will mattered.

But every time he tried to hold onto that anger, it slipped right through him.

All it took was picturing Will’s face, those big, doe eyes, the way his mouth tilted apologetically when he smiled. The way he always looked a little relieved when Mike forgave him, like he’d been bracing for something worse.

Mike sighed.

He rolled back onto his side, staring at the unanswered equations in front of him. Outside, another siren wailed past, fading into the distance.

Whatever was going on with Will, Mike told himself he’d figure it out eventually.

He always did.
And until then, he’d keep waiting.

The next morning started the same way it always did.

Mike was halfway down the front steps of his apartment building when the door swung open again and Will hurried out after him, jacket half-zipped, hair still slightly damp.

“Hey-Mike, wait.”

Mike stopped.

Will slowed to a halt in front of him, hands twisting nervously in his sleeves. “I’m really sorry about last night,” he said, earnest and immediate. “I didn’t mean to cancel so late. I just…something came up.”

Mike felt the irritation he’d rehearsed overnight evaporate on contact.

“It’s fine,” he said, way too quickly. “Really.”

Will searched his face, like he was checking for cracks. “You’re not mad?”

Mike shrugged. “Nah.”

That was all it took. Will smiled, soft, relieved, and fell into step beside him like nothing had ever been wrong.

Mike hated how easy that was.

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the morning air cool and sharp as the city shook itself awake. When they reached their usual midway point, a corner store with a crooked awning and a graffiti-tagged mailbox, Lucas, Dustin, and Max were already there.

“About time,” Dustin said. “We were starting to think you got taken out by a mugger.”

“Or a mutant,” Max added.

“Or a mugger mutant,” Lucas finished.

They merged into one messy cluster and headed toward school, backpacks bouncing, the skyline looming ahead of them.

Dustin barely made it half a block before launching in. “Okay, did you guys see the footage last night?”

Lucas groaned. “Here we go.”

“Spider-Man versus that new guy, what’s his name? Shockfist? Steeljaw? Something like that. Dude looked insane.”

“He was,” Max said. “That fight was brutal.”

Dustin nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! Spider-Man totally wiped the floor with him.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “Straight up demolished him.”

Max grinned. “Kind of hardcore, honestly.”

Will walked quietly beside Mike, nodding along when it seemed expected, smiling politely without adding anything. He looked calm. Normal. Like he hadn’t been apologising profusely less than twenty minutes ago.

Mike rolled his eyes.

“I don’t get why you guys keep watching this stuff,” he said. “You realize we live here, right? I see enough explosions just walking to the bus stop.”

Dustin scoffed. “Oh, come on. That’s not the same. This was historic.”

“Historic how?” Mike shot back. “Another villain wrecking a street? Another building getting smashed?”

“Spider-Man stopped him.”

“After the guy tore up half of Midtown.”

Lucas sighed. “Mike-”

“I’m serious,” Mike said, heat creeping into his voice. “You all act like the heroes are amazing, but they’re the reason half these villains even show up in the first place.”

Dustin turned to him, eyes wide. “That is such a bad take.”

“It’s logical,” Mike insisted. “No superheroes, no supervillains. No citywide fights at eight in the morning.”

Dustin walked backward for a few steps so he could face Mike properly. “Okay, but without superheroes, people would die.”

“They already do,” Mike snapped. “Or get hurt. Or lose their apartments.”

“Because of villains!”

“And villains wouldn’t exist like this without heroes to fight,” Mike said. “It’s just… escalation.”

Max muttered, “This is gonna be another one of those mornings.”

Dustin threw his hands up. “You’re blaming the wrong people.”

Mike shook his head. “I’m saying the whole system’s broken.”

They kept arguing all the way down the block, Dustin fired up and animated, Mike stubborn and increasingly irritated. Lucas tried to mediate once or twice before giving up entirely. Max just listened, amused, occasionally rolling her eyes.

Will stayed quiet through all of it.

He walked with his gaze ahead, expression mild, nodding when spoken to but never fully engaging. When Mike glanced at him mid-argument, Will met his eyes and offered a small, reassuring smile, like he was trying to calm him down without getting involved.

It worked, a little. Mike hated that too.

By the time the school came into view, the argument hadn’t actually been resolved. It never was. Dustin was still convinced heroes were the greatest thing to ever happen to humanity. Mike was still convinced they were a walking disaster magnet.

They climbed the front steps with the rest of the students, noise and chatter swelling around them.

Another day. Another debate. Another normal morning.

The hallway chaos hit them all at once.

Lockers slammed. Voices bounced off tile walls. The intercom crackled overhead with a barely coherent morning announcement. The crowd of students surged around them, backpacks bumping, someone laughing too loudly somewhere down the hall.

They’d barely made it ten steps inside when someone stepped directly into their path.

“Well, look who survived another morning.”

Mike’s stomach dropped.

Three guys stood blocking the hallway, leaning against lockers like they owned the place. They’d been around forever. Middle school, freshman year, now this. Same sneers, same bored cruelty.

The tallest one smirked first, eyes sweeping over them slowly. “Frog face,” he said. “Still wearing those ugly sweaters? Thought maybe you’d grow out of that.”

Dustin opened his mouth immediately. “Wow, incredible insult, pure poetry-”

“Shut up,” another one cut in, flicking Dustin’s limited edition heroes cap. “What are you, twelve?”

Dustin spluttered. “Don’t touch my-”

The third bully turned to Lucas, giving him a once-over. “You still think basketball’s gonna save from being a total waste of space, cmon Sinclair, you really think you’ve got what it takes to make it to the big leagues? Your just another wannabe like everyone else in this city.”

Lucas’s jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet.

The main one’s gaze slid to Max next, lingering. “And Sinclair’s new pet, the angry red one, the one that’s always in the way with her fuck ass skateboard. Cute couple.”

Max crossed her arms. “You done yet?”

The smirk widened.

Then his eyes landed on Will.

Mike felt his shoulders tense instinctively.

“Byers,” the bully said, voice dropping into something mockingly gentle. “You ever stop drawing pictures and join the real world?”

Will stayed still, expression carefully neutral.

“Such a little nerd,” the guy added, stepping closer and giving Will a careless shove to the shoulder.

It was a pretty tough shove, wouldn’t have hurt but definitely would’ve thrown him off balance.

The bully froze.

His eyebrows shot up, eyes flicking to his own hand like it had done something wrong. Will hadn’t moved much at all.

Then the guy laughed, recovering fast, a smug grin stretching across his face. “Huh. You’ve been hitting the gym, Byers? What, think you’re a tough guy now?”

Mike felt something ugly coil in his chest.

Before anyone else could react, Max stepped forward. “Yeah, okay,” she snapped. “How about you fuck off before you embarrass yourself any more?”

A couple of nearby students slowed, watching.

The bully scoffed. “Whatever.”

He stepped aside, letting them pass, the three of them laughing like it was all a joke.

Mike didn’t look back until they were halfway down the hall.

“God, I hate them,” Dustin muttered. “Like, deeply.”

“They have nothing better to do,” Lucas said. “Nothing.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Seriously. It’s like their entire personality is ‘making everyone miserable.’”

Mike glanced at Will.

Will was fine, walking normally, face calm, like the moment had already slid off him. He caught Mike looking and gave a small shrug, like it didn’t matter.

Mike was a little more alert now.

“They’ll peak in high school,” Dustin said. “Probably already have.”

“Here’s hoping,” Mike muttered.

The bell rang overhead, sharp and final.

They split off toward their lockers, irritation buzzing under their skin, the morning already exhausting.

And somehow, it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

A week passed.

The routines stayed the same.

Walk to school, keeping an eye on the sky in case a car came flying down the street for reasons that would absolutely not be explained until the evening news. Sit through calculus, hoping no one punched through the wall mid-lesson. Walk home, dodging police tape and scorch marks like they were potholes. Go to bed listening to sirens lull the city to sleep.

The usual.

By Friday afternoon, Mike was riding the subway alone, backpack resting against his knees, eyes flicking between the doors and the map above them. He got off a few stops early, climbing the stairs to street level with the muted roar of the train echoing behind him.

The local newspaper office was just down the block. Nancy’s latest article was supposed to be out today, and she’d texted him earlier to make sure he grabbed a copy, front page this time, she’d added, which meant she was insufferably proud of it.

Mike barely made it out of the stairwell before someone stepped into his path.

“Hey, kid.”

Mike sighed.

The guy standing there looked… exactly like what you’d expect. Mid-thirties, mismatched armor plating strapped over street clothes, a mask that was trying very hard to be intimidating and failing spectacularly. In his hand was a bulky, humming device with blinking red lights that screamed prototype.

Not even a good one.

“Wallet,” the guy said, lifting the device threateningly. “Now.”

Mike stared at him for a second.

Then he said, flatly, “You know this is the most crowded street in the borough, right?”

The villain scowled. “I said-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike interrupted, already reaching into his bag. “Let me guess. Experimental tech, unregistered alias, big dreams, zero follow-through.”

The guy blinked. “What?”

Mike pulled his wallet partway out, tired more than afraid. This wasn’t his first mugging. It wouldn’t be his last. This was what happened when you lived in a city where everyone with a grudge and a gadget thought today was their big break.

He didn’t even have time to fully hand it over.

THWIP.

A thick strand of webbing shot out of nowhere, slamming into the guy’s chest and yanking him off his feet. He flew backward with a yelp, hitting a nearby dumpster hard enough to rattle the lid. More webbing followed, pinning him in place like a bug in a display case.

Mike blinked.

Then a black and yellow blur dropped into view, landing in a crouch between Mike and the thoroughly immobilized villain.

Spider-Man straightened, dusting off his hands. “And that,” he said cheerfully, “is why you leave dress up to the professionals!” 

He gave Mike two exaggerated thumbs up. “You good?”

Mike stared at him for half a second. Then nodded. “Yeah.”

And turned to keep walking.

There was a pause.

Then Spider-Man swung down again, landing beside him and keeping pace as Mike continued down the sidewalk like this was a perfectly normal interaction.

“You know,” Spider-Man said, “a thank you wouldn’t kill you.”

Mike glanced at him. “For what?”

Spider-Man tapped Mike’s chest with a finger. “Uh. For saving your life.”

Mike scoffed. “That guy was barely a threat. Total NPC.”

Spider-Man gasped, offended. “Wow. That’s harsh. He had a device.”

“So does my blender.”

“That’s still at least a mini-boss,” Spider-Man argued. “Maybe not endgame content, but-”

“Please,” Mike said. “I’ve seen scarier people waiting for the subway at midnight.”

Spider-Man swung ahead a little, then back again, as if circling the point. “Okay, but statistically speaking, you were about to get robbed.”

“Yeah,” Mike said. “Happens.”

“That’s… not comforting.”

Mike shrugged. “Welcome to New York.”

Spider-Man tilted his head at him, clearly amused. “You’re weirdly unimpressed by all this.”

Mike adjusted his backpack strap. “I see you guys break things every day. Forgive me if I’m not starstruck.”

“Ouch,” Spider-Man said, dramatically clutching his heart and stumbling backwards. “Right in the spandex.”

Mike rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

They walked like that for another few steps, one on the sidewalk, one swinging lazily overhead.

Spider-Man hummed. “You sure you’re not even a little grateful?”

“Not really,” Mike said.

Spider-Man slowed mid-swing, then dropped back down beside him. “Wow. Brutal honesty. I respect that.”

Mike kept walking. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around?”

Spider-Man shrugged, somehow expressive even with the mask. “Not really. And besides, you’re the first person today who wasn’t completely starstruck by me. It’s kind of humbling.”

He shot another web and swung lazily alongside Mike, matching his pace like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“I don’t get starstruck,” Mike said.

Spider-Man made an exaggerated note-taking motion. “Noted.”

They walked like that, Mike on the sidewalk, Spider-Man looping overhead and dropping back down again, drawing more than a few looks from pedestrians. Mike ignored them all.

“You know people are staring, right?” Mike said.

“Oh yeah,” Spider-Man said brightly. “That happens.”

“And you’re just… okay with that?”

“I’m dressed in a spider onesie and swing through traffic,” Spider-Man replied. “Privacy sailed a long time ago.”

Mike huffed. “You superheroes really love attention.”

Spider-Man gasped. “Slander.”

“You literally swing through Times Square.”

“It has excellent acoustics.”

Mike shook his head. “This is so unnecessary.”

“And yet,” Spider-Man said, dropping into a neat flip and landing beside him again, “you haven’t told me to leave.”

“I figured you’d ignore me.”

“Correct.”

Mike shot him a sideways look. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Only when I’m unconscious,” Spider-Man said. “Which I try to avoid.”

“Maybe you should talk less and do more,” Mike muttered.

“Ooo, constructive criticism.” Spider-Man tapped his chin. “I’ll workshop that.”

Mike sighed. “You saved me. Thanks. There. Happy?”

Spider-Man beamed, Mike could tell even through the mask. “Incredibly.”

They reached a crosswalk and stopped. Mike stared ahead at the red light, arms crossed.

“So,” Spider-Man said casually, “what’s your name?”

“Why?”

“Because it feels rude to call you ‘grumpy pedestrian’.”

Mike hesitated, then sighed. “Mike.”

“Nice to meet you, Mike,” Spider-Man said. “I’m-” Spider-Man reached out his hand about to introduce himself, as if the whole world doesn’t know his name.

“No,” Mike cut in. “I don’t care.”

Spider-Man laughed, loud and bright. “Wow. You’re fun.”

Mike glanced at him, irritation simmering, but underneath it, something else stirred. Amusement, maybe. Annoyance didn’t usually come with this much… energy.

The walk signal chirped. Mike stepped off the curb.

Spider-Man followed, swinging low. “You know, most people ask me for pictures.”

“I have a camera,” Mike said. “I just don’t want one.”

“Ouch.”

“Plus, you’re a distraction.”

“From what?” Spider-Man asked. “The overwhelming joy of city living?”

Mike snorted despite himself. “Exactly.”

Spider-Man noticed. Of course he did.

“Oh,” he said, delighted. “That was a laugh.”

“It was not.”

“That was absolutely a laugh.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but it was harder to maintain the irritation now, the edges already fraying.

Spider-Man swung ahead, then turned mid-air to face him. “You’re interesting, Mike.”

Mike frowned. “That’s not a compliment.”

“No,” Spider-Man said, “but I mean it like one.”

They continued down the block together, one grounded, one airborne, bickering easily, the city flowing around them like neither of them was out of place.

And for reasons Mike refused to examine too closely, he didn’t hurry Spider-Man away.

They made it halfway down the block before Spider-Man suddenly stilled mid-swing.

He reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, like he had a sense. “Welp. Duty calls.”

Mike glanced at him, unimpressed.

“….Ew,” Spider-Man added immediately. “That sounded like a toilet joke. I mean, I gotta go save more lives. Like I did yours.” He pointed at Mike. “You’re welcome.”

Mike opened his mouth to respond, but Spider-Man was already backing up, shooting a web at a nearby building.

“See ya, grumpy pedestrian Mike!”

And just like that, he was gone, red and blue flashing once between buildings before vanishing entirely.

Mike stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, the noise of the city rushing back in around him as if nothing had happened at all.

He shook his head.

What the hell just happened?

The whole interaction felt like a fever dream. One minute he was about to hand over his wallet to some discount wannabe villain, the next he was being lectured about gratitude by the most insufferably talkative superhero in the city.

He knew who Spider-Man was. Everyone did. The friendly neighborhood web-head. The youngest Avenger. The guy on the news every other night, swinging through skyline shots, trading quips with gods and billionaires like it was nothing.

And now, apparently, the most annoying superhero Mike had ever had the misfortune of meeting.

He started walking again, jaw tight.

Mike knew heroes liked interacting with civilians. It was good PR. Made them feel approachable. Relatable. Human.

He had zero interest in being a PR opportunity.

Especially not for someone that smug.

Still… as much as he tried to shove the memory aside, one thing lingered in the back of his mind, persistent and irritating.

The laugh.

There had been something about it, too familiar, too warm. Like he’d heard it a hundred times before in quieter places, when things were normal and uncomplicated.

Mike scowled and forced the thought away.

He didn’t give a flying fuck about Spider-Man.

And whatever that feeling was, it didn’t mean anything. 

A few days had passed.

Mike made a conscious effort not to think about Spider-Man.

Not because he was confused, or unsettled, or because there had been something annoyingly familiar about that interaction, but because every time the thought surfaced, it just pissed him off. So he shut it down. Simple as that.

Life went on.

School. Homework. Walking to and from places without getting hit by flying debris. D&D nights in Mike’s bedroom, which, importantly, were still sacred.

It was one of those nights now.

The room was dim, lit by a lamp on Mike’s desk and the glow of dice scattered across the floor between them. Pizza boxes were stacked by the door, graph paper covered in scribbles spread across Mike’s bed. Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Will sat cross-legged in a loose circle while Mike leaned forward, binder open, fully in his element.

“Okay,” Mike said, voice steady and deliberate, “so you’re standing at the edge of the ravine. The artifact is within reach, but if you take it, the warded glyphs activate.”

He glanced between them. “Your decision right now determines whether the village is saved, or wiped out entirely.”

Dustin squinted. “No pressure.”

Lucas tapped his pencil against his sheet. “What kind of villain just wipes out a village?”

Mike opened his mouth to respond-

BANG.

The window rattled violently, glass humming as something hit the street below hard enough to shake the building.

Everyone froze.

Then Dustin was on his feet. “OH MY GOD.”

Lucas and Max bolted toward the window immediately. Will followed, eyes wide, curiosity overriding caution.

Mike stayed where he was.

“Seriously?” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet with all the enthusiasm of someone who had absolutely had enough. He strolled over slower, already annoyed.

Outside, the street was chaos.

A man hovered several feet above the pavement, eyes glowing bright red as twin beams of light shot downward, carving scorch marks into the asphalt. Across from him, a hero, someone Mike vaguely recognized but couldn’t name, dodged frantically, ducking behind a parked car that would definitely never drive again.

“Laser eyes guy is back,” Max said. “Didn’t he get arrested?”

“Paroled,” Dustin said immediately. “Caught it in the news last week.”

“That’s insane,” Lucas added. “Look at that damage.”

Mike snorted. “Yeah. Real great job they’re doing.”

No one listened.

They watched in awe as the unknown hero finally tackled the villain into a storefront, glass exploding outward as sirens wailed in the distance.

“Okay,” Dustin said breathlessly, turning away from the window. “If you had powers, what would they be?”

“Oh my god,” Mike muttered.

Lucas grinned. “Easy. Super speed.”

“Of course,” Max said. “I’d want something useful. Telekinesis.”

Dustin puffed up. “Elasticity. Obviously. Think about the versatility.”

They all turned to Will.

He startled slightly. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Dustin said. “What’s your superhero power?”

Will hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know… maybe something with, like… light? Or invisibility.”

There was a beat.

Then Dustin laughed. “That’s it?”

Lucas cracked a grin. “That’s kinda lame, man.”

Max smirked. “Invisibility? Really?”

Will ducked his head, laughing softly along with them. “Yeah, I guess.”

Something sour twisted in Mike’s chest.

“We already have D&D characters,” Mike said sharply. “Why do we need superhero ones?”

Dustin turned on him immediately. “Because it’s basically the same thing.”

“It’s not,” Mike argued. “One’s fantasy. One’s just… collateral damage.”

Dustin crossed his arms. “Heroes are literally just D&D characters with better PR.”

Mike scoffed. “D&D villains don’t knock down buildings.”

“Depends on the campaign.”

Lucas sighed. “Here we go.”

They slipped into it easily, Mike and Dustin volleying back and forth, arguments overlapping, Max interjecting occasionally just to stir things up. Lucas watched it unfold like a tennis match.

Will stayed quiet, eyes flicking between them, faint smile lingering like it always did.

Outside, another explosion echoed down the street.

Inside, Mike returned to his spot, tapping his binder impatiently. “So,” he said, pointedly, “are we making a decision? Or do you want to keep arguing about hypothetical capes?”

Dustin grinned. “Villains first.”

Mike exhaled sharply.

Of course they did.

And somehow, despite everything, it felt normal.

Form class was torture.

The lights were too bright, the desks were too small, and the lecture, safe sex and personal responsibility, was being delivered by a teacher who very clearly did not want to be there. Neither did anyone else.

A plastic-wrapped cucumber sat on every desk.

Mike stared at his for a moment, then resolutely looked away.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lucas doing something deeply stupid with his. Mike glanced over just in time to see Lucas giving it an exaggeratedly serious expression, complete with dramatic hand gestures.

Mike snorted before he could stop himself.

He turned to Will, expecting to find him biting his lip to keep from laughing or quietly shaking his head in disapproval.

Instead, Will had one hand curled behind his neck, fingers pressing in like he was sore. His gaze drifted toward the window, unfocused, like he was listening to something Mike couldn’t hear.

Then Will straightened, raised his hand, and said politely, “Um, can I go to the bathroom?”

The teacher sighed, long-suffering. “Just… be quick.”

Will nodded, gathered his stuff, and slipped out of the room.

Mike watched him go for half a second longer than he meant to, then shrugged it off.

He turned toward Dustin and, without warning, leaned over and mimicked Lucas’s exaggerated cucumber routine, adding a dramatic bow for emphasis, claiming the joke as his own.

Dustin slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

Lucas noticed immediately and mouthed quietly. “Hey-what the hell?”

Mike grinned and whispered. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

Lucas glared.

Max didn’t even look up, thumbs moving rapidly as she played her Game Boy beneath the desk. 

Mike leaned back in his chair, smirk lingering, the room settling back into its dull rhythm.

Will didn’t come back before the bell rang.
Mike noticed, but didn’t think anything of it.

A few seconds passed. The class were collecting their belongings.

Then….SMASH.

The windows exploded inward, glass shattering across the linoleum like crystal rain.

Five villains barreled in, each one stranger and more grotesque than the last. They fought against just as many heroes, who darted between desks and lockers with fists and powers flashing, leaving scorch marks and debris in their wake. Smoke and dust filled the room instantly.

Screams cut through the chaos.

Mike’s stomach dropped.

He didn’t think. He reacted.

Every student had been trained for this. Duck, cover, stay low. That had been drilled into them since freshman year, and they did it without question.

Mike dove under his desk. He felt Dustin hit the floor beside him, Max landing lightly with her Game Boy clattering against her lap, Lucas sliding into the small space next to Mike like it was the safest corner of the world.

“Where the fuck is Will?” Lucas hissed, eyes wide and scanning the broken window.

Mike’s throat went dry. “He… he went to the bathroom.”

Lucas froze, then whispered, “Bathroom? Bathroom? He’s alone..?!”

“Yeah..” Mike said, jaw tight. His hands gripped the edge of the desk. “He’s fine. He’s fine.”

But none of them believed it.

The room shuddered again as a blast from some villain’s device knocked lockers sideways, sending another avalanche of metal and books across the floor. The heroes managed to intercept some attacks, but the reality was clear: none of this was targeted at the students. Not yet.

It wasn’t about them.

Except if Will happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time…

Mike swallowed hard. He couldn’t stop imagining it.

He glanced at Lucas, who looked equally pale, fists clenched beneath the desk. Dustin’s nervous chatter had stopped entirely, replaced by wide-eyed stares at the smoke-filled classroom. Max’s jaw was tight, fingers gripping her Game Boy like it could somehow protect her.

They all knew what this meant.

The villains weren’t here to rob, or to kidnap, or even to fight the heroes fairly. They were here to destroy, to escalate, to make the heroes’ jobs impossible. Every student in the room was collateral damage in that plan.

And one student, one precious, unknowable, unknowable student, was still unaccounted for.

Mike couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Will.

In the bathroom. Alone.

He had to get to him.

But for now, they stayed low. For now, they stayed quiet.

For now, they hid. 

The villains didn’t linger.

Within minutes, they had spilled from the form room into the hallways, shrieking, firing blasts, and knocking lockers and doors aside as the heroes gave chase. The room Mike and the others had taken cover in fell quiet again, save for the occasional distant crash and the sharp, brittle hum of emergency alarms.

An older hero, someone tall, armored, calm, stepped into the room, raising a hand. “Everyone, follow me. Back exit, parking lot. Stay close.”

The students moved, murmuring anxiously, clutching backpacks, some gripping books or jackets like shields. Mike’s heart pounded in his chest with every step. They had to hope… had to hope… that Will had made it out.

The gang filed through the back door into the parking lot. The afternoon light reflected off smashed windows and scattered debris, sirens wailing faintly in the distance. Mike’s gaze darted, frantically scanning every doorway, every corner.

“Will! Will!” Mike yelled, voice cracking slightly. “Will! Where are you?”

“Will!” Lucas shouted back, running along the row of cars.

“Will! Where the hell are you?!” Dustin added, voice trembling.

Max crouched behind a car, hands pressed to her mouth, scanning the street. “Where is he?”

Mike’s stomach tightened. Nothing. No sign. Not a single glimpse of him among the chaos.

Then, movement.

Not Will.

Spider-Man.

He was a blur of black and yellow, swinging and flipping effortlessly, shooting webs at four villains at once, yanking them from the building and flinging them into a high-tech containment unit parked just beyond the lot. Mike froze.

The rational part of his brain screamed at him to stay calm, but the panic in his chest wasn’t listening.

He ran.

“Spider-Man!” Mike shouted, ignoring the scattered screams and debris. “I-I need to get in there-my friend-he’s still inside!”

The others followed him, running through the chaos, hearts hammering.

Spider-Man landed lightly in front of him, one hand brushing the web shooters on his wrists. He looked calm. Too calm. And bubbly, in a way that made Mike’s chest ache with irritation and relief all at once.

“Oh! It’s grumpy pedestrian Mike!” Spider-Man said cheerfully, hopping slightly from one foot to the other.

Dustin’s voice broke out in a panicked whisper behind him. “He-he knows your name…?!”

Mike didn’t answer. “I’ll explain later!” he hissed, barely looking at Dustin as he whirled back to the hero.

“Listen! My friend-Will-he’s still inside! I need to go in, I have to find him, I don’t know where he is-”

Words tumbled out, half-formed, urgent, panicked. He gestured toward the school, teary-eyed and shaking. He stumbled over sentences, over-explaining, repeating himself.

Spider-Man calmly stepped forward and placed a hand on each of Mike’s shoulders, steadying him. The warmth and firmness were oddly grounding. “Your friend is fine,” he said, voice calm, friendly, almost annoyingly reassuring. “I’ll go in and get him myself. You guys stay here, where it’s safe.”

Mike opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat.

And just like that, Spider-Man shot a web to a nearby rooftop and was gone, swinging gracefully back into the chaos without a backward glance.

Mike stood frozen for a moment, chest heaving, staring after him.

His heart pounded. His fingers twitched. Panic still clenched his stomach like iron-but deep down, a flicker of relief fought through it.

Will was going to be okay.

Spider-Man promised.

But Mike didn’t trust promises, he only trusted what he could see. And right now, he couldn’t see anything that mattered. 

A few minutes passed.

Some students were getting bandaged up from minor cuts and bruises, teachers were running head counts, and the last of the villains were being secured in the high-tech containment units.

Then…Will appeared.

Totally calm. Totally fine. Like he had just taken a leisurely stroll to the bathroom, not waded through a near-apocalyptic villain fight.

The gang didn’t even wait. They all ran up at once. Mike…Mike barreled forward, ignoring everyone else, and wrapped Will in a hug that was everything: desperate, intense, all-consuming. He held on like he was afraid if he let go, Will might vanish again.

“I… I was so scared,” Mike whispered, voice muffled against Will’s shoulder.

Will held him just as tightly, though calmer, softer. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m okay.”

Dustin, ever the mood lifter, grinned and said, “Shitty time to take a bathroom break.”

The gang laughed, tension easing just a fraction.

Max leaned against Mike’s shoulder, smirking. “Did Spider-Man rescue you?”

Will hesitated. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, he did.” His voice was quieter, almost unsure, like he was testing the words before letting them stick.

“Well, where did he go? We need to thank him for his awesomeness!” Dustin exclaimed, bouncing on his heels.

Mike rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Will just smiled. “He said he had to go… some urgent hero stuff or something.”

The excuse seemed to satisfy the group. Attention shifted back to Mike.

“So… are you going to explain how Spider-Boy knows your name, Michael?” Max teased, eyebrows raised.

Mike groaned, leaning back slightly. “He showed up once when I was getting mugged. Then gave me a lecture about gratitude or some shit. I don’t know how he remembered my name. Guess he’s really desperate to keep up that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man image he so desperately craves.”

Dustin’s eyes went wide. “If Spider-Man knew my name, everyone would fucking know about it, dude.”

Mike shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Yeah, well, I don’t idolize celebrities like you do, dude.”

The tension eased into their usual rhythm, their familiar back-and-forth debates and snide remarks filling the air.

But for Mike, none of that mattered. Not really.

All that mattered was Will was safe.

And Mike silently promised himself, then and there, he would make sure Will never left his sight again.

It was a warm Thursday afternoon.

The sun dipped low over the city skyline, painting the sky in deep oranges and burned gold, the kind of sunset that made New York feel almost gentle. Almost.

The abandoned skate park sat tucked between old warehouses and chain-link fences, concrete cracked and painted over with years of graffiti. It was one of the few places the gang could exist without being side-eyed or yelled at, or accidentally caught in the crossfire of someone’s dramatic villain monologue.

Max owned the place.

She zipped down the ramps, board clattering loud against the concrete as she pulled off trick after trick, landing clean every time. She whooped when she nailed a particularly nasty flip, throwing her arms up like she’d just won something.

Mike sat on the edge of one of the ramps, notebook balanced on his knee. He wasn’t really writing anything coherent, just fragments. Half-formed plots, dungeon ideas, dramatic endings that never quite stuck. He crossed things out almost as often as he wrote them.

Nearby, an old tree curved low at the trunk, its thick branches stretching outward like an invitation. Lucas hung from one of them, grunting as he pulled himself up again and again.

“Eighty-four!” Dustin yelled, sprawled across the ramp beside Mike. “You’re slowing down, man.”

“I’m pacing myself,” Lucas shot back through clenched teeth.

“Five minutes,” Dustin reminded him smugly, never looking up from the half-assembled science project in his hands. Screwdriver deep in whatever disaster he was building for extra credit. “A hundred pull-ups or you owe me five bucks.”

Mike snorted softly, watching the whole thing with half his attention.

It was peaceful.

Nice.

Which was exactly why something felt wrong.

Mike checked his watch again.

Will was missing.

He told himself, again that it was fine. Will had said he’d be late. Twenty minutes, tops. No big deal. Stuff happened. New York wasn’t exactly predictable.

But they’d been there an hour now.

Mike’s pen stilled over the page. He stared at the messy lines he’d written but didn’t read any of them.

He hated the way his chest tightened.

I’m not being weird, I’m not hovering. I’m just… noticing.

Ever since the school incident last week, it felt impossible not to notice. Mike had sworn, internally, quietly, that he wouldn’t let Will out of his sight again.

Turns out, that promise was harder to keep when you lived in a city the size of New York and didn’t want to turn into Joyce Byers 2.0. Joyce already hovered enough. Mike didn’t need that nickname coming back around.

Still.

His gaze drifted to the entrance of the skate park for the fourth time in five minutes. Nothing. No red jacket. No familiar silhouette.

“Hey,” Dustin said absently, tightening a screw. “Has Will always been this bad with time? I swear he use to be a lot more punctual when we were kids.” 

Mike stiffened. “He said twenty minutes.”

Lucas dropped down from the branch with a huff. “That was like… forever ago.”

Max rolled up beside Mike, resting her board against her leg. “Relax,” she said. “He probably got distracted. Or grounded. Or abducted by aliens.”

“Very funny,” Mike muttered.

He tried to focus on his notebook again. Tried to convince himself that Will would show up any second now, out of breath and apologetic and perfectly fine.

But the unease stayed.

And this time, Mike couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong.

It had been another 30 minutes when…finally…Will appeared.

He jogged into the skate park, breath just a little too fast, hoodie half-zipped, like he’d been rushing for a while. The reaction was immediate.

Lucas dropped from the tree branch.

Dustin sat up so fast his screwdriver clattered onto the concrete.

Max skidded to a stop, nearly eating shit as she bailed off her board.

And Mike dropped his notebook. It slapped against the concrete, completely forgotten.

“Holy shit, dude,” Dustin said as Will came closer.

That’s when Mike saw it.

The left side of Will’s face bore a long, deep red cut, freshly cleaned but still angry against his pale skin. It was the kind of wound that hadn’t fully stopped hurting yet. The kind that definitely wasn’t from bumping into a doorframe.

It was going to scar.

Mike’s stomach flipped.

Will didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t even touch it. He just raised his hands apologetically. “Sorry-sorry I’m late. I know I said twenty minutes, I just-”

No one was listening.

“What happened to your face?”

“Dude, are you bleeding?”

“Did someone jump you?”

“Was it a villain?”

“Did you need stitches?”

The questions piled on top of him, voices overlapping, everyone suddenly too close. Will tried to talk, kept opening his mouth only to get drowned out again.

“I’m fine,” he finally managed, louder this time. “Guys. I’m seriously fine.”

They quieted.

Will took a breath and offered up a flimsy explanation, something about tripping, being in a hurry, catching his face on something sharp. It didn’t really make sense. It didn’t really need to.

The group exchanged glances.

Lucas shrugged.

Max raised an eyebrow.

Dustin frowned for half a second, then dropped it.

“Alright,” Dustin said slowly. “If you say so.”

And just like that, it was over.

They didn’t forgive him exactly. But they didn’t push, either. The moment passed the way uncomfortable moments always did with them, filed away, unspoken.

Dustin clapped his hands together. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Lucas, you were doomed from the start.”

Lucas groaned. “I was on eighty-eight.”

“Eighty-four,” Dustin corrected smugly.

Max grabbed Will by the sleeve. “Come on. I figured out a new trick, you gotta see it.”

Will let himself be pulled along, smiling softly, already slipping back into the group like nothing had happened.

Mike didn’t move.

He just watched.

Watched the cut. Watched the way Will tilted his head slightly, like it hurt to turn it too far. Watched how careful he was with his movements, like his body knew something the rest of them didn’t.

Will Byers was hiding something.

And Mike did not like it at all.

The fire escape outside Mike’s bedroom was one of the few places in the city that actually felt quiet.

All he had to do was climb out his window, duck under the rusted frame, and he’d be there, sitting on the metal steps, one hand wrapped loosely around the banister, the city stretched out below him.

Cars honked. Voices floated up from the sidewalks. Somewhere, a siren wailed, distant enough to be background noise instead of a threat.

Mike had his iPod earbuds in, his favorite song humming softly through his head. A warm breeze brushed against his face, carrying the smell of pavement and summer air.

He closed his eyes.

Don’t think about the essay due next week.

Don’t think about the bullies.

Don’t think about Will-

Too late.

The thoughts tangled anyway, mixing with the music until they blurred together into something less sharp. Less heavy. For a few moments, his shoulders relaxed. His breathing evened out.

He almost felt peaceful.

A few seconds passed.

Maybe more.

Mike slowly cracked his eyes open again-

And immediately found himself staring into a blurry, upside-down masked face hovering inches from his own.

His eyes snapped fully open.

“HOLY SHIT-”

Mike let out a deeply unmanly scream, scrambling backward and nearly smacking his head against the window frame.

At the same time, the masked figure yelped. “-Agh! Jesus!”

Spider-Man flailed, tightening his grip on a web before awkwardly swinging himself upright. He abandoned the upside-down hover and instead crouched on the banister, steadying himself.

“Dude!” Spider-Man exclaimed. “You scared the everlasting fuck out of me.”

Mike’s heart hammered in his chest. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one staring someone in the face without warning! What are you even doing here?”

Spider-Man shrugged casually. “Dunno. Just saw you sitting here and thought I’d… observeeee.”

He wiggled his fingers dramatically like a ghost.

Mike scoffed, but unfortunately, his stomach did a stupid little flip.

Nope. Absolutely not.

“So,” Mike shot back, crossing his arms, “you really don’t have anything better to do than annoy the shit out of me?”

Spider-Man laughed.

That laugh.

The same stupidly familiar laugh that made something itch at the back of Mike’s brain. He shoved the thought down immediately.

“Unless there’s a cat stuck in a tree or a super-evil villain attack,” Spider-Man said lightly, “I guess I’m off the clock right now.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t the Avengers need you or something? Shouldn’t you be in space again?”

Spider-Man tilted his head at him, clearly smiling beneath the mask. Mike could feel it.

“Okay, space was one time,” he said defensively. “And no, the Avengers mostly treat me like a babysitting job. I’d rather hang out with you.”

He pointed at Mike. “Grumpy Pedestrian Mike.”

“I am not grumpy,” Mike snapped.

Spider-Man leaned a little closer. “You kinda are.”

Mike’s ears heated up. “You’re incredibly annoying.”

“And yet,” Spider-Man hummed, “you’re still sitting here talking to me. Makes you wonder.”

Mike stood abruptly. “Maybe I just have bad judgment.”

“Or great taste,” Spider-Man replied smoothly.

Mike glared at him, flustered and irritated and profoundly aware that a superhero was flirting with him on his fire escape, and that he hated how much it was working.

“Go save someone,” Mike muttered.

Spider-Man laughed again, softer this time. “Only if you promise not to miss me.”

Mike opened his mouth to argue-

And Spider-Man was already gone, swinging off into the night, laughter echoing down the street like it knew exactly what kind of damage it had just done.

Mike stood there, staring at the empty air.

“…God, I hate superheroes,” he muttered, even as his heart refused to slow down. 

Spider-Man had been showing up a lot more recently.

Not just on the news, though that alone was enough to drive Mike insane. He’d made the headlines four times in one day.

SPIDER-MAN SAVES AN OLD LADY.

OUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDER-MAN RESCUES CAT FROM BURNING BUILDING.

SPIDER-MAN DEFEATS NEW VILLAIN IN VICIOUS ATTACK.

THE GREAT SPIDER-MAN SAVES THE DAY-YET AGAIN.

It was endless.

Mike avoided the television after that.

But somehow, that didn’t help. Because even when he ignored the news, Spider-Man still kept… appearing.

Like when Mike was walking home one afternoon after grabbing a carton of milk for his mom. The sidewalk was crowded, late-day commuters weaving past each other, and Mike was minding his business when a familiar black and yellow blur landed on a nearby fire escape.

“Are you stalking me?” Mike asked flatly, not even stopping.

Spider-Man leaned over the railing. “Wow. Bold accusation. You say that to all masked vigilantes?”

Mike scowled and kept walking.

That should have been a one-off.

It wasn’t.

Another time, Mike was waiting on the subway platform, earbuds in, zoning out at an ad plastered across the tiled wall. Someone tapped his shoulder. He turned, ready to snap at whatever creep thought that was acceptable, and found Spider-Man crouched upside down on a support beam above him.

“You dropped this,” Spider-Man said, holding out Mike’s library card.

Mike stared. “How did you, why do you have that?”

“You’d be shocked what falls out of pockets when people angrily pace,” Spider-Man replied cheerfully, flipping upright.

Mike snatched the card and didn’t thank him.

Then there was the time Mike was leaning on the railing outside a bodega, waiting for Dustin to finish buying snacks. Out of nowhere, webbing shot past him and stuck a would-be pickpocket to the brick wall two feet away.

“Citizen’s arrest!” Spider-Man announced, swinging down beside Mike.

Mike looked from the struggling criminal to Spider-Man. “You couldn’t have done that literally anywhere else?”

Spider-Man shrugged. “Front-row seating felt appropriate.”

And then, because apparently the universe hated Mike, there was the afternoon it started pouring rain with no warning. Mike had been sprinting home, drenched and pissed, when Spider-Man landed beside him on the sidewalk, holding an umbrella.

“For you,” he said, offering it politely.

Mike stared at the umbrella. Then at him.

“…I hate you,” Mike muttered, pushing past him.

Spider-Man laughed, warm and familiar and entirely too pleased with himself.

Everywhere Mike went, Spider-Man just happened to be there.

And Mike had absolutely no idea why that bothered him so much.

Mike felt like he was seeing Spider-Man more than his best friend lately.

Which was messed up.

And it really pissed him off.

He sat on a cold metal park bench one afternoon, notebook open but untouched on his lap. He was supposed to be jotting down ideas for his English Lit class, something about symbolism and modern tragedy, but instead his eyes were glued to the massive billboard directly across from him.

A Spider-Man billboard.

Of course it was.

LED lights framed the display, glowing obnoxiously against the dim, overcast sky. The image showed the hero mid-swing through the city, muscles tense, mask turned toward the skyline like he was watching over it.

Beneath it, bold lettering read something painfully dramatic about how the city could always rely on its friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Mike scoffed.

“Yeah,” a voice said beside him. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

Mike froze.

He turned sharply to his left, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Oh my god! Dude!”

Spider-Man was kneeling on the bench beside him like it was the most normal thing in the world, one knee up, forearm resting casually against his leg. He followed Mike’s gaze to the billboard and shook his head.

“I mean, I get branding,” Spider-Man continued, “but the glowing lights? The anthem vibes? Feels like they’re one choir away from making it a religion.”

Mike stared at him for a long moment.

Then he sighed, long and tired, and leaned back against the bench. He didn’t even bother asking why Spider-Man was there this time. He didn’t have the energy.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” Mike asked quietly.

Spider-Man tilted his head.

It was… kind of cute.

Jesus, Mike.

“Get tired of what?” Spider-Man asked.

Mike swallowed. “I dunno. Being Spider-Man. Being a hero. Don’t you ever just want to be… normal?”

Spider-Man snorted, the sound sharp but honest. “Hell yeah, dude. Every day.”

He leaned back too, looking up at the sky. “I really miss my life before all this hero shit happened. I miss the normality. I miss my friends.”

Mike’s chest tightened.

“But,” Spider-Man went on, voice lighter again, “getting bit by a radioactive spider, waking up with powers, and then accidentally becoming the youngest Avenger kind of takes that choice away from you.”

He shrugged, like it was just a fact of life. Like it didn’t still hurt.

Mike glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “That… sucks.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man agreed softly. “It kinda does.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, the billboard humming in the background, traffic murmuring beyond the trees.

Mike didn’t say it, but something about the way Spider-Man talked, the way he said friends, made his throat ache.

He thought of Will.

Thought of missed hangouts.

Thought of excuses that didn’t quite add up.

“You ever feel like,” Mike said slowly, “people don’t even really see you anymore? Just the version of you they want?”

Spider-Man went still.

Then he nodded once. “Yeah,” he said. “All the time.”

And for the first time since he’d met him, Spider-Man didn’t make a joke.

A few beats passed.

The city hummed around them, distant traffic and the soft buzz of the billboard’s lights filling the silence. Mike’s mouth curved into a small smile before he even realized it had.

“Y’know,” he said, still looking ahead, “my best friend Will once said something kinda… ridiculous.”

Spider-Man turned his head slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“He said the version of you that you don’t see about yourself is usually the truest version of you.” Mike snorted quietly. “It was way too poetic for me to understand at the time, but… I don’t know. I think about it a lot.”

Spider-Man went quiet.

For longer than usual.

Then, softly, “Sounds like a pretty cool dude.”

Mike’s smile deepened, fond and aching all at once. “He’s the best,” he said. “I really fucking miss him.”

At that, Spider-Man looked at him.

Really looked.

“Has he, uh…” Spider-Man hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his gloves. The movement was small, nervous, and uncomfortably familiar. Comforting, even. “Has he moved or something?”

Mike huffed a humorless laugh. “Ha-no. No, he didn’t move. He might as well have, though.”

Spider-Man stayed silent, letting him go on.

“I never see him anymore,” Mike continued. “He’s always bailing. Or showing up late. He never says why. The others think he’s got new art friends or maybe he’s dating someone or something…”

Mike frowned. “I mean-he’d tell me if he was dating someone. That’s, like, best-friend code one-oh-one.”

The thought made his chest tighten. His words picked up, tripping over each other. “And I don’t even know why that idea bugs me so much, it’s not like I-I mean, I’d be happy for him, obviously, I just-”

“Hey,” Spider-Man cut in gently.

Mike stopped.

“Well,” Spider-Man said carefully, “have you told him how you feel?” He paused. “I-I mean about the ditching and everything.”

Mike looked back up at the billboard.

“No,” he admitted. “I want to. I want to be annoyed. I am annoyed. I have every right to be pissed at him.”

His voice softened despite himself.

“But every time I see him, I just… give in. He looks at me like he’s so sorry. And his eyes-” Mike let out a breathy laugh. “God, you should see his eyes. Biggest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Spider-Man stayed perfectly still.

“One look into those eyes,” Mike said, shaking his head, “and I’d forgive him for setting the world on fire.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Mike had no idea why he was dumping all of this on a masked superhero. But something about Spider-Man, about the way he listened without interrupting, without judging, made it feel easier.

Maybe friendly neighborhood Spider-Man came with an unspoken secondary title:

Local New York Therapist. 

Spider-Man took a breath before answering, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Well, obviously,” he said gently, “I don’t really know your friend. But… I-I think he might actually like it if you told him. About your frustrations.”

Mike glanced at him.

“Maybe then,” Spider-Man continued, voice softer, “maybe then he’d be able to tell you why he’s been so busy.”

The words hung between them for a moment, heavier than they sounded.

Mike let out a quiet exhale and gave a half-smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

He looked back at the street, at the glowing billboard, at the city that never seemed to stop demanding something from everyone who lived in it.

“We’ll see.”

Suddenly, a quiet buzz came from Spider-Man’s suit.

“Oh-yikes, gotta take this-sorry!” he said quickly.

Mike just nodded, leaning back against the bench.

He couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but Spider-Man’s replies told him everything he needed to know. The confident, sassy hero melted almost instantly into something way more… teenage.

“No, Mr. Stark, I promise I wasn’t-”

He paused, shoulders curling in.

“What? No! You can’t take the suit away, it’s my favorite- I mean-”

Mike bit back a smile.

“I am patrolling! I just got… preoccupied,” Spider-Man argued, gesturing wildly with one hand. “No, no, I do want to go on the next mission! Okay-okayyyyy, I promise.”

The call dragged on like that, Spider-Man pacing along the bench, sounding less like the city’s great protector and more like a kid getting scolded by a very tired parent.

Eventually, he hung up and let his head fall back dramatically.

He turned to Mike with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry. I know we were literally just talking about how your friend keeps bailing on you, but sadly I’m gonna have to do the exact same thing.”

He stood, already tugging his mask back into place.

“Gotta patrol.”

Mike laughed, surprised at himself. “It’s fine,” he said. “At least you’ve got a decent excuse.”

Spider-Man paused. Then he let out a half-laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess.”

He crouched, ready to jump. “Anyway-see you around, not-so-grumpy pedestrian Mike.”

“Great,” Mike called after him as Spider-Man launched into the air. “I have an updated name now!”

Silence settled back into the park.

Mike leaned against the bench, staring at the street where Spider-Man had disappeared.

Okay.

He still didn’t like superheroes.

He still didn’t like Spider-Man.

He was annoying.

Stuck-up.

Way too fast with his comebacks.

His jokes weren’t even that funny.

And the smart-ass attitude was unbearable.

But sometimes-

and heavy on the sometimes-

…maybe he was alright.

Mike started watching the news.

Not for any particular reason.

And definitely not because he was suddenly interested in the well-being of his new, mildly irritating, weirdly persistent Spider-Man acquaintance.

He told himself it was just something to fill the noise. A distraction, from Will, from the unanswered questions, from the way his chest felt too tight whenever things got quiet.

He sat slouched on the couch, one arm draped over the back, eyes fixed on the TV. Holly sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him, cereal bowl abandoned in favor of staring raptly at the screen.

On the TV, Spider-Man was mid-fight-literally midair-launching himself feet-first into a villain the size of a small truck.

“Spider-Man is the cutest hero ever,” Holly announced confidently. “I’m definitely going to marry him when I’m older.”

Mike scoffed. “You don’t even know what he looks like, Holly.”

She shrugged like that detail meant absolutely nothing.

Mike’s attention drifted back to the screen despite himself.

The fight was happening somewhere uptown-judging by the collapsed scaffolding and the fact that half a food cart was currently on fire. The villain looked new. Metallic armor, glowing fists, way too much yelling.

Spider-Man flipped over a flying chunk of concrete and landed on a streetlight.

“Okay, quick question,” he called out, voice echoing through the speakers, “is the glowing-fists thing, like, a design choice or a cry-for-attention situation?”

The villain roared and launched a blast of energy down the street. Spider-Man yelped, narrowly dodging as it obliterated a parked taxi.

“Yikes! Okay, that one’s on me-shouldn’t have poked the very angry laser bear!”

Holly giggled. Mike bit back a smile.

Spider-Man swung low, webbing the villain’s ankle and yanking hard. The villain stumbled, crashing into a mailbox and a hot dog stand in one very unfortunate pileup.

“Ah-oh my god-sir, I am so sorry,” Spider-Man said immediately, landing in front of him. “That mailbox is probably, like, vintage or something.”

The villain growled and swung.

Spider-Man was faster. He darted in and delivered a brutal uppercut that sent the guy flying through a wall. The camera shook as the building cracked.

Spider-Man froze.

“Oh, oh no,” he said, peering at the hole. “That was a lot harder than I meant it to be. You okay in there? Like, seriously, take your time.”

Mike snorted before he could stop himself.

The villain burst back out, armor sparking. Spider-Man sighed.

“Alright,” he said. “We tried being polite.”

He flipped over another attack, webbed both of the villain’s arms to a lamppost, then slammed him into the pavement with enough force to crater the street.

A beat.

Then Spider-Man crouched, patting the villain’s shoulder awkwardly.

“Again, sorry. I swear I’m usually nicer than this.”

Police sirens wailed in the distance.

Spider-Man stood, dusting off his gloves as the villain groaned, thoroughly defeated. He gave a two-finger salute to the camera.

“Hey, uh…New York? Try not to rebuild too expensively, yeah? I’m already on thin ice.”

The news anchor cut back in, breathless.

Mike leaned back into the couch, shaking his head.

Annoying.

Smart-ass.

Way too apologetic for someone who is apparently fighting evil.

Holly looked up at him with a grin. “See? Cute.”

Mike huffed.

…Okay.

Maybe watching the news wasn’t such a bad distraction after all.

It was a week later, and for once, for fucking once, everyone was there.

Including Will.

They were sprawled across the rooftop of Lucas and Dustin’s apartment building, the city stretched out around them in jagged silhouettes and blinking lights. The air was cool but not cold, the kind of evening where you could sit outside forever and not realize how late it’d gotten.

Lucas and Dustin had, predictably, devolved into play wrestling within ten minutes. Shoes scraped against gravel as they tumbled across the roof, trash-talking each other like it was an Olympic sport.

Will and Max sat nearby, laughing openly at them. Mike laughed too, but quieter, distracted, more like he was afraid the moment would shatter if he acknowledged it too loudly.

Will hadn’t bailed.

He hadn’t been late.

When Mike had asked, trying not to sound like it mattered too much, trying very hard, “Hey, you free after school?” Will had nodded immediately.

“Yeah,” he’d said, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Mike was still riding that feeling when chaos struck.

“SNEAK ATTACK!”

Lucas lunged out of nowhere and tackled Will to the rooftop, both of them going down in a heap of limbs and laughter.

Mike barely had time to react before-

Will fought back.

And not just flailing or half-hearted struggling. Will moved, quick and sure, rolling with Lucas’s momentum and flipping their positions with ease.

Mike blinked.

So did Lucas.

“Damn, Byers!” Lucas laughed breathlessly as Will pinned him flat to the concrete. “You’re strong as fuck.”

Will laughed too, bright and unguarded, holding Lucas down effortlessly as Lucas pretended to struggle beneath him. Max and Dustin immediately switched sides, cheering Will on like proud announcers.

“BYERS BYERS BYERS!”

Mike didn’t cheer.

He just watched.

Watched as Will’s t-shirt rode up during the scuffle, revealing a lean, toned torso beneath. Watched the way his muscles flexed naturally, abs flashing into view before the fabric slipped higher again. Watched the way his biceps tensed as he held Lucas down, firm and controlled without even trying.

Effortless.

Mike swallowed.

A warmth crept up his neck, settling squarely in his face.

It was true, he’d noticed it before. Somewhere in the last year or two, Will had changed. He’d always been in decent shape, always kind of wiry, but now there was definition there. Strength. A confidence in how he moved.

Mike had told himself it was just puberty.

And thank god for puberty, because as he watched Will laugh, hair messy, eyes bright, body taut and alive, it felt like time slowed down.

Will looked…

Perfect.

So goddamn perfect.

Mike forced himself to look away just as Will caught Lucas’s surrender and released him, laughing as they both sprawled out on the rooftop floor.

Mike pressed his palms together, heartbeat loud in his ears.

He didn’t know when it happened.

He didn’t know how long he’d felt this way.

But one thing was painfully clear,

Whatever Will was hiding, whatever had been pulling him away-

Mike was already too far gone to fully focus on that right now. 

After the rooftop chaos finally settled, the gang headed down into the city to grab slushies from the local corner store. The afternoon heat clung to everything, the sidewalks warm beneath their sneakers, the air buzzing with traffic and distant sirens.

Lucas and Max walked ahead, fingers laced together like it was second nature. Dustin skipped alongside them, slushie already in hand, launching into an overenthusiastic recap of the latest superhero fight he’d heard about on the news.

Mike and Will drifted behind the rest of them.

“Today was fun,” Mike said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere just short of too careful.

“Yeah,” Will replied softly, taking a sip of his slushie.

A few quiet steps passed between them, the hum of the city filling the space.

“So, uh-Mike-”

“Um, Will, can I-”

They stopped at the same time.

For a second they just stared at each other, then both laughed, shy and breathless, like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.

“You go first,” Will said quickly.

Mike hesitated. Whatever he’d planned to say scattered instantly, nerves kicking in at the worst possible moment. He panicked-then reached for the safest thing he could think of.

“How’s your cut healing?” he asked.

It was dumb. He knew it was dumb the second the words left his mouth. He’d seen it plenty of times-the cut from a few weeks ago, now faded and faint, more scar than wound.

Will glanced at it anyway. “Oh. Yeah, it’s fine. Looks kinda stupid, but at least it didn’t get infected.”

“I don’t think it looks stupid,” Mike said immediately, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I think it makes you look… um. Badass. Like-like a pirate or something.”

Will blinked. “A pirate?”

“Y-yeah! A pirate.”

Will laughed, bright and loud. “You trying to say I’m like an eyepatch-wearing guy who lives on a boat and goes around saying…” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Arrghh, where’s the booty, matey?!”

Mike laughed, heat flooding his face. His pupils might as well have blown out entirely. “Totally!…No! I mean-just… it looks cool. You look cool.”

Will smiled at that, softer this time. He gave Mike a soft and ever so gentle shove to the shoulder before jogging ahead to catch up with the others.

Mike slowed to a stop for half a second, watching him go.

And somewhere between the sound of Will’s laughter, the ache in his chest, and the terrifying calm that followed the realization, it finally clicked.

He wasn’t confused.

He wasn’t just overthinking.

He was in love with William Byers.

By the time the evening finally wound down and the group split off toward their own apartment blocks, the city had settled into that quiet, humming calm it got at night. Streetlights flickered on one by one, washing the sidewalks in warm yellow light.

Mike and Will walked side by side, close but not touching, their footsteps naturally falling into the same rhythm. For a while, neither of them said anything. It wasn’t awkward, just easy, familiar.

Then something tugged at Mike’s chest. A loose thread he hadn’t tied up yet.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Back when we got slushies… you never said what you were gonna say.”

Will slowed a little. He looked at Mike, then away, his gaze drifting up toward the dim sky, where the last traces of daylight had faded. He swallowed.

“I was gonna say I’m sorry.”

Mike frowned, caught off guard. “Sorry? For what?”

Will turned back to him with a small, sad smile. “For being a shitty friend.”

Mike stopped walking. Fully stopped. “What? Will-no. No, that’s not-who the hell told you that? You’re not a shitty friend, you could never be a shitty friend, that’s-”

Will reached out, resting a hand on Mike’s shoulder. It was light, grounding, enough to slow the spiral.

“I have been, though,” Will said softly. “I know it. And I’m sorry. For not hanging out, for bailing, for always being late, for disappearing.” He took a breath, steadying himself. “I’m sorry if it made us drift… or if it made you feel like you couldn’t come talk to me.”

His voice wavered. “Mike, you’re my best friend. Ever. And the idea that I might’ve hurt you enough to make you resent me-or hate me-” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’d do. I think I was just scared that one day you’d finally have enough and decide you’re done with me.”

Tears glassed his eyes now, words spilling faster. “And maybe I’d deserve that, because the way I’ve been acting isn’t right, and I’m so sorry, and I wish I could explain or fix it or-” His voice broke. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Mike didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and pulled Will into a tight hug, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair, the other arm wrapped solidly around his back.

Will clutched him just as fast, arms locking around Mike’s waist like he was afraid of letting go.

“Will,” Mike said, his voice low and unwavering, “you are never gonna lose me.”

It wasn’t a promise. It was simply the truth.

Will pressed his forehead into Mike’s chest, breathing shaky but slow. “You sure?” he whispered.

Mike tightened his hold. “There are probably a billion alternate dimensions out there,” he said. “Thousands of universes. And I guarantee you, not a single one exists where I stop being yours.”

Mike really was starting to feel better.

Will wasn’t bailing nearly as much anymore, and when he did, there was always an explanation. A real one. No vague excuses, no disappearing acts. And somehow, without even saying it out loud, they’d slipped back into being them again. Hanging out almost every day after school, even if it was only for half an hour. Talking about homework, D&D ideas, movies, dumb shit they saw online, nothing at all.

It should’ve been comforting. It was.

It was also a problem.

Because now that Will was back, really back, Mike’s feelings were impossible to ignore. Every accidental brush of a shoulder sent electricity up his spine. Shared looks lingered too long. Knees bumped under tables and Mike’s heart reacted like he’d just sprinted ten blocks.

And worst of all?

Every time Will smiled at him like that, Mike had to physically stop himself from grabbing him by the collar and kissing him senseless. Desperate. Stupid. World-ending.

He was absolutely doomed.

Lost in that very inconvenient line of thought, Mike walked through the late afternoon streets of New York, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, brain extremely not behaving.

“Y’know, most people daydream about money or vacations,” a familiar voice chimed in. “Not… whatever that face is.”

Mike yelped and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“What the fuck-”

Spider-Man was crouched on a traffic light above him, arms folded like he’d been waiting all day.

“Hi, Mike,” he said cheerfully. “You looked deep in thought. Or deeply constipated. Hard to tell from up here.”

Mike glared. “Do you make it a habit to appear uninvited and scare civilians half to death?”

“Only the grumpy ones,” Spider-Man replied, dropping down to land beside him with unfair grace. “And wow, you are glowing. A new face cream perhaps?”

Mike’s face went hot immediately. “I’m walking. That’s all. People walk.”

“Uh-huh,” Spider-Man said, clearly unconvinced. “You were smiling. Like a weirdo.”

“I was bit smiling,” Mike shot back.

Spider-Man tilted his head. “You were absolutely smiling.”

Mike groaned. “What do you want?”

“To chat,” Spider-Man said easily. “To patrol. To exist in the same general space as you. Multitasking.”

Mike scoffed. “Don’t you have, I don’t know, five-alarm fires to put out? Bank robberies? Aliens?”

“Nah,” Spider-Man said. “Slow day. Plus, aliens usually give me a heads-up.”

Mike side-eyed him. “That’s… not….” He trailed off.

They walked a few steps in silence before Spider-Man spoke again, way too casually. “So. You seem happier.”

Mike blinked. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man said. “Still grumpy. But like… less ‘world is ending’ grumpy. More ‘teen angst’ grumpy.”

Mike huffed despite himself. “My best friend’s been around more.”

Spider-Man nodded slowly. “Ah…That’ll do it.”

Mike didn’t look at him. “It also makes things more complicated.”

“Mmm,” Spider-Man hummed. “Complicated. A 16 year olds favourite word!”

Mike stopped walking. “Do you ever stop being annoying?”

Spider-Man grinned under the mask, Mike could feel it. “Nope. It’s actually part of the suit.”

Mike shook his head and started walking again. “You don’t know anything.”

“True,” Spider-Man said, easily keeping pace. “But you are clearly struggling with something so quote on quote ‘complicated’ that you almost bumped into like, three lampposts whilst you were walking. You’re obviously dealing with something pretty mind consuming.” He teased.

Mike’s ears burned. “I never said-”

“You didn’t have to,” Spider-Man replied softly. Then, immediately lighter, “Your face does all the talking. Very expressive. Ten out of ten.” He held up ten fingers to demonstrate. 

Mike shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” Spider-Man said, stepping back and shooting a web upward, “you’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

“No I wouldn’t!” Mike snapped.

Spider-Man paused mid-swing, hanging upside down again. “Liar.”

Then he flipped upward and disappeared between buildings, his voice echoing back-

“Good luck with the complicated thoughts, Grumpy Pedestrian Mike! Try not to walk into traffic!”

Mike stood there, scowling at the sky, heart still racing, thoughts still very much on Will.

“…I hate him,” he muttered.

But the way his mouth twitched upward told a very different story.

The gang was packed into Mike’s bedroom, dice scattered across the floor, character sheets neatly lined up on the desk, a massive hand-drawn map taped to the wall. Mike had poured his entire soul into this campaign. Stayed up late all week tweaking lore, rebalancing encounters, weaving in plot twists that only really worked if a very specific sorcerer was present.

And said sorcerer was very much not present.

Mike tried not to say anything at first. He really did. But after the fifteenth lap around his room, it was getting hard to ignore.

Lucas, Dustin, and Max watched him like he was a shaken soda can waiting to explode.

“Mike,” Max said dryly, eyes following his path, “if you keep pacing like that, you’re gonna pass out. This is the most cardio I’ve seen you do voluntarily.”

Dustin nodded. “I mean, I’m sure he’s fine, dude. Let’s just throw on a movie or something. He’ll probably show up late, dramatic entrance, cape flowing, you know.”

Mike stopped dead.

“No.”

The word came out sharper than he meant it to. He swallowed, hands curling into fists.

“No… we-we should go.”

Lucas blinked. “Uh… go where, exactly?”

Mike stared at the floor for half a second, gears turning, then snapped his head up, full leader mode engaged.

“To Will’s. We go to his apartment and wait. He’s gonna come back eventually, and when he does-” his voice wobbled, then steadied, “-we’re not letting him dodge us this time. We deserve answers. Why he’s been bailing for two years. Why he keeps disappearing. Maybe he’s in trouble. Maybe he’s mixed up in something really bad. We don’t know, and I’m tired of not knowing.”

Dustin lifted a finger cautiously. “Or… counterpoint… maybe he has a secret lover and can only see them in mysterious, spontaneous intervals.”

Lucas’ eyes lit up. “Oh my god. What if he’s dating a villain? That would be insane.”

A pillow smacked Lucas square in the face.

“Absolutely not,” Max said flatly. “Will is not dating some fuckass villain, Lucas. Be serious. He probably just has other friends. It might not be as deep as you’re making it.”

Mike dragged a hand down his face, exhaling slowly.

“Maybe. But whether it’s other friends, a secret relationship, or something actually bad-we’re his best friends. We don’t get ghosted like this. The least he can do is tell us what’s going on.”

The room went quiet.

Lucas glanced at Dustin. Dustin looked at Max. Max looked back at Mike, really looked at him, then sighed.

“Alright,” she said, standing. “Let’s go to Will’s.”

Dice were quickly swept aside, jackets grabbed, worry settling heavy in all of their chests as they headed for the door.

Whatever Will was hiding, they were going to find out. 

Mike lifted his hand and gave three careful, polite knocks against the door, measured, respectful, like he wasn’t absolutely vibrating with nerves on the inside.

The door swung open almost immediately.

“Mike!” Joyce Byers exclaimed, her face lighting up like he’d just brought the sun with him.

She pulled him into a quick hug before he could even react, hands warm and familiar on his shoulders. Joyce had always been like that, hovering somewhere between best friend’s mom and second mother. She’d known Mike practically his whole life, fed him countless dinners, patched up scrapped knees, scolded him lovingly when he tracked mud through the apartment.

That did not make him and Will brothers, though.

Absolutely not. Gross. No thank you.

Joyce’s smile only grew wider as she noticed the others behind him.

“Lucas, Dustin, Max! Oh, it’s so nice to see you all,” she said warmly. Then, almost casually, “Will’s actually at an art showing in Times Square tonight. He won’t be home for another hour or so.”

Mike’s stomach dipped.

“That’s okay,” he said quickly, too quickly. “Do you mind if we wait in his room? We just- uh…have a surprise we wanna show him.”

Joyce beamed. “Of course! Go right in. I’ll make you all something to eat while you wait.”

The door closed behind them, and the group shuffled down the hall like a pack of guilty gremlins.

An hour later, Will still hadn’t come home.

The gang was sprawled throughout his bedroom, Dustin lying across the floor, Lucas leaned against the wall, Max perched on the windowsill. Mike sat on the edge of Will’s bed, elbows on his knees, eyes slowly scanning the room.

It was unmistakably Will.

Canvases leaned against almost every wall. Some finished, some half-painted, others just faint pencil sketches. Smears of color stained the hardwood floor. Flecks of paint dotted the walls like constellations. The room smelled faintly of acrylic and turpentine.

Mike’s chest tightened.

He loved Will’s art. Always had. It felt like looking directly into his head, every emotion, every thought laid bare in color and shape. It was beautiful. Will was beautiful.

But Joyce’s explanation sat wrong in Mike’s gut.

An art showing in Times Square?

Will would’ve told them. He always told them. He would’ve been nervous, excited, rambling about it for weeks. And Will didn’t lie, not to his friends, and definitely not to his mom.

…Right?

Mike swallowed, staring at a half-finished painting propped against the dresser, colors dark and frantic, nothing like Will’s usual soft, careful style.

The thought settled uncomfortably in his mind.

I barely know you anymore.

And that realization scared him more than any villain crashing through a school window ever could.

Another forty minutes dragged by.

All five of them were crammed onto Will’s bed now, knees knocking, shoulders touching, the clock on the wall ticking far too loudly. Joyce had poked her head in earlier, handed them plates of food, wished them goodnight, and reminded them, politely but firmly, that she had work in the morning and trusted them to let Will know she’d gone to sleep.

So now they waited.

Every second stretched thin, heavy and uncomfortable. Mike kept glancing at the door, then the clock, then Will’s window. His foot bounced uncontrollably against the floor.

And then-

A soft rustling sound.

It came from outside.

All four of them stiffened at once.

Slowly, they stood, eyes locked on the window like it might suddenly explode inward. No one spoke. In New York, sounds outside windows never meant nothing. Mike’s heart thudded painfully against his ribs.

Then-

Two legs dropped into view.

They dangled just beyond the glass, suspended in midair.

Black and Yellow. Web-patterned. Unmistakable.

What. 

What the fuck.

No one breathed.

A gloved hand appeared next, reaching down carefully. The window lock clicked open from the outside, painfully loud in the silent room. The window slid up, pushed open with a foot.

The gang backed up in unison, instinctively, unsure on what to make of the situation. Any form of logic falling apart.

Then the figure climbed in.

Feet first.

Then his torso.

Then his head.

The mask was already off, hanging loosely from one hand, but his head was bowed, soft fluffy brown hair falling into his face.

For half a second, Mike’s brain refused to work.

Then the figure lifted his head.

Wide Hazel eyes.

A familiar face Mike had memorized since he was twelve years old.

The room collectively imploded.

Dustin’s jaw visibly dropped.

Lucas swore under his breath.

Max froze, eyes blown wide.

Mike felt like the floor had vanished beneath him.

Will Byers stood in the middle of his bedroom, wearing Spider-Man’s suit.

”….Shit.” Will said softly. 

The gang and Will just stared at one another, no one daring to speak. 

A few beats passed.

“I can explain,” Will said.

His hands shot up in surrender, palms out, like that might somehow soften what had just happened.

For exactly half a second, the room was silent.

Then-

“What the FUCK,” Dustin yelled, clutching his hair like he might rip it out. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.”

Lucas stumbled backward until he hit Will’s dresser. “NO. No no no. Absolutely not. You’re telling me-” he pointed aggressively between Will and the Spider-Man suit, “-YOU are HIM?”

Max slapped a hand over her own mouth, eyes blazing with manic disbelief. “HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT. HOLY-” she raised her voice in complete disbelief, “-YOU’RE SPIDER-MAN?!”

Will winced and glanced toward the door. “Guys-guys, please,” he hissed. “You have to be quiet. My mom is literally sleeping right down the hall.”

Dustin immediately ducked down, still vibrating. “OH MY GOD,” he whispered loudly, grabbing Lucas by the shoulders. “WE’VE BEEN FRIENDS WITH SPIDER-MAN THIS WHOLE TIME.”

Lucas shoved him off. “NO-WE’VE BEEN FRIENDS WITH A LIAR. A FLEXING LIAR. A REALLY FUCKING COOL BADASS GODDAMN LIAR!” He whisper yelled.

Will shaked his, “No, no. I swear it’s not like that!”

Max spun on Will. “You fought, like, five villains in our sex ed class and then came back and said you went to the bathroom.”

“I- okay when you put in like that…”

Dustin slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. “DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I’VE DEFENDED SPIDER-MAN ONLINE?  AND YOU NEVER THOUGHT ON TELLING ME?!”

Will flinched again. “Please-please, inside voices!”

The chaos only intensified, just… condensed.

Lucas gestured wildly but silently mouthed WHAT IS HAPPENING.

Max grabbed Wills shoulders, “You’ve been late to hangouts because you were out saving the city?!”

Dustin shook his head. “This explains everything. The muscles. The stamina. The fact that we all got jump scared Troy Myers in second period science and you didn’t even flinch-”

“I flinched!” Will whisper-argued. “Internally.”

Through all of it-

Mike hadn’t said a word.

He stood near the foot of the bed, unmoving, like someone had unplugged him entirely.

His ears rang.

His chest felt hollow and too tight at the same time.

Every memory piled on top of the last, the cuts, the abs, the strength, the disappearing, the timing, the laugh.

The laugh.

Will’s eyes flicked to him.

Mike still didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

“Mike?” Will whispered, voice suddenly small.

Still nothing.

Max noticed first. She followed Will’s gaze, then nudged Dustin. Dustin looked. Lucas looked.

“Oh,” Dustin said quietly. “Oh no.”

Will took a hesitant step toward Mike, still in his superhero suit. “Mike, I- I swear I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t think I could. And I didn’t want to put you guys in danger and I-”

Mike finally swallowed.

Slowly, like each word hurt to form, he said,

“You are… Spider-Man.”

Will nodded once, miserably.

Mike stared at him.

At his best friend.

At the hero.

At the person he’d spent weeks worrying over, missing, defending, falling in love with.

And the only thing he could manage to whisper was-

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

The room held its breath. 

Will took another careful step closer, like he was approaching a bomb instead of his best friend.

“I swear,” he whispered, fast and shaky, “I never meant for you to find out like this.”

Mike finally breathed out, but it came out sounding more like a laugh that had been strangled halfway through.

“You,” he said slowly, eyes never leaving Will’s face, “have been lying to us for two years.”

Will flinched.

“I know. I know. And I hate it,” he rushed, hands tugging at the hem of the suit like he wanted to peel it off his skin. “I hated lying to you. Every time. I just- once it started, it felt impossible to stop. I just felt so scared, like I was powerless against the situation.”

Max crossed her arms, whispering with lethal intensity. “Powerless? William Byers, if you are Spider-Man that means you threw a car once.”

“That was- okay, in my defense, it was already flipped, I just moved it out of my way,” Will said weakly.

Lucas scoffed. “You pinned me on a rooftop like it was nothing!”

“That was adrenaline!”

“BULLSHIT.”

Dustin suddenly gasped, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “WAIT- THE BULLY. AT SCHOOL. WHEN HE PUSHED YOU.”

Everyone snapped to him.

Will froze.

Mike’s head turned sharply. “What.”

Dustin leaned forward, whisper-shouting, “He said, ‘You’ve been hitting the gym, Byers,’ right? RIGHT?”

Silence.

Will’s shoulders sagged.

“Oh my god,” Max breathed. “It was right in front of us the whole time.”

Mike felt something crack in his chest, not anger, not yet. Something worse. Everything falling into place at once.

“You canceled our hangouts,” Mike said quietly. “You showed up bleeding. You left class right before the villains crashed in. You came back totally fine. You-” His voice finally wavered. “-you touched my shoulder and lied to my face.”

“I wasn’t lying about you,” Will said desperately. “About how much you matter. That part was never fake. None of that was.”

Mike laughed again, sharper this time. “You let me think you were drifting away. You let me think I was losing you.”

“I didn’t want you pulled into this,” Will whispered, eyes glossy. “I didn’t want you scared. I didn’t want you hurt because of me.”

Mike looked at him earnestly, “You would’ve rather me think you hated me then..?” 

Will opened his mouth, closed it, then just bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”

Mike stepped forward before he could stop himself.

“You know what the worst part is?” he asked quietly.

Will looked up.

Mike’s voice cracked. “I trusted Spider-Man more than I trusted you.”

That did it.

Will’s eyes overflowed instantly.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” he said, voice breaking. “He was… easier. He didn’t know me. Spider-Man is confident, and sure of himself, it was… it was just easier.”

Mike’s throat felt too tight to swallow.

Max shifted uncomfortably. “Okay,” she said softly. “This is getting… very intense.”

Dustin nodded. “Yeah, like, don’t get me wrong, I’m losing my mind in the best way, but maybe we let them talk?”

Lucas sighed. “Agreed. Also if Joyce wakes up and finds Spider-Man crying in her son’s room, I’m not explaining that.”

The three of them slowly backed toward the door.

Max paused, pointing at Will. “We’re not done talking about this.”

Dustin added, “Not even close.”

Lucas muttered, “I want a full PowerPoint.”

Then they slipped out, closing the door quietly behind them.

The room felt ten times smaller.

Just Mike.

And Will.

And the truth hanging thick between them.

Will wiped at his face with the back of his glove. “You can be mad,” he said softly. “I get it. I deserve that.”

Mike stared at him for a long moment.

Then he said, barely above a whisper,

“You saved my life.”

Will blinked.

“That mugging,” Mike continued. “You followed me home. You talked to me. You listened to me complain about… you.”

A weak, broken smile tugged at Will’s mouth. “Yeah.”

Mike stepped even closer now. “I told Spider-Man things I’ve never told anyone.”

“I know,” Will said quietly.

Mike dragged a hand through his hair, pacing Will’s room like his thoughts were bouncing off the walls.

“Do you have any idea how insane this is?” he blurted. “Like- okay- apparently I’ve been having full conversations with you for months, and half of the time you were hanging upside down outside my window, or swinging next to me on the sidewalk, or literally saving my life, and I just- my brain feels like it’s going to implode.”

He stopped pacing, turned to Will, then immediately looked away again.

“I mean, you’re my best friend. You’re the person I tell everything to. Or, I used to. And then suddenly Spider-Man shows up and he’s- he’s you. And I talked to you about you, which is- ” Mike made a frustrated noise with his hands. “That should not be possible. That should be illegal. That should break some kind of law.”

He laughed once, breathless and sharp.

“And the worst part is, I trusted you. Both of you. Like, I trusted Spider-Man more than most people, which feels wrong because I don’t even like superheroes, but I like you. God- ” He pressed his palms to his face for a second. “I’ve liked you for, like, a year. Maybe more. Which, cool, awesome, totally normal thing to realize after finding out my best friend is also a masked vigilante.”

He kept going, steamrolling over the words like they hadn’t just slipped out.

“And now I’m sitting here trying to merge two versions of you in my head, and I can’t, because you’re both real and neither of you are fake, and it’s messing me up because every time I think about Spider-Man I hear your laugh, and every time I look at you I keep thinking about how you’ve been out there this whole time, risking your life like it’s just another after-school activity.”

Finally, he stopped, breathing hard.

“I just- yeah. I don’t know. I can’t wrap my head around it. I still can’t believe you’re Spider-Man.”

He glanced at Will, expectant, exhausted-completely oblivious to the fact that he had just confessed to being in love with him.

Will, meanwhile, just stared at Mike, eyes wide and painfully soft, heart hammering against his ribs.

“…Mike,” he said quietly.

Mike frowned. “What?”

“Mike…You like me..?”

Mike, still breathless from his rant, just gave a sad, shaky nod, not bothering to hide it anymore, considering apparently all secrets are coming out tonight.

“Oh.”

Mike’s eyes finally met his. “Yeah. Oh.”

Silence fell again, but this time it felt electric.

Will whispered, “Seriously…?”

Mike opened his mouth and then closed it again. Too many secrets have been spilled, he doesn’t think he can address both in one night. “I-…” is all Mike could get out.” 

Will gave Mike a heartbroken smile, “It’s okay,” he whispered, “I get you are mad at me.”

“I don’t know how to be mad at you,” Mike said. “And I don’t know how to forgive you either. And that scares the shit out of me.”

Will reached out, stopping just short of touching him. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. I just- please don’t shut me out, I meant what I said, I can’t loose you.” 

Mike looked at the hand hovering between them.

After a beat, he leaned forward and took Will’s hand into his own, and pulled him into a warm embrace.

Will sucked in a breath and wrapped his arms around him instantly, careful but tight, like he was afraid Mike might vanish.

They stayed like that for a long time.

Finally, muffled against Will’s suit, Mike muttered,

“Spider-man is still annoying.”

Will laughed quietly, tears and all. “Yeah. I know.”

And for the first time that night-

Mike let himself breathe.

A few minutes later, Mike and Will sat on Will’s bed, knees nearly touching.

Will was still in the Spider-Man suit, mask tossed carelessly beside him, hair mussed from pulling it on and off too many times tonight. Without the mask, without the bravado, he just looked like Will again, tired eyes, tense shoulders, that familiar nervous way of picking at his gloved fingers.

Mike sat beside him, hands folded in his lap. Quiet now. Processing.

After a long moment, he finally spoke.

“…Why?” Mike asked softly.

Will turned his head. “Why… what?”

“Why you kept hanging out with me,” Mike said. “As Spider-Man. You didn’t have to do that.”

Will swallowed.

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I kinda did.”

Mike frowned slightly but didn’t interrupt.

“The attacks have been getting worse,” Will continued. “Way worse. More villains, more damage, more calls. Tony keeps saying it’s temporary, but it’s been like this for months. I’m on patrol all the time now. If I’m not in school, I’m Spider-Man. And even at school-” He shook his head. “I’m never really off.”

His voice softened.

“I didn’t have time to be Will Byers anymore.”

Mike’s chest tightened.

“But I still saw you,” Will said quietly. “Every day. And it hurt. You were right there and I couldn’t sit with you, couldn’t walk home with you, couldn’t just… be normal with you. And every time I bailed, every time you looked disappointed, it killed me.”

Will’s shoulders hunched in on themselves.

“So when I saw you that first time, when you were getting mugged, I…” He let out a shaky breath. “It felt like a loophole. I could be on the clock, doing my job, and still talk to you. Still hear your voice. Still see you smile. Even if you didn’t know it was me.”

Mike stared at the floor.

“So I kept doing it,” Will admitted. “I told myself it was harmless. That it was better than nothing. That at least I wasn’t disappearing completely.”

He laughed weakly. “But it was selfish. And it was cruel. I know that now.”

Mike turned toward him. “You let me vent about you. To you.”

“I know,” Will whispered. “And I deserved every word of it.”

Silence settled between them, heavy but not sharp.

Finally, Mike said, “You know I thought Spider-Man was a dick.”

Will glanced up. “Only thought?”

Mike huffed a breath that almost counted as a laugh. “Still think. He’s got a big mouth. Makes dumb jokes. Flirts when he shouldn’t.”

Will’s ears turned red, a shy smile formed.

“But…” Mike continued, voice softer, “he also listened. He showed up. He stayed.”

Will’s chest ached.

“I missed you,” Mike said, finally looking at him. “So much. And I didn’t know how to say it without sounding pathetic.”

“You could never sound pathetic to me,” Will said immediately.

Mike swallowed. “You should’ve told me.”

“I wanted to,” Will said. “Every time. God, every time. But once you tell someone, they’re in danger. Once they know, villains can use them. You-“ His voice cracked. “You’re my weakest point, Mike.”

The words landed hard.

Mike’s breath caught. “Me?”

Will nodded. “Always have been.”

Another quiet stretch passed. Mike shifted, their shoulders brushing.

“I hated superheroes,” Mike admitted. “Still kinda do.”

Will smiled faintly. “Figures.”

“But I don’t hate you,” Mike said. “Not even as Spider-Man.”

He hesitated, then added, “I just… wish you’d trusted me.”

Will turned fully toward him. “I do. I swear. I just didn’t trust the world with you.”

Mike looked at him for a long moment.

Then he said, softly but firmly,

“Next time you think you’re going to lose me…talk to me. Not as Spider-Man. As you.”

Will nodded, eyes shining. “Okay. I promise.”

They sat there, close, knees touching now.

Mike finally leaned back against the headboard and muttered, “So this means when Dustin realises you’re the youngest Avenger, he’s never going to shut up.”

Will snorted despite himself. “Yeah. I’m preparing myself for the list of questions coming up.”

Mike smiled, small but real.

Once the gang came back into Will’s room, they practically descended on Will like a pack of wild hyenas, except, somehow, slightly more organized. They all sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide, notepad-less but mentally prepared for interrogation. Will, perched on the edge of his bed, legs dangling, arms crossed, and his Spider-Man suit still on, looked simultaneously amused and terrified.

Dustin leaned forward eagerly. “Okay, first things first! How the hell did this even start? Like, obviously I know the vague story Spider-Man-er I mean you told that one article that one time but I wanna know the details! You were bitten right? Was it radioactive? Mutant? Some weird spider experiment gone wrong?”

Will chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… radioactive spider. Pretty standard origin story. Bit me during the school trip to the science expo. I got zapped with the energy or whatever, powers started manifesting, yada yada yada. Classic Spider-Man stuff.”

Lucas immediately chimed in. “You mean that could’ve happened to any of us?” 

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah I guess..” 

Lucas just whispered, “awesome.”

“And nobody noticed? Max asked.” How do you even hide that?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Well I definitely freaked out, kind of secluded myself for awhile, but then I decided I needed to get myself together.  I practiced. I trained. Tried to keep it secret from the world… and mostly from you guys. But I mean… duh, eventually people would’ve noticed I  can leap twenty feet and stick to walls, so I gave myself a really shitty disguise, and then eventually got the suit.”

“This is crazy dude.” Dustin leaped in. “I remember watching the rise of Spider-Man, I just can’t believe it was actually you.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me that after two years you never told us because…?”

Will shrugged. “I was scared. I didn’t want anyone hurt because of me. And honestly… I didn’t know how to explain it without you freaking out.”

Mike, still sitting close on the bed, muttered, “I am still freaked out.”

Will gave him a faint smirk. “Point taken.”

Dustin’s hand shot up. “Okay okay okay! Avengers! You’re an Avenger now?! How?! Did Tony Stark just show up in your room one day and say, ‘Sup kid, wanna fight aliens with us?’”

Will laughed, a little embarrassed. “Not exactly. There was a mission I… kinda helped out on. Tony noticed, gave me a nod, and next thing I knew, I was training, doing small missions, and eventually they brought me in officially. I- I mean they still don’t take me seriously, but I’m definitely part of the team. Technically. I think.”

Lucas’ jaw dropped. “You’ve been to space, Will….” Suddenly recounting all of Spider-Man’s missions.

“Yeah.” Will’s tone was nonchalant, almost too casual.

Max gasped dramatically, her brain suddenly putting past pieces together, “YOUR COUSIN DORIS NEVER HAD A LOCATION WEDDING IN ENGLAND DID SHE! You totally faked that story so you could go off and fight alien villains!”

Will laughed. “Hey, it worked! No one questioned it.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “And your mom, and Jonathan, they don’t know?” 

Will shaked his head.

“So what do you tell them when you are disappearing for hours or days at a time? How is your mom not having a freak out every time you go m.i.a?” 

Will frowned, “They think I’ve got a job in an art gallery in Time Square, so it explains why I’m always out, or getting home late. And when it’s days…well there’s always a new excuse I come up with. I’ve gotten pretty good at lying.” 

Dustin leaned forward again. “Okay, but how do you manage school? Powers? Villains? Spider-Man patrols? Is it stressful?! Are you tired all the time?!”

Will’s eyes softened. “Yeah. It’s… hard. More exhausting than you can imagine. Villains, patrols, keeping up appearances, it’s non-stop. But I like it. It gives me purpose I guess, plus I was able to still watch you guys from afar. I could pretend I was still apart of the squad.”

Dustin continued. “You’re kidding me. You’re telling me Will Byers, the kid who made us order his McDonald’s food for him when we were 10 because he was too nervous to talk to the worker, is a crime fighting, web swinging superhero.”

Will laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess it’s weird when you put it like that.”

Lucas laughed incredulously. “I can’t believe you. You just… lived a double life for years.”

Max leaned forward. “I think I’d explode. How did you not tell us sooner? You know we would’ve supported you, right?”

Will’s smile was faint, but genuine. “I know. I just… I didn’t want anyone hurt. And I missed you guys, every single day, but I couldn’t risk it. I still can’t risk it, so nobody can know you guys know who Spider-Man is.”

Dustin nodded his head, grinning like he was about to explode. “This is insane. We’re officially the coolest friend squad in New York City history. We are friends with Spider-Man. THE Spider-Man. Like, actual superhero Spider-Man.”

Mike, sitting close enough to Will to almost touch him, stayed quiet. He didn’t need to yell or exclaim. Seeing Will like this, open, unmasked, telling the truth, Mike didn’t need anything else.

Finally, Lucas smirked. “All I’m gonna say is that your excuse for bailing on us for the past two years is a pretty fucking good one dude.”

Will frowned. “It still doesn’t make it right.”

Max jumped in. “Who cares?! You’re Spider-Man dude! Who was the scariest villain you fought? I need to know!”

As Will responded, Mike’s heart thumped in his chest. He swallowed hard. The room was buzzing with the gang’s excited chatter, but all Mike could focus on was Will, right there, telling the truth. And for the first time in a long time, everything made sense.

Dustin leaned back dramatically, hands on his knees. “Alright. I have a plan. Tonight, we celebrate. With slushies, rooftop hangout, and we will toast to no more secrets!”

Mike and Will exchanged a look to the “no more secrets” part. There was still one more secret that Mike revealed earlier that had not been brought up yet. Not properly. Mike shoved that thought down below for now. Tonight was about Will, not Mike.

Max jumped to her feet. “I second that! Let’s go celebrate the fact that our bestfriend is a motherfucking legend!”

Will just laughed softly. “I guess I’m stuck with you guys, huh?”

Mike finally spoke, low and steady, “Yeah. And we’re never letting you forget it.”

Will’s smile widened, soft and full of warmth. “Good. I like that.”

The Q&A might have ended, but the gang had officially leveled up their friendship, and for Mike… the world had finally tilted back into the right orbit.

An hour later, the gang were back on the rooftop, slushies in hand, the sticky sweetness forgotten in the heat of anticipation. Will had stripped out of his Spider-Man suit, t-shirt and jeans now clinging comfortably, but his presence still carried the same undeniable energy. Lucas, practically bouncing on his heels, turned to Will.

“Come on, Will! You have to show me. I’m not leaving this rooftop until I see at least one of your swings!”

Will groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Lucas, you’ve seen Spider-Man swing a thousand times.” 

“Yeahhh, but I wanna see YOU swing!”

Lucas’ excitement made Will give in almost immediately. “Fine… but don’t freak out. Just… promise me no one’s going to try to copy me and break themselves.”

“Don’t worry dude, none of us can shoot spider webs from our wrists so, I think it’ll be chill,” Lucas said laughing, though he barely kept his own excitement contained.

Will smiled at Lucas’ joke and then crouched at the edge, a small grin tugging at his lips. With a flick of his wrist, a thin, glistening web shot out from his wrist, sticking to the edge of the next building. Without a second thought, he swung off the rooftop, performing a perfect midair flip before landing gracefully back on the concrete with barely a thud.

“Holy shit,” Dustin breathed, nearly spilling his slushie. Max’s eyes were wide, mouth hanging open, and Lucas had to take a step back, his jaw slack. Even Mike, usually the composed one, felt his stomach drop at the ease of Will’s movements.

Will didn’t stop. Another flick, another swing, a wall kick and a backflip that had everyone gasping. His hair fell slightly into his face, but the grin that spread across his face as he landed smoothly back on the rooftop was all Will. Human, incredible, and utterly mesmerizing.

Lucas finally blurted out, “Dude… you’re insane! How-how do you even-”

Dustin didn’t wait. “Will! Come on! You have to bring me on a swing! Please! I’ll hold on, I promise!”

Will raised a brow. “Uh… I dunno, Dustin. It’s… kinda dangerous…”

Dustin practically jumped in place. “I trust you! Please! I want to fly like you!”

Will sighed, but his smile betrayed his amusement. “Fine. But you have to listen to me exactly. No sudden moves, got it?”

Dustin nodded so hard he nearly toppled over. Will crouched, holding out his hands. “Alright, grab onto me like this.” He demonstrated, showing Dustin exactly how to hold tight to his torso. Dustin’s right arm wrapped around Will’s waist, and right gripping his shoulders.

“Are you ready?” Will asked. Dustin gave a small, trembling but determined nod. With a flick of his wrists, the webs shot out, sticking to the neighboring building. In an instant, Will lifted Dustin effortlessly into the air, swinging off the edge.

The rooftop became a blur of motion. Will started swinging gracefully from one web to the next. Dustin let out a scream, half terror, half pure exhilaration, that quickly transformed into laughter so unrestrained it sounded like it might break the laws of physics. Will was lucky it was three in the morning and New York was asleep, otherwise Spider-Man’s identity would’ve absolutely been revealed based on how loud Dustin was being.

“WOOOOOOOO!” Dustin yelled, eyes sparkling. “THIS IS AMAZING! I’M FLYING! I’M- AHH- ALIVE!”

Max and Lucas were frozen in awe, mouths hanging open. Even Mike, leaning against the railing with a sloppy sip of his own slushie forgotten, could only stare. Dustin’s grin was ridiculous, uncontainable. His body squeezed against Will as they swung above the city streets, hair blowing wildly, laughter echoing off the buildings.

After a few more swings, Will gently brought Dustin back down onto the rooftop, setting him on his feet. Dustin’s knees wobbled from excitement, but he didn’t care. He threw his arms around Will’s neck in a hug that nearly crushed him.

“That… that… was the best thing ever!” Dustin gushed. “I… I might cry I’m so happy!”

Will laughed, giving Dustin a playful nudge. “You’re fine, Dustin. You survived. That’s the main goal.”

Mike finally let out a quiet breathe, still in awe, though his eyes never left Will. He didn’t need to swing to know how incredible he was. Every graceful flip, every effortless motion, every laugh Dustin let out, Mike felt it all in his chest, and maybe… just maybe, he realized he might never look at Will the same way again.

Lucas turned to Will, still starstruck. “Me next.”

Will groaned but grinned, clearly used to the excitement and chaos that came with his friends. “Fine. But you better listen, Lucas. You will not let go, got it?”

Lucas nodded eagerly. “Got it. I won’t die.”

Max rolled her eyes but smirked. “Famous last words, Lucas.”

Mike just watched yet again, as watching Will finally being able to just be free in front of his friends was worth every single secret being kept from the past two years.

Mike laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, the hum of the city outside barely registering. His room felt unusually small, the shadows stretching long across the walls. He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking.

Spiderman.

The word echoed in his head like it didn’t belong there, like it was some insane joke the universe had decided to play. His best friend. Will Byers. The kid who had shared candy bars with him in kindergarten, the one who cried when he scraped his knee on the monkey bars, the one who had been the softest, sweetest person he’d ever known, was out there. Swinging between skyscrapers. Fighting villains. Saving lives.

Mike’s chest tightened. For years he had worried. Worried about every little thing: would Will make it home safely? Was he hanging out with the right people? Did he eat enough? Did someone hurt him, maybe even without knowing it?

And all the while, Mike hadn’t known. Will had been risking everything, fighting the city’s nightmares night after night, protecting people he didn’t even know, while Mike fretted over scraped knees and missed homework. Two years of worry, two years of fear, two years of, unaware heroics.

Mike buried his face in his pillow, letting the frustration and awe mix together. He had been overprotective, always hovering, always asking questions, always making sure Will was safe. And the entire time, Will had been fighting a war of his own, unseen, unacknowledged, carrying a burden Mike didn’t even know existed.

It made him feel a thousand things at once, pride, fear, awe, guilt. Pride that Will could be that capable, fear for every moment he hadn’t been there, awe at just how incredible his best friend really was, and guilt for not knowing sooner, for the times he’d complained about Will bailing, for the times he’d assumed.

Mike closed his eyes and whispered into the darkness, almost as if Will could hear him. “I… I didn’t know. I never knew.”

And yet, deep down, he knew. He would never stop worrying. He would never stop being there. And if anyone ever thought about hurting Will, Mike knew exactly what he’d do.

Because Spiderman or not, bestfriend or hero, Mike Wheeler had always been, and would always be, protective.

And now, knowing the truth, that protectiveness burned brighter than ever.

It was a bright Saturday morning, the kind of New York morning where the city seemed impossibly alive. The honking of taxis, the chatter of street vendors, and the occasional distant crash of some random hero-villain showdown all blended into the usual urban symphony.

The gang walked down the crowded streets, each carrying a bag of snacks, Max’s skateboard tucked under her arm, Dustin already rambling about some new gadget idea, Lucas complaining about the heat, and Mike… well, Mike was still trying to wrap his head around a single fact: Will Byers, his best friend since age four, was Spiderman.

“I still can’t believe it,” Dustin said, bouncing slightly as they navigated a group of tourists taking up the sidewalk. “Like, every time we went out with him, every time he ‘bail-’” he stopped, gesturing vaguely, “he was actually just swinging across the city saving people!”

Lucas rolled his eyes but had a grin on his face. “I know, right? My brain literally cannot process that my best friend is literally web-swinging over Times Square while I’m stuck here sweating in sneakers.”

Max laughed, doing a small kickflip to get onto a nearby bench, her hands shading her eyes from the sun. “Honestly, I feel like we should’ve noticed earlier. I mean, the guy disappears at the weirdest times, comes back like nothing happened, is ridiculously strong… it adds up.”

Mike kept his gaze forward, trying to look casual but failing miserably. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, the weight of the revelation still settling over him like concrete. “Yeah… it adds up,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Dustin spun around to face him, eyes wide. “Mike! You’re still… what? Just… processing?”

Mike gave a half-smile. “Processing isn’t the word. It’s… I don’t even know. It’s just, Will… Spiderman… our Will. I’ve been worried about him all these years, and he’s been saving the city while I’ve been whining about him being late.”

Lucas laughed. “Yeah, but no one could’ve guessed this was why. Like, space missions, swinging over buildings, fighting villains who could actually destroy the city. This isn’t just being heroic, it’s insane.”

Mike felt his chest tighten. Pride, awe, and a lingering panic all mixed together. “And he never… never even told us. He kept it all to himself. He had to go through all of that alone.”

Dustin grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I mean, obviously he didn’t want to put us in danger, right? But it’s… it’s amazing. He’s amazing.”

Max added, smirking, “And kind of terrifying. Like… how do you casually hang out with someone who can literally swing over traffic at a hundred miles an hour?”

Mike finally exhaled, shaking his head, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah… amazing. And terrifying. And, I guess… I have to admit, it’s kind of the coolest thing ever.”

Dustin gave a dramatic gasp. “Did my friend Mike Wheeler, notorious hero hating man, just admit that a superhero is…cool?! This might be the best day of my life.” 

“Uh, I think Will is cool, heroes are still not cool.” Mike corrected. 

Dustin frowned. “That’s completely hypocritical, Will is a superhero.”

“Yeah but it’s different!-”

Mike and Dustin fell right back into their usual bickering, the chaos of the streets buzzing around them, all four of them processing the reality of their friend, their best friend, living a double life as the city’s friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

And somewhere above them, swinging between skyscrapers, Will was probably doing just that, saving someone’s life, grinning under his mask, completely oblivious to how utterly his friends were losing their minds about him.

A few hours had passed, and the gang were casually strolling the streets, the hum of New York life buzzing around them. The sun was dipping lower, painting the city in orange and gold, when a familiar figure dropped down from the edge of a nearby building with a perfect thwip!

Spider-Man.

The gang froze mid-step. Then they lost it.

“NO WAY!” Dustin shouted, nearly bouncing out of his shoes grabbing onto Lucas for support. Max let out a squeal and almost dropped her skateboard. Mike… Mike couldn’t move. His brain had short-circuited. The red-and-blue suit, the masked grin, the way Spider-Man landed with effortless style, it was all too much. Too familiar. Too Will.

Spider-Man struck a dramatic pose, hands on hips, tilting his head at the gang. “Evening, random teenagers! Friendly neighborhood Spidey here, stopping by to say hello!”

“Will that was so fucking sick!” Dustin began, calling out the name he already knew.

“—He mean, Spider-Man!” Will said as if there was a secret camera crew watching from afar, shaking his hands frantically, crouched low so no one else would hear. His voice was urgent but whispery. “Guys, guys, when I’m in the suit, you cannot call me Will. Identity. Secret. Danger. Spiderman. Got it?”

The gang all quickly nodded in agreement, and the evening ended with them all running after ‘Spider-Man’, chasing their friend as he swans through the city. 

Mike will never get use to this.

The city was quiet tonight, the usual hum of New York muffled under the late-night calm. Mike sat on the edge of his bed, notebook abandoned, thoughts tangled up in the lingering memory of the day. His heart still raced from even thinking about Will, but sleep felt impossible.

A soft tap-tap-tap startled him.

Mike froze, his gaze flicking toward the window. He walked over slowly, curiosity overriding caution. And there he was. Will. Hanging upside down outside his window, Spider-Man suit gleaming in the dim streetlight. He gave a little wave, and Mike’s stomach did a somersault.

“…Hey,” Mike breathed, opening the window.

“Hey stranger!” Will said, still upside down, voice teasing through the mask.

“Hi, Will.” Mike smiled, his chest tightening at the sound of his name coming from that familiar voice, that familiar presence.

They just stared at each other for a moment, the city around them fading into background noise. Mike let out a soft laugh.

“You know your mom’s gonna have a panic attack when she finds out, right?”

Will laughed behind the mask, the sound warm and bright even from upside down. “That’s why she can never find out!”

They shared a laugh, quiet and intimate, and the air between them seemed to hum. Mike’s gaze softened, he knew exactly what kind of smile was beaming from behind the mask. 

Mike swallowed.

“Hey Will?” he said quietly.

Will hummed in question, still hanging upside down, fingers flexing slightly where the web kept him steady.

“You remember when…actually hold -“ Mike then proceeded to gently pull down Wills mask so he could see his face. He gently placed the mask on his windowsill.

Will gave Mike the most devastating, beautiful smile. 
 “There you are..” Mike whispered. “Anyways… I-uh… Do you remember when I casually admitted to being in love with you,” Mike continued, voice awkward but steady, “and then we just… hadn’t really had the chance to speak about it?”

There was a pause.

Will’s grin faltered, surprise flickering across his face. He blinked a few times, clearly not expecting this to ever be brought up again. Still upside down, he gave a slow, hesitant nod.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

Mike exhaled, rubbing his palms together once before gripping the window frame. “It’s true,” he said. “It always was.”

Will went very still.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it,” Mike went on, words spilling now that he’d started. “Telling myself it was just… habit, or history, or me being dramatic. But then I found out you’re-” he gestured vaguely at the suit, the webs, everything, “-Spider-Man, and I realized I can’t pretend anymore.”

He laughed weakly. “Because apparently the universe decided being in love with my best friend wasn’t complicated enough.”

Will’s expression softened, eyes shining.

“I love you,” Mike said plainly. “I’ve loved you for a while. And knowing you’re Spider-Man didn’t change that. It just made it impossible to lie to myself.”

For a moment, Will didn’t speak.

Then he smiled.

A real one. Soft and a little broken and painfully fond.

“I feel the same,” Will said. “God, Mike… I’ve always felt the same.”

Mike’s breath caught.

Will shifted slightly, still upside down, voice quieter now. “Being Spider-Man… it complicated everything. I was in love with you, but I also had this secret I couldn’t share, this responsibility I couldn’t walk away from. It felt like I couldn’t have both.”

Mike’s face fell just a little at that.

“I thought I had to choose,” Will admitted. “Either be Spider-Man, or be in love with my best friend. And I… I chose Spider-Man.”

The words stung, but then Will rushed on.

“But I don’t feel that way anymore,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to be just Spider-Man. I want to be Will. I want us to be Will and Mike. Not Spider-Man and some guy he sneaks around with when he’s suppose to be patrolling. And when you said you loved me, after you just found out I was Spider-Man, I thought maybe you- you were just confused. I thought that maybe you were mixing up your feelings for..for Spider-Man, with your feelings for me. I guess I thought that maybe you weren’t in love with me, but with Spider-Man.”

Will took a deep breath, voice wavered but then he continued. “I want to be the hero I have to be… but I also just want to be yours. And that scares me more than any villain..”

Mike stared at him, a smile forming on its face.

“The guy I’m in love with,” Mike said softly, “is Will Byers.”

Will blinked.

“Spider-Man’s just… an added bonus.”

Will let out a breathy laugh, eyes crinkling. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

The city seemed to go quiet.

No banter. No jokes. Just the two of them, looking at each other, suspended between floors and confessions, the air thick with everything they’d been holding back.

Will was still upside down.

Mike stepped closer.

He reached out, one hand gently cupping Will’s cheek, thumb brushing along his jaw. Will leaned into the touch automatically, eyes fluttering shut.

And then Mike leaned forward.

Their lips met, soft, lingering, upside down and perfect. At first it was slow, gentle, steady. Mikes never imagined his first kiss with Will to be an upside down kiss, and he must admit, at first it was a little tricky to adjust to. But then Will leaned in stronger, mouth opening, and suddenly Mike felt like he could do this for all of eternity. Will having both hands still holding onto the web, it meant it was up to Mike to physically bring Will closer to him, so he reached his free hand up to the back of Will’s neck, to carefully pull him in closer. 

The kiss was heavier now, faster, more passionate. It was clear the two of them had been waiting way too long for this, and neither of them plan on wasting any opportunity to let this go. 
Soft. Wet. Warm. 
Mike wanted this so badly. Any other person would be cheesing over the fact they are currently making out with Spider-Man, but not Mike. Mike was making out with Will, and that thought alone was enough to keep him going for a lifetime.

When they pulled apart, eyes glued together, Mike smiled.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Will whispered.

“Next time you want to hangout, just knock ok the front door like a normal person.”

Will grinned. “No promises.”