Tomorrow was November 6th.

Will hadn’t written it down anywhere, but he didn’t need to. His body remembered for him, reacting the same way it did every year with a tight chest, restless hands, and a quiet sense of waiting for something to go wrong. He told himself it was irrational and that he was safe now, but the reassurance never quite settled.

He tried to keep busy, though nothing really held his attention. Unfinished homework sat open on the kitchen table while he reread the same lines again and again without retaining anything, his sketchbook staying closed and pushed aside where he wouldn’t have to look at it. Sitting still only made the unease worse.

The phone rang mid-evening.

Carlton’s voice came through the line, tired and apologetic. Work had run late, and he wouldn’t be able to come over after all. Will said it was fine, and it mostly was. They made vague plans for another night before hanging up, the conversation ending with more quiet than either of them acknowledged.

Eight months together had settled into something predictable: dinners, shared routines, time spent in each other’s apartments without really merging their lives. Carlton was kind and steady, and Will didn’t doubt that he cared, but there were parts of Will’s past he’d never explained, things he kept deliberately vague. Carlton didn’t ask, and Will didn’t push himself to explain, and most days that made things easier.

Tonight, it felt like avoidance.

Will paced the apartment, reminding himself he was safe. This was New York, not Hawkins. No monsters. No Vecna. Just his own space and the life he was trying to build, even if it didn’t always feel solid yet.

The sound of three short raps against the front door made him jump.

He froze, his heart pounding as old instincts flared sharp and immediate, telling him something was wrong. For a second, he almost listened. Then he forced himself forward, crossed the room, unlocked the door, and opened it.

Mike Wheeler stood in the doorway.

For a moment, Will couldn’t breathe as years collapsed in on themselves all at once—childhood, Hawkins, late nights, and shared secrets. The boy he grew up loving, the feeling he never fully outran, no matter how far he moved or who he dated. Shock, relief, confusion, and something painfully familiar rushed through him.

His mouth opened before his brain caught up.

“… Mike?”