Chapter Text
Mike didn’t wake up to his alarm like usual.
He woke to the sound of something tearing through the air.
A loud, crackling whoomph filled his room, followed by a wash of bright blue light. His eyes flew open, heart slamming against his ribs as he shot upright in bed.
He grabbed the nearest thing on his nightstand — his alarm clock — and held it out in front of him like it was the deadliest weapon known to man.
His stomach twisted.
They’d ended the Upside Down mess a year ago. And this portal wasn’t that sickly red, anyway — it glowed a vivid, almost electric blue.
So no, he wasn’t thinking Demogorgon.
But he also definitely hadn’t been expecting this.
The portal snapped shut with a sharp crack, leaving behind the faint smell of ozone and—
Will.
Well.
Not exactly Will.
This Will wore gold earrings that caught the light, along with layered chains that rested over deep purple robes. A pointed hat sat crookedly on his head, embroidered with silver thread Mike recognized immediately.
From D&D.
But this Will stood differently. Straighter. Surer. Like he’d never once doubted where he belonged in a room.
Mike hesitated, then slowly lowered the alarm clock. “Will?”
Will locked eyes with him, relief flashing across his face — then panic. He spun in a quick circle, scanning the room.
“Mike, we have to get out of here— he cast a—”
He stopped.
His gaze dragged over Mike: the faded Hellfire Club shirt, the plaid boxers, the bedhead.
Mike suddenly became very aware that he was half-dressed and clutching an alarm clock like an idiot.
Will’s nose wrinkled. “What are you wearing?”
“…Clothes.”
Will rolled his eyes.
Actually rolled his eyes.
Mike’s stomach dropped. Will had only ever done that one other time — Rink-O-Mania, Lenora, and yeah, okay, he’d deserved it then. But this Will’s expression wasn’t annoyed or teasing.
It was judgmental.
It made Mike feel small. Awkward. Weirdly flustered.
He hated it.
His Will never made him feel like this.
Before Mike could defend himself, Will studied him again, brow furrowing.
“You’re not Mike.”
Mike blinked. “Pretty sure I am. And you’re not Will.”
Will turned away, pacing the room like a caged animal. “You’re not my paladin,” he said, voice tight with frustration. “My paladin isn’t this dense. Or this… stunted. He would have gotten me home by now.”
The words hit harder than Mike expected.
He told himself it shouldn’t matter. This wasn’t his Will — not really. Not the soft-spoken boy who blushed when their hands brushed. Not the one with quiet sarcasm and shy little smiles meant just for him.
His Will was kind. Gentle. A little awkward, sure — but never cruel.
This version didn’t even hesitate.
Mike swallowed past the sting rising in his throat. For a second, he almost wished Will had yelled instead. Anger would’ve been easier than this cold, distant disappointment.
But this Will wasn’t looking at him like a person.
He was looking at him like a mistake.