Will Byers

The distant music of an old radio drifts up from an open window: an eighties song distorted by static. Hawkins is asleep, or at least trying to be.

On the rooftop, Mike stands, his thick jacket in his hands, his feet in his pockets. He shouldn't be there. He knows it. But when Will told him, "Wait for me up there," he didn't hesitate.

A spiderweb falls silently from above.

Mike looks up.

Spider-Man descends slowly, hanging upside down, held by a single line. The dark suit is marked by dents and tears. This time, the mask is gone.

The world stops.

"Will…" Mike whispers, more surprised than scared.

Will remains motionless, hanging in front of him. His hair falls down, his eyes open, waiting for any reaction… except calm.

"I can explain," he says quickly. "If you want to scream, or leave, or—"

Mike steps forward.

"It's you," he says. "All this time... it was you."

There is no anger. There is no fear. Just a mixture of awe and belated understanding.

"That's why you kept disappearing," Mike continued. "That's why you were always tired. That's why you knew things no one else did."

Will swallows hard.

—I didn't want to lie to you.

-I know.

That's what hurts Will the most.

—I was afraid you would see me differently.

Mike shakes his head.

"You look the same to me," he says. "You're still Will."

The wind blows between them. Will lowers himself a little more, now at Mike's eye level, still upside down. They're so close that Mike can see a small bruise on his cheekbone.

"Were you hurt?" Mike asks.

—Nothing serious.

Mike carefully raises his hand, as if afraid everything might disappear. His fingers brush Will's cheek, soft, real.

"Idiot," he mutters. "You could ask for help... and you carry it all alone."

Will smiles, his eyes shining.

—That's what heroes do, isn't it?

"No," Mike replies. "That's what people who think they're alone do."

The silence becomes intimate. Will lowers himself a little further. Mike leans slightly forward.

and I kiss him