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The moment Mike opens his eyes, he knows something is off. He just can't put his finger on what.
He’s standing in his bedroom, and it looks…normal. His walls are still filled with posters, with some of Will’s drawings of the Party scattered throughout. The guitar he keeps swearing he’ll learn how to play is tucked in the corner by his desk. His bed’s unmade and there are clothes strewn all over the floor. It’s all exactly how he remembers it—exactly how it was before a demogorgon tore through the house. It even smells the same, a hint of the laundry detergent his mom buys and the indescribable scent of home that’s always made his heart settle in his chest. The violent ozone smell he associates with gates and the Upside Down is gone.
As he continues his slow turn in the center of the room, however, it becomes clear that not everything is the same. His Conan the Barbarian poster is gone, for one. And he doesn’t recognize all of Will’s art, which is extremely weird. His eyes slide over his print of MC Escher’s Relativity and stop on the most significant change to the room: his closet is gone. The space it once occupied is now taken by a freestanding rack of clothes, and above that—
The painting. The painting. The “you’re the heart, I need you and I always will, now tell my sister you love her, what did you think I meant?” painting. The one he’d buried in the back of his closet but hadn’t stopped thinking about for 18 months. And now here it is, proudly displayed on his wall. Framed, even. What the hell.
The room is the first thing he notices. The second are his clothes; he’s wearing a suit. He takes a step towards the full-length mirror on the back of the door, taking in the sleek drape of black fabric. The style evens out his proportions, adding some width to the gangly frame he’d always been quietly self-conscious about. No tie, but he’d always hated them anyway. Instead, the only pop of color is the boutonniere of little yellow five-petaled flowers pinned to his lapel. As he studies his reflection, he realizes that he isn’t exactly as he remembers either. He looks a bit older, his hair is more tousled (but in a way that looks undeniably cool), and the bags that have lived under his eyes since November 1983 are nowhere to be seen.
The door bursts open, taking the mirror with it. Will comes tumbling into the room, wearing a similar black suit and looking a bit older as well. Before Mike can react, El chases after him through the door, grinning and holding a comb and a can of hairspray like it’s a weapon. She’s formal event-ready too, in a bright purple dress with her hair teased to a height that would make Nancy proud.
“El—please, if you put any more of that in my hair it’s gonna snap off!” Will begs, clearly holding back a laugh. “Don’t let her touch me! She’s gonna leave me bald,” he giggles as he ducks behind Mike while El continues to advance. He manhandles Mike into being his human shield with no hesitation, and every casual touch feels like it burns.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” El sighs, giving up after a few moments of looking for an opening. She sticks her tongue out at them before putting the hairspray down.
As the chaos abates Mike turns to get a better look at Will, who’s still got a hand on his arm. The sight renders him speechless for a moment. Will’s already looking at him, smiling like they’re the only two in the room. He’s got an emerald tie that really brings out the specks of green in his eyes. Mike’s eyes snag on the boutonniere pinned to his lapel beside it, filled with tiny blue five-petaled flowers with yellow centers. He’s so busy studying Will he almost doesn’t notice when another person joins them.
“Come on, guys,” a warm voice calls from the door. It’s Lucas, decked out in a dark brown tweed suit of his own with a ruby red tie. “We’d better get moving, Dustin’s almost done adding those red spoke covers to Max’s wheelchair.”
Turning to Mike, he adds, with a teasing note in his voice, “Your mom’s gonna kill us if we don’t leave time for enough pictures. Screw the rest of us, I think she’s trying to fill an entire album with her ‘precious baby and his prom date.’”
His—what? He automatically looks to El, but she’s already halfway out the door. Which means the smirk Lucas throws over his shoulder as he follows her is aimed at him and…
“You coming?” Will holds out a hand for him to take. Mike stares at it. His eyes slide up to the blue boutonniere that definitely matches his own, just in a different color, before finally landing on Will’s face. On the glint in his eye, the small smile meant just for him. Will is basically radiating joy right now, and it’s infectious. It makes Mike’s heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He’s more than a little confused right now, but he stamps down that thought. He’s not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. He’s going to take Will’s hand and—
His own hand passes through Will’s like it’s made of smoke. Between one blink and the next, Will’s hand is replaced by a gnarled claw. A claw attached to a towering figure of undulating burnt vines, who speaks in a voice loud and deep enough to shake the ground beneath them.
“A beautiful wish. But there will be no future. Not for you.”
Mike feels his heart drop into his stomach right before his vision blacks out.