Chapter Text
Mike’s hand trembles on the empty page of his notebook. He’s had writing slumps before, but they were never this serious. It’s the fourth time Mike sits down to bleed anything out onto the pages, and he just… can’t.
Every idea he’s having feels too similar to the previous ones. The words he thinks of don’t make any sense once he tries to say it out loud.
Mike rests his chin on the heel of his fist, and a heavy sigh escapes his lungs. He looks outside through the open window. The sun shines brightly, its rays golden like honey.
Only a few years earlier, the party would already be biking down the hot asphalt streets, each one of them trying to keep up with one another. Lucas would be racing with Dustin, arguing who will reach Mike’s house first. Max, as always, would speed on her skateboard, passing by them with a laugh. Maybe they’d convince Hopper to let El go with them, sitting on the back of Dustin’s bike. Mike and Will, who probably insisted on coming earlier and helping Mike set everything up, clean or just hanging around, would wait for them, sitting on the warm porch. Their knees would be close enough to touch, and Mike would probably say something stupid just to make his best friend giggle and—
Mike doesn’t even notice that he sucks in his breath. The reality comes crashing down on him, reminding him that it’s gone. Their childhood, how close they all used to be. God, he used to talk to Will almost every day. Now, he gets a letter, two at tops.
And he gets it, don’t get him wrong. He’s happy for Will! He got into some fancy art school in NYC, he got a small but cute apartment, and a… boyfriend.
Mike’s jaw flexes the second that thing enters his mind. Carlton. What a stupid fucking name. When he’s first heard about him in one of Will’s letters he couldn’t hold his laughter for more than a mere second.
Lucas had to listen to him whining for a good hour before he finally gave up, waved his hand and ended the rant with “but who am I to judge, right?”.
It’s just… how can he know Will better than Mike? Can he help him with the nightmares, just like Mike used to? Can he cheer him up and make him forget about the past for just a while, can he do that? Mike highly doubts that.
“Mike? Mike!” Nancy’s voice coming from behind his door startles him. He looks down and, of course, his inner rant didn’t make anything appear on the clean paper. He curses under his breath and turns to the door when he hears it opening.
She came back for the weekend, which Mike found so stupid, cause if she is leaving Massachusetts for Hawkins, which is such a long drive away, she should’ve stayed for at least a week, right?
His sister walks in, her hands on her hips. “How many times do I have to call you?”
Mike sends her a sheepish look. “Sorry. I just… got caught up in my thoughts. That’s all.”
Nancy sighs and notices the opened notebook laying there, begging for someone to write at least a single word. “Still nothing?” she says, and this time her voice is softer.
“Yeah. Nothing feels good enough to write down.” Mike muttered, “What would you do? If you were in my place, I mean.”
“Since when do you care about my opinion?” She jokes, but seeing Mike’s eyes glimmer with the very last remains of hope, she hums. Nancy looks out at the trees, trying to come up with the best answer. “I guess I’d just go outside with my notebook. You know, look around me, look for anything worth my attention. I would report it like I usually do in the papers, just… only for me to see.”
Mike scoffs, “That’s such a basic ass answer.” But, at the same time, what does he have to lose? He’s been trying to write for so many days that at this point him not getting anything down won’t even be a step back. He’ll just stay in the same exact place he’s been visiting ever since graduation. It feels almost… homeish. He gets up from his chair, his mind already feeling heavy, snatches his notebook from the desk and passes Nancy. “This better work.”
🗡✮
This already feels stupid. Mike’s cheeks already heat up from the embarrassment, and he’s barely even left his house. The sun shining directly on his face is not helping.
The bike between his lanky legs is surely a bit too small for him now, but he doesn’t really feel that grown up.
He doesn’t know where he’s going. This one time he just lets his instinct lead, and he’s way too busy with thinking anyway.
That’s one of the very few things he does on worse days. And, frankly, there’s not many “better” days.
Mike tries to write and fails, he starts to think and spirals. He tries to breathe and he just… can’t.
It all comes back in a storm — the memories crash into his skull like raging waves. Will’s body in the quarry, his possessions, Holly disappearing, El sacrificing herself.
He sees it in his nightmares. Sometimes he can still hear Will’s screams. It takes him hours without sleep to convince himself that his best friend is fine, far away in New York.
And when the mere thought of El enters his mind, he swears he’ll lose it. She didn’t deserve it. She chose to spend her last seconds with Mike, and he couldn’t… God, he couldn’t even spit out a stupid “I love you”. He couldn’t lie. Not even in a situation like this.
He feels small. He feels like it should’ve been him.
Mike slams the brakes and almost falls off his bike. His heart is pounding. He hears his blood pumping in his ears.
It should’ve been him. Him in that stupid shed instead of Will, him standing by the gate instead of El. He’s been nothing but a problem. He couldn’t love his own girlfriend properly, and he couldn’t even be a good friend when Will needed him the most. And now what? Mike Wheeler is the only one out of the party who stayed in this stupid town, like a loser. A true, fucking loser—
Mike feels a hand squeeze his arm. He snaps back into reality and looks around, the water and the pier blurring together. He’s at Lovers Lake?
“Mike?” he hears a muffled voice, the one he’d recognized everywhere.
Will is standing in front of him, lips parted and eyes flashed with worry. He looks so different, yet mostly the same as Mike remembered him from the last time. His hair is neatly styled, his ear is pierced with a small earring.
Mike needs to blink twice, with an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. He can see Will’s lips moving, but nothing reaches his head. Oh, he is fucked.
He only manages to mumble out, “W-what?”