Chapter Text
Mike stood up from the record player on the floor and began quickly cleaning up the mess from the broken glass with his bare hands, ignoring every bit of what he had said to Will just moments ago about how he might hurt himself on the glass. Hypocrite. Will bit back a smile, looking down at his bandaged hand. He picked up every piece expertly though, so delicately and precisely that Will wasn’t really worried he would get hurt like he had anymore.
“Yeah, I know who you remind me of.”
“A girl I think I used to know.”
The song played out softly and cast a warm feeling over the living room, soft and comforting in the warm glow of the light coming from the kitchen – The open floor plan separated the living room and kitchen only by the counter and some overhead cabinets, allowing the kitchen light to travel across the living room – the scene left a warm hum in Will’s chest. He watched silently from the couch as Mike finished wiping up the mess with a paper towel, turning back to face Will.
“Sorry about the mess, again, I’m really sorry about the glass…” Feeling anxiety creeping back in before it immediately dissipated at the soft sound of Mike’s voice.
“Really it’s fine, don’t worry at all.” Mike said with a sweet smile and such reassurance Will stopped feeling guilty almost immediately, an extremely rare occurrence.
“Wait, so you work at a record store? Which one?” Will suddenly spoke up, remembering he should inquire about Mike’s life. He certainly couldn’t just learn about him strictly through his own offhanded observations, though he still stared deeply at Mike, as if the closer he looked the closer he would get to revealing his inner monologue.
“Well, I used to work at an old record store back in… back in uh- Hawkins,” Mike’s eyes drifted to the front door as he spoke, “But a week or so ago I started working at Earwax records, it's over in Brooklyn but not too far from here.” He sort of mumbled, walking towards the door to kick off his Doc Martens and grab his bags.
“Wait, Hawkins?” Will’s Brain finally caught up to him as he realized what might’ve made Mike seem so familiar. Had he seen him before?
“Yeah, we uh… we actually went to school together- I think, you probably don’t remember me though.” Mike drifted back over towards the couch and set his plastic bag on the coffee table. Will could smell the warm scent of Chinese food steaming up through the bag. “Thanks for cleaning up the place by the way, sorry I left a huge mess and there's like no food, I brought some Chinese food if you want any though.” Mike said, sitting beside Will on the other end of the couch, keeping a good three feet between them.
“Uh- yeah! Thanks, yeah I’d like some, if you don’t mind.”
“Cool, yeah.” Mike replied with a soft, awkward, smile on his face, nodding his head as he reached for the bag and started to pull out some take out boxes.
There was a moment of awkward silence before Will remembered the prior conversation they were having. It was hard to keep his train of thought when all he could focus on was how the soft light caught in Mike’s eyes and the way his curled hair fell into his face as he leaned forward.
“So, you lived in Hawkins? How come we never met each other?" Will piped up as Mike passed him a box and some utensils.
“Well, we were in the same science class. Mr. Clarke? Uh- anyways, I was a lot different back then…”
Will suddenly remembered why he recognized his birthmark. This was the boy that he noticed in class and in the hallways sometimes, just about as lonely as he was. Now that he really thought about it he had always been keenly aware of Mike’s presence in his classes, for whatever reason. The memories flooded back in an instant as he remembered he had even sketched this birthmark, this face, into old notebooks in his childhood. Ones that were probably still in his own childhood bedroom.
Will hadn’t recognized him at first – because he seemed to have grown into his own skin now. – He was a lot taller and quite lanky; he looked like he still wasn’t used to his own long limbs though, as if they were in his own way. His cheekbones were more prominent and his jawline sharper than the round baby face he remembered. His hair had grown out a lot longer, curls falling just past his shoulders and a lot more layers than he had in his little childhood bowl cut, his bangs were a lot softer than the blunt straight across ones of the 7th grade Mike. There were more changes than just the physical ones though, he no longer appeared to wear collared shirts and blue sweaters from The Gap. He now wore band t-shirts and corduroy pants and jean jackets and Doc Martens and silver accessories delicately decorated his hands and neck-
Will realized his mind was running off the tracks into an area of his mind he thought better to ignore. Forcing his brain to shove those thoughts to the back of his mind, he tried to rack his brain for any reason he could remember why he never really talked to him – or why exactly he stood out to him so much, to the point of watching him during class – and came up blank. The only explanation he could muster was just that he had so many other things going on back then that he hadn’t even thought of trying to make new friends. Bullies, his dad, lots of things.
“Oh, right! I knew I recognized you from somewhere, I just couldn’t figure out where.” Still somewhat embarrassed at his revelation of memories – the faces drawn in his old sketchbook – He looked over to Mike to see him picking at his food, pushing it around rather than actually eating any of it. He seemed… nervous? Will couldn’t tell why. “Yeah you looked a lot different back then, maybe that's why. You don’t look like you wear many polo shirts or sweaters anymore.”
Mike appeared to perk up at that last sentence. “Wait so you actually remember me?” He looked as though a genuine excitement had suddenly filled him, suddenly sitting straighter. “And I do still like sweaters, I just… don’t have any.” He finished his thought with a bite of fried rice.
“Well yeah! It just took me a second to remember, but yeah.” Will felt a smile creeping up his face when he saw how happy Mike was at this knowledge. “Wait, so you remember me too?” It was a stupid question, Mike was the one who brought Mr. Clarke’s class in the first place. Will felt heat crawling up his neck as he realized if Mike remembered him he must’ve been watching him too, or at least been aware of his existence specifically. “Why didn’t you say that this morning?” He almost immediately regretted the mention of this morning the second the words left his mouth. No one needed to remember the spectacle he made of himself.
“Sorry, yeah I would have, I just was in a rush, band audition.” Mike said, looking almost pained. Probably thinking about the awkward moment between them again just as Will was.
“Wait, a band audition? That's so cool!” Will had always admired anyone who could play an instrument. Though he never learned, it was something he always found fascinating.
“Yeah! My friend Lucas recommended I go meet the band, his girlfriend Max plays the drums for them and he has a couple other friends in the band. It actually went pretty well,” A sense of excitement lit up Mike’s eyes as he spoke of what he was passionate about, it was endearing in a way, “crazy that there's actually cool people from Hawkins, makes sense that they all left.” He trailed off, taking another bite of his food.
“Yeah, my friend Dustin left for Boston, looks like nobody cool stays in Hawkins.” A smile crept across Mike’s face – Will assumed it was because of the implication that he too was cool – swallowing another bite before speaking again.
“Y’know, I actually really wanted to be your friend back in school.” Mike began, his eyes drifting back down to the record player as music was still playing from it. “Why Can’t I Be You?” was now playing throughout the room.
“Really?” Will tried for a moment, and he really couldn’t think of a single reason why anyone would’ve wanted to be his friend in middle school besides Dustin and his siblings, “Why?”
“I just… thought you were cool- I don’t know,” Mike glanced up and looked startled to see that Will was looking back at him and averted his eyes back to his hands. “Yeah, like, you were always drawing cool things and, I don’t know, I guess I just thought you were cool.” Mike looked like he was suppressing a smile, suddenly seeming extremely shy, nothing like he was this morning.
“I can’t believe you thought I was cool.” Will said, biting back his own smile. “I mean I wasn't exactly someone that people thought was cool.” he added with a humorless laugh.
“Well, I wasn't exactly someone that anyone thought was cool either.” Mike seemed a little solemn for a moment, yet he still had a small, genuine, smile on his face – maybe Will’s staring had actually allowed a brief glimpse into Mike’s soul for a short second – before he suddenly sat up straighter and continued on talking, the window to his soul shut. “Well anyways, what brings you out to New York?” Mike asked, changing the subject abruptly.
“Oh, yeah, I’m taking some art classes at NYU. I was just painting in my room for a project just before you got home actually.” Will chose to leave out the part where he left to escape his homophobic hometown. “I also work at a coffee shop nearby.”
“Oh cool!” Mike thought for a moment, turning his head away before turning back and saying, “Wait, why aren’t you at a dorm then?” Great.
“I uh- I just wanted more space, I guess.” judging by the look on Mike’s face, he didn’t entirely buy into this answer but he accepted it nonetheless, Will was thankful he chose not to pry. “What are you in New York for?”
Mike went dark for a second, almost like it was a completely unexpected question. “Just wanted to get away, I guess.” He looked a little nervous as he stood up from the couch, his barely eaten food abandoned on the coffee table, and walked towards the hallway before stopping. “Can I see your painting?” A weak, yet genuine, smile on his face.
Startled by the blunt question, Will stammered, “Uh- I- yeah, well- It’s not like, finished or anything but uh- sure, yeah.” He pushed up from his place on the couch, flustered, and led the way to his room.
A little nervous to show his unfinished piece, his hand shot back up to his mouth so he could tear away at his nails some more as he slowly padded his way down the hall with Mike lagging just a few feet behind him.
Opening the door to his room and stepping inside, Will watched as Mike gazed over the room, as if he was in awe of what he was seeing, not even just the painting, but it seemed the whole room was awestricking.
“Wow… How did you unpack all of this already?” As Mike admired the little world around him, Will admired Mike. Something about the way his eyes lit up when he saw the band posters of The Clash, The Cure, and David Bowie, just filled him with a sense of joy. It was strange to meet someone that was genuinely interested in the things he liked, or just him as a person. But Mike didn’t even need to say anything for Will to know he was enthralled with the room surrounding them. Though, a nagging thought buzzed in the back of his mind; Carlton never cared about anything I liked. It was easier to push away though as he watched Mike dawdle over to the bookcase and run his fingers over the D&D books sitting on the lower shelf, a kind of light catching in his eyes as they crinkled with his smile.
“Oh. My. God. You play D&D?!” Mike whipped around excitedly. Holding his player’s manual.
“Oh yeah, I haven’t played in a while though, do you play?” This was so strange, this feeling like he had known Mike for so much longer than just today was buzzing in his chest and he felt sort of warm from all the attention he was getting.
“Yeah! I’m a paladin! I haven't played in a little while either but I used to DM. How about you? What's your class?” Mike absolutely beamed and Will wasn’t sure if there was literal sunshine spilling out of him or if it was just his imagination.
“I’m a cleric!” Will could feel himself getting excited now too, it had been a long time since he’d talked to anyone as nerdy as himself. (Hell, Mike was probably way nerdier, that was proven by the silly Yoda mug he discovered earlier.) Mike whirled back around with a huge grin and put the book back on the shelf.
“We should have a campaign sometime, my friend Lucas used to play a lot with me so we could get him on it too!” Mike said into the wall before wandering away from the bookcase and back next to where Will was standing.
“My friend Dustin used to play with me a lot too so we should invite him too.” Will realized at that point he had been smiling so much his cheeks started to hurt a bit, – He’s only just met Mike and they’re already making plans together, this is truly an odd occurrence – he rubbed them with his palms as he watched Mike step closer to the painting.
“Wow, this is really good. Where did you get like,” he paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts into words, “the inspiration for it?” He mumbled as he stared intently at the painting, like he was trying to jump right into it and sit in the fort he made in the woods all those years ago.
“Oh- well I-” Will was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing in the living room.
He looked over to Mike who practically ignored the ringing altogether. But when the phone rang the second time he turned back around to look at Will, almost like he was confused why Will wasn’t going to answer it.
“It must be my sister, hold on.” Will, somewhat confused by the awkward interaction just now, (assuming Mike just might not get many phone calls, or even just doesn’t have anyone to call him) and somewhat disappointed their moment had been interrupted, slowly backed out of the room and down the hallway, Mike trailed after him. As he followed the sound of the ringing – he had already forgotten where the phone was – Mike went and turned the record player off before taking a seat back on the couch and returning to his, now lukewarm, takeout.
Will spotted the phone on the wall at the other end of the living room right by the end of the kitchen. He walked over, picking up the phone and leaned against the wall – Jonathan must’ve given Jane the new number since she liked to call Will a lot while he was at his dorm in NYU. Their conversations usually lasted pretty long – He brought the receiver to his ear.
“Hello?” Will said with a smile, expecting Jane’s sweet voice on the other side.
“Who is this?” The voice on the other side – very much not Jane – sounded almost accusatory. It was a woman, her voice didn’t sound exactly mean, but the tone was definitely one of concern.
“Uh, this is Will? Who is this?” Will shot a confused look over to Mike from across the room as he fiddled with the cord hanging from the wall. Mike returned this look; his brows knitted together with a mouth full of chow mien, some noodles hanging from his mouth as he stared.
“This is Mike’s mother, this is the right number, right?” Oh! Of course. He melted back into a state of calmness as he looked back over at Mike.
“Yeah! Sorry, I'll give him the phone.” Will noticed that Mike became increasingly more concerned and confused as he jumped up from the couch and mouthed a silent “Who is it?”
Will pulled the phone away from his face and mouthed back, “It’s your mom.” with a smile. Though his smile quickly faltered as he watched Mike’s expression turn to one of dread. Rushing over to him so quickly that he could’ve sworn he had teleportation powers, Mike snatched the phone out of Will’s hand and hesitated a moment, just staring at Will with almost pleading eyes as he held the phone, not putting it up to his ear just yet. Will figured he should probably give Mike some privacy for his conversation, but he was still so confused about the look on his face and felt as though he should stay close by a moment longer. This anxious tension didn’t leave as Mike put the phone up to his ear and didn’t take his gaze away from Will, didn’t even blink.
“Who was that, Michael?" Will could hear the voice very faintly in the quiet room.
“Who gave you this number?” Mike said as he reached up to tug on the hair at the back of his head. He had an edge in his voice that Will had never heard before, which isn’t saying much considering he only met him today, but it still felt so unlike him.
“I got it from Lucas, we’re worried about you… you should just come back home and-”
Mike’s jaw tightened and he bit his cheek, tilting his head towards the hallway – despite the tension in the room the look in his eyes was still so gentle, soft, even though Will could tell Mike was a bit angry – he understood this silent gesture and cautiously made his way to his room, shutting the door as he heard Mike raise his voice for the first time.
“No mom! I’m not coming back! That’s ridiculous!” Will didn’t mean to eavesdrop but Mike talked fairly loud. Whether it was because of his emotions or just because he was unaware of his volume Will didn’t know.
“Things are actually going really good out here and-” Mike’s voice was sheepish and nervous now, he sounded a little choked as he was cut off. “No, it’s not- it’s not like that-” Will, of course, couldn’t hear what was being said on the other line, but he sorely wished he had when he heard Mike yell again.
“That is such bullshit!” This was such a drastic switch from the Mike he had just been talking to moments before. The next few sentences Mike said were quiet and Will couldn’t hear them through the wall, but he figured he shouldn’t have been listening in the first place so he tried to ignore the nagging worry in his stomach. After some more indistinct arguing he heard “Don’t call me again.” – the most serious and monotone voice he had heard Mike use – through the thin wall separating his room from the hallway. Then, with the sound of the handset being slammed back onto the base on the wall, rushed footsteps came down the hallway.
Will bit at his nails a little more – he hadn’t even realized he was biting them until just now – before deciding he should see if Mike was ok, Will had never had a conversation that tense with his own mom. Stepping out into the hallway he almost rammed his head right into Mike who was quickly making his way to his room. Mike stopped in his tracks right in front of Will.
“Hey… are you ok?” Will was nervous awaiting the response as he watched Mike open his mouth for a moment, about to say something, – Will could’ve sworn he saw a glimmer of tears rising up in Mike’s eyes – before he closed it again and looked down to the floor, biting his lip and hiding behind the dark curls that fell in front of his face. Overwhelmed with sympathy, Will reached out to place a hand on Mike’s shoulder. At the touch, Mike shrugged away almost instantly, still tugging at the back of his head, and in an instant Will was left alone in the hallway. Mike had shoved himself through the door opposite of Will’s room and shut it quickly, not quite slamming it, but there was definitely frustration in the motion.
What was all that about? He felt a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. The happy and kind Mike he had just met had switched in a matter of minutes and he had no idea why. Will stood stunned in the hallway for a moment, he didn’t know how long, before he heard a shuffling inside the room and a metallic click – a boombox – a song Will didn’t quite recognize started playing somewhat loudly through the walls.
“I need an easy friend.”
“I do, with an ear to lend.”
The rough guitar and raspy voice echoed out through the room behind the closed door in front of him as he thought of what to do. Will felt a pang in his heart at the thought that Mike was upset with no one to comfort him, yet he had only just met him today, and he had just flinched away from him. And shut the door in his face. His mind raced back and forth and he paced into the living room as the song continued to echo softly through the walls, ripping away at his nails with his teeth.
“Now I’m standing in your line,”
“I do hope you have the time,”
Will made his way back over to the couch and discovered Mike’s abandoned meal, it had surely gone cold by now, but it sparked an idea. Grabbing the box, he reached the kitchen and placed it in the microwave.
Standing in the dim kitchen light, he waited for the food to finish heating up in the microwave as he thought over what just happened.
Why did he look so nervous- no- scared, when I told him it was his mom?
Why was she telling him to come home? Did he run away?
What did she say that made him so upset?
Why did he-
His train of thought was cut off as he heard the beeping of the microwave signaling him that the food was ready. The song reached an instrumental part as Will reached the door to Mike's room, his hand raised to knock.
Before he knocked, he could’ve sworn he heard stifled sobs over the blaring music, but they ceased the second his knuckles touched the door. It took a moment before he heard some shuffling around, the music got slightly quieter, and then he heard Mike’s voice faintly through the door.
“Uh- It’s uh.. it’s open.” His voice sounded choked and tired, and it struck sympathy in Will’s chest again as he opened the door.
When he pushed open the door to Mike’s room, steaming takeout box in hand, he finally got a good look at the inside of where Mike lived. – Will always believed people’s rooms were windows to their souls, their belongings could tell you so much about them that words couldn’t, so he studied it carefully – To the right of the room, the lone mattress he had seen earlier. No bedframe, with blankets tossed over it just as they were before, it looked cold, lonely even. A cardboard box next to the bed on the floor being used as a bedside table, loose rings and earrings left on top of it along with a small pile of cassettes. To the left of the room there was virtually nothing other than another unpacked box. Strewn about the floor were some random clothes and there was nothing in the open closet. Mike’s room didn’t tell him much he didn’t already know. His eyes landed on the boombox sitting on the floor below the window.
It was completely dark in the room, so it took a moment for his eyes to adjust; when they did, he saw Mike’s silhouette through the open window, sitting on the fire escape with a cigarette in hand. The cold November air breezed through the room, Will felt goosebumps rise over his skin, sending a chill throughout his body, as he was still only wearing a t-shirt. So was Mike. He approached the window and stepped over the windowsill onto the fire escape, sliding in alongside Mike, staring straight ahead at the view of the street below from their 3rd floor apartment.
After a moment of more awkward silence he remembered he brought Mike’s food for him and turned to face him, Mike was already looking back at him but he quickly turned away and touched his face, (probably wiping away tears from his birthmarked cheek) before turning back to face Will, his eyes were puffy and red. Will tried to hand Mike his food, but he just raised his left hand.
“Thanks… but I’m not really hungry, sorry…” His voice wavered a bit as he turned to face the street again, taking a long drag from his cigarette before an anxious look passed over his face, probably realizing most people don’t like the smell of smoke. “Sorry, should… should I uh- put this out?” Mike gestured with his right hand, cigarette between his fingers.
“Oh- no, no it’s ok…” Will set the food down to his right, between him and Mike in case he changed his mind, “Are you… ok?” Mike just turned and gave him a sort of pained look, lips pressed together and suppressing a slight frown, eyebrows knitted together and eyes glimmering in the city lights. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question, isn’t it?”
Mike gave a sad, stifled laugh, “No, sorry… I just… I dunno.” Mike’s hands, resting on his knees in front of him, fiddled with a loose thread on his pants. They sat in silence for a moment more, but it wasn’t really as awkward anymore, there was a sort of understanding in the air.
“Should I… should I go?”
“No! Uh- no… please… don’t.”