miles_wheeler
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Mike Wheeler isn't okay. In fact, he hasn't been okay for a long time. Ever since California, he hasn't been able to behave like a normal, functioning human being, and he's sick of it. Therefore, he kills himself.
But what is a story without its storyteller?
OR:
In which Mike ends his life and leaves Will and the others to deal with saving the world.
MASSIVE trigger warning for suicide, suicidal thoughts & angst. I'll update the warnings as I write. This fic is probably going to be LONG--I might turn it into a Season 5 rewrite eventually.
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April 7th, 2024. Hawkins, Indiana.
It's been years since the party fell apart, and Mike Wheeler is the only one that hasn't left Hawkins. The memories of his childhood have proven to be great inspiration for his books. On his 53rd birthday, he hears of an old friend again, an old friend who helps him realize just how badly he'd messed things up.
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Mizuki spends most of his nights playing competitive online games. Normally he prefers playing alone, but lately he’s been queueing with the same stranger over and over again, a player named Waverider. They don’t talk much beyond quick whispers and in game antics, but somehow the matches are easier with them around. Whether that's because of their skill, or presence, has yet to be determined. Kiriko, of course, is convinced Mizuki has a little gamer girlfriend and Mizuki insists that’s ridiculous. They're just a duo, nothing more.
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It’s winter in Hawkins, and Mike and Will aren’t speaking anymore. Living in Mike’s house, Will tries to be invisible, spending most of his time in the basement.
Then the power goes out — and if there’s one thing he dreads more than facing Mike, it’s the cold.
or
Seven nights in which Mike and Will have to sleep in the same bed, even though they’re barely friends anymore.
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And At Every Table, I'll Save You A Seat by LondonDziban
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
18 Aug 2023
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Mike caps the cup and slides it across the pickup counter to Will, following it up with a wrapped straw and his wrapped lemon loaf immediately after. “Medium iced chai with oat milk and brown sugar syrup, and a lemon loaf for yellow flannel guy!”
Will grabs his straw, shooting a disapproving look at Mike as he carefully unwraps it. “Remind me to never wear this flannel in public again.” He grabs his drink, slipping his straw into it with steady hands.
“Nah, it looks nice on you. Don’t let me stop you, Just Will.” Mike is grinning so hard his face hurts. He’s more awake than he was previously, most of his exhaustion washing away throughout this interaction.
Will sighs, his cheeks going slightly red at Mike’s compliment, bringing his straw to his pink lips and taking a small sip. Mike watches Will’s gaze travel down to Mike’s chest, his eyes stopping on his name tag for only a second before they dip slightly lower. His lips quirk up into a small smile as he swallows his sip of chai. “I like your pin, by the way.”
Or
Mike works at the on-campus coffee shop and Will really likes iced chais.