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November 11th, 1989
Mike slammed the door shut behind him and practically threw the shopping bags onto the counter.
“Elliot! I’m back!” He shrugged off his dripping raincoat and hung it on the rack, before pulling a carton of milk out of one of the bags. Mike’s roommate, a stocky, unconventionally attractive boy a few months older than him emerged from his room. They got on fairly well, in spite of being very different personalities. He had neat straw-coloured hair and a large, jagged scar on the back of his left hand; he was a few inches shorter than Mike and, on this occasion, wore black jeans with a smart-casual button-up over a white tee.
“Hey, man. Thanks for that, what do I owe you?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.
“Six dollars,” Mike said, running a hand through his tousled hair. Elliot looked surprised.
“Is that all?”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, there was a sale on.” He tucked the notes into his back pocket, then quickly retrieved them when he remembered how wet his jeans were. “Any plans tonight?”
“Nah, Lucy has an assignment due by nine tomorrow morning and said she has to work on that.”
“So, Lucy, huh?” Mike wiggled his eyebrows at his roommate as he flicked on the kettle. Elliot flushed, but looked pleased.
“Yeah… I think it’s going somewhere. I don’t know, it’s still a bit new. We haven’t, you know, yet,” he said, starting to ramble as he became more flustered, but Mike didn’t comment. “What about you?” he said. “No girlfriend to speak of… ever?” Mike stalled for time by pouring hot water into his mug. He hadn’t mentioned that he was dating Will, nor that he was interested in more than just girls.
“No, no girlfriend,” he said truthfully.
“Eh, don’t worry, we’ve only been here two months. You’re a small-town boy, right?”
“Tell me about it,” grumbled Mike. “Hawkins, Indiana. Heard of it?” he added, before realising his mistake. He had never mentioned the name of his home town before.
“Actually, I think I have,” Elliot said, surprised. “Didn’t a load of shit go down there a few years back? I remember my parents talking about it. Some government conspiracy or something?” Mike thought fast.
“A chemical leak from a local laboratory.” He knew the official story by rote, although he hadn’t had to use it for a while. He sipped his coffee to give himself time to think, although he was saved by Elliot’s interruption.
“Yikes, that’s pretty bad. And I thought growing up in downtown Detroit was dramatic.” He cracked open a beer and tipped it in Mike’s general direction. “I’ll say good night. I got two books to finish by Thanksgiving break.”
“Good luck,” Mike called after him. Only then did he realise he was cold and hurried to his room to fetch his towel.
Fifteen minutes later he had showered, put on his pyjamas, and was sat up in bed rereading Will’s latest letter for the third time since it had arrived that morning.
Dear Mike,
Yikes. Sounds like a hell of a party. Imagine telling our ten-year-old selves that in less than ten years we’d have more than three friends and would be out getting so wasted on cheap wine that we throw up in our roommate’s brother’s car. Did Lucas tell you that? I nearly pissed myself when he told me. Unsurprisingly I have very few similar experiences as my crowd’s idea of a wild night is a poker tournament with M&M’s instead of money (because we’re students) and sweet tea. Honestly, I don’t mind because the party scene is not my cup of tea (pun intended, you’re welcome), but it is funny when I hear what you and Lucas and Max get up to.
El was here last weekend. Were you alright? I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you but my last class didn’t finish ‘til 4:30, it’s over a four-hour drive and I just couldn’t face driving long-distance at night. I hope you got to see Nancy, at least. El sends her love, and it was really nice to see her. She told me something surprising, though – did Dustin tell you that he pulled out of his college course? El says he panicked and couldn’t decide on chemistry or physics (typical). He didn’t tell me, and I thought that was weird. Either that or he did tell me, and I forgot – I hope it’s not the latter, because that would make me a pretty terrible friend.
I think that’s actually all I have to tell you. I mean, apart from El being here nothing’s really happened this week. Wait, that’s a lie! Oh my god, Mike, clearly I must have repressed Wednesday afternoon.
Basically it was our only class that day but it was like three hours long. I should preface this by saying that six out of the nine people in that class called in sick. Either there’s something going around I’m immune to, or there just so happened to be a one-day sale at the stationers’ on 5th avenue. (I’m not judging them, I wish I’d gone.) But yeah, the three of us arrived and set up our charcoals and paper, whilst side-eyeing each other about the unknown woman dressed in a robe talking to our tutor. Our tutor then stood up and introduced this woman (I say woman, she was no more than two years older than us) and explained that as part of our still life unit, we were going to do some nude drawings. I wanted to die, Mike, I was so embarrassed, but then she (the model, not our tutor) drops her robe and Bryan Adams goes and wolf-whistles. Like, fingers in his mouth and all. It was awful.
I bet you’re thinking that this story can’t get worse. Oh, how wrong you are. I went out with my track friends that evening for a drink, and guess what?? The freaking model was waiting at the bar when I went to order. She looked at me and asked if she knew me. I had to explain that I’d spent three hours staring very intensely at her, leaving jack shit to the imagination. As mortified as I was, she seemed totally unbothered and asked if we could grab a drink. I, of course, immediately accepted. JOKING, obviously, I politely explained that I was in a committed relationship, and she was cool about it, but still. A truly horrifying day. Anyway, that’s a snapshot into Will Byers’ peculiar college life.
I miss you more than anything, Mike. Thank God for the postal service, or I think I’d go insane. But as I’m writing this it’s only thirteen days until I can see you again (not that I’m counting).
I love you,
Will
Mike folded the letter slowly, a grin spreading across his face involuntarily. He’d write back tomorrow, he was tired. He reached into the bottom drawer of his nightstand and shoved the letter under his socks, where he kept all of Will’s letters. He leaned back against the headboard and sighed, staring off into the middle distance, imagining what Will looked like with glasses, picturing him out on the running track. He remembered Will’s endearing laugh, often soft and hesitant, but occasionally he would just curl up in heaps of unstoppable, infectious laughter at things almost no one else found funny. Mike smiled as he remembered the time when El and Max had been headbanging as a way of poking fun of Dustin’s punk-rock music phase the previous year. In their enthusiasm their hair had become entangled and they’d spent ten uncomfortable minutes trying to undo the knot that had somehow formed. Everyone was laughing, but Will was beside himself, creasing up in the corner of the sofa, practically weeping with mirth. Ten minutes later he was still going, a hand clamped over his mouth, his face turning purple in an effort not to interrupt the film they were watching. Mike, in a fit of mischief, had poked him lightly in the ribs (knowing full well how ticklish he was) and Will had given up in an explosion of laughter that Dustin would later claim had nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.
Mike chuckled at the memory before coming crashing back to reality, deafened by the absence of noise in his bedroom as the smile faded from his face. He sucked in his cheeks and sighed, gazing around the small room. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand – 9:47. Some student I am, he thought to himself drily as he switched off his lamp. Ten more days from tomorrow, that was all.