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this is the mixtape will makes for mike’s 17th birthday. it’s the summer after junior year, several months after they’ve figured out the boyfriends thing to some degree. they don’t hold hands at school— it’s still 1988, still indiana— but the extended party (including their older siblings, steve, and robin) are safety, family. they have other family, too: joyce has been a second mom to mike for these few years, through everything. some weeks mike spends more time at the byers’ house than his own. everything that happened in ‘83 and ‘84 makes it easy to feel uncertain about the future— how much time any of them might have together, if someone might get stolen away. but will and mike take care of each other, rely on each other, like they have since kindergarten. if you think about it, nothing’s really changed at all.
starman— david bowie
when will was in fourth grade, jonathan listened to the ziggy stardust album all the time, so by proxy, so did will and mike. will’s favorite song was hang onto yourself, but mike liked starman; he’d ask jonathan to play it every time he came over, humming along while he and will built a fort, or read a new comic with their heads squished next to each other. in his box of old art, will has a drawing of mike floating in a star-filled sky. mike’s eyes are closed, but he has a smile on his face. will’s never shown it to mike, but he’s always meant to draw a new version. someday he will. but today he copies starman onto the mixtape, humming the chorus under his breath.
faith— george michael
this song had come on the radio when the party was driving with steve last winter, when he was home on break and they were all going to the arcade for old times’ sake. steve turned up the volume and sang along enthusiastically, tapping on the steering wheel. will looked back from the front seat and saw mike bobbing his head along, and made a mental note of the song. it was an excellent song; will tapped his fingers on his knees as steve sang off-key and max and dustin approximated the lyrics from the backseat. the song makes him think of the party all being together now, including steve. it’s a good feeling, and mike still dances (dorkily) whenever will puts the song on.
care of cell 44– the zombies
mike loves this song. he pretends not to because it’s old and sappy and sounds like someone’s dad would think it was the best song on earth, but he listens to it constantly, clicking the tape in and bobbing his head when he gets dressed, does homework, plans campaigns. he accidentally played it when will was over once and tried to play it off as his dad’s, but will loved it too. it is sweet and sappy, but sad too— very mike. and it’s a really good song, anyway, made even better because it makes mike happy. will puts it on the tape.
good old-fashioned lover boy— queen
one friday in the fall of ninth grade, will was home alone, sitting in jonathan’s room and listening to records. jonathan had shown him a few queen songs the day before, and will loved them more than anything. he pulled one of the albums out and chose the first song he hadn’t heard yet. he had to stop the record after a minute and check if what he was hearing was right. was freddie mercury singing about a boy? could people do that? he hit play again and sunk onto jonathan’s bed, reading the lyrics inside the album sleeve. his heart beat quickly. it was about a boy. will walked around in a daze for the rest of the day, the lyrics running through his head. it’s one of his favorite songs now, but he’s never shown it to mike before, not wanting mike to… figure him out, figure out what he thought about, who he was. will puts it on the mixtape with a clear head now. mike will understand. (and he does.)
got my mind set on you— george harrison
will puts this on the mixtape mostly as a joke. every time he and mike hear it, they laugh about how dumb it is. but it’s honestly really catchy, and they catch themselves humming it when they’re hanging out in castle byers, making eye contact and bursting into laughter. secretly will thinks it’s a sweet song, and it’s funny, so he puts it on. mike smiles when he listens to the mixtape and hears the first whomping drums. secretly he thinks the same thing.
love me do— the beatles
will loved this song when he was little; he remembers dancing to it in the kitchen with his mom on sunny saturday mornings, forgetting about the messy, boxed mix pancakes until they started burning behind them. it reminds him of mike now— the 60’s sound and the simple lyrics that somehow say so much. will feels a little self-conscious putting it on the tape— if the other songs are sappy, this one’s much worse— but it’s so mike in his head that he can’t leave it out. (mike loves it.)
just like heaven— the cure
the party had listened to this song constantly last summer, every time it came on the radio; a perfect soundtrack to max’s terrifying driving down the green, empty, sunlit roads around hawkins. it reminds will of that summer, the first time he’d consciously thought about mike as a crush as well as a friend, the first time he’d realized that was how he’d felt for so long. the first summer he’d noticed mike’s smile, his long, thinly muscled arms, his hair starting to curl more and more around his freckled face, and noticed that those weren’t really friend-like things to notice. he doesn’t need to tell mike all that yet— he’ll know the song and recognize the connection to last summer. but it feels good to put it on the tape, even if it’s only for himself.
dancing in the moonlight— king harvest
this is one of will’s mom’s favorite songs; she puts it on in the evenings when she gets home if she’s not too tired, pulling whichever son is closest into a dance. a lot of the time, mike’s there too, and will pulls him out of his chair while his mom grabs jonathan for a dance party, with plenty of laughing and stepping on toes. those are will’s favorite winter nights, when he and mike do homework in the living room with music playing and his mom and jonathan sit in the kitchen, doing homework and bills and talking quietly. and the last few months with mike spending so much time at will’s house, with his family, like they’re kids again... four years ago, he thought he might never have that again. will hears the first piano notes of the song coming from the kitchen. he hears jonathan talking quietly with his mom, then the swearing and beeping that signal burned dinner, forgotten while dancing. will smiles and goes out to get the tape to copy onto mike’s.
where the streets have no name— u2
will comes back to his room and copies the tape. then he closes his eyes for a second.
early this spring, when mike was learning to drive, he and will would take the wheelers’ car and drive through hawkins, will holding the drivers’ handbook and quizzing him occasionally. but in between the questions, they would just talk, talking about everything, anything. it felt more comfortable and easy than talking to mike had ever been, which was saying something. after being friends for ten years, will thought they were as close as they’d ever be, but those couple of months of driving almost every day were… something else. the trees they drove through grew blossoms and leaves as the weeks went by; the sky changed colors and the wind got warmer. will brought several of his mixtapes to rotate through, but this particular song was their favorite. so many conversations were set to the song in will’s memory, so many comfortable silences on the way home as the sky dimmed around them. but one particular day stuck out.
will had been late finishing homework, and it was almost dark when they started driving. it was late april, warmer than it had been in months, and will rolled down his window to look at the stars appearing in the darkening sky. mike quietly hummed along to queen in the driver’s seat. they talked quietly as they headed towards the bluff above the north side of the quarry, and the song switched, the guitar building up slowly. i want to run, i want to hide, i want to tear down the walls that hold me inside. the sky was completely dark now, stars sprinkled thickly above the quarry. i wanna reach out and touch the flame, where the streets have no name. mike slowed the car, stopping near the edge of the bluff. “what is it?” will had said. mike shook his head. “i don’t know. i just—” will could hear mike’s voice in his head now, exactly as it had sounded. mike looked at will, his face hard to read in the dim glow of the headlights, and cautiously reached out to tuck a bit of will’s short, messy hair behind his ear. will couldn’t breathe. mike leaned in almost imperceptibly and suddenly, somehow, his lips were on will’s, warm in the cooling air. he was kissing will holy fuck will was kissing mike wheeler.
will’s memory shorts out here; it’s entirely possible he blacked out for a second. but he remembers the kiss ending, feeling mike pull back slightly, regaining consciousness of the song still playing, remembering how to breathe again. mike started to lean away from him. “sorry, i—” will grabbed his shoulder and kissed him again, harder. he felt mike’s lips smile against his and smiled too, breaking the kiss but leaving his forehead against mike’s. the song came back to its last chorus, reminding them they were real people, in a car, on a school night. and when i go there, i go there with you. “i guess we should go home,” mike said, his voice scratchy. it's all i can do. “probably,” will agreed, trying to keep his hands from shaking. mike backed up the car and they drove back down the quarry road, the guitar riff fading. they talked all the way home as the stars rose higher in the sky, and will kissed mike again (he kissed mike) before getting out of the car at his house. “see you tomorrow, i guess.” “yeah,” mike laughed a little. “see you tomorrow.” will watched mike drive away, then walked up his driveway, looking up at the sky one last time before going inside. he absentmindedly avoided his mom’s questions and went to his room, putting his headphones on and sliding the u2 tape from his pocket. he laid down on his bed and hit play, the guitar and sweeping background synth filling his ears. he couldn’t stop smiling.
will remembers that as the best night of his life. there are close seconds, many of them from just the last few months, and he’ll have more, he knows it. but for now, that was the best. he puts where the streets have no name last on the mixtape. he’ll go on a drive with mike on his birthday, and they can listen to all of it. every song, every memory. (mike loves every second.)