Chapter Text
In Hawkins, Indiana, in the early days of October, where the nights grew longer and the days grew colder, the chill would stick to you. It was a silent killer, attacking your bare shoulders and fingers, the frost nipping at your nose.
Unlike the heavy, thick fog that covered Lenora Hills in the early hours of a November morning, the chill was an invisible assassin, freezing every man and his dog to the bone.
Although Mike and Will were halfway across the country, far away from Hawkins, the chill followed them, like a hitman, a stalker imperceptible to the human eye.
Inside the stuffy Surfer Boy Pizza Van, there was a cool tension, disparate to Lenora Hills’ heat, like the chill in Hawkins that, although it wasn’t like the dense sea frets that floated calmly off the Californian coastline, it was there, driving the three (Argyle was exceptionally calm) to clench their fists and grind their teeth and try not to snap at someone.
Although the strange chill that pursued them like a predator to its prey – afternoon in the middle of nowhere was…hot, to say the least. Nevada was a big state to cross, and with little to no money, all they could do was pull over and rest in the back of the van.
“Okay, so, once we pass through Beaver, we could get to Salt Lake City…pretty quickly.” Mike clears his throat, pointing the way to their only hope on the map.
“This is still so crazy, man-“
“You think I don’t know that? Everything is insane. Burying a body in the middle of the desert in sweltering heat- but we have no choice. It’s either that or we return to Lenora Hills, to your completely trashed and raided home, where people – the government’s men, will definitely be waiting to kill us, like how they killed Unknown Hero Agent Man.” Mike pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. And even now, Will felt like it was way too hot than manageable, despite the persistent, freezing tension.
There was an awkward pause after Mike snapped. Jonathan looked around, seconds away from snorting. Argyle stepped back, raising his hands in surrender.
“Jeez, dude, calm down. Maybe you need some Purple Palm Tree Delight.”
Will fought the urge to scoff.
“We should get some sleep. It’ll be a long drive tomorrow.” Jonathan nodded his head, agreeing with his own idea. Will didn’t blame him – he was exhausted, and he hadn’t even driven.
“What about dinner? Food? At least water?” Mike complained.
“We have 7 Up.”
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Argyle-“
Will almost flinched as he watched Mike get so vexed for…nothing, really.
It’s probably just the heat, which was slowly starting to evanesce, and a low fog was starting to appear, so thick it was almost tangible as the sunlight began to .
“-but 7 Up is not water! It won’t hydrate us. I read about it in Bio!”
Mike’s angry voice was only a tiny whisper-shout, so quiet it could be swept away by the approaching Nevada-at-night-time wind but so strong with exasperation that it could still be heard.
“But it’s a liquid.”
Mike huffs in frustration and shakes his head; Will finally laughs a little at Argyle’s stoned stupidity.
“We’ll get something to eat in the morning, okay? It’ll be an early start, so just sleep in the back tomorrow, if you want.” Jonathan walked closer to the van, opening the door and reclining the front passenger seat back. “You guys have your sleeping bags??”
Mike nodded, a frown still etched onto his pale, slightly sickly-looking face, like an alabaster statue.
“Stay warm, guys. It’s boiling in the day but chilly in the night.”
Jonathan wasn’t wrong. As the night grows darker, it becomes much colder. Will shivered in his flimsy nylon sleeping bag - from the coolness of the metal van floor and the freezing atmosphere outside.
Will slipped in and out of the sleepy haze that was slumber, and didn’t recall how much sleep he was really getting.
He licked his dry lips - the desert’s humid and barren weather had completely parched them to the point where they appeared to be lightly-coloured sultanas, sun-dried to the max.
Just as he shifted a little in his sleeping bag, losing the warmth he’d made from staying in the same position for ten minutes straight, he heard a small click! and a stark, yellow-ish light filled the room. He smiled a little, disoriented by his not-yet-unconscious, not-really-conscious state. It was like he was at home, in Lenora Hills…
But the memories of hiding a dead body and blood everywhere and guns and everything flooded back, and he frowned. No, he didn’t have the comfort of being back home - he didn’t even have the comfort of being well rested.
He waited a while. Maybe it was a dodgy street lamp that had flickered to life. Not rare, out here in the middle of nowhere.
But it didn’t die back down - it kept shining. And shifting. Just like a torch-
“Will, are you awake?” Mike asked sheepishly, whispering in his harsh but gentle tone.
“No.” Will replied groggily, turning over and covering his ears with his pillow.
“Can you please help me with this search word?”
“What?”
“I know it’s late and shit but, I bought one of those stupid road trip activity books.”
“You what?”
Will wasn’t looking directly at Mike, but when you’ve known someone for nearly a decade you can tell when they cringe with childish embarrassment.
“It’s just you’re so good at them and I need to find just one last word!”
Will sat up, and even though his vision was slightly cloudy from fatigued basal tears, he gave Mike a scrutinizing look. “One word?”
“Maybe five.”
“Sure.” Will replied sarcastically.
“Or eight.”
“Very funny.”
“You know I’m shit at them! And plus, if you come over here, I wouldn’t be so cold. How does the temperature drop so quickly?”
“Welcome to California.” Will shrugged. “The weather is…unique.”
“Understatement of the year.”
From somewhere in the front seat, there was a muffled “Shut up!” from either Argyle or Jonathan - it was too husky to tell.
Mike snorted, and even Will tried not to burst out laughing.
“Will there be enough space for me to be able to read?”
“You can sit at the end, if you want. It’s interchangeable. Mom bought it for Nancy in ‘78 for summer camp, and bought the newest possible version of a sleeping bag, ever, because she’d heard some story of a kid wrapping himself too far into a sleeping bag and suffocating to death.” Mike ranted. “It’s super obsolete now, but Mom refused to buy me a new one.”
Will’s lips curved into a small smile. “Fascinating.”
“Sorry, I’m ranting-“
“No! Don’t worry about it.” Will said. “Hand me the word search.”
“I had to use some broken crayon I found on the floor because Unknown Hero Agent Man’s pen didn’t work. I mean, I’m glad it didn’t, so we can find El-“
“Does being sleep deprived make you go on tangents like this?”
Mike smiled weakly, pausing. “You would know, considering how many sleepovers we’ve had.”
“45 and counting. 46, now.”
Mike stifled a titter.
“I would’ve expected more, since we’ve been…best friends since practically the dawn of time.”
“Yea, I guess so…anyways, I found a word.”
“Oh really? Which one?”
“Connection. What is the theme for this word search?”
“Movie songs, I think. Weird category, I know.”
“Ooh, I better see Don’t You on there.”
“You’ve watched The Breakfast Club?”
“El forced me. Held me at gunpoint.”
There was a slight shift in mood considering the recent events. The gunshots still echoed and vibrated in Will’s ears, but that could just be his awful tinnitus.
“More like roller skate-point.”
For the fifth time in the span of five minutes, Will had to fight every urge to cry with laughter at Mike’s really stupid joke.
“Forget the nail bat, just replace those plastic wheels with metal! Boom! Every demogorgon in a five-mile radius, like, concaves immediately.”
Despite Mike’s further elaboration on the joke made it even worse, Will’s eyes still clouded with tears of giddy laughter - like when it’s 3am at a sleepover and everything is stand-up comedy level hilarious, or in Will and Mike’s case, stranded in a stoner’s pizza van in the middle of the desert, trying to find Will’s possibly-kidnapped sister.
“You should be a comedian.” Will wiped a tear from his lower eyelash. “Your jokes are stupidly funny.”
“I know. But I have my heart set on being a writer! And you, an artist-“
“Yea.” Will muses over his newest painting.
As if Mike was a number and a mind reader, he suddenly says, “Oh, I heard you were painting something new.”
Even though Will felt like he was dying of hypothermia Jack Torrance style, completely disparate to earlier in the day, a flash of red-hot embarrassment surged through him, a defibrillator bringing him back to reality.
“H-…How did you know?”
“El told…” Mike trailed off, suddenly realizing that El had lied about practically everything on her letters, so chances are she lied about this. “…me. But she isn’t the most reliable source.”
“I don’t blame her for lying. I mean- friends don’t lie, but she obviously didn’t want you to worry.”
“Do they bully you, too?”
“Angela and her friends?”
Mike nodded, his brows titled upwards in concern.
“No. They leave me be. One of their ex-friends…Simone, I think she may like me.” Will blushed at that very humiliating memory of the last day of school - pretty Simone, one of the kindest and most liked girls in the class, showing interest in him - and he just recoiled.
“Is that who the painting’s for? Simone-…oh, sorry.” Mike grimaced.
No.
“Nah, not Simone. She’s cool and all…she reads Judy Blume.”
“Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. Nancy loved that book. She gave it to Max, just a few weeks ago…I think Max threw it out immediately. She reads The Catcher in the Rye.”
“Yikes. El likes to read Little Women, but I think she prefers TV.” Will thought of his little sister – and her rather strange obsession with melodramatic TV shows. “The Young and the Restless.”
“No Dynasty?”
“Not yet. I don’t think she’d understand.” Will shrugged, suddenly quivering as a small breath of wind blows onto his upper arms.
“Well, what do you watch?” Mike asked curiously, wringing his hands out.
“I like to listen, instead of just watching. Y’know, I listen to The Clash and…and The Cure and, uh” Will thought over his meticulous, hand-picked but rather motley mixtape, full of his favorite songs and artists. “INXS?”
“Oh! Cool.” Mike grinned; the shine of his teeth caught the moonlight and Will smiled softly to himself.
There was another pause; Mike turned to look out the window at the windswept, desolate land outside. “I’m happy, that we’re talking like this again. Best friends.”
“Me too.” Will spoke quietly in response, circling another word in the search – Footloose.
“In Hawkins, there this new D&D club-“
“El told me.” Will’s eyes flicker down to the little booklet of activities, scanning for more words. “Dustin and El wrote to each other.”
“Dustin and El?! They wrote to each other?!”
"I know right?! And to think that they could write to each other, but I-” Will trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. “Sorry....I...I couldn’t even bring myself to write to...you. I selfishly…I selfishly just waited for you to initiate.”
“It’s not your fault. If I wanted to talk to you, I should’ve called.”
“You didn’t know my home phone! I mean, El told you, but at first you didn’t know until she made the decision to write or call you. I shouldn’t have been so dependent on you. I just thought...you’re not the bad guy. I should’ve called and written – I knew your landline but you didn’t know mine. I knew your address but you didn’t know mine. I’m sorry-”
“-and I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It’s just...” Mike grasped for words. He looked at Will – with his chestnut-colored hair and bright green eyes and a smile that could make anyone light up with warmth. “I’m sorry I ignored you, I really am. I don’t know, I was just testy because of…because of El lying, but that’s not your fault. And…I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
The near-palpable ambience of awkwardness that had suddenly pervaded the atmosphere didn’t make Will uncomfortable, and that realization didn’t scare him, either. The friendly, familiar aura of Mike, like a gentle radiance of comfort, assuaged him so much that he could sit in silence and not feel the need to make small talk or awkward replies to equally awkward questions.
“I found another word.” Will spoke slowly, circling the word with uncertainty – the moonlight and their torches weren’t nearly as good a light source as plain sunlight was, so Will couldn’t completely see what he was circling.
“You’re so good at these.”
“Maybe you’re just not observant enough, Mr. Oblivious.” Will joked. Mike’s lips twisted slowly into an affectionate grin, amused at the inside joke.
“What was the word?”
“Well, I got one of the words wrong. It’s from The Muppet Movie. It wasn’t just connection, it was rainbow connection.”