Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will POV

“So, are you excited for a new school year?” Joyce asks from the front seat of the Hopper-Byers’ minivan—also known as the oat-mobile for its oatmeal-like color. They are currently driving on the highway north of Burlington, Vermont, and wow is it interesting. Will stares out the window at the enthralling scenery. A Wendy’s sign, a car dealership, oh look! A body of water. He finally found something you don’t see in Indiana. If Will’s being honest, Vermont is not the most interesting state he’s been to, no offense to the people of Vermont. 

“Yeah,” Will answers unconvincingly. Yes, he loves his school—The Melville Academy for Boys—a pretentious yet quite enjoyable boarding school that Will transferred to last year, but it’s also about a thousand miles away. “The Melville Academy for Boys is a prestigious and historical institution for highly gifted young men to receive an excellent education,” Will thinks, recalling the overly wordy plaque at the door of the main building. “Established in 1907,” it continues, “Melville was named after influential author Herman Melville as a way to carry on his legacy to future generations.” Being a rich person school, Melville loves itself. Will is just a few hours away from orientation week, which is essentially an entire three days of Melville staff talking about how amazing it is. 

Dickinson is no different. The Dickinson Academy for Girls opened in 1936, and was named after the famous female poet Emily Dickinson. Will’s sister El goes there, so although they technically live on the same campus, they will never have any classes or extracurriculars together, other than clubs, which have recently become conjoined between schools. It’s definitely a change from Hawkins High, where everyone knew everyone else and Will couldn’t avoid El if he wanted to, which he didn’t, but still. 

“Are you and Max rooming together this year?” Joyce asks, obviously directed at El. El met Max Mayfield last year and they’ve been best friends ever since. They have some other friends too, but Will doesn’t really know them. He made his own friends, a bunch of guys he met in math.

“I hope so,” El replies. “I don’t know yet.”

El and Max have been talking and FaceTiming all summer, and had made plans to request each other as roommates. El has also been talking for weeks about finally seeing her friends again. Will’s happy for her, Max lives in New York and apparently the rest of her friends also live around there. Don’t get him wrong, Will’s excited to see his friends too, but they didn’t really talk over the summer, and the group chat consisted of a few memes a month that Will never found funny. Hopefully once he gets to school, everyone will talk again. 

The rest of the car ride goes by quickly. Will puts in his earbuds and doodles in his sketchbook. The conversation lulls into the background as his mom continues to talk to El, who is more than willing to respond. 

The gates of the school finally come into view between the trees of the forest just outside of a small town. The wrought iron bars have become worn and bent over the years, but the gates remain intricate and beautiful. Every time Will enters these gates, he feels like he’s entering a castle. His fantasy loving, D&D nerd, younger self comes to life. Not to mention the side of him that watched The Dead Poets Society at least ten times. Melville is like a second home to Will—probably because he lives there nine months out of the year—and even though he’s dreading talking to his friends, he’s excited to be back in the middle of nowhere, just southwest of Milton, Vermont. 

Once they’ve parked, Will finally notices the people around him. Gaggles of students he does and doesn’t recognize, including Anthony, a friend of Will’s who happens to be filthy rich and a little more than annoying about it. Will saw his Instagram posts over the summer about traveling around Europe and eating the most expensive looking food Will has ever seen.

He waves at Anthony and calls his name. Anthony glances up from his phone, looks Will directly in the eye, and turns away, walking towards the courtyard. So maybe things won’t go back to normal, Will thinks. That’s okay, he can make other friends, even with his crippling social anxiety.

El has already taken off with their mom to El’s dorm, so Will is left with Jonathan helping him carry his stuff. Will wishes Hopper could have come, mostly because he wouldn’t ask as many questions as Jonathan, but he had to stay home and deal with work stuff. 

“Want to go to your dorm now?” Jonathan asks. Will nods, leading the way across the left side of the courtyard to the boys dorm building. As soon as he enters the lobby/common area, Mr. Armani—the headmaster—greets them from behind a folding table and has Will fill out some sign-in papers. The common room is stunning, with dark green wallpaper and an antique looking couch and chaise lounge pair next to an intricate wooden coffee table that he knows has people’s signatures and initials all over the underside. Will is relatively sure this furniture has been here since around the time the school opened, but maybe Mr. Armani is just attached to the classic vintage living room look. 

Two flights of stairs, some school related small talk from Jonathan, and a maze of a hallway later, Will and Jonathan arrive at Will’s dorm: room 327. There’s a small cork board on the door holding a piece of paper with two names on it. William Byers & Dustin Henderson. The first name is obviously his, and the second one seems familiar, but Will is bad with names, so he could be confused. He turns to bid his goodbyes to Jonathan, when the words on a cork board across the hall on the door of 330 catch his eye. A name. Specifically, Michael Wheeler. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding. 

Will takes a deep breath, internally reminding himself that he can deal with it. Will can handle sharing a hallway with Mike Wheeler. He can go an entire nine months without any problems. It’s not like either of them tend to sit in the hallway all day, so it’s really no big deal.

Will turns to Jonathan and hugs him. They say their goodbyes and Jonathan informs him that his mom will be up soon, which Will already assumed. 

Will opens the door and lugs his ten million bags into the room one by one. Once he’s finished, he looks up to find that he’s being watched by who he assumes to be Dustin, his new roommate. 

“Um- hi,” Will greets awkwardly. The boy only smiles a toothy grin and walks towards him. 

“Hey, I’m Dustin. William, right?” His accent surprises Will a bit. He might be from New Jersey.

“Will is fine, but yeah.” Dustin nods, his tight curls bouncing slightly. 

“Where’re you from, Will?” Dustin asks, turning back around and continuing to unpack. 

“Indiana,” Will says, still standing awkwardly. Dustin’s nice but excited energy is a little unexpected right now. 

“Oh! So you came a long way.”

“You could say that.” 

“I know a couple people here from that area—the Midwest I mean—but it seems like a lot of us are from the East Coast.” Will watches him as he pulls clothes out of a duffel bag, mainly consisting of jeans, T-shirt’s, and at least ten brightly colored hoodies. He then sees Dustin pull out a stack of gigantic books. Some science stuff, some novels, but there also happens to be something that piques Will’s interests.

“You play D&D too?” Will hears himself say. Dustin looks at him and smiles.

“Yeah! I’m a bard, when I’m not the DM,” he says.

“I'm typically a cleric.” Dustin beams even brighter at that.

“We don’t have one of those yet,” he answers.

“We?” 

“The D&D party I’m in. For our upcoming campaign we have a Ranger, me, a Paladin, a Rogue, and a Druid. Although the Rogue and Druid don’t play very much because they think the game is too nerdy. We’ve never had a Cleric before and people rarely pick it when they switch up their classes. You should play with us sometime. Everyone goes here, so we were planning on having a session soon once orientation is over.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Will agrees, still a little surprised by this information. No one that he knew in Hawkins played D&D, so he had resorted to forcing his family to play and playing on weird online websites with people who may or may not have been real humans, so meeting another person who was interested in D&D in real life is sort of a slap in the face. Well, maybe not a slap to the face, but something more positive and equally as jarring.

“Awesome! I’ll keep you updated.” Dustin goes back to unpacking and Will starts too. 

Already in his closet and dresser are his clothes for the semester. Six white button up shirts, two pairs of gray slacks, three pairs of black slacks, a belt, a sweater vest, two ties, a blazer, and a laundry bag. The nice thing about this school being so expensive is that they provide the uniforms with tuition, and the nice thing about getting an academic scholarship is that his family doesn’t have to pay very much, so the clothes are basically free. The uniforms themselves aren’t actually bad. They’re a nice forest green color that El says “brings out Will’s eyes.” They also have sweater and cardigan options, but you have to purchase those individually. Will’s favorite thing about the dress code is that students don’t have to wear uniforms on weekends or during orientation, meaning he can wear anything he wants (inside the non-uniform dress code of course.) Sure, uniforms are annoying, but as long as he gets to express himself at least sometimes, he’ll survive. 

Once parents have said their goodbyes and students have gotten the chance to at least semi-unpack, there’s an opening assembly in the auditorium. Teenagers pile in through the doors and Will searches among the crowd for El, hoping to get a seat next to her. He instead gets herded into a random row by a teacher and sits down, defeated. Will then notices the boy sitting next to him.

“Hey Warren,” he greets, turning his head to look at him. He’s on his phone scrolling through some sort of social media. Warren is the second of his three so-called-friends from last year. All of which really embraced their fancy rich boy privilege this summer. Much like Anthony, he also documented his vacations and such on Instagram. Will even remembers him posting about how his dad bought him a Tesla for his seventeenth birthday, which is frankly insane.

“Hey,” Warren says, barely looking up to see who he’s talking to. At least it’s better than Anthony’s reaction.

“We didn’t talk much this summer, how have you been?” Will asks, trying to make conversation and maybe salvage his friendship.

“Fine.”

“How’s New York?”

“The same.” Warren lives in some fancy penthouse in Manhattan or something. Will doesn’t really know much about New York, but he knows that wherever Warren lives is expensive as fuck and probably costs more than Will’s entire life. 

Will stays silent, it’s obvious that Warren isn’t interested in anything Will has to say. Will wishes he was sitting near someone he could actually talk to, considering the opening assembly is the most boring thing Will has ever had to sit through ever. 

Just then, someone kicks his seat gently from behind. Will whips around to find that his wish has come true, though not in the way he had hoped. Sitting there is someone he can talk to, yes, but not someone he actually enjoys talking to.

“Can you not?” Will scowls.

“Not what?” Mike asks, obviously feigning innocence. Will grumbles and turns back around. 

“How was your summer?” Mike’s voice asks from behind him. Small talk is usually out of the question for the two of them, so this feels off.

“Fine,” Will answers bluntly. 

“Jeez, I was just trying to be nice,” Mike mutters. Will holds back a scoff. He’s played this game before. Mike asks how Will’s summer was, Will answers, Mike laughs and then proceeds to talk about all the rich people things he did that summer. The same thing would have happened if Warren or Anthony had actually bothered to have a conversation with him, and the same thing is going to happen when they start doing ice-breakers in class.

Before Mike has another chance to talk to him again, the two headmasters march up to the microphone.

“Hello everyone!” Mr. Armani, the headmaster of Melville greets. Next to him stands Mrs. Beaufort, the headmistress of Dickinson. In Will’s opinion, the whole “headmaster/headmistress” thing is kind of stupid, but their heads may explode if anyone calls them “principal.” 

“Welcome back to another incredible year at the Melville and Dickinson Academies for Boys and Girls. I am delighted to see all of your faces here today,” Mr. Armani continues. Will looks around, confused how he can see people’s faces when most of them are staring down at their phones. “This year, we will be having a few new staff members as well as a few new elective options.” Will tunes him out at this point, there’s new staff members every year, and Will already knows what the electives are. With the monotonous drone in his ear, he searches around for El, meeting her eyes across the room. 

How are you? Her eyes ask as she raises her eyebrows. They have this weird twin telepathy thing, even though they aren't actually twins. They’re able to read each other’s micro expressions from across a room.

Fine. Roommate’s cool. His eyes answer.

Mine too. She smiles.

Yours is Max. He shoots back, because of course it is. She rolls her eyes. Sure, they requested each other this year, but it isn’t an exact science, it will occasionally work if you’re lucky though. El and Max must have gotten lucky this year. Oddly enough, Max is the only one of El’s friends that Will has met before. She’s talked about them a bit, but Will never remembers their names. He got really caught up in his own friends last year, as well as… other things, so he never got a chance to meet them. 

The two headmasters continue to blab about cell phone policies and off campus policies and all these things that haven’t changed from last year. El jerks her head, signaling for Will to check his phone, just as it buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a text from none other than El. 

Is that Warren next to you? Will glances slightly to his left where Warren is still staring at his phone. 

Yeah, he texts back, then adds: He’s being an asshole.

Wasn’t he being an asshole this summer too? Why are you surprised? El counters. Will hates that she’s right. Over the summer, he’d convinced himself that Warren and Anthony’s lack of effort to talk was because they were busy with their rich-people trips around the world. He was hoping it would be different once they got back to school.

I don’t know. I should’ve known Anthony would be the same.

What about Levi? El suggests, obviously trying to help Will salvage his friendships before they get into the thick of orientation week. The name makes Will audibly sigh, causing a few people around him to turn towards the sound. His cheeks turn pink, and he looks back down at his phone.

No. He answers simply, not wanting to put any more energy into thinking about He-whose-name-has-been-silenced. Within seconds, El replies.

Wdym no???

Doesn’t matter.

El continues to text him after that, but Will puts his phone down, feeling bad for ignoring her, but also not really wanting to deal with friendship issues at the moment. 

The rest of the day continues dully, consisting mostly of unpacking, dodging the freshman as they run around the courtyard, and avoiding everyone he doesn’t want to see. This isn’t too difficult, considering two out of four of them have no interest in seeing him either, and the third has been nowhere to be found so far. The only problem, and always the problem, is Mike. They live across the hall from each other, so there is not a doubt in Will’s mind that they will be running into each other a lot this year. His previous statements about the dorms not being a huge issue still stands, but considering he has seen Mike already, seeing him around is an (unfortunately) undeniable given. 

At dinner, Will doesn’t even bother trying to find El, knowing that she’s sitting with her friends and not wanting to intrude. It’s the first day of school after all, she should be able to hang out with them for the first time in months after seeing Will every single day. Plus, he’s not really sure he wants to meet her ex-boyfriend, who she claims is a great friend and they are both still in the same friend group, but Will’s pretty sure his protectiveness would take over and at least one of them would end up with a black eye, and given his lack of fighting experience, it would probably be Will. It’s okay though, he can sit alone. It will be good to recharge before tomorrow, when he’ll probably have to interact with people all day. He may as well get his social battery to full before it’s massively depleted in less than twenty four hours. 

He waits in the lunch line for his food—semi-decent pizza that they always serve on the first day—before sitting at a smaller table in the corner. Will watches as people shuffle through the cafeteria to get to their tables, being perfectly content to stare off into space as he eats his pizza. Unfortunately, this bliss is interrupted by a tall mass appearing in front of him. Will looks up to see him, He-whose-name-has-been-silenced.

“Hey,” he says in that fucking voice he has, “can I sit here?” Will keeps a straight face as he studies him, glaring as hard as possible as he notices the differences in his looks. His skin is more tan—no doubt from sitting on some beach in the Bahamas or some other place—and his dirty blond hair has a lighter, more strawberry blond tint to it. He looks fine, sure, nice even, but his hairstyle is definitely more douchey than it was before. 

“Technically, you can sit wherever you want,” Will half-mumbles. He is too tired for this. He could just say “No. Fuck off and never talk to me again,” but something in him can’t, so he goes for the next best thing, annoying semantics. Unfortunately,  He-whose-name-has-been-silenced takes this as a go-ahead, because he sets his plate firmly on the table and sits down. Great. He drums his fingers on the wood awkwardly.

“So…” he begins, and Will hopes he doesn’t keep going. “How was your summer?” 

Will sighs. “Don’t.” 

“What?” He raises his arms defensively.

“Levi, come on,” Will says, apparently deciding to speak the unspeakable name for the first time in a month. “Acting like you care about me isn’t going to magically make things better.” Levi looks dumbfounded, but also like a kicked puppy. Like he somehow expected Will to act like they were best friends again, or like he expected him to play nice and keep the aggression passive.

“Should- should I go?” Levi asks, finally taking the hint. 

“Please,” Will says coldly. With that, Levi gets up and walks away. Will sighs and puts his head in his hands. Sure, that’s not the worst way the conversation could have gone, but it would have been better if it never happened at all.

Will pulls out his sketchbook: black leather bound with about a hundred stickers on the back and front. He opens it to the next open page and starts drawing, mapping out the shapes of all the figures sitting around him, before adding all the details and shading. It’s the kind of drawing that he used to hate, figures, but grew to enjoy the mindlessness of it after being consistently bored in English last year. It’s a simple concept that you can transform into whatever you want. Once you’ve got the figures down, you can add whatever setting and extra elements you want. In this case, everyone is in one of those stereotypical D&D taverns where everyone is some sort of different character. Will continues to study every detail of the drawing, shading meticulously and adding dimension until the bell rings, signaling the end of dinner. 

Not long after he gets back to his room and changes into his pajamas, El FaceTimes him, no doubt wanting to debrief about their first day and wish him goodnight.

“Hey,” he says tiredly. 

“Hey!” El answers, definitely a little too cheerfully. Will has never understood how extroverted she is, and how she can still have so much energy after a very full and very draining day. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he half-lies. El then goes on to talk about her day, obviously picking up on the fact that Will doesn’t really want to talk about his until a later date. It’s always been like that for them. El is a “no sleep until I talk about it” type of person and Will is a “sleep now, debrief later” type of person. He’s always willing to listen to El though; he would certainly hate it if there was no one to talk to about his day when he needed to talk about it. 

As El talks, Will heads into the bathroom, listening as he washes his face and brushes his teeth. El also does her nightly routine as she talks, but it takes quite a lot longer, seeing as her skincare routine has at least ten steps. El did get Will a bit into skincare over the summer though, teaching him about all these weird serums and creams and patches and stuff. It never fully rubbed off on him though, so he doesn’t take nearly as long. 

At some point while he was in the bathroom, Dustin came back, and he’s already walking out the door with his headphones on, most likely on his way to the bathroom as well. 

The debrief session lasts a few more minutes until Will is practically falling asleep every two seconds, and El decides it’s in his best interest to go to sleep, which Will isn’t arguing with. They say their goodnights and Will turns off the overhead light, leaving a small lamp on so Dustin doesn’t trip and fall when he comes back. 

Within a few minutes, he has already fallen asleep. 

~•~

The next morning, Will wakes up five minutes before his alarm. Lovely . Early enough that he could’ve gotten some good sleep, but too late to go back to sleep. He groans and sits up in his bed, noticing that Dustin has already gotten up and is not in the room. Will has never understood early-risers. Yeah, “early to bed, early to rise” and all that junk, but personally, Will is an “early to bed, late to rise,” kind of guy. Unfortunately, now that school has started, waking up at eleven isn’t really an option anymore. 

By the time Will has gotten out of bed and put on his clothes, Dustin is packing up his bag for the day and heading out the door. 

“Breakfast doesn’t start for another half hour,” says Will. Dustin stops in the doorway.

“I know,” he shrugs. “My friend and I usually get coffee in the morning at the cafe nearby before breakfast. You can come if you’re ready to go.” Will considers for a moment. It’s not that nearby, not to mention he is definitely not ready at the moment. 

“I’m good. Isn’t that place kinda far to walk though?” Will asks. 

“My friend’s girlfriend has a car that she lets him use all the time, so it’s a pretty quick drive,” Dustin explains. Will always forgets that there are students here who have their own cars that they drive here and keep for the whole school year. Will has his license, so he drives all the time at home, but usually it’s the oat-mobile. He’s always wondered what kind of car he would get if/when he did, but in his opinion, modern cars are kind of ugly. Sure, the modern designs have their practical perks, but what’s the point of driving a giant metal death machine if it looks like a deranged robot mouse? 

By the time Will snaps out of his internal monologue against car models of the last few decades, Dustin has already left, and Will remembers politely declining while his mind was elsewhere.

Will ultimately decides to eat breakfast outside. He’s not really in the mood to deal with the same thing as yesterday, and he also doesn’t want to risk El seeing him eat alone. He knows that if that happened, she’d convince him to sit with her, and he’s not really interested in acting awkward around her friends and feeling like the odd one out. Will knows she cares, but new people are intimidating in groups.  

He could sit with Dustin and his friends, but he doesn’t want to invite himself. Will wishes he took Dustin up on his offer this morning, maybe then he would actually have people to eat with. 

It doesn’t really matter though. As he’s told himself before, he doesn’t really mind sitting alone. Sitting alone means he finishes his food faster, and that means he has more time before today’s orientation activities begin. 

Today, the activities are all team building, ice breaking, and overall very elementary school type games. Last year, they had a “game” where everyone had to go around and share their name and their favorite hobby. It took over an hour and no one remembered anyone’s answers, so they decided to split everyone into smaller groups after that, instead of the previous four groups of Dickinson students and Hemingway students. Will just hopes that this year, the games will be more fun, the circles will involve less talking, and he doesn’t end up in a group with people he doesn’t like. 

Later, once everyone the chaos that comes with sorting multiple hundred kids into groups of twenty-something has subsided, Will looks around at his group. Mike is in it, of course, and so is Levi. At this point, Will is convinced that the universe has a vendetta against him. 

It’s fine. 

He just needs to make it through the next day, then he can distract himself with schoolwork. Tomorrow is when they get their schedules, so he’ll have plenty of opportunities to avoid the two of them.

Most of the games are fine. Will gets paired with a guy from his math class last year for the scavenger hunt, and they only manage to complete half of the list in the allotted time. (Mike and his partner won, not that it matters at all to Will.) Will does, however, win the rock, paper, scissors tournament—an accomplishment he’s pretty sure won’t help him out at all in the long run.

Once Will has thoroughly lost his will to live, the staff supervisor of their group—the gym teacher, he’s pretty sure—pulls out some Velcro strap-looking things and announces the next activity.

“Three legged race. Find a partner, I’d recommend someone close to your height, but I don’t really care,” the teacher says bluntly, obviously on Will’s side about this whole social bonding day. Will looks around, scanning the group for a suitable teammate. All the freshman and sophomores team up immediately, and the only upperclassmen in the group are him, the kid he did the scavenger hunt with (who is significantly taller than him), Levi (no thank you), and Mike. 

Will walks over to Mike. 

“Hey,” he deadpans, snatching the Velcro strap from Mike’s hand and putting one half around his right ankle. He gestures to Mike's own left ankle, “we’re partners,” Will explains. Mike blinks. If this was a cartoon, his blinking would have made a sound. 

“Um-“ he starts, before seeming to snap back into his head. “Hi. So there’s this word. It’s called please. There’s also this thing; it’s called a question.” 

Rude. 

Yeah, sure, Will could have been nicer, but he’s the kind of guy to hold a grudge. A well deserved grudge, mind you, against a deserving boy. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, because maybe he does actually feel a little bad. Mike looks at him and cocks his head tauntingly.

“What did you say? I’m not sure I quite heard you,” he replies smugly, very much indicating that he did in fact hear Will.

“I said I’m sorry ,” Will says slightly louder and a little less sincere. He half expects Mike to continue the bit, but instead he smiles and bends down to attach the Velcro around his ankle.

The teacher announces an unenthusiastic “ready, set, go,” and the teams take off. Well, hobble off. Many of the pairs of friends have their arms around each other for stability—something Mike and Will have a silent agreement not to partake in. The first few steps are alright, until one of them (it was Mike, not that Will cares) steps too quickly and they get out of sync. 

“Alright, hold on. Left foot first,” Mike says, obviously attempting to time their steps.

“My left or your left?” Will asks. 

“We have the same left!” Mike replies, making them sound straight out of a TV show for eight year olds. 

“No. Fuck. Like- inside foot or outside foot?” Will clarifies. Mike hesitates and looks down, shifting his walk just enough to get them out of sync even more. Will doesn’t catch this in time and takes another large step forward, ultimately realizing too late that he is falling. He is falling directly on his face and his arms are flailing behind him and suddenly they are grabbing the wrist of Mike Wheeler. 

Due to physics, gravity, and all that stuff, Mike begins to fall with him, and almost comically, the two topple face first into the muddy grass. Will feels a mix of pain and disgusted discomfort as he hits the semi-hard, semi-squishy ground. The two boys let out a loud ‘Oof’ in unison, drawing the attention of the rest of the pairs, most of which are close to the finish line or have already crossed it. 

What follows is about two seconds of silence before everyone bursts into laughter.

Will wants to curl up and disappear. He wants to turn into some sort of burrowing animal and dig himself farther into the mud and disappear. Before Will has time to turn into a mole, however, Mike has silently removed the velcro strap and gotten up. Will presses his palms firmly against the ground, praying they don’t slip as he pushes himself to his feet. Thankfully, they don’t, and the laughter has died down by the time he is standing. 

Will looks down at himself, and then at Mike. Their torsos and legs are both covered in mud. There’s a smudge of mud on Mike’s cheek, and Will can feel a similar smudge on his own cheek and nose, as well as a blooming bruise under the mud on his cheek. Will makes eye contact with the teacher, who nods, silently letting Will know that yes, he should go clean up. 

At some point while walking, Will notices that Mike has caught up to him, and is now a few feet behind him, following at a respectful distance, which Will appreciates. He swivels his messenger bag—which he always carries with him, regardless if he’s going to school or not—to the front of his body, taking out his phone and the earbuds plugged into it. He puts on a playlist at random, not having the energy to pick a specific one for his current mood. He immediately recognizes it as his playlist built for escaping life and reality, which is close enough.

The effect of this music makes Will acutely aware of the little things around him, which might mean that the playlist doesn’t work, but it also may mean it’s perfect for ignoring people and society. 

He notices a bird perched on the branch of a nearby maple tree. It has hints of yellow within the gray, black, and white feathers. The red of the leaves completes the scene, making Will truly feel like it’s fall. He knows it technically isn’t but September is close enough. He saw an open Spirit Halloween in Burlington on his way here, which is a trademark indicator of the arrival of autumn. A couple of leaves have started falling, and Will makes a nonchalant effort to step on them as he walks, disappointed when they smush instead of crunch. 

Once he finally completes the trek from the field to the dorms, he partially acknowledges Mike by holding the door open behind him as he enters. The two of them climb the stairs and navigate the maze. Now closer in proximity, Will’s music is the only thing keeping him from combusting due to the silence. Mike seems to have no music to accompany him, and Will can tell that he’s debating breaking the silence, and Will can’t tell if he wants him to or not. 

He doesn’t. 

They reach their hallway and Mike stops at his door. Will keeps walking, but looks back just in time for them to make eye contact and for Mike to give him a little nod. Will does not nod back; instead, he opens the door to his own room and steps inside. 

The next half hour or so consists of him changing clothes, bringing his muddy clothes, his towel, and all other shower things to the bathroom, and then cleaning up. He attempts to scrub as much of the mud out as possible, before he hangs his clothes up to dry on a nearby towel rack. He hops in the shower, turning it up as high as it will go, hoping this will warm it up faster. It does, and he turns the heat down a little bit so it doesn’t scald. Showering during orientation when no one is around means it’s the hottest the water will ever get. Will savors every bit of it, letting the water run just a little bit longer than he usually would, as a little treat. 

Once he is thoroughly clean and happy, he wraps his towel around himself, gathers his things, and steps out of the shower. He notices that next to his still-drying clothes, are what appear to be Mike’s drying clothes. He must have come in and rinsed them while Will was in the shower. 

Maybe he should apologize, but what does he have to apologize for? Mike was a bad communicator, they both got confused, they fell. End of story. They'll both get over it. This incident is simply another reason to avoid Michael Wheeler. 

Once the “social connection” activities are done, El and Will meet in the lounge of the boys dorm building. It’s the only part of the building that girls are allowed in, and they can’t go to the art building because the freshmen have a bunch of orientation stuff in there. 

Apparently El went into the art building at some point yesterday and is now gushing to Will about the new pottery wheel and how it’s somehow different from the other ones, as well as the enlarger they finally got in the darkroom, so they don’t have to only scan and print things digitally anymore. Neither of these are Will’s preferred art medium, and he doesn’t understand half of the photography vocabulary, but he listens and re-enforces her excitement nonetheless. 

They talk for a while and El eventually seems to realize that Will’s hair is still slightly damp. She reaches out and rumples it a bit. 

“When did you take a shower?” She asks.

“I left the activities early,” he explains. When El cocks her head in a way that implies she wants the whole story, he immediately flips into gossip mode. “That super annoying guy—I’ve told you about him—was my partner for the three legged race. We couldn’t figure out which leg to start with because he’s stupid, so we fell in the mud immediately.” Will isn’t usually one to act like a dramatic teenage girl, but he tends to turn into El a little bit when he’s venting or gossiping. Some sort of twin-not-twin telepathy mirroring thing. 

“Wait, which guy?” El asks.

“The one who corrected the teacher’s use of the word ‘ironic’ in my English class last year.”

“Ohh, yeah you’ve mentioned him a few times.”

“We did not talk enough last year,” Will says suddenly, pausing as he realizes it for the first time. “Sorry about that.”

El shrugs. “It’s not your fault. We found different friend groups, it happens. Any luck in that department yet by the way?” 

“My roommate is nice,” Will offers. If he’s being honest, he hasn’t made that much of an effort to find a new friend group so far, but it hasn’t even been two full days. Dustin did invite him to his D&D campaign, but it could have been a pity invite, so Will isn’t sure if he’ll take him up on it or not. Maybe he wouldn’t even like any of the other people in the party, maybe he’d mess up and they wouldn’t like him. Maybe-

“The club fair is tomorrow,” El says, cutting into his spiraling thoughts, “you could join a club.” Will shrugs. He’s not sure what there would be that would interest him. “I’ll also introduce you to Max at the courtyard party tomorrow, I realized over the summer that you two haven’t properly met in person. You can also meet her boyfriend, I think you two would get along.” Will appreciates El’s effort to help him find new friends, but he’s going to need to mentally prepare himself for all of this future social interaction. 

“That sounds good,” Will answers simply. El didn’t seem convinced that he’s totally stoked to make new friends, mostly because he isn’t. He is pretty excited to properly meet Max though. She seems pretty cool, and her boyfriend should be too. 

They talk for a while longer, before calling their mom like they promised to do at some point during orientation. She asks all the usual questions, and Will and El give the usual answers. Yes, the food is fine. No, they haven’t gotten their schedules yet. Yes, they are staying hydrated. El talks about her and Max’s dorm, and Will chooses not to bring up his little muddy mishap. Once their mom has thoroughly worried and been effectively reassured, Hopper comes in and talks to them for a while, getting less in depth catch up, especially considering he probably overheard part of the earlier catch up, and chose not to be present for Joyce’s worrying. 

After their parents finally hang up, Will and El part ways and Will makes his way to the fourth floor lounge. Will is especially excited to be able to be here, considering it’s upperclassmen only. It’s really only that way because it has a tea and coffee station, as well as a microwave, therefore the staff don’t trust the underclassmen to clean up after themselves. It’s a smart system, and it means that the line for coffee in the dining hall is shorter. There was a burnt popcorn incident with the microwave last year, but Will’s pretty sure it was the work of some then-sophomores who weren’t supposed to be there. 

Will surveys the lounge, a place he’s never actually been in before. He puts some water in the electric kettle, glancing at the laminated sign on the wall that reminds him not to put metal in the microwave and to clean his own dishes. He picks out a yellow mug that looks straight out of a classic dinner and digs a packet of citrusy green tea out of the drawer. Soon, the water is hot and Will prepares his tea. Giving it a moment to cool off, he plops himself into a vintage plush chair and takes out his sketchbook, earbuds, and phone. He gets comfortable, and picks up his mug of tea, surprised to find that it has gone completely cold. Normally, it would still be too hot for Will to drink, but the temperature coming off of the mug is below room temperature. Odd , Will thinks, getting up and putting the mug in the microwave for a minute and a half. He considers the existence of a cooling vent right next to where he set the mug, but this building is over a hundred years old, so the vent wouldn’t be that strong. Not to mention there is no source of cold anywhere in the area. 

Oh well , he’ll just hold onto his reheated tea to make sure he drinks it at its optimum temperature. 

He listens to an audiobook while he drinks his tea, since he would rather not attempt to sketch while holding a mug of hot liquid. He has finally gotten around to listening to The Dead Poets Society, an aforementioned favorite movie of his, written as a book soon after. Will scrolls on Instagram while he listens, breaking the perfect aesthetic he had going, but needing to keep his hands busy. 

His tea reaches an end—as well as a chapter—and Will feels restless. Maybe it’s the caffeine, or maybe it’s the existence of being on a big fancy campus and having nothing to do for the rest of the day and no friends besides his sister. 

He doesn’t have a car, and there’s nowhere off campus interesting enough and within walking distance. He still can’t go into the art building. El and Max took Max’s car to hang out the rest of the day and catch up.

Will comes to the conclusion that he needs to find some friends more desperately than he thought. 

~•~

From 8:30 to 11:45 the next morning, every single student is provided with their schedule on paper (even though they have access to them on their phones) and are tasked with going to each class. It’s like a normal school day, except every class is twenty minutes and it ends before lunch. 

Will is currently walking down the echoey halls of the first floor. He perfectly curated his outfit this morning to look studious—and match the style of the uniforms that he secretly loves—but not look pretentious. He may have failed, given his audience of sleepy teenagers longing for summer. Dustin studied him up and down this morning with an incredulous facial expression, before examining his own hoodie and jeans. If there’s one thing about Will, it’s that he always adheres to a dress code. Sure, they don’t have to wear anything in particular during orientation, but Will enjoys the whimsy and wonder that comes from dressing nice. 

Now, seeing everyone actually wearing regular teenager clothes in the hallways, Will feels out of place. He knows in his mind that people aren’t really staring at him, but it suddenly feels like they are. He’ll get used to it, especially since he’ll only dress freely on the weekends. 

As he enters the biology classroom, he immediately remembers that the science classrooms are the only ones without wooden desks, instead with large square tables made out of some sort of material equivalent to laminate. The blackboard at the front of this classroom has been replaced with a whiteboard, a change that only a few classrooms have made in the past few years. Will sees that a seating chart has been drawn on the board, and he finds his place and sits down. Since it’s only 8:26, there are very few other students in the room. Will recognizes some of them, but has no specific connections to any. 

At 8:28, most students are filing in, and Will spots Mike among them. They met in science class last year, so this almost feels comical. Will sighs and glances at the seating chart, suddenly wanting to leave this class forever when he sees that Mike is next to him. He hopes the teacher is one to change the seating chart often. 

Mike sits down, giving him a small upturned nod.

“Nice vest,” he says with what looks like a smirk. Will looks down at his sweater vest and furrows his brow. Is Mike making fun of him? He turns away, digging his sketchbook and a pencil out of his bag, but as soon as he does so, the bell rings and the teacher quickly begins. 

“Good morning everyone, I am Dr. Sherman, and this is biology class in room 102. If that is not what your schedule says, I suggest you find where you are supposed to be as of about fifteen seconds ago.” She is obviously big on punctuality, and Will makes a mental note to never be late. Many science teachers at this school have the title doctor, and usually do not tolerate the use of “Professor” or any of the Ms, Mr, Mrs, terms. Will can already tell that she’s no nonsense. She has, however, prepared a well decorated slideshow, so she has some element of fun in her classroom. 

“I am aware that this school tends to hire male teachers to teach male students and female teachers to teach male students, but I am good at what I do, and they felt this position would fit me best. If that changes your perception of me at all, I will not make this an enjoyable class for you this year. There is a stack of syllabi on your table. There is a digital copy on the online classroom, but I suggest you try not to lose this one.” Will grabs a syllabus, scanning over it as she continues. “The front details the units we will be doing this year and the rough estimates of time. I will accept late work up to a week after a due date and tests can be retaken once for up to eighty-five percent. If you miss a lab, I am available after school most days, and from three to five pm on Saturday. Please try to make up labs within a week of missing them. You will sometimes have some form of short homework that I will give out on paper. If you miss class, please pick them up after school or have someone get a copy for you. Homework will always be due the next class unless it is a project. Late homework is not accepted unless you are sick, but it is not worth much of your grade. My point weight is 70% for tests, large projects, and labs, and 30% for homework, quizzes, and general assignments. I do not allow phone use during my class, but if you want to listen to music during work time, I do not care. I suggest you read the full syllabus at some point, but if you don’t you can’t say you weren’t told anything. Any questions?” No one raises a hand. 

“Alright,” Dr. Sherman nods, “I have nothing else for this short orientation, so do what you will with the…” she checks her watch, “twelve-ish minutes we have left.” 

With that, she turns off the slideshow and sits down at her desk. The class begins to murmur with conversation. With nothing else to do, Will sketches mindlessly. Surprisingly, Mike leaves him alone for the rest of the class, and Will moves on to his intermediate German class when the bell rings. 

Professor Schulte—Herr Professor Schulte if you are one of his students—was Will’s teacher last year, and while Will didn’t mind him, he quickly noticed that he tends to go on random tangents in Denglish. Sometimes they were entertaining, but sometimes Will just wanted to do some actual learning. He explains the logistics of having weekly German only lectures, and hands out yet another syllabus for Will to add to his collection.

Next is math, where they do some sort of semi-math related activity. Will notices that both Anthony and Levi are in that class, but distracts himself by talking to a nice guy in front of him named Lucas. This is followed by advanced visual art, where they get their portfolio cubbies and Mr. Gooden (the only teacher who goes by Mr.) does a little spiel about how advanced art is different and what they’ll be doing. 

Will is getting tired of walking by the time he gets to World History, and Professor Bennett is no help, explaining that tests can not be retaken and are worth 85% of your grade along with projects. 

By the time Will gets to his English class, he simply wants to combust when he sees that the only empty seat left is next to Michael Fucking Wheeler. On the brightside, Professor Keller (or simply “Keller”) reminds him of Mr. Keating from Dead Poets Society . He explains that writing has no rules if it’s stylized enough, but proper essays will still be expected from time to time. Will is sure he even hears him say Carpe Diem at some point. Keller hands out copies of the first book they will be reading, immediately starting with Herman Melville to “properly understand their school’s namesake.” However, instead of being the typically expected Moby Dick, Will gets handed Pierre; or The Ambiguities. Melville certainly liked his double titles. 

“Hm,” he hears Mike hum next to him, who is currently reading the back of the book. Will scans, growing increasing more concerned at the apparent incest and very Shakespearian seeming concept. “What a book to start the year with, huh?” Mike jokes, turning to Will. Finding that Mike said exactly what he was thinking, he finds himself agreeing. 

“Should I be concerned that this is supposed to represent our school’s namesake?” Will adds, feeling concerned and even more confused when he quickly googles the book on his computer, finding that it was hated at its time of publishing, but modern day readers seem to find it quite decent. The bell rings before Mike can answer, and as Will walks out the door, he realizes that his interactions with Mike today, although short and incomplete, were not unpleasant—other than him maybe or maybe not making fun of Will’s sweater vest.

His last two classes, graphic design and AP chemistry, are forgettable in their repetitive and orientational manner, but seem to at least be classes he won’t dread. He does, however, already dread the mass of homework that chemistry will surely entail. 

~•~

Immediately after lunch, just as Will exits the cafeteria, someone pokes him between his shoulder blades. Will lets out a short yelp, straightening his back and spinning around, expecting to find El, but instead finding Dustin.

“What the hell man?” Will exclaims. Dustin provides a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, force of habit with my friends. Are you going to the club fair this afternoon?” Right, Will thinks. The club fair.

“I was gonna look around, but I probably won’t join anything,” he answers.

“Dude! I’m starting a D&D club. I already know that only my friends will join, you should totally sign up!” Dustin suggests, speeding up as they walk to their dorm. Will struggles to keep up, almost tripping over his own feet. 

“Yeah, maybe” Will answers. He’s not really sure how much he wants to join Dustin’s campaign anymore. It’s a bunch of people he doesn’t know, along with a whole friend group that already exists and has their own dynamics that Will has to learn. He’s not even sure what edition or rules they’re playing, so he might be completely lost if there's something he doesn’t know. They’ll probably make fun of whatever character he chooses because he always seems to come up with awful names and has to pull up a fantasy name generator on his phone. 

“Please,” Dustin begs, “my friends are chill, it’ll be fun!” Even Will’s social anxiety can’t deny that Dustin wants him to be there, and even though he hasn’t met Dustin’s friends, Will trusts his judgement. 

He also really needs friends. 

For the next fifteen-ish minutes, Will helps Dustin carry D&D stuff and decorations to set up the club fair table on the grass next to the fountain in the center of the courtyard. He’s just glad the club fair isn’t at the field this year, considering he would have to walk that far with a stack of books and a box of minis. Dustin said he wanted to go ‘all out’ with the decorations, just in case it would convince anyone else to sign up. Will’s not sure why, since it already seems like he has a pretty big party, but in these past two days Will has learned that Dustin will be Dustin. 

After the table is set up and Will has signed his name, he decides to wander, just in case there’s any other clubs he wants to join. 

He wanders between tables of teenagers handing out candy to those who sign up. Clubs can be divided into three sections, just like cliques in a teen movie. Drama club, chess club, mathletes, recreational soccer, speech and debate: the classic high school clubs. There’s also the more unique clubs, such as film club, European cooking club, creative writing club, astronomy club, and astrology club. The third category falls under weird-as-fuck clubs. Will’s favorite happens to be “string cheese appreciation club,” a table with a singular string cheese and a piece of paper on it. There also happens to be a sweater knitting club—where you knit nothing but sweaters—suburban ornithology club, pondering the universe club, and interpretive tap dance club. Based on content, D&D falls into the second category, but based on its popularity at this school, it may as well be in the third. 

Will searches the crowd for El, realizing that they need to hang out more this year, and hoping they can find a club to join together. Instead, he directly collides with Anthony Braden. The asshole that hasn’t even bothered to acknowledge him since late July. 

“Watch it man!” Anthony huffs, barely looking up from his phone. However, he seems to notice from his quick glance that it’s Will he has run into. “What the hell, Will,” he states, not even as any sort of question. Will can’t decide how appropriate it would be to start a fight right now. Unfortunately, somewhere in his brain is a voice, possibly his mom’s, telling him to take the high road. Will pivots and begins to walk away. 

“Use your eyes Braden!” he remarks as he walks away, creating a nice end to the interaction while still getting the last word. He also likes calling Anthony by his last name because he knows it annoys him. Will really wishes he could have started a fight, but he also knows that Jonathan would have called him and given him a lecture about the fights he got into in high school and what he learned and his regrets and whatever. Not to mention Jonathan did in fact get suspended a couple times for his sophomore year fights and heavily risked getting his scholarship removed. 

Will half expects Anthony to shove him or something, but he’s a rich boy at a private school. He knows his parents would take away his precious allowance if he started a fight. 

After about ten minutes of searching, Will spots El’s favorite sweater among the slowly shrinking crowd and moves quickly towards her. She’s talking to a girl Will doesn’t recognize who seems to be running a booth for the marine biology club. She seems nice from a distance, friendly with El, and possibly flirting? El appears to be flirting back, and Will is about to leave to give them space, but El notices him, bids goodbye to the girl, and jogs towards him.

“Will! I was looking for you,” she says when she reaches him. 

“Taking your time I see,” he remarks, nodding discreetly towards the marine biology girl. “Who’s she?”

“Oh she’s from my ceramics class, she-“ El notices the look on his face and seems to read it perfectly. “Oh! We weren’t- well I guess we were,” she responds nervously. Will raises a teasing eyebrow. “She’s from New Hampshire, you know how I would feel about that kind of long distance,” El argues. 

Recently, El has seemed oddly chill about her single status. She has decided to simply focus on friendships and in her words: ‘if a suitable person appears,’ she’ll take the opportunity.  Maybe it’s to counteract Will’s recent romantic issues, because unfortunately for him, he has always been in the classic crush mindset, with casual flirting being a territory he has never managed to cross into, no matter how much he convinces himself to find the border. Not to mention that he can never have a little crush, it always has to send him into a hopeless romantic spiral. 

Will surrenders his questioning, and El is happy to change the subject.

“Oh I meant to tell you, Mom said that she and Hopper can actually come to parents weekend. Jonathan will still be at college, so it’ll just be the four of us and a Denny’s reservation.”

“We’re not going to need a reservation,” Will corrects, completely ignoring the point of the conversation for annoying semantics, which El in turn rolls her eyes at. 

Once the club fair has begun to wrap up, and Will’s butt hurts from sitting on the concrete of the fountain, El convinces him to come to her dorm and help her pick out an outfit for the bonfire because ‘it’s the last school day where she can wear whatever she wants’ and ‘no one cares about people sneaking into dorms during orientation.’ Will reminds her that it’s a Sunday, but still agrees. 

During dinner, the headmasters give speeches about a new school year and potential and making good choices. They also make the customary announcements about the consequences of any sort of drugs or alcohol being discovered on campus at all during the school year, but especially during the bonfire. Will recalls a group of kids caught with weed at last year's courtyard party that got in school suspension before the year even started. He also remembers finding out later that November that one of those guys happened to be his friend Warren Erickson. 

As Will picks at his chicken, he thinks about what his life would be like if he was with that group of boys that night. Would they have taken away his scholarship? Would he be at Hawkins High right now? Would he be halfway across the country from El, stuck in a town that he worked so hard to get out of?

He looks around at all the people dressed in their semi-dressy party clothes, as if it isn’t just an event with a sad excuse for a bonfire, a snack table, and some music. Nevertheless, Will recalls the childlike wonder he had a year ago when he first got here. He also remembers how obsessed he was with Dead Poets Society, and that he would consistently remind himself Carpe diem, seize the day. 

With that, he is now determined to have a good time at this party and make some friends other than El and maybe Dustin. 

~•~

After sunset, as the sky turns a darker more dusky shade of blue, Will steps through the doors of the boys dorm building, ready to mingle and make friends. A small crowd has begun to form in the courtyard, and Will notices the snack tables to his left, near the corner of the building. Will wanders over to the tables, pulling out his phone and texting El. 

I’m at the snack tables , then, Near the boys dorms.

While he awaits El’s arrival, Will browses the snack selection, eventually picking up a plate and pouring a small pile of chips out of a party sized bag. 

“Hey!” A voice calls from behind him. Will turns to see Dustin about ten feet away, approaching him from the midst of the crowd. Will waves. “How’s it going?” Dustin continues once he’s next to him.

“Pretty good, I’m just waiting for my sister,” Will answers. 

“You have a sister who goes here?”

“Yeah, she’s really nice. Her name is-“

“Will!” El calls from past Dustin’s shoulder. Will follows the sound with his eyes and Dustin turns around. 

“El?” Dustin asks, obviously confused and somehow knowing her name. “Do you two know each other?”

“She’s my sister,” Will answers, also extremely confused. “Do you two know each other?” 

“Dustin’s like, my best friend after Max,” answers El, now confused as well. That’s why his name sounded so familiar, Will thinks. “How do you two know each other?”

“Will’s my roommate,” explains Dustin. Now that everything has gone full circle, they stand there, all probably trying to calculate the odds of such a coincidence happening to them. Will shifts his weight between feet as they stare at each other in awkward silence, each waiting for the other to say something. Dustin’s phone chimes and breaks the silence. He pulls it out and reads whatever notification text he got, then types something back.

“Sorry, I gotta go. My friend needs me to help him fend off some girl he’s not into who’s flirting with him,” he explains, then takes off towards the fire pit. Will sighs in relief for finally exiting the awkward situation—thank god for Dustin’s friend—but also out of disbelief for how they didn’t find this out sooner. El laughs and gently leads Will through the growing crowd and across the courtyard towards an old ass tree that Will has noticed multiple times in his time here, but has never paid much attention to. Standing casually near the tree is a boy and a girl, one of which he has seen many times over facetime but never had an in person conversation with. 

“Max! Lucas!” El calls, walking a little faster towards them. Will quickens his pace to keep up. He quickly recognizes Lucas—presumably Max’s boyfriend—as being in his math class. “This is my brother Will. Will, this is Max in real life, and her boyfriend Lucas.” Will gives a polite wave, not sure if a handshake would be too formal. 

“Nice to meet you Will, third period, right?” Lucas says. Will nods awkwardly. Lucas is a little bit taller than him, and definitely has a more athletic build. Max is shorter than he expected, even though she’s still about the same height as El. There’s a hint of some sort of regional accent in Lucas’s voice that he remembers hearing earlier today, similar to Max’s. Will can’t seem to remember where they live. 

“Where are you two from again?” Will blurts, not being able to contain his curiosity.

“Brooklyn,” Max says, jogging Will’s memory. Neither of them have a particularly ‘New York’ accent, but it somehow differs from the ‘typical American’ or Midwestern accent that most people in Indiana have. Accents are certainly one thing that Will has been exposed to since transferring to Melville, and it’s a strange concept that he never seems to fully comprehend. 

“What brings you two to this school?” Will asks awkwardly, attempting to make small talk that ends up making him sound like a white suburban dad.

“I got a partial softball scholarship and liked the art program,” Max explains.

“I didn’t want to go to the neighborhood public school, and I liked the athletic program,” Lucas says. “I applied on whim to be near Max and got in.” Will nods, he can already tell that Max and Lucas are nice, but rich people continue to baffle him. Sure, they’re probably not rich-rich, but their families can afford to send them to a fancy private school while living in New York. Even if they are rich-rich, they don’t flaunt it like his former friends do, which is a plus. 

“Will is roommates with Dustin!” El comments, changing the subject quickly. She most likely noticed Will had the face he gets when he starts contemplating the disparities in the financial classes of America. She also probably remembers when he took finance and American economics last year. She would always tell him he should go into as a job, and he said he would rather die than work an office job, but it shall remain as a random thing he knows a lot about. 

“Wait really?” Lucas asks, surprised but pleased at the information (or the subject change, but Will can’t tell).

“That’s awesome dude,” Max says, “Dustin’s great. He’ll talk your ear off when it comes to D&D though.”

“Will likes D&D too!” El exclaims. Will nods casually, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, he said he’s starting a campaign with I’m assuming you and some others?” he says to Max and Lucas. 

Lucas shrugs, glancing at Max. “She’s more of an occasional special guest, but I’m a pretty consistent player. Dustin put up a table for the career fair, I wasn’t sure if you saw it. He made all of us sign up since he knew no one else really would and being in a club looks good for colleges.”

“I actually signed up,” Will reveals, to which El raises a pleasantly amused eyebrow. “I didn’t want to intrude, but Dustin all but forced me as well.” Lucas smiles.

“Welcome to the party then,” Lucas announces cordially, shaking Will’s hand. “We’re all having lunch together next Saturday, you should come along! Y’know, properly meet everyone.” El smiles at Will, obviously glad to see her brother making friends and having those friends be hers at the same time.

“Sure!” Will answers excitedly and in a more than slightly awkward manner.

“Awesome,” Max chimes in. “We usually meet at this tree. I think we were planning on eleven-thirty?” Lucas and El nod with confirmation.

“Speaking of lunch,” El adds, “you have no choice but to sit with us at meals now. I’ve been trying to find you these past few days but you’re like a ghost.” He knows she’s teasing, but it feels nice to know that she was looking for him. Maybe he should have tried to find them on the first day. 

Will shrugs and smiles, secretly glad that he didn’t have to ask.

Chapter Text

Mike POV

Mike Wheeler does not want to be here. “Here” means multiple things. Number one, this school. He hasn’t wanted to be here for years. Mike has wanted to leave as soon as he was dropped at Melville with his suitcase in hand two years ago. Unfortunately, he gave up trying to escape after his first time in freshman year, when he snuck out in the middle of the night and then remembered that he was in the middle of an unfamiliar state, without money, and surrounded by a lot of roads. 

Number two, “here” means in this stupid biology class, paired up with Will Byers: the guy who hates him for no apparent reason. 

“So… we have to take this amoeba, and… look at it?” Will questions, obviously unimpressed with such a simple task. 

“Don’t look at me, I’m not teaching the class,” Mike says, leaning back in his chair so only the back legs are on the floor. The teacher—sorry, professor— shoots him a look. The front legs return to the ground. 

Will scoffs. “Yeah, that’s apparent. I’m pretty sure you have to pass the class in order to teach it.” Mike rolls his eyes and grabs the slide from the box on the table. He puts the slide on the microscope and turns it to the highest magnification. “Hey!” Will exclaims, grabbing the slide off of the microscope. “You’re supposed to focus it on the lowest setting first and then move it up as you go.  Mike rolls his eyes a second time before grabbing the slide back. 

“What? Are you afraid I’m going to break it or something? There’s plenty of space between the lens and the slide, chill out,” Mike retorts. Yeah, maybe his tone is a bit mean, but god, Will is just so uptight, it’s insane. Yeah, obviously he has to be on good behavior to keep his scholarship or whatever he said he has, but does he really have to follow every single rule down to the comma? That, Mike doesn’t believe. Since he’s feeling like living dangerously today, 2500x magnification and all, he decides to voice his opinions. “Do you really follow every single rule? Word for word? That’s inconceivably insane.” This time it’s Will who rolls his eyes. 

“That’s not even how you use that word, Mike.” 

“Yes it is,” Mike smiles. “I was saying it’s unbelievably crazy. I was adding alliteration.” He over pronounces the syllables in the last word for emphasis. Will huffs in frustration and Mike’s smile only grows in the satisfaction of being right. They’ve played this game for almost a year now, the ‘I’m right you’re wrong’ ordeal has gone back and forth multiple times within each conversation they’ve had. Mike didn’t start it, he didn’t want to, but the look on Will’s face when he realizes Mike is right is just so satisfying.

Mike places the slide back on the stage of the microscope and uses the fine focus knob to see the amoeba clearly, proud of himself when it works. He then shifts the stage to the left to center the amoeba, and the lens collides with the slide slightly, scraping against it and making a slight squeaking sound. Mike cringes and quickly switches to a short zoom lens. 

“What is it?” Will asks worriedly. Shit. And just after he was about to brag about being right. 

“Uh…” Mike begins, but Will pulls the microscope towards himself and peers through the lens, likely assessing the damage, then realizes Mike switched the settings. He lowers the stage to avoid collision and turns the magnification back up.

“There’s a scratch,” he says bluntly, and Mike doesn’t know how to react. At least it’s not broken. 

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Will replies when met with Mike's blank stare. At this point, Mike expects to be yelled at. Instead, Will takes the road of his mother: a disappointed sigh and a burning glare. Followed by a comment that reminds him of his father and hits a nerve that Will has never struck before. “God, you’re incompetent,” Will speaks under his breath.

“ Excuse me? ” Mike scoffs. Mike is many things, but incompetent is not one of them. “Repeat that,” he challenges. Will looks at him, assesses just how much the comment affected Mike, falters for just a second, and then retorts.

“I said : you can’t even seem to follow simple rules. Instead you have to pretend like you know everything, and can’t seem to acknowledge when you fuck up .” Will’s voice raises slightly at the end. Not enough to turn any heads, but enough to have a bite that riles Mike up. Mike doesn’t get riled up easily, but there’s something about Will’s tone that digs into his skin like claws. 

Mike is two seconds away from punching Will square in his pretentious face when a little voice in his head jogs a memory. 

Steve Harrington—a guy from Detroit and high school boyfriend of Nancy’s—became a sort of mentor to Mike his freshman year at Melville. (Or as Steve called it: Hellville. Creative. ) Steve got in a lot of fights, and gave Mike the important advice to never be the one to escalate a fight. 

“You don’t need to take the high road all the time,” he said. “That’s dumb. But don’t be the escalator. That’s how you get in trouble, and that's even dumber.”

Steve’s words ring in Mike's ears as he looks away from Will and back at the microscope. Taking a deep breath, he says, “whatever. Let’s just use the shorter lens.

~*~

“And he was just so annoying about it! Like yeah I fucked up, but he doesn’t have to be such a know it all about it,” Mike gripes. Lucas nods, seeming to only halfway be paying attention. He is more focused on the history document they’re supposed to be reading and discussing. The document that Mike already read.

“And what’s this guy’s name?” asks Lucas, disinterested.

“Will.” Lucas stops mid highlighting and looks up at Mike from his hunched position.

“Last name?” Lucas asks.

“Byers,” answers Mike. Lucas’ eyes widen. “What, do you know him?” Lucas pauses for a moment.

“Um.. yeah. We have math together, that’s all.” Mike narrows his eyes, assessing how much he wants to pry Lucas for more information. Before he makes a decision, Lucas changes the subject back to history class.

“So, the cause of the civil war. Thoughts?”

Mike sighs, looking back at his paper.

He jumps back, holding back a startled gasp that instead becomes an ‘eep!’

There, written in thick black ink, is the word ‘REVENGE.’

Mike searches around him, looking for the culprit of the prank. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Lucas asks. Mike is about to point to the paper to show him when he realizes the writing is gone. 

What the hell?

“Fine.” 

“Dude, sometimes I think you need to be medicated,” Lucas says, and the two continue with their discussion. However, Mike keeps sneaking looks around the room every once in a while for some disappearing ink or something. 

~*~

The week continues like any first week of school. Friday night, Mike attempts to complete as much homework as possible so he can enjoy the weekend. He promised himself he wouldn’t procrastinate this year—a promise that will likely be broken by the end of the month. 

On Saturday, Mike wakes up around ten, and doesn’t bother eating more than a granola bar for breakfast, since he’s going out to lunch soon anyway.

Lucas got up earlier to go train for tryouts or work out or something, so Mike is meeting him at the gym.

The morning is pleasant, and there is little activity around the campus as Mike traipses across the neatly mowed lawn, past the tennis courts, and into the door of the gymnasium. As he enters, the air conditioning cuts into him like a knife. Shivering and continuing inside, he notices a few basketball players exiting the connected locker rooms. Mike searches for Lucas, who actually sees him first and waves. 

“Hey, right on time!” Lucas announces as he approaches. 

“It’s freezing in here,” Mike complains. “Are you freezing?” Lucas shakes his head no, and Mike shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself. He must still just be sweaty from exercising.

The two exit the gym and make their way to the fountain in the center of campus. Mike goes to sit down on the edge.

“Don’t fall in,” Lucas jokes. Mike glares at him. “Sorry, sorry. Too soon.” Mike fell in the fountain last year due to some…specific people, and Lucas thinks it’s hilarious. 

Lucas sits down and Mike swivels to face him, crossing his right leg up on the concrete. He stares into the fountain and observes the numerous coins sitting at the bottom. He remembers his freshman year, when Max joked about stealing all the coins to see how much was in there, to which Lucas argued that they could just be counted without even leaving the fountain.

The fountain is younger than the school, and was dedicated to a dead student in the fifties or sixties or something. His grandfather told him about it, because he had known the student who died. He said that she was his best friend’s sister, but refused to elaborate when Mike asked any more questions. 

Now, the fountain is at least sixty years old, but still stands tall, with water that flows through Thanksgiving break, and then from spring break to the end of the year. 

The coins appear to be moving with the water, and like some sort of crow, Mike becomes mesmerized by the shimmering. His mind begins to drift to the past week, and his interactions with Will. He never did understand why Will was so rude to him. Mike is a firm believer in matching energy, so he was willing to form this rivalry with Will, even though he-

“Hellooo! Earth to Mike,” says Lucas, waving a hand in front of Mike’s face. Mike snaps back into reality, losing his train of thought when he looks away from the coins.

“Sorry, sorry,” Mike apologizes, sitting up straighter. 

“It’s time to meet with the group.” 

Mike nods in recollection as he checks the time on his phone: eleven thirty exactly. 

“So don’t hate me…” Lucas says as they circle around the fountain and cross the courtyard to their usual meeting place. That’s not concerning at all, Mike thinks. “But… I may have brought a new friend along today,” Lucas admits. Oh. That’s it? Mike sighs in relief.

“Lucas, you’re allowed to make new friends. Unless it’s a douchey sports guy. Is it a sports guy?” Mike asks jokingly. Lucas winces, preparing for- actually, Mike has no idea why he’s so nervous about this. 

“Not exactly… He’s El’s brother, well, step-brother. He’s also joining the campaign,” Lucas answers. Mike knew El had two brothers, but he’d never met either. Somehow, even when he and El were dating last year, he never got a chance. He never even learned their names.

“Oh that’s cool, can’t wait to meet him,” He answers. Lucas nods nervously. Seriously, what is up with this guy? As they approach the meeting place—a tree in the corner of the courtyard—Mike notices Will standing by the tree. His tree. Well, his and the rest of The Party’s, but still. He’s standing there in his dumb little outfit and his dumb hair and his dumb face. They make eye contact and Will looks confused as to why Mike is scowling at him until he looks over at Lucas. Then back at Mike, then Lucas. Suddenly, all the color drains from his face. What the hell? Mike thinks, what is his problem? Then, Lucas starts waving. At Will. 

“Hey Will!” Lucas greets him. “Mike, this is Will; he’s El’s brother. You two have met, right? He’s Dustin’s roommate this year.” You have got to be fucking kidding me. Mike glares at Will, who doesn’t seem too pleased either, and nods.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Will says coldy and straight out of a movie, still glaring daggers at Mike, who is glaring daggers right back, but also has some shock mixed in his expression. 

“You know, Lucas,” Mike deadpans, holding Will’s stare and secretly holding shock within as well, “I think I would’ve preferred a douchey sports guy. He’d be less nagging and pretentious.” Will breaks the staring contest by rolling his eyes, and Mike considers that a win.

“Oh please,” Will shoots back, “If anyone is pretentious it’s you.” He says this as if he’s not wearing a pristine light blue button down, gray slacks, and some sort of jacket that he could probably get away with wearing to class. He may as well have loafers and a top hat. But before Mike can say anything about it, he feels a sharp pain in his side. Mike spins around to find the red headed demon that lovingly plagues his existence, the wonderful yet terrible Maxine Mayfield. 

“Hey Wheeler!” She says, leaning against Lucas like he’s a wall. To be fair, he is pretty tall, but it’s a little dehumanizing. Luckily, Lucas doesn’t seem to mind and just puts an arm around her. “Did you enjoy Lucas’s surprise?” She asks mischievously. Mike only scoffs before he hears El’s voice next to him, sure enough, she has appeared behind Will and plopped her chin on his shoulder, which Will immediately shoves away. 

“Will is very excited to be hanging out with us today, isn’t that right Will?” El says as if he’s a small child or a dog. She pokes his cheek and he smacks her away, crosses his arms and grunts.

“El, remind me again why I’m here if he is?” Will says, gesturing towards Mike. 

“Because, Sir William,” a voice from Mike’s right calls, “Mikey boy is one of my closest friends, and now you are too.” There he is, Mike thinks, the ultimate traitor, Dustin Henderson.

Dustin, in his sky blue hoodie and token baseball cap arrives and greets the rest of the group. Here’s the problem: Dustin makes friends with every single person he meets, and unfortunately, he and Will are roommates this year.

Needless to say, it ended with Dustin having a new friend and Mike having a new thing to complain about.

“Wait,” Mike says, piecing things together in his head, “Lucas, were you nervous for me to meet him because you knew we didn’t like each other?” Lucas shrugs a very incriminating shrug. 

“We might have figured it out,” Dustin jumps in, “but Will here is a very skilled cleric, so I’m sure you’ll learn to like each other eventually.” Him and Will both grunt at that, eyeing each other and unconvinced.

“Can we please go get lunch now?” says Max, interrupting the stiff silence that followed that strange interaction. Lucas nods furiously, agreeing with Max’s suggestion. 

El checks her phone. “The bus comes in… seven minutes, so we should go to the stop now.”

“Thank God they finished that bus line into town before our sophomore year,” Dustin says. “It was a nightmare trying to get into town freshman year.”

“Oh yeah I remember that!” Lucas chimes in. “Mike wanted his parents to mail his bike to him.” The whole group laughs, except Will, who Mike notices is standing more awkwardly than before. Mike clears his throat.

“As much as I love reliving the horrors that were my freshman year, I’m also starving.” The whole group collectively nods and all six of them make their way to the campus’ main entrance, through the parking lot, and to the only bus stop that goes to the school. Mike looks back at Will—who is slightly behind him and walking next to El—and offers a small smile. Will looks away without a shift of expression. So much for being nice. 

A short bus ride later, the group sits at a corner booth in a classic burger joint, where overlapping chatter begins.

“Ooh they have milkshakes. I want a milkshake,” says Max. 

“Can I split it with you? I don’t want a whole one,” El says.

“Are we gonna split the bill or pay individually?” asks Dustin. 

Mike stares intensely at the menu as El and Max fight over flavors and Dustin does math, trying to avoid eye contact with Will. This just feels so awkward. How friendly should they be to each other? How much are they allowed to bicker? Will Mike finally be able to make pleasant conversation with Will?

A hand waves in front of Mike’s face. It’s Lucas.

“Earth to Mike… my combo comes with a soda, do you want it?” Mike startles, sitting up a little straighter and looking at Lucas.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks. I’ll have a Coke.”

“Dude,” Lucas deadpans. “Caffeine totally fucks you up. Your brain can’t handle it.”

“I’ll be fine!” Mike argues. 

“Mike, do you remember last year when you drank half a Redbull and wouldn’t stop talking about Star Wars all day?” Lucas says. Will snorts, obviously listening to their conversation.

“I remember that!” Will chimes in. “You somehow ended up talking so much that you called Jar Jar Binks sexy.” Mike feels his face turn beet red.

“I- I did not say that!” Mike stammers, even though he’s not a hundred percent sure whether he did or not. Even if he did say it, he didn’t mean it. Obviously.

Him and Will go back and forth a few more times in the most petty manner imaginable before the server shows up to take their order. The server is a bored college age kid with a mop of fluffy hair that looks like he just got electrocuted.

“What’s up, my name is Darren. What do you want to order,” Darren says in a monotonous voice, not even turning the sentence into a question.

“Can I have the double slider plate with a Caesar salad and a strawberry milkshake?” El requests. 

“And I’ll have a double turkey burger basket with cheese and pickles. That comes with fries, right?” Max asks. Darren gives a simple ‘yeah’ and continues taking orders.

“Uh, I’ll take a double cheeseburger combo with a side of truffle fries and a salad. He’s taking my soda, so I’ll just have water,” says Lucas.

“May I have the regular cheeseburger with lettuce and a side of curly fries. I’ll also have a Coke,” says Dustin.

“Um, I will have a cheeseburger basket with no pickles, and an Oreo milkshake,” Will says.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger with tomatoes and pickles, some waffle fries, and a…” Mike considers his drink carefully, “a root beer.”

Darren nods and trudges away without another word. 

“He was a ball of sunshine,” Lucas mutters.

“I applaud you for your lack of caffeine consumption Mike,” Dustin remarks matter-of-factly.

“Yeah whatever,” Mike says, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t peer pressured into not making a fool of himself. 

Food arrives shortly and the group begins to dig in, passing around condiment bottles and napkins.

“Damn it,” Will groans, looking down at his open burger. “They gave me pickles. I asked for no pickles.”

“I’ll take ‘em!” Mike volunteers instinctively. Will smirks and peels off the pickles, setting them on Mike’s plate.

“Okay pickle freak,” he teases.

“I like pickles!” Mike raised his hands defensively.

“Still a freak,” Will says. Mike then watches as he puts a handful of fries across the burger patty and puts the top bun on. Mike watches, horrified at what he’s witnessing. Will catches him staring, and with a mouthful of burger and fries says:

“What? It’s good.” Although, it sounds a little more like ‘Wahw? Iss Geuh,’ and Mike can’t help but laugh.

“I guess you’re both freaks,” Max remarks, beating Mike to the punch. 

“Yeah okay Little Miss Turkey Burger .”

“I just care about the environment! And it tastes better-“

Lucas cuts off the argument by grabbing El and Max’s milkshake and taking a sip.” Max stops and stares at him, mouth gaping. Then, she jumps into action.

“Oh you little-“ Mike tunes out the rest of the banter and actually starts eating his burger. It reminds him of the burgers at a restaurant back in Detroit. His mom used to take him there after little league during which he spent the whole game on the bench. The patties were never flat, they were real, like the kind you would make yourself at home. The cheese was real too. It wasn’t American cheese. Every burger came with waffle fries, not regular, and Mike always felt like a king eating these perfect burgers. This one isn’t exactly the same, but it’s damn close.

“We should schedule our first D&D session,” Dustin says, interrupting Mike’s nostalgic burger train or thought. “I was thinking we would take a few weeks to get settled into school, and then play on Saturday every so often? Maybe the 23rd?” Everyone checks their phone calendars, even though of course none of them have anything planned, and everyone agrees on a time. 

Meanwhile, Mike glances around the restaurant and sees an old man sitting at a table in the opposite corner, staring at their table. Mike's heart drops. The man’s piercing blue eyes seem to glow from across the room, like some strange trick of the light. Mike feels a lump grow in his throat, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

“Mike. Mike!” Will repeats, pulling Mike’s attention back. “Does that work for you?” Mike blinks once. Twice. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m free.” He peeks back at the corner booth, to see that the man is now gone. He inhales sharply, before Dustin draws him back into the conversation by asking about world building.

Conversation passes and eventually everyone is done eating and an even more annoyed Darren begrudgingly gives them their six way split check. 

~*~

Once the sun is no longer visible in the sky and it begins to turn a darker shade of blue, Mike leaves his homework spot at a picnic table on the courtyard and begins to head back to his room. As he strolls down the hallway, he sees some on sitting on the floor against the wall. As Mike approaches, he sees that it’s Will. He is staring at his phone and his copy of Pierre sits next to him. 

“Really enjoying that book, huh?” Mike jokes. Will presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows sarcastically.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he answers, still looking at his phone. Suddenly, Will seems to see something on his phone that makes him quickly put it down. He silently invites Mike to sit down, and he does. 

“Why are you in the hallway?” Mike asks, choosing to ignore Will’s sudden aversion to his phone.

“Dustin kicked me out. He’s planning for the first session and apparently it’s ‘top secret.’” Mike nods. Dustin tends to do that. He’s always been one to lock himself in a room to worldbuild for D&D. The two sit in silence for what feels like forever until Will speaks.

“You know, I realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“You and El used to date, didn’t you?” A lump rises in Mike’s throat, and he wants to dart out of there.

“..yeah,” he croaks. Will already didn’t like Mike, now that he knows that he and El are exes, Mike may as well be done for in any sort of friendship department.

“That’s hilarious,” Will chuckles, and Mike feels surprised. “I mean, turns out the two guys I had petty grudges against are the same person.”

“So you agree you’re petty,” Mike remarks, taking advantage of Will’s apparent self awareness.

“Up for debate,” Will answers. “We’ll see if you end up on my good side.” Will smiles and winks at Mike, making his face feel warm. “No hard feelings though. About my sister. She said you two are still good friends.” 

Mike smiles. “Yeah. It’s better that way.” He thinks for a moment, trying to choose his next words carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Will answers, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” he asks. Will stares at him, unamused.

“I’m on an academic scholarship that could be taken away at any moment; so, yes,” he says. Mike shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably where he sits.

“No I mean- by someone—some thing— that isn't human.” Will thinks for a moment.

“Like…God?”

“No, something evil.” 

“God could be evil. We don’t know,” Will shrugs. And Mike nods in a way that says ‘touché.’

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Mike asks instead.

“Maybe. I think it would be cool,” answers Will. “Do you think the school is haunted or something?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ve been noticing some really weird things recently. Like, there was this thing with my reading for history. And yesterday: there was this old guy…” 

“So what I’m hearing is that you’re being haunted by a piece of paper and an old man?” Will confirms. Mike sighs.

“You make it sound stupid,” he groans.

“No,” Will corrects. “ You make it sound stupid.” Mike chuckles because Will is right. He’s always right. Maybe that’s why Mike decided to feed into this rivalry. 

Awkward silences befalls the two, and Mike suddenly wants to get the fuck out of this hallway. Maybe it’s because they had a friendly-ish conversation. Maybe it’s because neither of them knows what to say next. Maybe it’s because Mike feels warm in the face and Will is smiling and-

Mike makes a point to check his phone and clear his throat.

“Well,” he says, “I’ve got to go um… do homework. It was nice talking to you.” Mike quickly stands up and skitters across the hallway and into his room. As soon as the door closes, Mike leans against it and lets out a sigh. Lucas is sitting on his bed and stares at Mike confused.

“You good there bud?” he asks. Mike nods, deciding that there’s nothing to talk about. 

~*~

“Alright!” says Dustin, plopping a large stack of papers and books on the table right behind his DM screen. The six of them are all sitting at a large round table near the back of the library. They’re in the textbook section, so teenagers only come here at the beginning of the year, the end of the year, and for the occasional makeout session.

“I have all of your character sheets filled out, so here’s your empty ones,” he continues. He passes out a mostly empty character sheet to each of them. The only thing written is a name.

“Aren’t we supposed to make our own characters?” El asked. 

“Usually yes,” answers Dustin, “but I decided to try something I saw on the internet. Welcome to amnesia D&D.

“What the hell does that mean?” Mike asks. Dustin must have truly gone mad. That, or he has become chronically online.

“I’m getting there, Michael,” Dustin chides, giving Mike an unserious stink eye. “Anyway,” he continues, switching back to his dramatic dungeon master voice, “you will all start with a mostly blank character sheet, meaning your characters have gotten amnesia and only remember their names. As you play, you will fill out your character sheets and find out your stats and traits, and everything else you need to know. Sound fun?” Everyone nods. It does actually seem quite interesting. Especially for newbies like El and Max, who will need to put in a bit more effort to decode the hints that Dustin will definitely drop. “Awesome!”

Dustin lays out the player mat on the table, with crude shapes already drawn on it in whiteboard marker. He places four figurines on the mat and assigns them accordingly to Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max. 

“Hey, where’s mine?” asks El.

“Shh, we’ll get you later. You aren’t in this room,” Dustin responds, and El pouts.

“Are these what our characters actually look like?” Mike asks. 

“Maybe, but probably not. It would ruin the fun! I’ll replace them once you figure out your race and stuff.

“ Anyway… you all wake up in a dark cave, not sure exactly how you got here or who you are, but you do remember your name. None of you recognize each other, so um… you should probably introduce yourselves.” Dustin leans back in his chair expectantly, obviously pleased with himself. Mike looks down at the name on his character sheet and sighs. 

“Oh, would you like to go first?” Lucas asks pointedly towards Mike. Mike glares at Dustin, hoping he’s not the only one with a name this ridiculous. 

“Hi, my name is… Fooby Tootborn,” he says quietly. The entire group bursts out laughing. “Okay fine! Since you insisted, why don’t you go next,” Mike says to Lucas.

“Fine, fine, my name is Fester Oinkbag, and I have no idea what I’m doing here,” Lucas answers matter of factly. Everyone still laughs, but the initial shock of the absurd names has worn off. Max goes next.

“Hello, my name is Guinevere Hoobastank. I also have no idea what I’m doing here.” At this point, the group erupts into commotion, all talking over each other at Dustin.

“How come she gets a normal first name?” Mike complains.

“Isn’t Hoobastank a rock band?” Will asks. Dustin simply smirks, holding up a hand to shut everyone up. Dustin loves being the DM, because it allows him to play god and go on little power trips. Mike hates it, but it is pretty entertaining. Will is the last one, so he goes next.

“I’m in the same boat of confusion, but my name is Wormzy Roachgold. Dustin! Why is my name bug themed?” Dustin simply shrugs, as if he wasn’t the one to name all of these characters.

Dustin continues to lead them through the cave-dungeon thing, and into the next section of the cave, where they discover an unconscious El, whom they have to wake up. She introduces herself as Portabella Noodleface, which she tells Dustin sounds like a ridiculous mushroom pasta dish.

 At one point, Max tries to roll for a strength check, but her die has gone missing. They eventually find it on a stack of books behind Dustin’s DM screen, and everyone claims to never have put it there. Mike and Will exchange worried glances, both obviously thinking about their conversation in the hallway. 

“The tunnel is getting narrower, Wormzy and Portabella can’t fit anymore. You’ll have to find a different way, or a way to widen the tunnel,” Dustin says. 

“Why can’t we fit?” Will asks. 

“Well, she’s too tall, and your ass is too big,” explains Dustin. Once again, everyone laughs, partially at the concept of El being tall, but mostly as Will’s supposed giant ass. However, something clicks in Mike’s brain. 

“It’s a hint to their races! Portabella is a Goliath!” he exclaims. Dustin smiles and nods slightly, looking proud that his clues worked. Mike pulls out the Player’s Handbook and finds the page about Goliaths. “Okay, so your base speed is thirty, you are proficient in the athletics skill, you have resistance to cold, as well as high altitudes, and your languages include Giant and Common.” El takes the book and furiously scribbles everything down. She also puts a sticky note on the page to save for later.

“That still doesn’t solve the mystery of Wil- Wormzy’s giant ass,” Lucas points out, and they all start scouring the list of races for something that makes sense.

“Oh my god. Am I a centaur?!” Will exclaims. “Why the fuck would you do that?” Dustin only shrugs, leaning back farther in his chair than anyone ever thought to be possible. 

“Guildmaster’s Guide centaur or Mythic Odysseys centaur?” Lucas asks. 

“Mythic Odysseys. I wanted to be chaotic.” Everyone groans, realizing the inevitable chaos that this campaign holds. Not that it won’t be fun, but Mike is prepared to be doing the same campaign until they graduate. Dustin replaces Will’s character with a centaur figurine. Will writes down his character information, stealing Dustin’s copy of the book. 

“Hey, did any of you put these weird doodles on my character sheet?” Will asks. Everyone shakes their heads, and Mike and El lean over to look at the doodles. They look like weird symbols, somewhat akin to trees and wind and whatever else. 

“Maybe you did it subconsciously?” El suggests. “You do that sometimes.” Will shrugs. The six of them continue playing, but Mike and Will keep eyeing the doodles, and exchange yet another confused yet knowing glance.

Chapter Text

WILL POV:

Well, it’s official. Michael Wheeler was right. Will is definitely being watched. Over the past couple of weeks, since talking with Mike, Will has noticed an increasing amount of strange occurrences. Things going missing, doodles and words on his papers that he didn’t put there, shadowy figures just outside his periphery. If Mike is being watched, and Will is being watched, who else is being watched? Maybe all of their friends are being targeted by this mysterious force. 

“Hey Dustin?” Will says one evening, while finishing up his homework. Dustin looks up from his phone. 

“Hm?” Dustin responds, turning slightly to face Will.

“Have you noticed anything… weird recently?”

Dustin shrugs. “I don’t know, like with a person? Or just in general?”

Will fidgets in his desk chair, trying to choose his words carefully. Dustin would maybe believe him if he made an outright ghost allegation, but there’s no way to tell for sure. 

“Not a person… well- maybe. Something… paranormal?” Dustin drops his phone, sits up straight, and turns towards Will, not even batting an eye when the phone thumps against the floor the floor, certainly disturbing the poor sophomores below them.

“Is this about the ghost?” he asks, eyes wide. Will inhales sharply and studies Dustin’s expression. Has he seen a ghost? Has he seen something to indicate the existence of a ghost? Is he making a joke? Will studies him harder. He looks dead serious.

“Do you think there’s a ghost?” Will asks finally. Dustin scoffs.

“Of course there is. There’s basically no way this place isn’t haunted. There seems to be some sort of poltergeist running—floating?—around and pulling small pranks. It might be targeting our friend group, from what I’ve noticed.”

“Should we tell the others? Mike has noticed stuff too.” Dustin pulls out his phone and starts typing. 

“Yes. I think if you two have been noticing it as well, I’m not going crazy,” Dustin says, flipping into planning mode. “We should investigate this. All of us. That’s always the first step in a supernatural mystery movie. We have to gather data, get our friends in on it.” Will chuckles a little. Sure, there’s maybe something going on, but Will is pretty sure it isn’t movie level. It should be fun though, playing Hardy Boys. Will’s phone buzzes, and he checks it to find a text from Dustin in the group chat. It reads:

Code Red! Emergency meeting by the tree!

He certainly has a flair for the dramatic. 

Within minutes, everyone has reacted with an exclamation point or a thumbs up. Dustin scrambles upwards and bolts out the door.

“Dustin!” Will calls. “Your shoes!” Dustin appears back in the doorway, grabbing his crocs and running away again while hopping to put them on. Will stands up and follows after him, much slower, but still attempting to keep up.

They enter the courtyard to see Max and El already standing at the tree.

“Why are you wearing a tennis skirt?” Will asks, inspecting El’s apparent tennis apparel. 

“We were playing tennis!” she answers. 

“Neither of you play tennis,” Dustin says pointedly.

Max rolls her eyes and smiles, “No, but Victoria does.” El glares at Max and elbows her. Will narrows his eyes and studies El’s expression, then it clicks. 

“Is that the girl from your  ceramics class you were talking to at the club fair?” El turns pink, which is a definitive yes. 

“Let’s talk about this later,” she responds. “What was the code red about?” 

“Well, we have to wait for Lucas and Mike,” says Dustin.” Right on cue, Will notices Mike and Lucas quickly coming around the tennis courts, supposedly from the gym. Mike has his hair up in a sad little man bun and is sweating like a pig. 

“Okay so suddenly everyone is playing sports,” Dustin remarks once Mike and Lucas are within earshot. 

“I feel lazy,” adds Will. 

“I was bored so Lucas volunteered to take me through his workout routine for fun,” Mike says, obviously out of breath. “It was not fun.” The group immediately starts cracking jokes as Lucas recounts the events of the last two hours.

“Guys!” Dustin reminds. “Code red!” Everyone collectively quiets down and gives their attention to Dustin, waiting for him to explain. “We have a ghost,” he says simply. Everyone stares at Dustin, except for Mike, who is staring directly at Will. 

“Did you tell him?” Mike asks Will. He shrugs. 

“Yeah, but he already suspected it.”

“The school has been haunted for years. Obviously,” Dustin explains. He’s in storytelling mode. Will can tell. It’s like they’ve entered a new side quest in their D&D campaign.“But recently, Will has been being targeted, and so has Mike, and so has our whole friend group. I don’t think the school is just casually haunted. I think there’s actually something going on here.” Will chews on the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t expecting Dustin to take this so seriously. Maybe if he’d known, he wouldn’t have suggested the supernatural. Will doesn’t find it likely that anything sinister is going on, especially since it’s a bunch of harmless pranks.

“Okay,” El says after a short silence. “What should we do about it? Does this ghost have bad intentions? Who even is it anyway?”

“Wasn’t there a student who died here?” Max chimes in.

“I thought it was two?” says Lucas. 

“Do we think there are two ghosts here?” Dustin asks. Will looks at Mike, who has been quite silent this whole time.

“My grandfather knew the dead student,” Mike blurts. “-or students. I don’t really remember, but he said something about it. Some sort of freak accident. Apparently it was big news at the time but no one talks about it anymore.” The whole group goes silent, possibly wondering how they didn’t know about this freak accident before. 

“I have a really silly idea,” El announces. “What if we use a ouija board? To talk to the ghost?” Will fights the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, maybe ghosts are real, but he still doesn’t believe that ouija boards actually work. 

“It’s worth a shot,” Dustin shrugs. “Plus it’s getting dark. We could have a seance or something.” Lucas and Max agree, but Mike looks uncomfortable. 

“I think I’ll go to the library instead. If the story was big news, there’s surely something about it in an old school newspaper or whatever.” Mike readjusts his shoulders and looks at the group. “If anyone wants to come with me…” he trails off.

El wraps her arm around Will. “Well, Will is banned from seances because he tries to explain the so-called ‘science’ behind it just because he doesn’t believe. He can go with you!” Will glares at El. He would rather keep his mouth shut during a stupid seance than go on a mission with Mike alone. He thinks they would probably murder each other. Then they would both be ghosts.

Dustin claps his hands together. “Perfect! Let’s get moving.” 

“But the library is closed this time of day,” Max points out. Everyone begrudgingly agrees, and Will tries to think up a new course of action.

“I can pick the lock,” Mike answers, and everyone stares at him for a second. Will tries to figure out why and how Mike would know how to do that, but ultimately gives up on that mystery.

“..Right, okay,” Dustin continues. “So, you two will sneak into the library, and the rest of us will try to ouija this ghost into talking.”

“It’s like a fun mystery!” El says, and Max and Lucas nod in agreement. Mike and Will exchange a worried glance. Do their friends actually believe?

~•~

“Remind me what we’re doing here?” Will grumbles, pushing the enormous library door closed with a dull thud, still reeling from Mike’s actual ability to pick a lock. He didn’t use a Bobbi pin, like Will expected, but instead what looks like a straightened paper clip and a special hook. 

This library seems mystical and beautiful during the day, perfectly fitting the aesthetic that Will loves so dearly in this school, but it feels haunted during the night, like something will jump out and steal him away at any moment to some nightmare dungeon. Moonlight streams in through the large stained glass windows near the ceiling on the far wall, coating the entire massive room in a rainbow hued glow. The dark wood shelves come to life as the gibbous moon covers them in light. Will pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, disrupting the color but allowing him to actually see the books.

“We’re here for a book, any book that can help us figure this whole… thing out,” Mike says, running his fingers along the edges of the dusty shelves, creating wavy lines on the wood. 

“Very specific,” Will sighs, skimming shelves to figure out what section they’re in. If only he remembered what the numbers mean. He seems to be in the astronomy area, and the numbers are in the 520s, but that doesn’t help at all.

Mike grabs his wrist and pulls him down the aisle. “Dude, come on,” Mike says, and before Will can get annoyed at him for calling him dude, he continues. “We need to go way more to the right.” How does he know that?

“Do you know the Dewey decimal system?” Will gawks. Mike shrugs and Will has a mental moment of wondering who the hell this guy is, before shooting back an “I didn’t know you could read.” Mike just shakes his head and points down the aisle of shelves they’ve arrived at. 

“This is the low 800s, aka most general literature. Look in this aisle,” Mike demands matter-of-factly. Will mumbles something about Mike being bossy, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he moves to the other side of the shelf, probably to some other relevant section.

Will resigns to doing as Mike said, even though just thinking that sentence makes him want to throw up. If there’s one annoying thing about Mike Wheeler, it’s how often he’s right (though no one would ever catch him saying that out loud). If there’s two annoying things about Mike Wheeler, it would be that, and how smug he is about it. That part, he would say directly to Mike’s face. 

While Will scans the titles of the 806 books, he notices that through the shelf, Mike is sitting cross-legged on the floor, face practically becoming one with the book he’s holding.

“Find some interesting pictures there buddy?” Will jokes. Mike scowls and mumbles something about it being dark before sticking his face back in the book. Will squints at the title of the book: “How to Stanza,” a book title Will doesn’t even understand the meaning of.

“Are you sure that’s relevant to what we’re doing? Or are you just using this as an excuse to do homework?” he questions. Mike sighs and shuts the book, placing it in the empty gap on the shelf where he had found it. 

Will returns to his section, skimming the titles for anything relevant. He notices an old looking book called “American Boarding Schools.” It has 727 on it, and was obviously put in the wrong spot. Plucking it off the shelf, he skims the table of contents until he gets to “M,” surprised to find Melville right where it should be. Will turns to page 159, seeing a sepia tinted monochrome picture of the Melville/Dickinson front gates. He reads the overview, not finding anything he didn’t already know, before moving on to history. Maybe a news story about a dead student, maybe a vicious killer from before their time. 

Nothing. 

However, on the opposite page, a birds eye architectural drawing of the campus is shown. Will notices that the gymnasium is differently oriented, and what seems to be a different shape. It’s completely rectangular, unlike the gym as Will knows it with its bump-outs for lockers and other separate rooms. 

“Mike?” he hears himself say. 

“Yeah?” Mike answers.

“Sorry, this is like, totally off topic, but when was the gym built?” 

“Same time as the school, I’d assume.” Right, Will thinks. 

“Nevermind then,” he answers, turning the page to look for something else.

“No, what is it?” Mike asks, poking his head around the shelf like a cartoon character.

“I don't know,” Will admits as Mike sits down next to him on the floor; “I just thought it was weird that this gym is completely different from ours.” He points to the illustration, and Mike’s brow furrows. 

“Did they rebuild it or something?” mumbles Mike, and Will shrugs. 

“Maybe, I mean this book is from…” he flips back to the inside cover page, keeping his place with his thumb, "Nineteen forty-nine, so there would have been plenty of time before we were even born.” Mike nods and Will notices him chewing the skin on his lower lip. 

“The memorial fountain isn’t here either, maybe the two are connected?” Will guesses. Mike nods again.

“Good find. We should take a picture of that page.” Mike pulls out his phone and snaps a photo. 

“You mentioned school newspapers, right?” Will asks as he closes the book and returns it to its rightful location. “Should we look for those? Or yearbooks? Or, you know, Google?” How has no one used the internet yet? It’s the twenty-first century.

“I went down an internet rabbit hole already. There’s basically nothing about this school from before nineteen eighty. My guess is something happened before then.”

“Well maybe we could find some yearbooks and school newspapers, do you know where those are?” Will asks. Mike thinks for a moment, furrowing his brow. Will wants to reach out and press the wrinkles on his forehead flat, but he doesn’t dare.

“I think they are near the back, by the study tables,” answers Mike. The two begin heading towards the study tables, and Will watches as the numbers decrease in value. Mike walks slightly ahead of Will, and Will keeps noticing that he looks back occasionally, possibly checking that Will is still there. 

“Why didn’t you want to do the ouija board?”

“I like the library,” Mike grumbles, avoiding eye contact. “Plus it’s dumb.” Will studies Mike’s body language. Something is…off.

“Are you scared of it?” Will says finally.

“No!” Mike answers a little too quickly. 

“You are! You’re scared of ghosts!”

“I’m not scared of ghosts,” Mike snaps, and Will backs off. “I don’t like ouija boards. They freak me out.”

“It’s not real, you know. It’s psychological. We subconsciously move the planchette,” Will explains. Last time he explained that, El kicked them out of the seance and he was never allowed back. 

“Are you still sure about that? With all of this?” Mike asks, tone small and unsure. Will doesn’t say anything. Will is still fifty-fifty on the ghost being a real thing. It could be a string of weird coincidences, or a student playing a prank, or it could be a ghost. He wants proof first. 

They find the yearbooks right where Mike said, lined up by year on tall shelves in the corner, organized chronologically. 

“Okay, before the eighties. When did your grandfather go here?” Will asks.

“Fifties? Sixties? Not sure.” 

The two crouch down and use their phone flashlights to skim the years on the spine. 

“I’ll take fifty to fifty one, you take the next year,” Will says. 

“Okay bossy,” Mike scoffs.

“Says you,” retorts Will.

They pluck their respective books off the shelf and begin flipping pages. Will searches the event section, the back, and the front for any news of a dead student. He also checks all of the W names for Mike’s grandfather. 

“Don’t forget to check for your grandpa,” Will reminds, “he’s on your dad’s side, right?” Mike nods.

“Good thinking.” Mike turns to the end of the Melville freshman section first. “Here he is! Joseph Wheeler.” Will peers over at Mike’s finger on the page. A boy with neatly gelled short dark hair appears in a black and white box, smiling the Mike Wheeler smile. He is wearing the classic Melville suit and tie, and if Will squints, he looks like a slightly younger Mike with short hair. 

“I see the resemblance,” Will comments, and Mike chuckles in agreement.

“Genetics, huh.” Will puts his yearbook back and reaches for Joseph’s sophomore yearbook: fifty-two to fifty-three. Mike grabs fifty-three to fifty-four. They both skim in silence and find nothing, before reaching for the fifty-four to fifty-five edition, grabbing it at the exact same time. 

“I’ve got it,” Will says casually. 

“No it’s fine,” Mike replies in a passive aggressive tone.

“I touched it first.”

“It’s my grandpa.” They glare at each other, and Will senses another stupid fight, which he really wants to partake in, but now is not the time. Will lets go of the yearbook. Mike sighs and takes it, generously placing it right between them without uttering a single snarky remark. They scan the table of contents, finding the event section. 

Nothing. 

They skim through the senior superlatives, which named Mike’s grandpa “most likely to live forever,” and find an “In Memoriam” page directly after.

“In loving memory of Henry and Alice Creel, two students whose lives were lost in the tragic gymnasium fire of January 1955,” Mike reads aloud. “So there were two…” 

“Does this mean there are two ghosts?” Will asks, and Mike shrugs. Will stares at the children, both with light hair and a light complexion, staring at them. Henry is barely smiling in his photo, but Alice’s teeth shine bright off the page. 

“God, they look like twins,” Mike gapes. 

“They aren’t,” Will says, a little shocked himself. “She was in the class of fifty-six.” 

“It says there was a fire in the gym. That must be why it looks different now. It was rebuilt after it burned down.” 

“That explains the book.”

“And the fountain! It’s a memorial fountain, remember? For Alice!”

“Right!” The two look, each other with surprise at their new discovery. Mike checks his phone.

“Shit, it’s late,” he says. Mike is right, it’s nearing midnight, which is when they do dorm checks. 

“We’ll reconvene later, I guess,” says Will, and the two put back the books and make their way back to the dorms as silently as possible.

~•~

Today is October thirteenth and Mike is being weird, Will notices. Weirder than normal. There’s Mike-weird, and then there's this. During biology, he doesn't once make a joke that no one laughs at, and when Will asks to borrow an eraser, Mike gives it to him without saying a word.

On his way to lunch, Will decides to ask Dustin about Mike’s odd behavior. After all, if anyone knows, it’s him.

“Um, Dustin?” Will asks as they’re walking from math class together. 

“What’s up dude?” Dustin asks nonchalantly. Will sticks his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling very awkward.

“Uh, do you know what’s going on with Mike?” he asks. “He’s acting differently today.” Dustin stops suddenly, grabbing Will’s arm, signaling for him to stop too. Will turns to face a very serious looking Dustin.

“Will,” Dustin starts, speaking slowly, “please don’t tease Mike today. Today is never a good day for him, and I need you to understand there’s nothing to be done about it. Okay?” This is the most serious Will has ever seen Dustin, so he simply nods. He really wants to ask what Dustin means by “never a good day.” Does this happen all the time? What’s so specific about today? Hopefully he’ll find out, and if not, Will doesn’t really care, it’s not like it’s his problem.

By the time they get to lunch, the rest of the group is already there, including Mike, who sits at the edge of the table, silently writing something in a notebook. Everyone else obviously got the “don’t talk to Mike” memo, because they are casually engaging in a conversation about… sharks?

“Max, sharks like, never attack. That’s just the media trying to make them seem scarier than they are,” El explains to a very unconvinced Max. 

“It’s like how they told people the bald eagle makes a different sound than it actually does,” Dustin jumps in, as if he’s been here for the whole conversation. 

“Wait what? What do you mean?” Lucas asks, clearly unaware of this fact that Will had only found out himself a month ago (thanks to Dustin himself). Dustin starts to explain and Will walks over to the lunch line. As he gets closer and closer to the buffet style food serving area, he takes notice of the food choices for today. Will scrunches his nose; you’d think a private school would have better quality food than this. 

Will chooses a slightly soggy ham and cheese sandwich, along with some pre packaged apples and a bag of potato chips, before walking back to the table. By now, the conversation has switched to a more normal—albeit more boring—topic: parents day. Mike has also now  put in earbuds even though they’re not allowed. 

“I hear this year they’re doing a haunted house in the arts building because Halloween is coming up,” El says excitedly. If there’s one thing El loves, it’s Halloween. If there’s two things El loves, it’s Halloween and Christmas. Mostly because Christmas goes hand in hand with friends and family, but also because she loves big holidays. 

“I won’t be surprised if they charge for admission though,” Lucas counters, causing both El and Max to frown, “or at least encourage donations,” he adds, causing Max to shrug. 

“No one wants money more than rich people,” Max concedes. 

“You two do realize that both of you can afford to be here,” Will says, pointing his sandwich at Max and Lucas. He says it lightheartedly, obviously, but it’s true. Max and Lucas share a look of defeat and nod. 

Easy conversation continues about the day to come. Classes will end an hour early, and parents will arrive to see their children, talk to teachers, and participate in different activities. Depending on how close families live, they can choose to stay for dinner. 

Considering his family lives in Indiana, his mom and Hopper decided to make a road trip out of it. They left about a week ago and his mom has been sending selfies at every state border they passed and every hotel they stayed at. She had texted him earlier that day with a selfie with the “Welcome To Vermont” sign. This is the second year they’ve done this, but Jonathan isn’t with them this year. He was transferring colleges and in the meantime he’s taking some online classes, but this year he is officially at his new school in Colorado. Will’s glad for him, he seemed really unhappy at his previous school, and he seems to be adapting well at whatever new college he’s at. 

The loud, echoey bell rings and snaps Will out of his thoughts. Just a few more hours before he sees his family. 

“Shakespeare played a major role in English as we know it today,” Keller explains enthusiastically. Will tries to pay attention, truly, but he can’t help but notice Mike staring down at his desk. Mike loves this class, and Shakespeare is like, his favorite historical dude ever. You’d think he’d be more enthused about their current unit on the guy. 

“He invented many everyday words we still use that were considered odd at the time,” the professor continues. “Can anyone tell me one of those words?” Suddenly, Mike is very interested in the current conversation, and his hand shoots up. Will simply rolls his eyes. Of course he knows this.

“Yes, Mr. Wheeler, what is a word that Shakespeare invented?” Keller asks, and Mike scowls a bit for some reason, but answers anyway. 

“Uncomfortable, lonely, and lackluster, to name a few.” Damn. He really picked the three names for bad feelings. He could’ve just said bandit. Obviously Mike is upset, but he’s being a little overdramatic; yet another hardly-bearable Mike Wheeler trait. 

“Good job Mr. Wheeler,” the professor congratulates. “Shakespeare invented many words, though some he is credited with have been found in earlier sources, so the following list is simply composed of words that he was credited with.” With that, the professor begins writing words on the board and saying them out loud. Mike is now paying attention, but still seems out of it, not that Will cares, obviously. He’s simply taking notice of the people around him. He’s being observant.

An hour and a half later, classes end early and the parents start seeping in through the gates and into the school and courtyard. Will and El sit on a bench near the entrance to the Melville dorms waiting for their mom and Hopper to arrive. El puts on her headphones, presumably to listen to music. Will pulls out the book he is currently reading. 

About ten to fifteen minutes later, Will sees Mike walking out of the classroom building with what can be assumed to be his parents.

“Seriously Michael, it’s time to apply yourself,” the man—presumably Mike’s dad—says. He is a grumpy looking man with square glasses and thinning gray and brown hair.  “We aren’t paying your tuition for nothing. A’s are not enough, we need you to go that extra mile. Join a sport. Do some tutoring. What about the chess club?” 

“Your father is right, sweetie,” Mike’s mom says. She has obviously fake blonde hair styled into beach waves, and her whole look exudes ‘wealthy white suburban mom.’ “Everyone gets A’s these days. Colleges want you to stand out, especially the Ivys.”  Will looks at Mike, who although is taller than his father, looks small and weak, shoulders tight and hands shoved into pockets. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters. 

“You know Michael, when I went here, each of my teachers knew me personally. After all, that was what you needed to do if you wanted a letter of recommendation,” his dad continues. Will rolls his eyes. He is starting to understand why today of all days is the one that is always hard for Mike. 

Mike’s dad says something else that can’t quite hear, and then Mike’s mom changes the subject.

“Do you have a girlfriend Michael? We never got to meet that girl you were dating last year.” 

“No mom, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Mike answers monotonously. 

“Good,” his dad says officiously. “You don’t need any distractions. This is the most important academic year in high school. You know-“

“Will! El!” Will hears his mom call. He looks over to see his mom and Hopper approaching, and taps El on the shoulder. She looks up and takes off her headphones, jumping up to embrace her dad. Will walks over to his mom and they hug, and the siblings switch. 

“Good to see you kid,” Hopper greets, patting Will on the back as they release their hug. 

“Oh I missed you both so much,” his mom says, pulling them both in for another hug. Will smiles a smushed smile against his mom. She releases them. 

“Wanna get some food? We were thinking we would go to Denny’s,” Hopper suggests. 

“Yes!” El exclaims, grabbing her bag off the bench.

“Didn’t we just have lunch like… less than two hours ago?” Will asks.

“Yeah, but it’s breakfast food,” El argues, and Will is forced to concede. He didn’t even finish his gross sandwich, so he could still eat. 

The Denny’s is mostly empty, save for a group of construction workers in the corner, all enjoying a tower of waffles each. The family orders, and his mom begins asking questions about their year so far, as if they don’t text and call all the time. El is mostly the one to answer, and Will spaces out. He knows this is the time to be bonding with his family, but there’s this glitch in his head that can only play the earlier conversation over and over again in his head. The way Mike’s dad talked to him, the way his mom went along with it, and the way Mike seemed to cower in his father’s shadow. Mike usually had this semi-confident yet awkward air to him, but all of that was gone within seconds. Will thinks to his own father, and how things would have gone if his mom hadn’t stood up to him and moved out. He thinks about how Jonathan would look the same way next to Lonnie, like a sapling failing to grow in the looming shadow of another tree. 

Will stares at his waffle, half listening to Hopper’s work story, and uses his fork to distribute the syrup equally into each little box, before using his knife and fork to cut the waffle up and eat it. 

El talks about the decoration process of her and Max’s dorm, and Will snaps out of his trance just long enough to share a quick anecdote about art class. 

Will finds himself slipping in and out of the conversation: talking about Dustin, mentioning English class, and briefly complaining about his World History teacher. However, his brain can’t seem to push out the image of Mike with his dad out of his head. 

~•~

Will can’t sleep. Of course he can’t, his brain is one of those brains that only turns off when it’s least convenient. He stares through the darkness at the ceiling, popcorned into a weird spiral pattern like one of those hypnosis wheels.

He sighs and rolls out of bed, careful to not wake the snoring mass a few feet away that is called Dustin Henderson. Will slips on his sweater and shoes, grabs his sketchbook, pencil case, and phone, and slips out of the room, carefully closing the door before letting the knob turn. 

The hallways of the dorm buildings are a lot smaller than those in the main school, but they’re daunting nonetheless. In the dark, it feels like a haunted mansion, with hallways that go on for miles. The hallway provides very little light except for a few scattered sconces on the walls, and Will wouldn’t dare attempt to find the switch for the florescents. There’s no carpet, so the wooden floors creak under most movement, making Will pray no one else is awake at this hour. 

Will swears the creaking happens more often than usual, and he pauses for a second. Just like he feared, the creaking pauses later than he does. 

Will is being followed. 

He dares to look behind him and- nothing. Of course. Just an empty hallway. 

Will keeps walking, not daring to look behind him until he gets outside for fear of what he might find. Is it the ghost? He reaches the door at the end of the hall, steps into the staircase, and spins around. 

“Mike?” Will finds himself saying, and there he is, dressed in Northwestern University hoodie and flannel pajama pants. Mike smiles sheepishly and Will sighs. “Were you following me?” He questions, stepping closer to Mike in an attempt to be menacing. It doesn’t seem to work. Hell, Mike seems to be blushing, most likely in embarrassment that he got caught. 

“Um… no?” Mike answers unconvincingly, turning from pink to red. He shoves past Will, down the stairs, and into the courtyard. Will spins around once again and hurries to catch him. “I was just going for a walk and you happened to be here!” Mike explains defensively while still walking away. Will follows after him, not satisfied with this answer. 

“You were following me! You hid when I heard you!” Will says. Mike turns around and sighs, running his fingers through his annoyingly soft looking hair. 

“So maybe I was following you,” Mike admits, “but I was just curious why you were out and about in the middle of the night so I decided to see what you were doing. I’m nosy, what can I say?” He shrugs with that last sentence and Will lets out an exasperated sigh, giving in to Mike’s creepy (but kind of sweet) explanation. 

Will continues into the night and towards the meeting tree before pausing, and for some reason unknown to him blurts out: “I was going to sit by the tree and draw for a bit. Do you want to join me?” Mike looks surprised at that sentence, but his gaze softens and he simply nods, following Will, once again, to the tree. The two sit a few feet apart with their backs against the tree, subconsciously waiting for the other to say something first. 

As per usual, this person is Mike. 

“So, any reason why you couldn’t sleep? Or is it just one of those nights?” Mike asks, scooting the slightest bit closer. Because of this, Will wants to be annoyed, but isn’t. This has been happening occasionally since joining The Party, and Will has decided to dub it: “The Mike Wheeler Effect.” The Mike Wheeler Effect is also the reason why Will decides to actually share what he’s feeling.

“Kind of both,” Will answers truthfully. “I mean, it’s for a reason, but I’m not really sure what that reason is.” Will knows he’s about to start rambling, but goes on anyway. “Something feels… I don't know, off? Recently and in general, with all this stuff, but especially tonight. I know there’s the whole ghost thing or whatever, but I think it goes deeper than we realize. Who knows, maybe I’m crazy and it’s just from tonight’s dinner but it’s like this gut feeling that something bad is going to happen.” When Will finishes, he turns to Mike,  who’s staring directly at him.

“Will,” Mike says in the softest, most genuine voice Will has probably ever heard, “I don’t think you’re crazy. Maybe it’s just anxiety, maybe there really is a ghost. Whatever it is, I believe you.” That last sentence itself is enough to make Will cry, but he holds in his tears. 

“Oh,” Will whispers.

“Actually,” Mike says in a hushed tone, “I think I’m going a bit crazy too. I was sleeping before, but I woke up and saw this… figure at the foot of my bed. I blinked, and it was gone. I was so freaked out but couldn’t turn on the light because, y’know, roommate, so I put on my shoes and left. Then I saw you and… here we are.” Will’s eyes widen.

“Do you think it’s the ghost?” Will gapes. Mike shrugs.

“Something like that. I’m not sure if I believe in it. Maybe it was just the shadows or something, but it was creepy as fuck,” Mike explains.

Definitely creepy as fuck. Will thinks.

“Well, if you go missing, I know what to tell the cops,” Will jokes. Mike laughs. It’s quiet and raspy but seems genuine. 

“I think if I went missing, you and our friends would be the only ones to notice,” Mike says, and that sad glimmer reappears in his eyes from earlier today. 

“Huh? What about your parents?” Will asks. Mike shakes his head. 

“I’m surprised they even came today at all. For starters, they live all the way back in Michigan, but it’s not like they even pay attention to me there,” Mike explains. Will thinks back to what he overheard earlier today. He always thought Mike had this picture perfect life with a suburban mansion and elaborate family vacations every summer. That’s not to say that he doesn’t, but it seems like he doesn’t really get along with his parents. 

“Midwestern parents can be like that. I got lucky with my mom,” Will says. Mike nods thoughtfully.

“What about your dad?” he asks. 

“Piece of shit.”

“At least we’ve got that in common,” Mike chuckles. Will studies his face in the darkness, the only illumination being the lantern style street lights scattered around the courtyard. There's a forced half smile on his face, and he looks like he’s trying not to cry.

“Hey,” Will says softly, scooting a little closer so there’s only a few inches between them, “are you okay?” The question is a tricky one, Will knows that, but hopefully it’s one that Mike is willing to answer. 

“I-“ he starts, but he seems to choke on his words, and tears start pouring down his face before he can try to speak again. Will just watches as Mike leans over and stuffs his face into Will’s shoulder. “Do you hate me?” His muffled voice croaks. Will reaches up to hold Mike’s head. Fuck, his hair is soft. 

“What? No, of course I don’t,” Will answers softly. He means it. Sure, Mike is annoying and privileged and doesn’t know when to shut up, but Will doesn’t think he ever hated him. He doesn’t even dislike Mike all that much anymore. “I think if I hated you, I wouldn’t be letting you cry on my shoulder right now.” Mike laughs. It’s short and not very genuine, but he doesn’t seem to be crying anymore. 

They sit in silence for a while, the only sound being their breathing and the far away sound of cars in the town outside the gates. The two of them, inside the gates, protected. Their own little haven of flowy darkness. Will feels frozen with Mike’s face shoved into his shoulder, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Will questions if he should move his hand or not. He hasn’t really comforted someone he doesn’t really like before. But also, he and Mike are maybe friends now? 

After a few minutes, Mike sits up, wiping his face with the heel of his hand. “God, sorry about that,” he says through a sniffly chuckle. “I’ve had a day.” 

“Hey, it’s okay. You know, I…” Will takes a deep breath, working up the courage to say the next sentence. Mike is looking at him, waiting for him to continue. “I’m embarrassed. I was wrong about you.” 

Mike cocks his head in confusion, obviously not expecting what Will said. “What?”

“I was rude to you when we first met. I… I didn’t have any friends and I thought you were another stuck up snobby rich guy. You had nice things and you looked like you belonged here, so when you talked to me, I thought you were being fake.” Will turns to look at Mike again. “I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

“You know,” Mike starts, “I couldn’t tell you were here on a scholarship. You were just new, and I could tell you needed someone to talk to. I’m not… the best at first impressions, so I probably did come off as a little obnoxious. I also totally matched your energy when you started being rude, so…”

Will nods, and the conversation lulls. He resumes his drawing that he barely started. Mike pulls out a pocket sized leather bound journal and pen, and begins writing. Will peaks over at the page, but the writing is so small and messy that he can’t make out a single word in the darkness. Mike’s pen pauses suddenly mid-word.

“Sorry, hang on,” Mike says, interrupting the calm silence. “You didn’t become friends with me because you thought I was snobby, but a week later you became besties with Anthony Braden? Explain that to me.” Will sighs.

“Well, I guess I became friends with him by default,” he explains. 

“What do you mean?” asks Mike.

“I- god I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I was really into his friend… Levi,” Will answers, cringing. 

“Oh my god- Levi Fenwick? That asshole?” Mike gapes. Will hides his face in his hands and groans. “You know he’s like, the douchey-est douche, right?” Mike continues.

“I know that now, thanks,” Will grumbles through his hands. “I learned it the hard way.” Mike becomes silent.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m just not really a fan of talking about it. El doesn’t even know the full story yet.” 

“You don’t have to share…” Mike says, “but I’m here if you do.” Will considers Mike’s offer. Mike was just super vulnerable about his dad after all…

“Well,” he starts, “I’m from this little town in Indiana called Hawkins, right? Everyone knows everyone. I always knew I was queer, and the town isn’t exactly living in the twenty-first century in that department.” He checks Mike’s expressions, making sure he’s not going to be weird about Will being gay. He seems fine, so Will continues. “Anyway, I got to Melville, where there’s more kids from more urban environments, so people are like, ten percent less bigoted. Within the first couple of days I met Levi Fenwick, and he’s hot. I mean, you have eyes right? You see it.” 

Mike seems to consider for a moment, before agreeing.

“We became friends, and I’m bad at interpreting flirting, but he was definitely flirting. Blah blah blah we had this weird situationship and then in August he completely ghosted me.” When Will is done, he assesses Mike, who seems to be waiting for more details. Will’s not sure he wants Mike to know all the details yet, especially since El doesn’t even know this much. He’s not even completely sure why he’s sharing all of this with Mike at all.

“That sucks dude, I’m sorry. I’m surprised Levi isn’t homophobic, I totally thought he was,” Mike replies. Will shrugs, feeling his eyes burn a little from talking about the subject.

“It’s complicated.”

“I get that. Detroit is sort of chill? But my dad isn’t really… well, he isn’t totally homophobic, but he’s… um… weird about it. I think that set back my ‘self discovery’ a little for sure,” Mike says. 

“Sorry about your parents by the way,” says Will, thinking back once again to the conversation he overheard.

“Yeah, my mom is fine, she’s just kind of a pushover. Maybe that’s why she’s still married to my dad. Maybe she does it because she thinks it will be better for my sisters and I.” 

“Believe me, it was definitely better for me to not live with my dad,” Will scoffs. Every situation is different, but if Will’s parents were still together, he would probably be an entirely different person.

 Mike nods and comfortable silence follows. Well, comfortable for Will. Mike looks like he’s about to jump out of his own skin.

“Do you… wanna take a walk or something?” Will asks. Mike darts up from his slumped position, sitting up as straight as possible.

“Please.” Mike hops to his feet and holds out his hand to Will, who takes it and follows. Side by side, the two begin to wander around the campus, navigating the dark with only a soft glow. 

“We have to be quiet though,” Will says in a hushed tone. “We don’t want anyone hearing us.” 

A cool breeze passes Will’s face, and he takes in the view of the campus that surrounds them.

“It really is beautiful,” Mike sighs. Will cocks his head.

“Hm?”

“The campus. At night.”

Mike is right. Every area around them is bathed in a golden light, the sort of glow that makes everything look like an old sepia photograph. 

“It’s like… a room with translucent white curtains during sunset,” Mike says. 

“Poetic.”

“Well, you know me,” Mike smirks. Will nods and laughs a little, then reconsiders.

“No I don’t,” he says.

“What?”

“We don’t really know each other. I mean, we met over a year ago, but I barely know anything about you. I bet you don’t know much about me either,” Will explains. Mike frowns. 

“We know things about each other. Where am I from?” challenges Mike.

“Michigan, right? I think you said the city earlier…” Will is trying his hardest to remember, but he and Mike haven’t ever talked much except for pointless bickering. Mike shrugs. 

“What’s my favorite color?” he asks.

“I don’t know, red? What’s mine?”

“My favorite color is blue. How should I know your favorite color?”

“That’s my point exactly!” Will exclaims. Mike nods, and Will notices they’ve stopped walking. Finding themselves at a natural yet awkward pause in front of the fountain, Will sticks his hands into his pockets and hears himself continue talking. “Y’know something weird?”

“What?” Mike prompts.

“I kinda wish I did know more about you.” Will isn’t sure why he said that. He didn’t even know he thought that until it spilled out of his mouth. It’s true, he supposes. Hanging out with Mike the past month or so has been… nice. Granted, it was always in a group, but even this one on one tonight has been surprisingly enjoyable. 

“Maybe you’ll find out sometime,” Mike smiles. Will studies his expression, trying to interpret the undertones of his simple remark. 

“Maybe I will,” Will shoots back, mirroring his smile. Mike coughs awkwardly and looks away, seeming embarrassed.

Weirdo.

A slight breeze once again passes through the courtyard as they begin walking again, creating little circles of leaves spinning off the ground. Jonathan used to call them ‘mini tornados’ and Will thought it meant that one was coming. 

Before they can get much farther, Mike sticks his arm in front of Will’s chest, stopping dead in his tracks. 

“Hold up,” he says, eyes darting around.

“What?”

“I swear I just saw it.” 

Will’s eyes widen and start darting around as well. “The ghost?” Will asks in a hushed tone. Mike nods. Shit. 

The two look behind them and see a dark shadow hovering over the fountain. 

“HOLY-“ Mike yelps, quickly slapping his palm over his mouth. 

The shadow has a distinctly human shape, and almost looks as if it’s standing on the lip of the fountain, arms still at its sides. 

“Uh,” Will starts, deciding to be brave. “Are you Henry or Alice Creel? Or- uh- someone else?” The figure remains still, then suddenly bolts into action, floating directing between Mike and Will’s shoulder, and across the courtyard behind them. As it passes, Will hears the faint whisper: “Henry.”

The two boys spin around once again, watching the ghost travel across the path toward the art building. 

“Let’s follow it,” Mike says suddenly, grabbing Will’s wrist and starting toward the ghost. 

“What?!” Will half-screeches. 

“Come on!”

They chase the ghost—much to Will’s dismay—all the way to the art building. The front wall comes into view, adorned in a mural of trees from a former senior class. 

Just as they catch up to Henry, he disappears into one of the painted trees. 

The two of them stop in their tracks a few feet from the wall to catch their breath. Will grabs his knees like an old person.

“Jesus… Christ!” Mike exclaims. Will approached the tree on the wall. Its spindly branches look pitch black in the night, and Will can hardly make out any of the details. The tree reminds him of a weeping willow, but with extremely sparse leaves. There is a name painted in white on the side of the trunk in straight, clunky letters. Henry Creel.

“Mike, look,” says Will. Mike comes to and stands directly beside Will, squinting at the tree. His eyes widen. Will looks slightly to his left at the adjacent tree; it has lighter branches and a full cover of leaves. Will doesn’t can’t see—nor does he know trees—well enough to identify it, but if he had to guess, it’s a maple tree or an oak tree. There is a prominent knot near the middle of the trunk, and written directly in the center is the name of Mike’s grandfather. “Your grandpa did art class with the ghost- with Henry.”

Will scoots over and Mike scoots with him, studying the tree. 

“Huh. I’ll have to ask him about that.”

“Not now though. We should get back to the dorms,” Will explains, as if it isn’t an obvious statement. Mike nods, and the two turn around, not saying anything as they return, but carefully checking their surroundings for any lingering spirits. 

The hallway is just like it was before, but it feels darker. The darkness inside isn’t unnerving, like it was before, but almost comforting. Will and Mike approach their respective doors, reaching Mike’s first. Mike reaches for the doorknob, but turns back, and without saying anything, slides his back against the wall and sits on the wooden floor. He pats the space next to him, and Will accepts his offer, smirking slightly at Mike’s goofiness. The floor is cold, and creaks slightly under Will’s weight. He cringes, hoping no one was disturbed. 

Will notices Mike digging in his pockets, and he pulls out the black pen he was using earlier. Without any warning, he gently takes hold of Will’s right arm, rolls up his sleeve and touches the ink to his skin. Will looks on, surprised, but not doing anything about it. Whatever Mike is drawing is covered by his hand. Will tries to move his head to see the doodle, but Mike purposefully covers it up with his other hand. Will scowls, mentally twiddling his thumbs while the ink scratches on his skin. When the pen finally lifts off his skin, Will raises his arm to admire the finished product. It appears to be a crudely drawn dolphin, and Will can’t help but snicker at Mike’s attempt. 

Will reaches into his own pocket and pulls out his own pen, uncapping it and grabbing Mike’s hand. Will places Mike’s hand on his own knee—for stability—and begins working. At some point, he offers a trade, and provides his left hand to Mike to doodle away on. Will finishes his jellyfish and adds bubbles right above it, then admires Mike’s stars on the back of his hand. 

“Wow,” Mike utters softly, gazing at the jellyfish. Will blushes.

“Do you like it?” he asks, matching Mike's hushed volume.

“Yeah, it’s cool as hell,” Mike grins.

“I like the stars,” says Will, holding up his hand as if Mike doesn’t know what he’s referring to. Mike smiles wider and Will smiles back, launching them into a lull in the conversation. For the first time tonight, Will has absolutely no idea what to say to Mike. 

“I um…” Mike starts, immediately trailing off. 

Will looks at him. “What?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.” 

Will knows it was something, and if it was any of his other friends talking, he would push harder. But it’s Mike. They aren’t there yet. 

“Okay.”

The lull returns, and Will wants to crawl out of his skin. He wants to stand up and go to bed and skip his brain ahead to morning. Unfortunately, he is stuck; something is keeping him sitting on the floor at Mike’s side, staring at the stars on his hand.

“We need to tell the others about Henry. We haven’t had a chance yet. It’s been two weeks,” Will says all of a sudden, almost too casually for the conversation topic. Mike nods. 

“School is so busy, it’s like the whole ghost thing went on the back burner,” says Mike. Will agrees. The whole group hasn’t hung out together in at least a week, since Lucas got sick and was confined to a single dorm for five days, and they had to cancel their last D&D session because El was at a rescheduled club meeting. 

“We’ll tell them tomorrow.”

At some point, Mike sighs and stands up. “I’m going to bed,” he says.”You too?” He reaches out and offers his jellyfish adorned hand to Will. Will looks up at him and nods, taking Mike’s hand and hoisting himself up. Mike nearly stumbles over, obviously not prepared to support another person’s weight. Will puts his other hand out and steadies Mike’s shoulder.

“Careful there,” Will says, and Mike rights himself.

Mike clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says, turning pink. Will decides it’s time to take his hands off of Mike’s shoulders. Mike turns towards his door and puts his hand on the brass knob. “Goodnight Will,” Mike smiles. Will provides an awkward half smile.

“Goodnight Mike.”