Work Text:
Mike Wheeler opens his eyes.
He finds himself in a comfy waiting room, perched on a sofa. He looks around curiously. He doesn’t know how he got here.
He reads the wall in front of him
Welcome!
Everything is fine.
and is reassured. Everything is fine.
He sits for a minute longer, wondering where on Earth this is. He finds himself feeling strangely calm.
“Mike?”
Someone emerges from the doorway— a tall guy with curly hair and a cap, clutching a clipboard. He is dressed smart-casual in a way Mike thinks is friendly.
“Come on in.”
His smile is so warm that Mike can’t help but follow.
The door leads to an office, cosy but bright. Mike looks around at the decor— clean white table and two matching chairs, one of which he settles into. There are houseplants everywhere, adding serene green tones to the aura of the room.
“Hi Mike. I’m Dustin.” He flips the page over on his clipboard, his smile not wavering for a moment. “How are you?”
“I’m…good. Thanks.” Mike replies. He thinks for a moment, before deciding to ask. “One question. Where am I, who are you, and what’s going on?”
Dustin chuckles softly, glancing down at the clipboard for a moment. “Right. You, Mike Wheeler, are dead. Your life on Earth has ended and you have passed through the curiosity door into the next phase of your existence.”
Mike stares at him for a moment, then blinks. Blinks again. “Okay.”
Dustin purses his lips and leans forwards over the table, as if waiting for Mike to speak.
“I have some more questions.” Mike fiddles with the sleeve of his jacket.
“As I thought.”
“How did I die?” Mike glances up at Dustin for a moment, before returning his eyes to his sleeve. He fears his death may have been…embarrassing. Looking on the rest of his life. “I don’t remember.”
“Ah.” Dustin flicks back to the first page of the clipboard. “In cases of traumatic or sudden death, we erase the memory. It’s for your own good.” His eyes pierce the top of Mike’s head. “Are you sure you want to hear?”
Mike looks up and nods, shifting in his chair— which is much less comfortable than a minute ago.
“You were depressed and hanging out in the gay bar you frequented.”
Of course he was.
“You’d had about eight drinks too many, and you’d been flirting with a stranger all night. He gave you his number on a receipt, and the bar was closing so you headed home, your separate ways.”
Mike has no idea where this is going, but he cringes in anticipation.
“You dropped his number while walking home and didn’t realise until you got to your house. In your incredibly drunken state, you decided it would be a good idea to retrace your steps and find this receipt. It was pitch black but you thought you saw it on the road so you…”
Oh no.
“…blindly walked straight into oncoming traffic.”
“Oh boy.” He rubs his face with his hands.
Dustin shakes his head. “No no, that’s not the end. You were hit by a car, but you escaped with minor injuries. The driver got out of the car to check if you were okay and…” Dustin laughs. “I’m sorry. This isn’t funny. It was your ex. You realised this and had a heart attack on the spot. That’s what killed you.”
Classic Mike Wheeler.
Having a heart attack at the sight of his ex.
“I don’t even wanna know which ex it was.” He grumbles, feeling a lot less pleasant than he did before he learned the details of his demise.
“You really don’t. That’s why we erased your memory.” Dustin laughs again. “Sorry.” He straightens his tie. “So unprofessional of me. If it makes you feel better, there have been 927,604 more embarrassing deaths in history.”
Mike scoffs. Sure there had been.
“But you’re in the Good Place. You’re okay now.”
The Good Place.
…Wait. What??
He doesn’t know how he did it, but he ended up on the right side of the afterlife.
“Jane.” Dustin says out of nowhere.
Mike leans forwards and jabs at his chest with his thumb. “Mike.”
“No. Jane.” Dustin points behind Mike to where a woman seems to have spawned out of nowhere.
She is well-dressed and wears a smile like Dustin’s. Her hair is cropped short and wavy.
“Who the funk is that?” He startles. Wait a second... “Who the funk. Funk. Funk! For funk’s sake!”
“You can’t swear in the Good Place.” Jane leans over his shoulder. “Sorry about that.”
“Jane here knows everything in the universe. She’s not a person, not a robot…it’s tricky to explain. But she can get you anything you fancy, whenever you fancy it! Give her a try.” Dustin grins.
Mike sighs, thinking hard about what he’d like most right now, to take him back to that nice feeling from earlier. “I’d like a vodka cranberry.”
She produces one from...nowhere. It appears in her hand with a blip!
“Thanks Jane.” Mike mutters, taking a large swig.
Ahhh. That’s the stuff.
“You’re very welcome.” Jane smiles, disappearing as suddenly as she’d arrived.
“So how did I end up here? In the Good Place?”
Dustin loosens his tie with a clear of his throat. “It’s a lot more straightforward than you think, actually. We work with a points-based system. Any time you do something good on Earth, points are added to your total. Any time you do something not-so-good, they get taken away. But you, Mike, are one of the lucky ones— your total was up there at the top. The cream of the crop!” He stands and moves towards the door.
Mike widens his eyes. He’d been a decent person on Earth, sure, but cream of the crop? That seems unlikely.
He sits there, distant for a minute, trying to picture a show reel of his highest and lowest moments. The lowest are much easier to come up with; the highest are buried deep in his subconscious. He doesn’t know how to find them.
Dustin waits patiently by the door for Mike to snap out of his thoughts.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says kindly, “I’d like to show you around.”
They stroll down a street, clean and fresh. Flowers and fountains adorn the sides as they enter the town square, which is bright and totally new. The late afternoon sun paints soft tones on the cobbles. People are laughing and chatting together like old friends, which makes Mike all warm in the heart. It’s a strange nostalgia…for something he never had.
It looks like paradise, he reflects wistfully. Oh wait. It is paradise. And I belong here.
“So are you like…‘God’?” He asks out loud, without really thinking. “I don’t know why, but I thought you’d be different.”
“I’m not the ‘God’ you’re thinking of. I’m just…a helper.” Dustin grins. “It’s my job to design neighbourhoods like this, for people like you.”
Mike nods, impressed. The attention to detail in this place is admirable: he can see a record store and a small bookshop, his favourite places— besides the bar, of course.
Dustin leads him through the town square to a neat area of grass, with about two hundred seats laid out in rows. Almost all of them are occupied; Dustin points Mike to an empty seat near the back left.
“Enjoy the presentation.”
Mike feels totally dazed and confused, the vodka cranberry sitting strangely in his stomach. So much has happened in the last twenty-five minutes— and he’s barely keeping up.
“Are you okay?” The person next to him asks.
Mike jumps in surprise, turning to face him.
“You seem a bit...”
Distracted.
And who wouldn’t be?…
He is taking in his neighbour’s face in awe…gentle freckles, a kind expression, rose-tinted cheeks, soft brown hair and even softer, browner eyes.
Almost like someone he used to know. Except it’s a total stranger.
“Oh yeah.” Mike laughs, feeling his face redden. He didn’t expect to be crushing in the afterlife. “Just…taking everything in.”
His neighbour laughs. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
Mike puffs out his cheeks and nods. A lot was a wild understatement.
“I’m Will.” He holds out a hand for Mike to shake.
“Mike.” He takes it. “Nice to meet you.” His face flushes even more, his pulse quickening.
If Will notices, it doesn’t seem to bother him. They hold eye contact for a while, still shaking hands. Until Dustin’s voice booms around them and Mike jumps yet again, letting go and swivelling to face the front, where Dustin stands by a podium.
“Welcome!” Dustin cheers. Applause breaks out around them; Mike watches Will’s eyes light up in celebration and claps along with him.
“I hope you’ve had a fantastic first day in the afterlife.” Dustin smiles, leaning forwards on the podium.
Mike sneaks another glance at Will, failing to make it subtle.
Will sends a smirk back to him. “Listen to the boss.” He hisses playfully.
“You are all good people. Your hard work and kindness on Earth paid off, and you have all earned your places here.” Dustin fixes his gaze on Mike, who is still flitting his eyes between Will and the presentation.
He knows from Mike’s file that he’s a hopeless flirt, but this is ridiculous.
He’d better just cut to the chase.
“I know I’ve spoken to you all briefly today, but there is one thing I haven’t mentioned.” He clicks a remote resting on the podium and a video screen springs up behind him.
This is still making Mike flustered.
Why is everything coming out from nowhere??
Dustin clicks the remote once more, craning his neck to read the title, even though he knows what it says.
“Soulmates.”
The presentation moves onto the next slide: a stock image of two people; a cartoon red heart hanging above their heads.
“In the Good Place, you’ll never be lonely. Because your soulmate is here!”
Mike sits bolt upright in his chair.
Someone else listening to this presentation - anyone here - could be his soulmate.
“They’re real, and they’re ready to spend eternity with you. This evening, when you move into your houses, you will meet your soulmates.”
This is…incredible!
Mike spent his whole life looking for love and whoever he’s meant to spend his afterlife with…well, he’s right here in this neighbourhood.
It couldn’t be simpler than that.
“So just listen for your name, come up here when you’re called, and Jane will give you the directions to your house.”
Dustin begins rattling off the names, and Mike is immediately irritated. It’s an alphabetical list, so he’s going to be here for a while. Waiting drives him crazy. All he wants to do is chat to Will, but everyone has fallen into silence.
He is about to break the tension by speaking nonetheless, but—
“Byers, William.”
Great. “B”. Could hardly be further from “W”.
Will stands up and shuffles past, beaming excitedly. “Off to meet my soulmate!”
Mike gives a weak thumbs-up. He has to be supportive for his new friend. Even if he’s secretly salty.
“Catch you later!” Will calls over his shoulder, leaving Mike behind, sincerely hoping he will catch him later.
He waves pathetically as Will takes his directions from Jane and disappears down a quaint little street on the edge of the square.
It’s a mystery where that street leads.
“Wheeler, Michael.”
Finally.
Mike pushes himself up from his chair, unexpectedly nervous. He’s waited for what felt like hours, but…he isn’t ready. He spent the time impatiently twiddling his thumbs, not asking himself the important questions— even if they were irrational.
What if he doesn’t actually like his soulmate? Or his soulmate doesn’t like him?
Ridiculous. Of course you’re going to like each other. You’re going to be in love. Now, go to Jane at the front and—
“Head down that street there.” She smiles. “Your soulmate is waiting.”
He thanks her and turns, breathing deeply. It doesn’t even register in his brain which street it is, he’s so concerned with getting home.
There are lots of gorgeous houses here, terraced and sweet. He glances over all and loves each and every one, loves the closeness and neatness. He wonders which one could be his…because they’re all ideal.
But when he gets to the house at the end of the street, three stories tall and painted woodland green, he just knows it’s his. He can’t explain the feeling, only that it feels more than ideal.
It feels entirely, one hundred percent right.
“You’ve got this, Mike.” He hypes himself up, slapping his arms and shaking his head, staring up at the front door. A golden number 7 is fixed to the centre and he catches his reflection in it. His hair is a mess and his face is drawn out and pale from the waiting. Not attractive at all.
He’s trying to fix it when—
“Mike!”
He starts to speak but no words come out, until he manages to croak…
“Hey Will.”
Soulmates.
Mike wakes up bleary-eyed on the sofa. For a while, he’s confused where he is, why it’s so tranquil and soft, and why the most handsome guy he’s ever seen is humming in his kitchen.
And then he remembers.
He’s in the Good Place.
“Morning!” Will swans over, holding out a plate piled with pancakes drowning in syrup. “You drifted off last night while we were watching TV and I didn’t want to wake you, so I left you here.”
Mike looks down at himself and sees his legs tucked under a blanket. He blushes and thanks Will for the pancakes. None of his boyfriends had ever been so kind to him before.
“Sorry I fell asleep.”
“Don’t worry about it!” Will cuts a piece off his pancake and munches on it slowly. He wants to tell Mike that it was actually very adorable, the way he had drifted.
And also that he has the cutest bedhead. Dark and fluffy like a storm cloud.
“Is there anything you want to do today?” He asks.
Mike chews his lip thoughtfully.
There is one thing he wants to do.
“I want to get to know you.” He blushes even more. “You know…since we’re soulmates.”
Will sets his plate down on the coffee table and eyes Mike curiously. “Sure.” He curls his lip into a playful smile. “That sounds like fun.”
Mike grins, his expression glittering. “It’s a date.”
“It’s a date.”
They sit in the town square, outside a cute café, opposite sides of a table so small their knees are touching. Neither guy moves: it’s nice to be close.
“So what did you do for a living on Earth?” Mike asks, stirring his iced coffee. He wants to know everything.
“I was a teacher.” Will laughs. “An art teacher, actually.”
Mike widens his eyes.
An artist.
How attractive.
“Woah.” Mike breathes, genuinely in awe. He worries that he sounds sarcastic, but Will doesn’t seem to mind.
“How about you?”
Ahh. Mike remembers now. He has to talk about his own life too. Nice as it might be to listen to his soulmate for hours, the conversation had better go both ways.
“I’m, er…I was a professional writer.”
Will widens his eyes.
A writer.
How attractive.
“More like a professional failure, though.” Mike mutters.
“I’m sure you weren’t! What did you write?”
Mike leans back in his chair and sips his coffee. His stormy hair hangs over his face so Will can’t see his eyes as he cringes. “Poetry. Like, really bad poetry.”
“Read me some.” Will’s grin sparkles. “Poetry.”
Mike brushes his hair back and locks eyes with Will so sharply, he’s taken aback.
“Trust me, you do not want to hear my miserable life’s work—”
“Yeah, I do.”
There’s a notebook in the pocket of Mike’s jeans.
It contains everything he’d been working on in the final year of his life.
The cover is worn, the pages are crumbling…and the contents are even more tragic.
Sighing, he drops his eyes, pulls out the book and places it on the table in front of him.
Will pushes his drink aside, excited. The little grey time capsule is soft in his hands. Inside, the handwriting is scratchy and barely legible, in a mysterious way. Like secret notes from eras ago.
“That’s my more recent work.”
It’s definitely interesting. Will thinks as he thoughtfully takes in every page. It means…something.
“Sorry, what’s this word?” He points at a messy scrawl that looks more like a doodle than a word.
Mike leans over the table and screws up his face. “I actually don’t know. It’s all trash, anyway.”
Will closes the book, thumbing the cover. “It’s not trash. Few people could ever do this. It’s proud. It’s emotional.” He smiles widely at his soulmate. “I’m an artist too, I know how hard it is to create something.”
It’s nice to be understood.
“What did you do in your free time? When you weren’t writing.”
“Oh. I, erm, spent a lot of time in the bookshop. And the bar.” Mike laughs. “But I played guitar, too. Actually, I was in—”
“Excuse me?” Someone from the table next to them interrupts, tapping Mike on the shoulder.
He turns his head and forces a smile, displeased by the intrusion. He’d been quite invested in their conversation…even though he was about to bring up the band. Why would he bring up the band??
“You’ve got talent, Mike. You should jam with us.”
“Thanks. But I’m not a real musician. I’m just a writer.”
“Then come write with us. We need all the help we can get.”
“Okay…I will.”
“What- what kind of shit is this??”
“They’re the lyrics I wrote…”
“Jesus. It’s awful. I thought you were a writer?”
“I am! This is some of my best work!”
“I don’t know if you realise this, but we’re not doing this for fun. We’re making a career for ourselves. And if you’re not going to take it seriously, then you should just go.”
“…”
“I mean it, Mike.”
“Don’t do this. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I—”
“Well you did. And I’m done.”
“Please. Mike. You don’t have to be.”
“Yeah, I do. You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”
“This one goes out to my ex.”
“…”
“You know who you are.”
“Hey!” Will is shaking his shoulder. “Are you okay? You zoned out.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” His head spins with regurgitated memories of days he’d much rather forget. “What were you saying?” He asks the guy who’d tried to grab his attention.
“My name’s Lucas. This is Max.” They shake hands and exchange introductions. “I was just asking if you could settle a debate between my soulmate and I.” He reaches across the table and pats the hand of the red-haired woman sat opposite him.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s my soulmate and me.”
Lucas splays his hands out. “This is the issue.”
Will nudges Mike’s foot under the table. “Mike’s a writer.”
“You’re a teacher.” He nudges back.
“An art teacher! I haven’t written actual words since college.”
“How do you do student reports then?”
“I sketch them.”
They laugh together, sputtering over their drinks, forgetting the task at hand until Lucas interrupts— again.
“What sounds better, though? I or me?”
Mike and Will nod firmly, answering at the same time. “Me.”
Lucas slaps his knee. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Thanks for backing me up. I like you two.” Max laughs. “We should hang out sometime.”
Mike’s fizzing with energy. A day into the afterlife and he’s made three friends! As his mom would have said: Way to go, Michael!
“Come to our party tonight.” Lucas smiles. “Big white house by the lake, you can’t miss it.”
“That sounds awesome.” Mike breathes. He never went to parties on Earth— mainly because he had nobody to go with. And nobody to invite him in the first place.
“See you at seven?” Lucas stands, folds his expensive-looking jacket over his arm and holds the other out for Max.
“Seven.” A nod from Will and one back from Lucas as he and Max stroll off home.
They only have to ring the doorbell once, and Max is inviting them in. The atmosphere is bubbly and lavish, everyone dressed up for the occasion. Turns out that in the Good Place, all the clothes you need are just there. And they’re perfect. It makes getting ready a hundred times quicker than on Earth.
“It’s so good to see you again.” Max smiles, clinking her white wine with theirs.
“Your house is stunning.” Will breathes, gazing around the room at the grand piano…across at the marble staircase…up at the chandelier. The glittering candlelight makes everyone sparkle even brighter.
They drink and chat for a while, before Lucas saunters over to join them.
“Mike! Will!” His words are slightly slurred, but he keeps good posture. “Thanks for coming!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Mike smiles. And he means it. He glances over at Will, who is still chatting to Max.
“This reminds me of a party I threw a few years ago.” Lucas sips his drink. “Wine and good times with Travis Kelce, Taylor Swift, Jim Parsons and Todd Spiewak.” He sips again. “Among others.”
“Eclectic.” Mike scrunches his nose up, disbelieving. “Wait, how does this remind you of that?”
Lucas laughs. “I’m Travis, Max’s Taylor, you’re Jim and Will’s Todd! And everyone else is…everyone else.”
“Why, exactly?” Mike is simply entertaining Lucas’ tipsiness.
“Because Max and me,” (he loses a point that time) “are the hottest couple in the afterlife,” Lucas smirks, “and you’re authentic. You’re adorable! Everyone loves you.”
He walks away, patting Mike on the arm as he leaves.
But how can everyone love them when nobody knows them?
The party gets progressively louder and busier, but never loses its edge, even when Lucas throws up in a plant pot. Somehow he makes it look intentional and everyone laughs along— and it’ll only keep getting funnier.
But it makes Mike uncomfortable. The pressing in of everyone around him sets his nerves on high alert, and Will notices pretty quickly.
“We can go home if you want.” He steps in front of Mike, clearing a little space in the crowd for him to breathe, concerned with how he’s feeling. “It’s getting really full in here.”
Mike nods. He should be used to crowds — what with the rockstar’s boyfriend life he loaned for a while — but he much prefers to be able to move without smacking anyone.
Head down, fixed on the tiled floor, he grasps Will’s hand and lets himself be led out of the mansion. It feels like they shuffle past all two hundred people in the neighbourhood on the way to the door. The air outside is fresh and cool, like an ice bath for his brain, melting all the tension away.
“Sorry.” He shifts his hair out of his eyes, planting the hand that isn’t holding Will’s in the pocket of his trousers. “I got a little…” He hesitates, fumbling for the right word.
“Overstimulated.” Turns out Will has the word he was looking for. “You don’t have to apologise. It wasn’t fun in there anymore.”
Mike laughs. “There’s only so many times Lucas can name-drop the Pope in one conversation.”
“But it’s a lot more than you think.”
They decide to take a slight detour and circle the lake for a while before going home, falling naturally into perfect step, hands clasped together swaying between them.
“The music in there was awful.”
“Right? So pretentious.” Mike shudders. “You’d hope they’d know better.”
“You’re into music, then?”
Mike nods, eyes wide. “Big time…”
It was only going to be so long before he mentioned it and he knows that. Even though he would much rather not.
“I was in a band. For a while.” He sniffs.
“That’s awesome. My best friend was in a band.” Will laughs. “They really thought they were going to make it, but…”
Mike doesn’t know what happened to his ex-band, in the end. Are they still going, down on Earth? Do they know about Mike’s…untimely death? Because they sure wouldn’t care.
“The lead singer was a real douchebag.” Will shakes his head. “Arrogant. Selfish. I don’t know how the band put up with him.”
Mike raises an eyebrow. Maybe it was a lead singer thing…(No. That couldn’t be true. He could come up with hundreds of singers who were also good people. And he’d be happy to tell Will all about them, if he asked— he could talk about music for days.) “Where did you say you were from again?”
“I don’t think I did.” Will says. “I was born and grew up in Indiana, then I moved to California.”
Mike splutters in disbelief. “I’m from Indiana too!” But I never left.
“No way!” Will grins. “Whereabouts?”
“A town called Hawkins.”
Will’s jaw drops to the floor.
They stop walking— at precisely the same time.
“You’re telling me we’re from the same tiny town in rural Indiana, we’re the same age, and we never met each other?”
Mike furrows his brow, no longer shocked but concerned. Everyone knew everyone in Hawkins, that was a fact. And he never had many friends, so he was sure he would remember knowing Will. “That’s really weird. Did you go to—”
“Hawkins Middle, then Hawkins High. Then I went to college in California. I got a teaching job out there. It was nice enough; I stayed for a few years, but I came back to Indiana because I missed my best friend. Except I died pretty soon after that.”
“Who was your friend?”
“He was…”
Will looks down at the pavement. He knows all the other details, but why can’t he recall his…best friend?
“I don’t know.” He snaps his head up to look at Mike. “Why don’t I know?”
“But you know he was in a band?…”
“I…” Will’s hands are shaking.
“Hey.” Mike wraps both hands around Will’s. “It’s okay.”
And Will believes it might be, with his handsome soulmate serving as some protector.
“Jane.” Mike summons her with a questioning tone of voice, still doubting how she works.
“Hello.” Jane calls brightly, appearing next to them.
Mike flinches, but contains his fright, which Will finds endearing. He’s trying to be brave to make him feel safer, even though he’s still calming down after the party.
“Why can’t Will remember his best friend from Earth? Do you know anything about him?”
Jane freezes, overwhelmed. An error 429. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information at the moment.”
And then she blips away.
Mike and Will lock eyes, even more confused and concerned than before.
“Let’s…go home and figure this sheet out. This sheet. Not sheet. Sheet.”
“Let me get this straight. Your friend was in a band and you went to school together — in Hawkins — but other than that, you can’t remember anything?” Mike speaks softly and slowly, all the pressure gone from his voice.
They sit on the sofa in front of the TV, which is showing a nostalgic film from the 80s, the blanket from this morning over their legs.
“Yeah.” Will scrubs his face with his hand. “It’s frustrating.”
He can practically see his best friend in front of him now but can’t recall a single detail of his looks.
It’s the world’s most annoying antithesis.
“Dustin said something yesterday, actually.” Mike’s deep eyes darken a shade. “He erased my memory of my death because it was too…embarrassing. I had to ask him to fill me in.”
Will purses his lips. They haven’t talked about their deaths yet.
“Maybe he did the same for you? Maybe something bad or traumatic happened and he didn’t want you to remember?”
“It’s likely.” Will laughs. “I’ve got buckets of unresolved trauma.”
Sheet. What an overshare.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mike suggests gently. He wants to help. He really cares. “I’ve heard it helps.” He rests his hand on top of Will’s.
“Well, my death was traumatic. Except I remember most of it.” He almost shudders, grounded by the feel of Mike’s skin. It’s bumpy and rough — probably from all that guitar playing — but very comforting. “I was driving home from…from this guy’s house. It was stupid. We didn’t even like each other.” He frowns. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I was driving and I definitely shouldn’t have been. It was so dark and I hadn’t slept at all. But there was a guy,”
Mike’s eyes widen in alarm…
“who ran out in front of me.” Will takes a shaky breath. “And I couldn’t stop. I hit him.”
Mike inhales sharply, pressing his fingers (of the hand that wasn’t on Will’s) to his lips.
“I got out of the car to check on him, but I must have stepped too far out or something, because I got hit by someone else.” He sighs. “I didn’t mean to, but I literally hit a pedestrian. I can’t let it bother me though, because I’m in the Good Place!” He smiles a wobbly smile. “And everything is fine. It’s like I keep telling myself…it wasn’t my fault. I mean, it got me killed in the end, too. Not like I benefited.” He continues rambling, but Mike’s still stuck on the first thing.
Oh my God.
He’s laughing, though it really isn’t funny. “That’s insane.”
“Excuse me?” Will pulls his hand away.
“It all makes sense…” Mike stands up, pacing around the living room, “nearly.”
“What makes sense?”
“It was me. The guy who ran out in front of your car. It was me.” He kneels down in front of Will, who is so disturbed he thinks his brain has stopped.
But Mike is thinking about something Dustin said to him when he first arrived.
It was your ex. You realised this and had a heart attack on the spot. That’s what killed you.
So if it was Will’s car that hit him…
then Will was…
his ex.
“HEY DUSTIN!”
Mike throws his office door open and enters in a rage. One hand is balled into a trembling fist and the other holds tight to Will’s.
“We need to talk.”
It feels like the walls are trembling as Mike spits out his angry words.
“Why did you keep this from us? Why did you erase our memories?”
Will can only stare at the desk. His sleep-deprived mistakes had landed them both in this mess. The Good Place wasn’t looking so good after all.
“Look.” Dustin sighs. “There’s a very simple explanation for this. Do you want to know?”
Of course they do.
“Before I tell you…” Dustin claps his hands. A projector flickers to life from above, casting a blue light on the wall they’re facing. “I think I should show you.”
A playground. A swing set.
A little boy swinging alone, absent-mindedly. He can’t be older than four or five.
Another boy. Approaching cautiously from the other side of the playground.
He stretches out his hand.
“I’m Mike. What’s your name?”
The other boy shakes it carefully. He’s never done this before.
“Will.”
“Do you want to be my friend?” He traces circles on the floor with his shoe.
“…Yes.”
A suburban home. A basement.
Two boys watching Ghostbusters together, sharing popcorn and candy.
“I like this film.”
“Me too.”
One boy leans over the other, reaching for his drink.
He slides a little closer on the sofa; their shoulders are touching.
He doesn’t want to move back over.
They stay like that for the rest of the film, and a little while afterwards.
A small-ish high school. A restroom.
Two boys alone— it’s the middle of third period.
“Are we gonna talk about it?”
“Talk about what, Mike?”
“…”
“…”
“Are you being serious? We kissed. We fucking kissed.”
“It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“No! No, it wasn’t a mistake. Will. I don’t regret anything.”
“You don’t have to say—”
He’s interrupted by another kiss. He melts.
A house party. The garden outside.
Moonlight shines off their forgotten drinks. They perch on a wall together, fingers interlinked.
“I’m really sorry you have to go through this. You don’t deserve any of it.”
“…”
“Can I do anything to…help?”
“You’re already helping. Just by being here.”
He rests his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
He’s warm and safe.
“I don’t you to leave.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“So don’t. Stay here. You could live with me.”
“You know I have to leave.”
“Please.” His voice is cracked and desperate. “Don’t leave me here on my own.”
“…”
“…”
“I’m sorry.”
He leaves.
He’s back in Indiana. There’s someone he wants to see.
He knows he’s in a band. So he figures he’ll go to a concert, catch him after.
The way he looks on stage is effortlessly cool. Graceful. Majestic, even.
“Mike!”
“Oh my God.”
He runs over and tackles him in a hug.
“It’s been years. You didn’t call.”
“I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, I—”
“Hey Mike!”
Another guy. Who’s this guy? Oh. The singer.
Sauntering up like he owns the place.
Planting a kiss on Mike’s cheek.
Will wants to hurl.
“WILL! PLEASE LET ME IN! IT’S RAINING AND I’M SORRY AND I LOVE YOU.”
No reply.
He’s not home.
He’s never home anymore.
So Mike heads to the bar.
The montage ends with a click.
Mike and Will are thrown into stunned silence.
They turn to look at each other; their eyes red with tears and full of raw emotion.
“We were…”
“Everything.”
Dustin huffs loudly, breaking the tender moment, thwarting the imminent declarations of love. “You weren’t meant to know any of this.” He steeples his fingers and massages his forehead.
“I still don’t understand.” Mike cried. “Why cover all this up?”
Will snaps his head back to glare at Dustin. “I know.”
He knows.
“Go on then.” Dustin shuffles towards his desk and opens a drawer, his fingers hovering over the top.
Will pulls Mike’s face towards him and stares deep into his eyes. “You know it too.”
He knows it too.
Mike’s gaze flickers down to Will’s lips. All this soulmate-ism and they still haven’t actually—
Quit the distractions, Michael!
He stands and scrapes his chair back.
“This is the Bad Place!”
Once the words have been shouted, they can’t be unsaid.
Mike knows this. And Will does too.
“You guys…” Dustin laughs. “You figured it out! Well done.”
He reaches into the drawer and retrieves a sheet of paper.
“These instructions tell me what to do next.”
Mike glances over at Will, communicating wordlessly by the wild look on his face. They thought they’d only just met, but…they’ve known each other for over twenty years. And they’re soulmates. Of course they can read each other’s eyes.
‘What’s he going to do?’
‘I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.’
They step closer. It’s enough.
Whatever happens, they’ll face it together.
“Step one…” Dustin mutters. “Ah, okay. Simple.” He turns the paper over in his hands. “There’s only one step. I just have to reset you both.”
He holds up his fingers, poised to snap them.
And this is how it ends.
“Any last words?”
Will clutches either side of Mike’s face and strokes it with his thumbs.
He definitely has something to say. They’ll make for excellent last words.
“Whatever happens next, I have to tell you I love you.” His voice cracks. “I loved you in the past, I love you in the present…I always will.”
“In every life.” Mike smiles, melting under the soft circles Will draws on his cheeks.
“We found each other twice.” Will glances to the side, where Dustin is looking impatient. “We can do it again.”
Mike nods. Of course they’ll find each other.
They’re Mike and Will.
He leans into Will’s lips and is met by the softest kiss he’s ever felt.
The warmth spreads through him and he smiles tenderly.
“I love you t—“
SNAP!
Mike Wheeler opens his eyes.
He finds himself in a comfy waiting room, perched on a sofa. He looks around curiously. He doesn’t know how he got here.
He reads the wall in front of him
Welcome!
Everything is fine.
and is reassured. Everything is fine.
He sits for a minute longer, wondering where on Earth this is. He finds himself feeling strangely calm.
“Mike?”
Someone emerges from the doorway— a tall guy with curly hair and a cap, clutching a clipboard. He is dressed smart-casual in a way Mike thinks is friendly.
“Come on in.”
His smile is so warm that Mike can’t help but follow.