Chapter Text
March 1995
Will really just wanted to watch Maury and finish the frozen pizza in his freezer. But he can’t, and he won’t, because not only was he supposed to be home 2 hours ago, he needed a scalding hot shower and knew 10 chores were waiting for him once he walked through his apartment door.
Of course the train was late–more times than not it was, but that wasn’t even the worst part. No, as a New York City transplant, he knew he’d never get used to the inconsistent and dreary weather that came with Northeast winters. At least in the Midwest, you’d just have to suffer through two feet of snow that refused to melt for four months and then enjoy the light air of spring.
Will’s sweater was starting to itch as his body acclimatized to the warm, sticky air of the subway car. Even though his knee-length trenchcoat was barely touched by the abrupt onslaught of sleet, his jeans and Nikes weren’t fairing well and started to squelch whenever he awkwardly shifted. Will swayed with the movement of the train, keeping his eyes glued on the puddle of water that had been forming at his feet while waiting for the correct stop.
On the one singular bright side of his situation, he was on his way back from completing his latest contracting project. He spent the last two months illustrating a children’s book for HarperCollins, one of the “Big-Five” publishing houses in the country.
The manager for the Illustration Department wanted to talk about possible full-time employment after he submitted all his finalized work. Will was finally starting to feel stable in his career, like he was actually doing something.
Even without a guarantee of future employment, doing work for HarperCollins was huge. After his check clears, he’d be set for the next three months easily.
Will took his eyes off the puddle, which was starting to drift into other places of the subway car. Thankfully, he realized his stop was coming up, and moved towards the train doors. As the train slowed, he impatiently tapped his foot on the ground, and rushed out of the car as soon as they opened.
As he climbed the stairs out of the subway, he heard the violent scream of sleet that had barely let up since he left HarperCollins. He breathed in, hoping for it to not feel as bad as it sounded, and got let down as the sleet started slipping down his collar and flooded his shoes.
He lived only a five minute walk from the subway and managed to make it three as he ran to the entrance of his apartment complex, typed in the code, and entered into the small lobby. There, he finally caught his breath as he waited for the elevator to take him up eight floors.
It was an okay complex, especially for the city. Will wasn’t one to complain about any sort of housing, especially one with rent stabilization.
Once he reached his floor, it took him a bit to grasp for his keys, and another bit for his shaking hands to maneuver them into the keyhole, unlocking his heavy wooden door.
Finally, at 10:45 at night, he stepped into his apartment. He instantly shed his trenchcoat, shoes, and socks, throwing them directly onto the floor and mentally reminding himself to pick them up later. After he’s gotten into the shower.
His kitchen was small, just enough for him and only him to move around comfortably. Every cabinet door was some kind of pretty, dark wood Will refused to paint over. He opened the fridge, and then closed it when he remembered that he was going to have the frozen pizza and didn’t need to cook anything.
He went to the freezer, pulled out the pizza and started reading the back of the box. The radio on his counter was starting to call to him, so he went over to pick out a CD to play while he waited for his pizza to cook. He put on a CD by the Smiths and leisurely leaned against the counter, continuing reading the instructions on the pizza box.
Will’s landline started ringing and he glared at it, looked at the wall clock that definitely said 10:48, and looked back. Hell no. It was a Friday, he smelled like a wet dog, and there’s a juicy episode of Maury that might be waiting for him. He let it ring, frozen in his kitchen like it was going to jump and attack him, and opened the pizza box once it peacefully went to voicemail. It wasn’t until Will was sliding it into the oven that a voice came out of the phone.
“Hey.”
Will yelped a little, thinking that the caller just hung up and wasn’t on voicemail the entire time. He whipped around to the phone, second-guessing if it actually was going to jump and attack him.
There was a shaky breath on the other end; he could hear it through the crackling static that hung between silence, and the nervousness that broke that static.
“Hi, Will.”
Will was going to vomit. His stomach swooped and he leaned forward, trying to figure out if he wanted to reach for the phone or the sink. There was no mistaking that voice; it’s the only voice he had purposefully committed to memory when his fears became reality and he knew he’d never hear it again.
Mike fucking Wheeler was calling Will Byers’ landline after not speaking to him once in six years.
“I know it’s late over there, I’m sorry about that,” he mumbled into the phone. His mouth was pressed so tightly to the transmitter that his words were partially garbled. He took another long pause, gulped down a drink, and softly coughed into the phone. A clinking noise, like a bottle being put down, echoed in the background of the call. “Ugh, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m not surprised you’re asleep. Probably busy with all your, uh, drawings. You know, your illustrator duties. Uh, Eleven told me you do that now.”
Will so badly wanted to pick up the phone and tell him how much of an asshole he was. He was drunk, what with the poor way he choked down his drink and the way he couldn’t get out a proper compound sentence. Not only was he drunk, but after all this time, he couldn’t even spare the brain capacity to care about Will’s existence. Not even simple icebreaker information, like what he does for a living.
And then Mike started to do the most out-of-character Mike thing he’s ever done. He started to cry.
It was soft, and Will could’ve chalked it up to his incessantly loud breathing at first. But it started to get more sniffly, and started to pick up in a hiccupy beat. “I’m sorry, Will. God, this is a fucking horrible thing for me to do. God,” he said, and took one long breath in, making even more of a ruckus on Will’s side.
After a few moments, as if he was trying to collect himself, he started speaking again, this time with less of a sob and more as if he was trying to convince himself he didn’t just cry. “I’m sorry for calling. I just-I’m not sure if you heard. I’m-uh. I’m getting married.”
Will did know that, and he had been trying his best not to think about it. Being reminded by the drunk, sobbing groom of that wedding was the last thing he needed.
“It’s on the 22nd. I–I don’t know why I haven’t invited you, yet. I thought that Eleven invited you, but I don’t think she did.” Will scrunched his eyebrows, not really understanding. El did invite him, in which he declined when he realized, even after all these years, he couldn’t face Mike. It’s not like him and her were still close, anyway. “I want you to come,” he said, taking another long gulp of his drink. “Will-” he said, but stopped as if he choked on something.
“Will, I want to see you there,” he whispered right into the phone, like it was a secret no one else was supposed to know. “I need to see you there. Pl-Plea- I don’t want to-” his breath hitched violently into the receiver.
All Will’s brain did was fill in his unfinished sentence with negatives.
I don’t want to see you there.
I don’t want to look at you.
I don’t want to have to worry about you.
I don’t want to take care of you.
And yet, Mike begging into the phone was the opposite of these negatives. He had blatantly ignored six years of unspoken anger, resentment, confusion, and guilt the moment he dialed Will’s number.
God, he couldn’t do this.
“I hope you come. It’s at this really pretty church. Eleven picked it out, it’s got these nice stained glass windows. Um, so, yeah. My number is (294) 934-0767. Not sure if you have that as my number, I can’t remember when I changed it. Come if you can, Will. It-. It would mean the world,” he said, and then quickly hung up.
Will stood in place, not sure what he was supposed to do after such a call. The swooping in his stomach had turned into full-blown panic and anxiety, trying to process everything that was in that call. His damp sweater was starting to stick to his skin again and that horrific sensation was enough to snap him out of the daze he was starting to slip into.
He needed a shower. And then some fucking advice.
o-O-o
Some people would rather move to a different country than live in the same apartment complex as their brother, but the truth was that Will owed Jonathan everything. Not many could say that their brother planned and organized their funeral at 16 years old.
It wasn’t like they invaded each other’s space. Between both Will and Jonathan’s work lives, there wasn’t much room after 5:00 p.m. to chat. They both harbored classic introverted behaviors of drowning themselves in music or reality tv after a long day. That didn’t mean they didn’t have time for each other, it just meant that they equally had respect for each other’s down time.
When it came to Mike Fucking Wheeler, though, there was not a single moment when Will has ever respected Jonathan’s down time. Not when he was 12, not when he was 15, not when he was 18, and apparently not when he was 23.
“Jonathan!” Will yelled, banging on his front door once more after waiting a few beats to see if he’d come to the door. “Come on, Jonathan!” Will couldn’t help that, even after all these years, he had a very specific, whiny, little brother voice he used to get his immediate attention.
The door underneath his fist flung open and Jonathan, naturally, looked like he wanted to ram a metal pole through his head. “Will,” he tamely said, a fire burning behind his eyes. If Will knew better, that was his cue to drop it and wait for the morning to bother him. “I swear to God, you better be dying.”
“Mike called me,” Will said, hands out in front of him as he was expecting Jonathan to give him something, any kind of advice he could muster late at night.
His eyes widened, more than they usually were, and he seemed stunned for a second. “Like, ‘Mike Wheeler’ Mike? That Mike?” he asked, shifting his body language from cold and offensive to confused and worried, just ever so slightly. All Will could do was nod. “Well, what did he want?”
“Can I come in?” Will asked, looking over his shoulder to see that every light behind him had been turned off. He guessed it really was too late to be doing this, but he knew he couldn’t sit on this overnight; he’d end up sleeping by the phone.
Jonathan followed Will’s eyes and looked behind him, dropping his shoulders and sighing. “Okay, but you’ve gotta be quiet. Nancy’s trying to sleep, she’s got work in the morning,” he said, backing away from the door and making his way to a sofa that Will was frankly jealous of, with the way they both instantly sink right into it.
They sat side-by-side. Eye contact really wasn’t that important when it came to their conversations, especially when they were about such confusing topics. It actually helped more to stare off into space, trying to process the ghost that is Mike Wheeler.
“So,” Jonathan started for him.
“I was in my kitchen, you know, and I just came back from HarperCollins. The phone rang and I really didn’t want to answer it, so I just let it go. All of a sudden, Mike Wheeler’s voice is coming through the other end, and he’s drunk, Jonathan. That motherfucker is drunk,” Will said, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it, trying to fight the tears brimming at his eyes. “And he starts- I don’t know. He’s clearly gone. He starts talking about how he said that it’s a horrible thing that he’s calling me, and he apologizes for it, and he starts crying.”
“Crying?” Jonathan said, startled. “When the hell does Mike cry?”
“That’s what I thought! When does Mike Wheeler cry? But he gets himself together, and he starts talking about getting married, and that he wanted to invite me. He said he wants me there. He said he needs me there, and I swear he almost started crying again before he got his shit together and hung up.”
“And you didn’t call him back?” Jonathan asked, and Will looked at him just to shoot him a ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ look. He nodded in agreement, like he knew it was a dumb question to ask.
“I don’t know what to do. I already declined, it’s not like I can go. Not after, you know, everything. Fuck, I didn’t think that he even still thought of me, you know?” Will said, leaning down to put his chin in his hands, trying to passively think through his situation.
“Do you still think of him?” Jonathan asked, sounding like he knew he couldn’t ask that.
Will glared at him, and that singular look told him that he didn’t want to go there. “Please,” Will snarkily said, and that was answer enough, in whichever way Jonathan wanted to interpret it.
“Do you think…” Jonathan asked, but shut his mouth. Will looked at him expectantly, letting him think through the words he wanted to say before he opened his mouth again. “Do you think that Mike doesn’t want-”
“Mike? Why are you talking about my brother?” Nancy asked, coming from the hallway that led to their bedroom. She had swaddled herself in a thick purple robe with curlers in her hair, staring them down from the entryway.
“Ah, Nance, um,” Jonathan said, turning his body to look at Nancy over the couch, and then Will, trying to gesture for an answer that Will wouldn’t give him. He smiled a little, knowing that Jonathan is horrible at lying to Nancy. “We were just-”
“Mike called me. Like, an hour ago.”
Nancy’s eyebrows shot up, much thinner than they were just a few years ago. She schooled her expression, trying to quiet her instant shock into an examination of what that meant. “And? What did he say? I didn’t even know he had your number. Hell, do you even have his number?” she asked, moving to sit on the creaky La-Z Boy tucked near the tv, facing the sofa.
Will thought about that for a moment. “Uh, no, I actually don’t. He was calling me about the wedding.”
Nancy’s eyebrows got impossibly higher, and if it wasn’t for her curlers they would’ve disappeared underneath her bangs. “The wedding? Why?”
“He wants me to come. For some reason,” he said, and realized it made no sense to Nancy, too, because she started looking between him and Jonathan for more explanations.
“He was drunk and crying,” Jonathan said quietly while leaning forward, as if there was someone else in the room he needed to hide the information from.
Her mouth dropped open and her eyebrows furrowed. Shocked, was a good description of her face, but then her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. “He’s such a child sometimes. Did you say anything?”
Will shook his head. “He just left a voicemail. I didn’t pick up the phone.”
Nancy nodded, knowing she couldn’t blame Will for that decision. Despite being Mike’s older sister, she was much closer to Will after living close to each other for so long. At times, it felt as if she was on Will’s side more than Mike’s, if there was even a side to choose. “Well, are you going to go?”
Will scoffed. “Hell, no. I can’t. You know I can’t.”
She shrugged, trying to play it off as not a big deal. “If there’s no one stopping you from going, not even Mike, I don’t see why not. You haven’t seen everyone in ages.”
Will viciously shook his head, looking to Jonathan for support, which he didn’t give. “No. No fucking way. I- Nancy, be serious. That was a bridge I burned a long time ago.”
She rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe him. “You know,” she said, getting up from the La-Z Boy. “You should’ve gotten over yourself years ago. This is just one big back-and-forth game of progressively throwing each other’s lives off course-” It wasn’t until she was reaching for the phone, five of 10 numbers punched in before Will was leaping off the couch, grabbing the receiver from her hand.
“There’s no way that Mike can know about this. I mean, I don’t even think he’ll remember it! He was so trashed. There’s no point.” Will said, pleading with Nancy as her eyebrows got more and more furrowed the longer he was talking.
She stared at him for a few moments, as if she was seriously debating what he was saying between what she would’ve done had she not been interrupted. Eventually, with enough pleading with his eyes, she gave in and sighed, dropping the phone.
“You won’t let this go, huh,” Nancy said, which was definitely not a direct jab at him. Definitely not. Will chose to ignore that.
“Thank you,” he said, clasping his hands in a praying motion.
Nancy raised a finger at him, narrowing her eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can run from this,” she said. “You’re coming to the wedding.”
She walked away from the phone, going back down the hallway she originally appeared out of. It took Will longer than he wanted to admit to process that. “Wait- no, no, I’m not. Nancy! I’m not going! Nanc-” he said, walking after her when she seemed as if she was completely blocking out his complaints.
“You’re going, Will!” Nancy said loudly, turning around to face him. The hallway was dark, but he could still make out how serious she was. Realizing how loud she sounded at first, she lowered her voice. “You’re going. I get it, my brother is a stubborn asshole. He bottles everything up. I know this better than you. But he’s not going to stop you from seeing your friends and family. When was the last time you saw your mother?”
She waited for Will to respond; he didn’t dare to.
“Exactly. This isn’t just about Mike. It’s about all the people that care about him and, unsurprisingly, those people care about you, too. You can’t just run from this. Especially when Mike already made it clear that you’re welcome.”
Will hated how right she was. Sure, it was Mike and El’s wedding, but it was also partially a reunion. Close family and friends were going to be there and it would’ve been more awkward if Will didn’t go.
“You guys used to be best friends, Will,” Nancy said, as if she was reading Will’s own internal monologue.
But it was different, now. Much too different.
Will tried to think of a singular excuse, one reason that would absolutely prevent him from going to the wedding, and couldn’t find any that Nancy wouldn’t find a counterargument for. She was good like that; impossible to win when she had her eyes set on what she wanted.
‘Nancy’s always right. Not because she’s a woman, but because she’s Nancy,’ is what Jonathan would say if she wasn’t still stuck on the couch, watching Will argue with her.
“You’re going, Will,” she said, jabbing her finger into his chest once more before she disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Will stood in the hallway for a second, trying to process everything that the night had brought him. It was too much. After absolutely no reflection, he moped his way back to the couch, flinging himself onto it like the child he still felt like after being lectured by Nancy.
“Damn,” Jonathan said. “What do I always tell you? Nancy’s always right. Not because she’s a woman, but-”
“But because she’s Nancy, yeah, yeah, I know,” Will said, waving off the sentence he had memorized already. He groaned, slapping his hands on his face and rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. “How is she even going to get me a plane ticket? It’s so last minute.”
“She’s got connections,” Jonathan said, waving it off as if he didn’t really want to put too much brainpower into thinking about it. Nancy knew so many people in so many spaces that it was hard to keep track of all of them. “Apparently one strong enough that she’s confident she can get you a good ticket two days before the flight.”
Will shot up at that, taking his hands off his face and blinking rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust so he could stare at Jonathan. “What do you mean? When are you guys leaving?”
“What? I thought I told you,” Jonathan said, looking quizzically at him. “We’re leaving on Sunday.”
Will opened his eyes even more. “You’re getting there, like, two weeks before the wedding?”
Jonathan nodded his head, like it really wasn’t that big of a deal. “Yeah, I mean, it’s Nancy’s family. I mean, El too, but Nancy really wants to use it as a way to catch up with them.”
Will groaned once more, feeling defeated in this situation. Not only was he unprepared to leave in two days, he also couldn’t stand the thought of having to see the entirety of Nancy and Mike’s family for two weeks. All celebrating the holy matrimony between Mike Wheeler and Jane Hopper.
For a few days? Sure. Two weeks? He was done for.
These were people he hadn't seen in years. Will has changed since he was 18. Back then, fresh out of high school, he was just a young kid who was unsure of what he wanted to do. So unsure if he belonged in Hawkins, but painstakingly sure that there was so much more out there for him. He loved his family and friends. But he has changed. Grew into himself.
New York was progressive; it was even more progressive when he found a solid community that he knew he was a part of, and he’s gotten very comfortable being part of it. He knew how to adapt to situations in which he couldn’t fully be himself; hell, that’s what he spent most of his teenage years doing. However, it’s been a long time since he’s been fully surrounded by people that couldn’t know the truth, people that would no doubt shun him.
Hell, even his mom didn’t know he was gay–that was a whole other conversation, one that he’s rehearsed with Jonathan time and time again. Being so far apart geographically and only seeing her once or twice a year, it just never became an important enough topic to discuss. She was bound to be there, and Will didn’t know how to prepare for that.
He was already mentally preparing himself to hear the question, “Do you have a girlfriend?” and knew that the answer he has given for the past six years would reflexively roll off his tongue: “I’m just focusing on my career right now.”
One day, that wouldn’t be a sufficient answer anymore.
“You’re gonna be fine, Will,” Jonathan said, probably trying to say something that might reassure him. He said it as if he himself didn’t believe it, and Will didn’t blame him.
It definitely wasn’t going to be fine.
o-O-o
Maybe moping around for two days wasn’t the smartest decision Will has ever made.
In his defense, he was starting to feel like he was coming down with something. He kept waking up during the night, wrecked with nausea that never went anywhere. He’d only been living on canned soup, too afraid to buy too many groceries that he would just have to throw out before he left. The only thing that was mildly soothing to his scattered brain was, of course, shitty reality tv. Flipping between Maury and Jerry Springer didn’t make him feel like a wonderful person, but it was much better to laugh at other people’s horrible lives than his own.
It was now Sunday, and he was petulantly throwing clothes in an old, worn suitcase from his childhood. He wasn’t a traveler, not when he found the right place for him. Really, why the hell would he leave New York?
Apparently for a wedding for your ex-best friend and your adopted sister you barely talk to anymore.
Six years ago, Will would probably throw up at how distant he currently was with the people that he was once close as blood with. He briefly mourned what he had lost, and thanked that he knew he could be free without them. Without him.
He has proven that to himself after all these years. He knows how to survive. He’s able to be open with people he trusts, now. He doesn’t keep many secrets from the close friends he has now. He has found community and trust, away from the person that used to hurt him as much as he helped.
“Will! Hurry the fuck up!” Jonathan yelled at him from his living room.
Both him and Nancy were currently sitting in his living room, raiding his pantry and trying to find good plane snacks. They were all packed and had gone up to Will’s room to make sure that he was ready, but instead found him binging tv and looking as if he hadn’t changed out of his clothes in days. In all honesty, that’s exactly what he was doing, refusing to actually pack for the trip in fear of making it all real.
“I’m hurrying!” Will screamed back, not really caring about bothering his neighbors. He was given a loud knock on the other side of his bedroom wall from the neighbor he shared it with. Will flipped off the wall, and then finally zipped up his suitcase, knowing he probably forgot 10 things.
Will walked out into his living room, seeing Nancy glaring at him like he was the sole reason for so many problems. “The plane doesn’t leave for, like, another four hours,” Will said, pointing to the clock on the wall.
“If we miss our flight because of your whiny ass, I’m forcing you to stay another week in Hawkins,” she said, promptly walking out of the apartment and expecting Jonathan and him to follow her. They did, of course, because they weren’t about to make Nancy even more mad than she already was.
The trip to the airport was about as hectic and annoying as he thought it would be, having to haul all his luggage around the subways, switching trains and even getting on a train within the airport. To Will, that just meant that the airport was simply just too big. He hated JFK; it gave him too much anxiety.
It was buzzing with people late for their flight and people trying to find their correct terminal. For a second, Jonathan thought that they were on the wrong side of the airport, and Will almost gave up right then and there.
They were standing in front of a huge board, listing all the arrivals and departures that were occurring in the next few hours. All the small boxes on the board flipped over, showing another round of flights. Nancy pointed up at a part of the board, “That’s our flight,” she said, reading which terminal it was in, and nodded. She then started heading more into the airport, following some built in map she definitely had just in her head.
Will trailed beside Jonathan as Nancy led the way, weaving in between big families and confusing tourists. “How does she know her way around so well?” he asked, trying to keep his voice to a whisper in case her razor-sharp hearing would pick up his voice.
Jonathan shrugged. “She travels a lot for work.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “What does she do for work again?”
Jonathan looked at him, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. “It’s kinda complicated, she basically-”
“Come on, boys! Stop chatting, we’ve got a plane to catch!” Nancy said, not even taking the time to turn around to face them. She sped up her walking pace, deciding that they apparently weren’t walking fast enough.
Will tried his very best not to roll his eyes, but the second he made eye contact with Jonathan, it was hard not to burst out laughing. Nancy held a very fond space in both their hearts, so it was hard not to just laugh at her commitment to every single thing in her life every now and then. It was one of the reasons Jonathan married her and one of the reasons Will was his best man.
Eventually, they made it their terminal with an hour to spare. Will should’ve spent that time thinking over and over what he was going to say to all the people he’s going to be meeting after years of not seeing them, but he mostly just people-watched. The only thing he liked about the airport was how societal rules barely hold up in such a liminal space. There’s a man in front of him with five layers of clothes on and a gigantic duffle bag. There was a woman who was sprawled out over four seats while her husband busied the children. A group of teenagers a few seats over from them were playing euchre, while one kid in the group kept complaining that he had no clue how to play it every time he lost.
Will could’ve sworn that they were the most normal out of everyone around them, but the reality of his situation was starting to set in. There was nothing normal about going to his ex-best friend’s wedding that he was drunkenly invited to, and forced to go to by his older sister.
“It’ll be fine, Will,” Nancy said, peering at him over her book she was currently devouring. She looked at him like she almost felt bad for dragging him on the trip.
“‘Fine’ is nowhere close to how I’m going to be once we get there,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. After all this time, he always found himself falling back into childish habits when arguing with her.
Nancy huffed, like she didn’t want to hear what he had to complain about. Which was fair; Will was being only slightly dramatic about this whole thing. “It’s not like you’re going to have to live with him the entire time. If you really try hard enough, you’re only going to have to see him on the actual wedding day.”
That was a good point, one that he hadn’t taken into consideration before. He’d spent so much time worrying about what he would say to him when they arrived, that he didn’t realize he was probably so wrapped up in planning and jitters to have time to see Will. Hell, he probably didn’t even know when he would be in town, and if he did remember asking him to come, he definitely didn’t think that he would actually follow through with it.
“Trust me, Will, you’d regret it if you weren’t there.”