Chapter Text
April of 1993
Mike Wheeler pressed the power-off button on his computer and rolled back in his chair. He sighed. He couldn't come up with any good ideas since he finished his last fantasy series.
Maybe he needed some inspiration. He instinctively glanced at the painting he hung on his wall, all those years ago when he moved away to Chicago. The painting El commissioned Will to draw for him hung up on his wall by his new computer. Moving here was definitely the wrong idea. It was bleak and bland here, and he never smelled the same comforting scent of wildflowers in the fields of Hawkins, or the sun beating down on his face in the summer. Most of all, he missed the people there. His mother, and Holly, of course. She is almost graduating, Mike thought. How time flies...
His mind wandered back to a moment he thought about often.
The van shook on the rocky, dirt path as Jonathan drove in the front. Will was by his side, trying to comfort him. Mike thought the conversation might've been over when Will reached for his bag.
" Can I...show you something?"
Mike nodded. He wondered what it was. He didn't have to wonder much longer as Will pulled out something that was perhaps a painting, and handed it to Mike. Mike's heart leapt. Oh, he loved getting paintings from Will. He hung them up on his wall, of course, but he didn't know if he would ever tell Will that.
Mike unraveled the painting, and awe crossed his face, along with only his purest, happiest smile.
"This is amazing." He looked towards Will. "Did you paint this?"
Will began to smile, and Mike's chest tightened. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I mean--I mean--I mean El...asked me to; she commissioned it, basically." Will began to turn towards the window. Mike almost wanted to lean closer. "I mean, she told me what to draw."
Will continued. "Anyways, my point is: see how you're leading us here?" Will pointed to Mike, holding a shield with a heart on it. Cute, Mike thought, that Will added that. In his joy, he seemed to miss his internal comment.
"You're guiding the whole party, i-inspiring us, that's what you do. And see your coat of arms here? I-it's a heart, a-and I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what hold this whole party together." Will turned to face Mike again. Mike's heart started to race faster than it already was.
"Heart. Because, I mean, without heart, we'd all fall apart. Even El, especially El." Mike's smile faded a bit, more when it did when Will mentioned El planned this whole thing.
"These past few months, she's been so...lost without you. It's just...she's so different from other people, and when you're--" Will's breath caught just a moment. In that moment, Mike's heart ached. It ached with guilt, because he hadn't been there for El. He should've known...But...was it really even his fault? She claimed she was having an awesome time, with new friends and all. Then Will continued, and Mike's attention snapped to his voice.
"When you're different, sometimes..." Will sighed softly through his nose. He was full turned away from Mike, now. "Sometimes you feel like a mistake. But..you make her feel like she's not a mistake at all, that she's better for being different." Mike's heart leapt again. Did she really? When they fought, it didn't quite seem it. Will continued and turned back to face Mike.
"And that gives her the courage to fight on. If she was...mean to you, if she seemed like she was pushing you away, it's probably just because she's scared of losing you, just like you're scared of losing her. And if she was going to lose you, I think she'd rather just get it over quick, like--like ripping off a Band-Aid." Mike swallowed.
"So, yeah--El needs you, Mike, and she always will."
Mike sighed softly and looked into Will's eyes, a soft half-smile on his lips. "Yeah...?"
Will nodded and tried to smile. "Yeah.."
Mike glanced at the painting, then back at Will, a half-hearted smile on his lips, before Will turned away. Mike stared at the painting, his thoughts going deep. He tuned out everything else around him as he thought. El really did this for him? It didn't seem like a El thing to do. She didn't even play D&D!
But...Will said she did, so...she must've. Will's never lied to Mike before.
Mike swallowed and sighed, spinning in his chair. The last thing he had from El. And from Will, he supposed. Sometimes, Mike wished he had a painting from Will. His own painting. Mike stood up. Well, he thought, I wish a lot of things. I wish the party had stayed close. Maybe we could've all stayed together, gone to college. Lucas and Dustin would share a dorm, and me and Will would, or we'd all squeeze into one room together, our clothes and D&D clutter surrounding the feet our bunk beds.
Mike swallowed again and walked to his small kitchen, if you could even call it that. He could never think about what had been, or what could've happened for too long. It makes him feel, well, depressed. Mike grabbed a beer, decided against it, and drank coffee instead. He leaned against the counter and surveyed the room as he sipped. The sky looked even cloudier than usual. Damn, he needed to get out of this place. Mike left his coffee on the table, grabbed his coat and slipped on his Converse, and then ran out of his apartment. He could thank his impulsiveness for that.
Mike walked to the closest library and found books on good places to live. He read for around an hour, before he decided on New York City.
New York...Wait...didn't the Byers move there? And...oh, god, and Will...
Mike swallowed. Sometimes, on certain days, he couldn't think about Will, he simply couldn't. It was exactly one month after Will's birthday. Will would be...God. he'd be 22. Just like Mike.
Mike slammed the book shut and went to put it back. There was no way Will was still there. He must've gotten good jobs way faster than Mike and moved away. Even if he didn't, they couldn't be closet to whatever dump Mike moved to. Although, there was a chance he was just living with Joyce...
Mike decided. I'll move out of this hellhole, he thought as he walked home, the clouds beginning to drizzle a soft wash of rain over the city. He'll go to New York City sometime next year, hopefully. He wasn't completely broke, as he had money from selling his books and his part-time job, but he'd need to save up.
Over the next year or so, Mike focused on saving up to get an apartment in NYC. He saved until he had a bit extra, just in case he couldn't get a job right away. Luckily, he told his parents he was moving to New York, even farther away, and although they were sad, Karen lent Mike some money for a plane ticket.
Finally, in fall of '94, Mike was on a plane with his belongings, on his way to New York City. He watched through the window almost the entire time. The view was breathtaking. The green he saw as they passed over a bit of northern New Jersey was immaculate, even though he couldn't see all that close.
When he landed, he had a dorky smile on his face, but he didn't care. His feet were cramped from lack of space, but again, he didn't care. He was somewhere new and exciting and somewhere his friends had liked enough to go. He dragged his luggage himself, booked a taxi, and grinned out of the window as they drove to Mike's new apartment.
Mike thanked and paid the driver, stepped out, and sighed. He was told if he went a bit up the stairwell, the past owner would be there, ready to give him the keys. It took him a while, with his luggage, but he managed. When he got to his door on the third floor of the complex, he greeted the owner, a middle-aged man named Marshall.
Mike smiled. "Hey, Marshall, how you doin'?"
Marshall smiled politely at Mike and nodded. "Just fine, thank you. I'm glad you made it on time. Here's the keys." Mike took the keys from Marshall's outstretched hands, clutching them tightly.
"The apartment is cleaned and furnished, just like you asked, Michael." Mike nodded, smiled once more, thanked Marshall and wished him well as he walked off, and then sighed heavily to himself. Mike swallowed, and before he chickened out, somehow, he slid the key into the lock, twisted, and pushed the door open.