Chapter Text
As Mike turns to leave the room, Will stands up from the armchair. “Wait,” he calls. “I think you need to hear this too.”
Mike turns around. His heart leaps.
“Everyone does.”
Mike sits next to Lucas on the couch, watching with an aching chest as Will sobs. He hates seeing Will like this–seeing his best friend like this–and he can do nothing but wish there was something he could do about it. But there isn’t. There isn’t anything he can do.
“I… I just…” Will sputters. His face is wet with tears. “I just don’t like girls.”
Mike feels Lucas tense up beside him. But Mike can do nothing but stare at Will as he tells them about a part of himself he’d been hiding for God knows how long. The party had had their suspicions, of course, but nobody had ever been sure or brave enough to say anything about it. At some point, it just became a way of life.
Mike opens his mouth, ready to offer his support, but Will keeps talking.
“And I had this… this crush,” Will continues. The last word is barely heard, buried beneath his sniffles and cries. “Even though I know… I know he’s not… like me.” Mike feels a sting in his heart, almost comparable to actual, physical pain. Will looks at him, his eyes soft, and suddenly everything falls into place.
Oh.
That would explain everything that happened between them in the past few years–the painting, the fight at the roller rink, the permanently hurt look in Will’s eyes whenever Mike talked about El. Mike’s heart pounds, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch Will, to comfort him, to tell him that he knows.
“But then I realized– I realized he was just my Tammy,” Will says. Mike thinks he can see a smile trying to present itself on his face, thinks he can hear some semblance of a laugh bubble below his tears.
Will keeps talking, but Mike gets stuck on something he’d said. He had this crush? Did Will lose feelings for… him? And who was Tammy? There’s so much that Will had just confessed to everybody, but Mike can’t help but feel a twinge of distrust in it all. Will has never liked talking about himself in general, but then now to share the most hidden part of himself with a dozen people, some of which he barely knows? Mike knows it’s selfish to not believe him, but something in his mind won’t let him get past this deep, gut feeling that something is wrong.
When he gets out of his head, Mike sees that the rest of the party is surrounding Will, enveloping him in a hug. Mike joins the embrace but mentally kicks himself for not being the first one up. Will is his best friend, after all, he should have been jumping up immediately to contribute his support.
The embrace disbands and everyone else makes their rounds to talk to Will, starting to leave the room one by one until only Will and Mike remain. They stand on opposite ends of the room, not speaking but just looking at each other. Mike tries his best to smile at him, but Will breaks eye contact and turns to leave.
Don’t let him go. A voice that he isn’t even sure is his own tugs in Mike’s mind. “Wait,” he calls urgently. Will doesn’t stop walking, and Mike thinks he can hear him crying again. Mike hurries after him and grabs his wrist. Will finally looks back, first at Mike’s hand, and then at his face. “Wait,” he says again, more surely this time. “Can we talk?”
Will doesn’t fight back as Mike walks him to the couch. They sit next to each other, close but not touching. Mike’s knee knocks against Will’s as he situates himself, and Will scoots a little further away. Mike can feel the distance and tension between them almost as if it is a physical thing, Will’s confession buzzing on a power line strung between them, encased in sparks of years and years of friendship.
“What is it?” Will asks, breaking the silence that had begun to close in on Mike. His question seems to come from a place more of exasperation than concern, and what he’s really asking is: What more do you want from me?
Mike doesn’t really know what it is he wants. He rubs his palms, which have started sweating profusely, up and down his lap, trying to gather his thoughts. “I just…” he starts. “Are you okay?”
Will seems taken aback, like that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “I… I mean,” he stammers. “I guess. Yeah. As much as I can be.” Will can’t seem to make himself look at Mike, twisting his hands together and getting too interested in a freckle on his ring finger. “Why? I mean, why do you ask?”
“I’m your best friend, Will,” Mike says. Tentatively, he reaches out and puts a hand over Will’s, stopping him from fidgeting and forcing him to look at him. “I know when something’s wrong.”
They stare at each other for a brief moment before Will pulls his hands away. While he doesn’t go back to fiddling with them, he glares holes into the checkered floor beneath him.
“I’m proud of you,” Mike says softly, gently. “I can’t imagine how hard it was to keep that secret for so long.”
“I should’ve told you before,” Will mutters. “I was going to. You deserved to know.” He finally looks up at Mike, his eyes wide and glassy. “You… deserved to know before… before anyone else.”
Mike shakes his head. “No. I don’t deserve anything from you.”
“But you do,” Will says. “I…” He cuts himself off, biting his lip and looking away, but not before Mike can see a tear fall down his cheek. Will shifts so his entire body is turned away from Mike.
There’s another uncomfortable, slightly too-long silence. Mike swallows, hard, clearing his throat before he speaks again.
“So, this… crush. Do you… uh,” he starts, cautiously. He isn’t quite sure how to say what he wants to say. “You don’t like them anymore?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What happened?”
Will looks over his shoulder, a certain hardness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I already said, Mike. They–” Will sighs. “He isn’t like me.”
Does he know?
“I thought… I thought for a moment that there may have been a chance.”
Does he know? Does he know that I know?
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Will,” Mike puts a hand on his shoulder. “It matters. Your feelings matter.”
Will shrugs Mike’s hand off. “I really appreciate your trying to help, Mike, but this really is nobody’s problem but mine.”
Does he know that I know?
Will stands up. He flashes Mike a tight, close-lipped smile. “Thank you, Mike. Really.” He makes his way around the couch and starts to leave again.
“Wait,” Mike calls, standing up so quickly he almost falls over. Will doesn’t turn around, but he stops walking. “When you were talking to us, you said you liked getting lost in the woods. That doesn’t… Are you sure?”
Will clenches his fist then flexes his fingers out. “It doesn’t matter, Michael.” His voice is low when he responds, almost as if he’s trying to hold back anger. Will takes a deep breath, composing himself, then finally walks down the hallway and out of Mike’s sight.
Mike is left standing alone, staring like he’s in a trance at the place where Will had sat on the couch. Only one thought circles through his mind.
He called me Michael.
The conversation haunts Mike’s thoughts for the rest of the evening. Between Will’s avoidance to answer his questions and his calling him Michael, he isn’t quite sure what information he gathered.
He finds himself wandering the Squawk, flashing smiles and ducking his head to avoid conversations. He doesn’t see Will anywhere. He isn’t necessarily looking for him, per se, but his absence is an ever-present reminder of the friendship he put on the line earlier that afternoon. After a good deal of aimless wandering and half-hearted searching, Mike sees Max sitting alone by the wall of broadcast transmitters.
“Hey, Max,” Mike says, hurrying over to the side of her chair. “Have you seen Will?”
“Hm?” Max looks up at him, a confused squint on her face. Mike chuckles nervously–she must be messing with him.
“Will,” he repeats. “Have you seen him? We got into a fight earlier, and I just wanted to make sure…”
Mike trails off, seeing the genuine non-responsiveness in Max’s eyes. He kneels down, a little worried that she might be getting possessed again. He puts his hands on her shoulders and tries to shake her awake, but she just scowls and swats his hands away.
“What are you doing?” she asks, annoyed. Mike scrambles back to his feet and takes a couple steps away from her.
“Sorry,” he sputters. “I just thought that…” He sighs, and tries asking one more time. “Have you seen Will?”
Max frowns, but recognition glimmers in her eyes, which sends a wave of relief over Mike. “No, I haven’t,” she says. “But I think Joyce and Hopper are in that room over there.” She gestures to a record storage room. “If you want to ask them.”
Mike half-smiles at her. “Thanks,” he says. He starts making his way to the storage room, but turns his head over his shoulder to say one more thing to Max. “Don’t mess with me like that again–that was not funny.”
Max’s face wrinkles into a puzzled grimace. “What?” she calls after him. Mike ignores her and turns the corner to the closet.
He goes to walk in, but whirls around to hide behind the wall when he hears Joyce and Hopper having a heated conversation inside.
“I’m worried about him, Hop,” Joyce was saying. “This has been going on for years, what if he doesn’t make it through?”
Mike furrows his brow. What could Joyce be so worried about?
“He’ll be alright, Joyce. He’s a strong kid.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that every time I look at him, I just see that same little boy that went missing all those years ago. He was only eleven, Hop. And he still looks eleven every time I see him. He’s just a boy. My boy.”
Will. They were talking about Will. Who else would it be?
But–something feels off to Mike. “He was only eleven, Hop.”
Will was twelve when he went missing.
There’s no way that Joyce, of all people, would have forgotten that.
Mike stares at the ground, his head spinning. First Max seeming to forget that Will was even here, then Joyce forgetting how old Will was when this all started… sure, it could all be a weird coincidence, but Mike kept replaying what Lucas had said to them earlier.
“And I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t believe in coincidences.”
What else could they be misremembering? What else could everyone be forgetting about Will? Were they even really forgetting him, or was Mike going crazy and it was just the chaos of the past day fogging everyone’s memory?
Just then, a memory floods Mike’s head. Two years ago, when he’d visited the Byers’ in California, they’d gone roller skating. Jonathan had filmed it and showed them the tapes afterwards. What was the date on the tape? Mike squeezes his eyes shut, as if that will help him remember the miniscule detail. Then it hits him.
March 22, 1986.
Will’s fifteenth birthday.
They’d all forgotten.
Mike bursts into the storage room, startling Joyce and Hopper. “Joyce,” he says, out of breath. “When you guys lived in California, and I came out to visit, do you remember what day it was when we went skating?” He grips the doorframe, his knuckles white.
Joyce looks between Hopper and Mike, confusion plastered on her face. “Mike, honey, I don’t really think that’s that important right now,” she says.
“No– I know– just–” Mike groans. “Do you remember what day it was?”
Joyce sighs. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
Mike closes his eyes. Of course she didn’t know–it only falls perfectly into his crazy theory. “Okay, sorry,” he says. “Do you know where El is?” Maybe she would remember–she has to.
Joyce thinks for a moment. “I think she and Kali went up to talk by the radio tower. They’re probably still out there.”
“Thanks.”
As Mike turns to leave, he hears Hopper complain under his breath to Joyce, “I don’t trust Kali. I don’t like that El keeps disappearing alone with her.”
Mike darts outside. If anyone will understand his worry, it’ll be El. Maybe she will have a better idea of what could be going on, or she’ll smack him and tell him he’s being paranoid. Either option would work, Mike thinks.
It’s getting dark, but he sees the silhouettes of El and Kali standing close under the tower. Their heads are bent, talking in hushed whispers, not that there’s anyone out there to overhear them.
Except Mike, that is.
Mike creeps closer, slowly, because he could tell they were deep in some sort of conversation. He gets close enough until he can just barely make out what they’re saying.
He shouldn’t have listened.
He should’ve stayed back, or made his presence more known to keep from hearing what he heard.
“The bridge has to end with us,” Kali was saying to El. “You know that.”
“I know. Are you sure we can’t tell the others, though?”
Kali shakes her head. “They would just try to stop us. They don’t understand. Not how we do.” She puts her hand on El’s shoulder.
Mike just stands there, watching them talk. He doesn't want to even risk crouching down out of fear of making a noise that would give him away.
“We can’t let them make more of us,” El whispers. “As much as your plan hurts, I know it is the right thing to do.”
It hits Mike like a brick. El is going to sacrifice herself. He stumbles backwards at the realization, a branch snapping beneath his foot. The girls’ heads shoot up and whip around to look at him. Mike feels the blood drain from his head straight to his feet. El frowns, an expression that takes up her entire face. Kali just pats her shoulder.
“I’ll let you two talk,” she says. She leaves El’s side and walks back to the Squawk, glaring at Mike as she passes him.
“Mike,” El says softly. Mike runs up to her and grabs both of her hands.
“You can’t do this,” he begs. “There has to be another way to stop it.”
El just shakes her head, unable to meet Mike’s eyes. “I wish there was, Mike.”
Mike lifts her hands to his mouth, kissing them, his eyes stinging with the sudden onset of tears.
“Mike.” El pulls her hands out of Mike’s and cups his face. “I’m sorry.”
“No. There has to be something we can do. There has to be.”
“There isn’t, Mike,” El tries to smile. “And you can’t tell the others. I don’t want them to worry.”
Mike bites his lip to keep it from quivering. He nods, but isn’t sure how much he believes his own answer.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to protect me.”
“El, no–”
“I don’t want to be your responsibility.”
“El…”
“Mike.” El smiles apologetically. “You knew this was going to have to happen eventually.”
He just shakes his head.
“We can’t be together anymore. I don’t want you to have to be miserable after… after all of this because you’re waiting for me.” She sniffles and blinks rapidly like she’s trying not to cry. “And this hasn’t been working for a while now,” she says, quiet. “I think we both know that.”
He hates to admit it, but El was right. Things had started to seem off in their relationship over the past few months, and he wasn’t sure they’d ever fully recovered from their fight in Lenora. So he doesn’t argue with her on this. El’s already made up her mind, he can’t find it within himself to try and change it. He’s discovered that that’s always an effort made in vain.
“Why were you out here?” El asks, as if just now remembering that Mike had been stalking behind their conversation.
“It doesn’t matter.”
El tilts her head, like she can read his mind and know that it does matter. Mike sighs.
“It’s stupid,” he says. “But do you remember going to Rink-O-Mania in California?”
El nods. “Yes. Not the best day of my life, but I remember.”
Mike grimaces. He wasn’t intending to bring up a painful memory. “Do you happen to remember the day we were there?”
She thinks for a moment, looking off into the distance. “No,” she finally says. “I don’t think so.” She looks back at Mike. “Does it matter?”
Mike’s face falls. “No,” he says, defeated. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” El says. She squeezes Mike’s hand. “Thank you for understanding all of this. I should probably go back inside.” She begins to walk away, then pauses and calls back to Mike, “You want to come with me?”
Mike shakes his head. El nods in understanding and keeps walking.
After a moment, Mike yells after her. “March 22,” he says. El stops in her tracks. “That’s the day we went. It was Will’s birthday.” El turns around, her eyes wide.
“We forgot.”
She hurries back over to him.
“And Will went missing when he was twelve. Not eleven. Joyce got it mixed up–and she couldn’t remember his birthday,” Mike is rambling at this point. “And Max acted like she didn’t even know who Will was earlier. Either I’m crazy, or something is wrong.”
El bites her lip, contemplating. “At a time like this, it’s good to be a little crazy.”
“Do you think…” Mike hesitates. He has a theory about what was happening, but assumed it was too far-fetched to be real. “Do you think it could have something to do with Vecna or the Mind Flayer?”
“I think it’s certainly possible.”
“Like, do you think he could be… messing with our minds, or something?” Now that Mike has started on about his theory, he isn’t sure he’s able to stop. “What if he’s trying to make us… forget Will? Or trying to use him as a weapon or something?”
El’s face softened. “You really care about Will, don’t you?”
Mike blushes, and he’s glad it’s dark out so El can’t see it. “He’s my best friend, El. Of course I care about him.”
“I think you could be onto something with your theory. But first, I think you just need to talk to him. Will needs a friend right now, not a protector.” A sparkle reflects off El’s eyes. “A best friend.”
Mike swallows. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.”
“I know,” she says. There’s a brief silence, then El hugs him. “I’m going to go back inside,” she says when she breaks the embrace. “Are you coming with me?”
“No,” Mike says. “You go. I’ll be in in a minute. I just… I just need to think.”
“Okay.”
El turns and makes her way back to the Squawk. Mike watches her leave, a flood of emotions washing over him. But one thing screams louder than the others at the forefront of his mind.
“You really care about Will, don’t you?”