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The car squeaks as he gets into it, turning the key inside and starting the 2019 Nissan Frontier. It was beat up, a tad dirty, very different from the "put together" Micheal everyone knew. He drove around the same town he had been in for 53 years, the radio humming softly. Every time he did this, (which had to be four times a week at least), all he could do is think.
Think about the regret of not leaving Hawkins,
of not finding love (or at least marrying someone he loved),
of not settling down,
of not changing his narrative so many years ago.
It had been over thirty years since Mike had graduated. Over twenty since he had saw Will and... his boyfriend. On Facebook his status stayed single, showing that the two had broken up. Now fifty-four still painted every day. Small posts of his work, stuff related to his childhood, the kidnapping, what Vecna did to him- his insides. A heavily personal thing to share, if you were to ask Mike was doing online, he would answer with the same blank stare he did for everything.
His hands locked on the steering wheel as he continued to drive, turning the radio up softly. A song, something pop and upbeat came through. An unusual thing for The Sqwak to play at 8:59 PM on a Thursday.
It's fine,
It's cool.
The woman's voice was tender through his car speaker. He placed his hands back on the wheel, not changing it back to some boring NPR, not yet.
You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.
And guess I'm the fool,
With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof.
Mikes shot a glare to his stereo, pulling over at the quarry.
It all rushed back.
Being fourteen with not a care in the world, looking over Will's body while he wasn't looking. Being a dick just to be a dick. Riding bikes while screaming, moonlight turning your skin a hazy blue from being so pale. The way Will licked his lips and teeth before talking, the soft glares and touches they had constantly shared. Falling asleep on the grass and waking up intertwined and slightly damp from the morning dew. Rainstorms spent in Castle Byers shielding each other from the rain, a moment so intimate for the immaturity they both carried.
But mostly he remembers those lips.
So chapped and bitten were red, the way Will always licked them. No Chapstick, just his sweet saliva. Sometimes it would dribble slightly from his lips onto his chin.
But Mike wasn't gay... not like Will was gay- Okay?
The music seemingly got louder without touching it.
I don't wanna call it off,
but you don't wanna call it love.
You only wanna be the one that I call "Baby".
The memories intensified every line. Will and Mike, younger than he could barely remember. Holding each other, intense hugs. Holding hands, the way Mike held him so dearly and so close after he got back from the upside down. The sleepovers where Mike would move up into Will's bed and held each other till they fell asleep. Mike didn't care about girls at that point; he cared about Will. The boy he had helped with everything, the one who his arm was constantly wrapped around, his Will. His Will.
You can kiss a hundred boys in bars,
Shoot another shot, try to stop the feelin.
You could say it's "Just the way you are",
Make a new excuse, another stupid reason.
Mike sat in the silence of his thoughts and the soft hum of music for a few minutes. Memories are so intense coming back like a wave of realization.
It was never about Eleven.
It was about Will.
Eleven had always basically been Will in a dress, just dumber with less of a personality. I guess... that was just his cover. A girl that loved him, one that he deep down knows he could never love.
His attention snapped back to the stereo, the lyrics calling at him.
Oh, when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night.
With your hands in your hair, you're nothing more than his wife.
And when you think about me,
All of those years ago.
You're standing face-to-face with,
I told you so.
You know, I hate to say but,
I told you so.
You know, I hate to say but,
I told so.
Now only then, forty-three years later had Mike fully realized what was happening in his childhood. What he was experiencing.
Mike Wheeler, He was in love with Will Byers.
The same Will that loved him all those years ago.
The Will he held through the night, soothing him to sleep. Running a soft hand through his hair.
Mike was so stupid in hurting Will, hurting the boy he loved so dearly but couldn’t accept as that. But not just did he hurt Will, he hurt Eleven. He hurt her so badly. Years of lies fake love and manipulation. He hurt his current wife by making her trapped with the raincloud known as Micheal Thedore Wheeler.
He hurt those he loved most.
He reached to the radio, turning it off as he pulled the key out of his truck. The silence was loud, so loud it hurt your ears. It was uncomfortable, uncertain.
The things he said to hurt Will were uncomfortable
“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”
“We’re friends, we’re friends.”
“Friends? No… best friends.”
Mike sighed softly, running a hand through his hair before opening the trucks door and taking a shaky step onto the quarries rocky gravel flooring. His feet carried him to the edge, planting him at the place he had contemplated everything for the past forty-ish years of his life.
The moon glinted off the water, turning it to a salty mint blue. A colour that had always been Mikes favourite. He huffed, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and scrolling till he saw Wills number on iMessage.
He clicked on the call and placed it on speaker phone, letting it ring as he nervously bit his lip.
BRINGGG!
BRINGGG!
“Hey, Mike what’s up?” Wills voice sounded drowsy, still soft with care and concern.
“I- uhm.” Mike sniffled, trying to stop himself from crying. “I, I’m sorry- Will. I am… I was such a dick back then, and I- I never appreciated anything I had, and I had it sooo good. I had you… and… and… I’m finally saying it after forty-three years… but- fuck.
I am in love with you.”