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The party were all trickling out of the basement one by one, Max, Lucas, Dustin. And then it was Will. The four orange letters on his DnD folder hummed a pale yellow in the basement lighting. With each step he took up the stairs, the more the spine started to tilt. The absence of the fifth and final folder grew deeper, Mike knew he had to place his own. But he couldn't, not yet.
All of the times that the group had been here all together danced around in Mike’s mind. Seeing the party evolve from just him and Will to the six of them - and now back down to five - made him shudder. Thinking about how much the party went through in just these last 6 years was absolutely devastating, Mike’s way of coping was to envision their futures for them. The zoomer and ranger stick together, the bard uses his brains to craft some awesome space-time invention, the cleric finds his own magic in his art, away from here. He finds someone who can truly appreciate him for his talent, his humour, his looks. And the paladin is truly only the dungeon master in this story.
As Mike finally fitted his folder next to the others, his cold hand caressed their spines, lingering for a moment too long over Will’s. His best friend since kindergarten. Salt pooled under his eyes, sniffles echoing from the day El disappeared after the demogorgon. The day Will’s body was pulled out from the quarry. The day he saw Eleven for the last time. Today, when he realises he’s lost the party, his best friends, forever.
Mike had spent time hacking away at his typewriter for days on end. The ever prolonging sound of the keys drilled into his head, reminding him of the high frequencies booming from the MAC-Z. He wasn’t sure on how else to convince himself that Eleven was not dead, so these sound waves (that he couldn’t even hear) seemed the most plausible; it was her kryptonite. She couldn’t use her powers if that was really her in the crumbling archway, so it must’ve been an illusion.
Above his desk hung a painting, made by his longest ever friend, Will Byers. Despite the original idea of the painting being commissioned by El, Mike figured out the latent content pretty quickly after Will came out to them all. Throughout their friendship, there was never a moment when Mike stopped believing in Will, even during his possession in ‘84 he knew that his best friend was stronger than that, he knew he could overcome it. He believed that Will could use the mindflayers spying to his advantage, and use Vecna's powers for good. When Will gathered them all around and spilled his tender heart, Mike was so proud to see his sorcerer overcome one of his fears. Until his ears blew, a gun was fired, the penny dropped. It was him, Will had liked him. In El's letter she had said Will was painting for someone he liked, and Mike was on the receiving end of it. It was never from Eleven, she hardly knew anything about the party's DnD roles - it was always from Will. The summit of it caused a grave ache in his stomach. The pain lingered for a good two months afterwards, and comes back every time he catches a subtle glimpse of the daring red thessalhydra and the four brave party members.
It certainly took him a while to figure out why there was a fluttering in his heart every time his best friend smiled, or why he was always so protective over him; he definitely didn't possess the same overbearingness towards Lucas or Dustin. But Mike is certain as to why now. Maybe he always knew.
It's becoming more common for Mike to wake up in the morning and see his father glaring back at him through the mirror. The way his parting fell, and how the bridge of his nose held his glasses. “See what happens, Michael.” mimicked the tone of his alarm clock that one summer. See what happens when what? When you accept your identity? Funny how those words aged, considering they were about Will, who then came ‘back to life.’ After Will started embracing himself, he had been absorbing more light everyday. From what Mike has heard from Lucas, Will is in a new relationship with a guy in New York, but many just believe that they’re roommates. Yet he is fine with that, in fact he’d rather it be that way. He has never been happier. After everything he had been through, Mike was just glad he found someone who could truly understand and click with him, again. Even though Mike did that first.
Maybe he would be feeling different if El was still here. Mike’s resentment toward blissful couples wouldn't be so strong, he wouldn't feel so incapable of loving someone. But who was he fooling? Even in her last moments before death, Mike the brave couldn't even buck the courage to say three words back to Eleven. He never loved her, not like that. And he was terrified that he would never love another woman the same way he loved his best friend.
During Lucas and Max’s wedding, it was his girlfriend who had caught the bouquet. He saw this as an opportunity to pile his trust in fate's hands, to believe that she really was the one. Seeing two of his truest friends become newlyweds, Mike was proud. Knowing that they could talk about all of the trauma from their childhoods together must feel so freeing. He thought about Eleven, he knew that even if she was still alive and found someone too, they would never ever understand her the way that the party did.
Their ceremony wasn't too big, but Will had invited Robin as his plus one just in case. Knowing that Will had to pretend to like somebody different caused Mike’s heart to twinge. I guess they’re both pretending. Knowing that Will’s partner wouldn’t ever know the truth about his childhood too, was devastating. He would never know how to properly comfort Will when he experienced one of his nightmares, he would never understand his trauma to the full extent. The night of Halloween ‘84 floated in Mike's memories. Swearing they’d both go “crazy together” indefinitely tumbled short.
Seeing his childhood best friend again after so long ultimately meant the night ended sooner, Mike was blackout and his girlfriend had to take him home before he made any more of a fool of himself that day.
His career as a writer fell short, and Mike finally succumbed to a real job (as his fiance called it).
He knew that this was the right choice, they needed more income to support them both and their firstborn. The dreams of living this fantastical world he had written had crumbled, firing him back into the desperate claims of reality. Never truly being able to pursue another one of his childhood wishes left daggers in Mike’s heart. Many years ago he was Will’s heart, and that thought made him want to purge his guts up again.
Laying on his desk beside his car keys was an invite from Dustin. That’s another one of his friends moving on, growing up, getting married. Yet disappointingly, Mike knew he wasn’t financially able to make it to Chicago next year to see him and celebrate. It was just another way he was going to let down the party, each brick taken out of the wall leaves you pondering when it will finally fall.
She looked beautiful, the way her fawny curls outlined her soft features, the white veil trickled down to her waist. The mellow words of the priest hummed in the air. Unfortunately, the weather was not the kindest to the couple, a dreary glow reflected off the church walls, casting Mike’s soon-to-be wife’s green eyes a much darker shade than they should be. They reminded him of when his friend Will was possessed due to the shadow monster (as he called it). The more flayed he became, the darker his irises grew. The less he was of himself. Turning his head, Mike scanned the room in hopes to catch a glimpse of his old friend, yet he was just met with a bunch of unknowing faces beaming back at him. People he invited, yet he doesn’t truly know them.
“You may kiss the bride” and so he did. It felt electrifying. Every touch his fingertips received of his wife’s face, her waist, it sent shockwaves through Mike. So he told himself. And will continue to tell himself.
He was finally having a son. After two beautiful girls he now will have a handsome son to join his family. His eldest daughter was now four, and Mike couldn’t wait for her to be old enough to understand the game that mapped out his childhood. Even though his wife thought the game was too nerdy and never cared enough to try and understand it, Mike wanted his children to create their own party and enjoy crafting their own campaigns together.
Maybe he could write to Lucas and Max to see how their son was getting on. Even when he was little, Mike had envisioned his friends' children getting along, spending time playing DnD, watching movies, and reading comics. Just like his party all did. But it was now too late for that, since he had only seen his ranger and zoomer four times in the last three years.
It was now November 6th 2003. It had been 20 years since the great disappearance of William Byers from the small town of Hawkins, Indiana. And Mike was still there. On his way to work nearly everyday, he drives past the quarry and sees a fake body of a child he once knew. Crumbled balls of paper piled in his bin, each sheet starting with ‘Dear Will.’ Some pages were even teared stained, holding the weight of Mike’s subconscious. He didn't really know why he so desperately wanted to write to Will, considering he hadn’t received a letter addressed ‘To Mike’ in about ten years. Even communication between his bard had become lackluster, but at least Mike held some of the puzzle pieces as to what was going on in Dustin’s life - he was completely shunned out of Will’s. And honestly, it’s not surprising, Mike was a complete jerk to his supposed best friend for years. Will never got an explanation as to why because Mike suppressed his true self entirely, causing him to distance himself from his friend: to the point he was scared to even touch him. The spark Mike felt each time Will’s skin made contact with his was too precious that he knew he had to burn it out. He hasn't felt a jolt of electricity like that in 14 years.
Mike’s children were growing older, and he still was hesitant to grab that box of DnD stuff from the basement. He didn’t want his own children to have a similar childhood to his, getting isolated and mistreated for being a nerd, for being different. He knew how much his wife winced when he mentioned the game, so maybe it will be for the best if he never introduces it to them.
Occasionally he does wonder what El would've been like as a mom. But he never thought about it back when they actually dated, so it was hard to envision how she would act now. Luckily, he can imagine how Max is as a mom, and Lucas and Dustin as fathers. Due to the rise of the internet, most of the party are now Facebook Friends, so they can see each other's curated lives through the pictures they share online. However, Will is the only one who still hasn’t accepted Mike’s request. Everyday he checks for an update, yet he is constantly faced with ‘pending.’ He imagines that’s how Will felt about him every summer during their teens; Mike never truly gave him a rejection or a confirmation on how he felt, it was always just a storm cloud of uncertainty.
On a random spring day, Mike Wheeler saw Will Byers for the first time in 12 years. Mist loomed in the air creating a rather gothic ambiance, while Mike went to Melvalds general store to buy some groceries. As he walked past an aisle, he heard a laugh he so strongly recognised, one that could only belong to the boy who once loved him. Retracing his steps, he took a long glance at the back of his once childhood best friend. Even though he couldn’t see his face from where he stood, Mike could tell he was smiling. And obviously, because you can’t ever be too cliche, something falls off the shelf due to the whack of Mike's elbow. The crash startles everyone in the surrounding vicinity, including Will and the person he was conversing with. The dimples that Mike knew all too well vanished from the face that belonged to Will as the words “Mike? No way.” swung in the air. As Mike embarrassingly tried to pick up the item that dropped, waves of memories crashed on the shore of Mike’s mind, heat trickled across his face. It dawned on Mike that the person standing next to Will with close proximity was in fact his boyfriend. The way they both quickly turned around, Will swiftly dropping his arm. He was happy. But not to see Mike, and he has never felt more sick.
He used to hate the relationship he had with his father, but some patterns never end up breaking. Mike loved his children. Seeing their bewildered expressions on Christmas mornings, hearing their laughs swirl in the air when they’re on playdates with friends always made him proud of how he’s bringing them up. But every time his two daughters got a good grade in school, or a new fun interesting fact they learnt from their books, or whenever his son made a new drawing - they never came to him first, they always went to their mother.
He has tried to share his own old interests with them, but every time he opens that box, the first thing that he is faced with is that DnD painting where Mike is front and centre of the party, acting all brave in front of the thessalhydra. Where Mike was, at one point, Will’s heart.
More often than not, he and his wife were bursting with arguments. His two youngest would run off upstairs, confiding in the comfort of their oldest sibling. A vicious cycle that never ends. Music would ignite from her bedroom, burning out all bickering that could’ve been heard from their parents.
“You never say it” he has heard this all before. And he knows it's true. Mike will never be able to bring himself to say it, especially not to the wrong people. He has only ever truly loved one person and that was his childhood best friend, Will Byers.
His youngest child was now twelve, his son becoming a shadow of his younger self. Looks wise at least, but not ambitiously. Mountains of drawings erupted in his son's room, splashes of colour popped from the walls. It was beautiful to see his talent flourish in countless ways, yet Mike knew his son hadn’t got that from him. If only Will was still in Hawkins, he could’ve been the best mentor for his boy. Thinking about how well his old friend could’ve taught his son about colour theory, and shading techniques made his eyes swell. It’s always what could’ve been. And it’s always your choice.
Rolls of sellotape and cardboard boxes were spread out across the floor of his eldest daughter's room. His firstborn was already moving for college, pursuing her dreams in medicine. Even though he wasn’t close with her, it still hurt to know that she was no longer going to be under his roof. She gets to escape this town, like Mike never did. Her golden strands fell into place trailing down her back. Blonde must be a recessive gene he got from his own mother. If everybody were portraits, the eldest resembled her own aunt Holly, but if the artist used a different utensil for each of them. One with oil paints, one with water colours. Her face was red from exhaustion, the whole day she had been packing. She noticed her father pondering there in the doorway, and they had a classic heart-to-heart about how she will always be his daughter, no matter how old she gets and how far away she lives. Mike honestly thought he was going to cry and be sick once more - but he also knew he couldn’t show signs of weakness around her.
Seeing her in her orange graduation gown a month ago caused a ray of anxiety to beam through Mike. He was transported back to the summer of ‘89, his own graduation. The subtle reminder that they all chose to play DnD that last time instead of going to a celebratory party made him realise they all stayed true to themselves, not letting conformity win. And he hoped it was still that way now. But Mike wouldn’t know.
Melancholy sieved through his veins looking at how happy his daughter was celebrating with her friends that day. He just hoped for her sake all of them would stay in contact even though they’d all be states apart. At least long distance communication is easier in the modern world.
Two of his children have now moved out for college, the middle child still at home with her parents. She knew that one day she was going to move out officially, away from Hawkins. However she also knew that continuing with academia like her other two siblings was just not for her, and she would be living a lie if she would’ve gone to college like her teachers recommended her to do a few years ago. She had an apprenticeship in a town over, and was saving up from it to get out as quickly as possible. Mike’s second daughter did also know that this was the exact trap her father fell for, but she wasn’t one who liked to be tricked. She would not let herself fall down the same hole - the pattern would not follow through with her.
Mike knew of her plan and was exceptionally proud of her for not letting pressures push her into something she didn’t want to do. He didn’t know where her courage came from. I don’t believe Mike did ever say to her face how he feels, because letting her know he recognises the cycle means he has failed, and Mike didn’t want to accept that his ending was poorly written.
It was another chilly spring day, the year was 2024. Indiana had a problem with overdue winters, snow falling in April wasn’t common yet it wasn’t an absurd rarity either. The roads were not yet gritted with salt, and potholes had frozen over. Mike’s car radio was tuned to a low volume, the music playing pledged only to be background noise as he concentrated on trying to make it to his office for work. A new release started humming, the synths at the start reminded him of all the pop he loved as a teen. Now he falls into the category of those who claim ‘I don’t really listen to music.’
Straight away the second lyric hit him like a freight train “You can say that we are nothing but you know the truth.” Immediately, the days he spent out in Lenora with Will played in his mind, then the reel clicked and he saw his sorcerer out in the field the days before the final battle. How the golden sun grew brighter as Will smiled, because of Mike.
Now the chorus strung in, the melody urges you to dance, yet the lyrics cause your heart to throb. “You can say it’s just the way you are/ Make a new excuse, another stupid reason,” Rain splattered across the windshield, the blue haze of Will’s face splashed onto it too.
“You’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.” And after Will came out to them all, all the times MIke hesitated to touch him swarmed his mind. He knew how dangerous it was when they did touch. Electricity fired. After Will told them all about his sexuality, knowing that Will did like Mike back, created this hunger that never was satisfied. Knowing in a possible future out there, Mike could’ve confided in him about his feelings too. But it all became too much and Mike had to blow out the spark between them.
And then the bridge hit him. “When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night/ With your head in your hands you’re nothing more than his wife.” On the hand that was clutching the steering wheel, a golden ring lay. Those same fingers then jolted, swerving the car off to the right mere seconds away from a collision with another vehicle, or so Mike believed. He remembered the van and the terrible driving of Will's brother, how they kept driving through bumps and holes, cruising through sandy terrain, receiving the painting, Will's soft face in the golden Nevada sun.
“And when you think about me, all of those years ago/ You’re standing face to face with ‘I told you so.’” repeated over the radio. At first, it was the only noise heard, until the song died out and eventually sirens were rumbling in the mere distance. Blood pooled across the dashboard, slicked back polished hair now embracing its natural curl as it sprawled across the face of a person we once could recognise.
Goodbye, Michael Wheeler. We hardly knew you.