Chapter Text
DECEMBER 22, 1985
Mike doesn’t know what to do with himself.
He paces back and forth through the entryway of his own home, peering out the window every now and then, picturing the moment when Joyce’s old car finally pulls into the driveway.
He pictures the moment Will walks through the door. And Eleven. He’ll probably hug Eleven first, because it’s the right thing to do and all, because she’s his girlfriend. Then he’ll hug Will.
It’s been three excruciating months without El and the Byers. It was definitely hard to adjust to, and it’s still hard to get used to not seeing his best friend everyday; Not biking to school with him, not walking through the obnoxious hallways with him, not basking in his quiet presence during class, not coming over on weekends to spend half the day reading comics or brainstorming new D&D campaigns. And, to make it even worse, Mike’s in high school now. And high school sucks. He can’t wait to walk right across that stage and get that stupid diploma.
He wonders if this whole ordeal has been as hard on Will as it’s been on him. El seems to be doing fine, though. At least, that’s what she claims in her letters. Mike almost questioned it, but decided it would be better not to.
Mike would, in theory, know how Will is doing, if he ever picked up the stupid phone. The line’s always busy, and it’s not like Mike can write letters to Will. That would be weird. Letters are reserved for El.
Mike can remember maybe one instance of Will answering and having an actual conversation with him, although it was pretty much just small talk. Nothing deep or meaningful. Nothing like their old conversations. Mike can almost feel Will slipping through the cracks of his hands, like hot sand on the beach. He hates that feeling. He wants to hold on.
The sound of wheels on pavement draws Mike out of his thoughts. He glances up and through the window, seeing the familiar car that left for California only a few months ago. His heart thuds in his chest as he runs to the front door, unlocking it and stepping outside into the frigid December air.
Before the car even turns off, the rear doors are already opening, revealing El on one side and Will on the other, both clambering out of the backseat clumsily and waving to Mike.
Mike doesn’t even realize his feet are carrying him until he’s already a few feet from El. She closes the distance herself and throws her arms around his neck, bringing him in for a close embrace. He wraps his own arms around her and feels the slightly itchy material of her sweater against his fingertips.
“Mike!” She exclaims, her hand reaching up to cup his face. Mike smiles against her hand, grateful for the return of her familiar touch. Mike isn’t sure what to do next, hands useless against El’s back.
Luckily, he doesn’t have to think about it, because El stands on her toes and kisses him. It’s sweet, and short, because Mike doesn’t really think fast enough to return the gesture. He’s more concerned about the lingering presence he feels a few feet away from him.
He lets go of El with an awkward and final pat on her shoulder before turning around and seeing him.
Will!
It’s all he can think: Will, Will, Will, Will, as he immediately pulls Will in for a hug, his arms resting comfortably around his waist, fingers clutching at his soft, yellow cable knit sweater, and Will’s arms reaching around and through Mike’s lanky limbs to embrace him in return.
Mike stays there for a moment with his head leaned down and resting on Will’s shoulder. He takes a small breath, as quiet and as subtle as he can, attempting to commit Will’s familiar scent to memory. He smells like clean laundry, like a quiet Sunday morning, like a lazy day outside in the sun with nothing to do. He smells like Will.
Will’s grasp starts to loosen, and Mike reluctantly follows suit, his hands returning to his side. Mike finally gets a chance to really look at him, and–
Not much has changed. Well, his hair has gotten less… bowl-cut-ish. It’s grown out a bit, which is nice. It suits him, Mike thinks. And he’s grown a bit taller already, slowly catching up to Mike in terms of height.
His hazel eyes are the same, though. The crisp winter sunlight reflects the flecks of green and gold within them. Mike has always wondered if–
“I missed you,” Will smiles up at Mike, his two front teeth showing, and Mike realizes he was staring. He prays that he doesn’t start blushing, but he can already feel the heat creeping up his neck despite the cold.
“I missed you, too,” He says, hands flexing at their sides, because he really wants to ruffle Will’s fluffy hair, or pull him in for another hug, or run his fingers along the soft material of his sweater. Mike wants to put him in his pocket and keep him there forever.
Mike isn’t really sure what else to say, and it looks like Will isn’t either, but then Jonathan walks over, saving them from whatever interaction this is.
“Hey, Mike,” Jonathan pats Mike on the shoulder with his unoccupied hand that isn’t carrying a duffel bag. Mike returns the gesture by patting Jonathan on his upper arm. “Hi, Jonathan. It’s good to see you,”
Jonathan gives him one of those weird, timid, Jonathan smiles before heading into the house, presumably to drop off the cargo.
He turns back to Will, and then looks to the back of the car, where El and Joyce are hoisting stuff out of the trunk.
“Uh- Do you guys need- I can help,” Mike offers stupidly. He doesn’t know why he’s stumbling over his words like this. However, Will being Will, he just nods in understanding and leads the way to help El and Joyce with the unloading process.
Joyce finally notices Mike and a bright yet tired grin spreads across her warm face. “Mike! Oh, it’s so good to see you again,” Her kind, brown eyes twinkle in the sunlight as she hugs Mike. Mike wasn’t expecting a hug from Joyce, but he returns it nevertheless. “Good to see you, too, Ms. Byers.”
About ten minutes later, they’ve finally finished with all the unloading. Their belongings sit in the foyer near the staircase as everyone gathers inside and Mike locks the front door. He shivers slightly from the steadily dropping outdoor temperatures as the sun begins to set. Mike hates how early the sun sets in the fall and winter months. It reminds him of–
“Mike, why don’t you help Will take his things up to your room?” His mother suggests, a hand on her hip and the other brushing a strand of curly blonde hair out of her face.
Right. Mike almost forgot about their… arrangement. For the record, he didn’t decide it. His mom and Nancy did. But he wasn’t complaining. Maybe Will staying in his room would give them a chance to talk about things that actually mattered. Like how school is really going. How life is going. No sugarcoating. Him and Will always used to have the most honest talks in the peaceful quiet of the night, when no one else was around to listen.
Mike nods like the dutiful and obedient son he is. Not. But of course he’ll help Will. He immediately springs into action, grabbing one of Will’s bags, trying not to reveal to everyone that it’s a bit heavy. Will’s right behind him on the stairs, and Mike can hear the quiet thump, thump of their feet on the soft, carpeted stairs. It reminds him of when they were kids, racing up to Mike’s room to collect comics for reading in the basement. Why is he suddenly so nostalgic today?
Mike pushes open the door to his room, wondering if Will is also feeling a bit sentimental or nostalgic like he is. He turns to look at Will.
“I’ve put some new posters up. And stuff.” Mike gestures to the walls dumbly, not knowing what else there is to say about his boring room. He notices the rogue clothes strewn across the floor, socks and pants and sweaters scattered haphazardly. “Oh. Sorry, it’s kinda messy in here. I probably should’ve cleaned before you got here,” Mike rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Oh, right, his mom did actually remind him to clean his room earlier. He’s just been too distracted, he can’t help it.
Will shakes his head with an easy smile. “It’s all good. Brings back good memories,” He remarks. Mike’s heart almost skips a beat. So, he’s also feeling the same as Mike?
“The bunk bed’s gone,” Will points out.
“Oh. Yeah, my mom figured… Since no one really sleeps over anymore, there’s no point in having it, so..” Mike trails off awkwardly, setting Will’s bag down and sitting on the edge of his bed. Will used to sleep in the top bunk when he would stay over. Sometimes he would just crawl down the ladder and sleep in Mike’s bed, especially if there was a thunderstorm, or if he had a nightmare.
“That makes sense,” Will nods and joins Mike, sitting down next to him, their legs brushing together. A comfortable yet also charged silence settles over the two of them. Mike stares at some random spot on the wall, racking his brain on what to say.
“So, how have things been–”
“Sorry I haven’t called–”
There’s an awkward pause after they both begin speaking at the same time.
“Sorry, you go first,” Will dips his head earnestly to Mike.
“Uh, I was just gonna ask how things have been in Cali,” Mike explains. Will pauses and considers the question, turning it over in his mind as he looks down at the carpet.
“Good. Different. A lot different, actually. It’s always sunny. I don’t think there’s been a single cloudy day,” Will laughs softly and Mike feels himself smile. “I miss that about Hawkins.”
“What about the people? Are they all, like, crazy surfer dudes?” Mike jokes with a laugh and a really bad imitation of a Californian surfer accent. Mike wonders what it is about Will that makes his most idiotic self jump out.
It’s worth it, though, because Will’s laughing, a beautiful, toothy grin across his face.
“Oh my God, no, Mike. That’s–” He pauses to collect his breath after the sudden laughter and glances down at the floor. “Well, that’s what I thought it would be like, too. But they’re just… cool. Like, everybody’s really caught up with the trends there. All the music, all the clothes.. Yeah. They’re cool. Like, effortlessly.” Will explains, talking with his hands all the while.
Mike nods and tries to picture these Californians. Cool. Trendy. Yeah, that adds up, for some reason. Mike guesses that Will probably feels out of place there. Mike knows he himself definitely would, too.
“That’s cool.” Mike replies. “So… I’m guessing you’ve made a lot of cool, trendy friends?” He asks, but then almost regrets asking, almost not wanting to know the answer. The idea of Will having a closer friend than him is startlingly dreadful.
There’s a pause. Mike sneaks a glance at Will, who’s fidgeting with his hands in his lap, gaze averted downwards.
“No, not… not really,” Will chuckles, but there’s no humor. “El and I kind of just keep to ourselves. We walk to class together, we eat lunch together, I mean, we do everything together.” Will’s eyes light up with fondness at the mention of El. “It’s nice to have someone there with me. It’s not completely lonely.”
Mike pictures Will and El walking through the halls of whatever their high school is called together, going from class to class, telling each other about their days. That seems nice. He’s glad Will isn’t all alone in a new place. And Eleven, too, of course.
“How are things here?” Will suddenly asks after a few moments of quietness, only the clatter of pots and pans (Karen starting on dinner) and the excited voices of El and Joyce from downstairs breaking the silence. Mike finds himself wanting to know what Will was going to say to him initially before they both spoke at the same time.
It takes Mike a few seconds to find the right words. “They’re… They’re okay.” Mike decides, and then immediately dislikes the way in which the words come out. His voice is uneven, unsure. Of course, Will instantly picks up on this. He should have known.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” Will points out, turning to look at Mike directly. Mike almost feels like the wind has been knocked out of him as he meets Will’s gaze. Will’s green eyes search his own for the truth. Mike obviously surrenders.
“I don’t know. It’s been hard,” Mike starts, but like always, he’s unsure of how to explain how he’s feeling. “I hate school. I always have. Kind of. Except science with Mr. Clarke.” They both pause to share a soft laugh, remembering their favorite teacher from middle school.
“But now, for some reason, it’s like– it’s… harder. I hate it even more. The Party is starting to fall apart. Max barely talks to us anymore, Lucas is busy with basketball and he seems to like hanging out with those idiots on his team a lot more, and..” He realizes he’s rambling. Shit. He shakes his head a bit aggressively.
“Sorry. Sorry, I’m rambling.” Mike plants his hands on his thighs firmly to ground himself. When did he get so miserable?
Now Will’s shaking his head next to him.
“No, no, it’s fine. I want to know about all of that. Seriously.”
You would have already known about it if you ever called me.
“And Dustin,” Mike picks back up where he left off. “Dustin’s fine. He made a new friend, Eddie. I mean, he’s kind of my friend, too, in a way. He’s really cool.” He conveniently leaves out the part about Eddie recruiting him, Dustin, and Lucas to the Hellfire Club. He’s worried it would make Will feel left out, or something. Even though there’s no way for him to really be included anyway, it still feels wrong.
“It’s just different. And it’s worse because–” Mike pauses, wondering what this aching feeling in his heart is, and why his throat suddenly feels heavy. He doesn’t know if he should say the next part or not. Will continues gazing into his soul. His face is soft, warm, devastatingly sweet and welcoming.
“I don’t know.” Will’s expression falls just a bit, but Mike thinks he’s seeing things. “Nevermind. Sorry, I’m acting like such a loser right now.” With that, he stands up. He needs to get out of this situation before he says something too meaningful or direct.
He glances at Will one more time. Or two more times. He’s staring downwards again, and he looks like he has a lot on his mind, and a lot he wants to say. But he doesn’t speak. Mike wants him to speak.
“We should probably head back downstairs,” Mike suggests, opening his bedroom door that had almost shut behind them earlier. Will nods and stands up with a small sigh.
“Jonathan, would you pass the salt?” Joyce calls across the table. Jonathan reaches across Mike with a hushed apology as he hands the salt and pepper to Joyce.
Karen picks up her glass of wine, swirling it around a bit. “So, how was the drive? I can’t imagine being in a car for that long.” She grimaces and shakes her head. Mike glances over at his dad, who is ultimately unamused, focused on his roast chicken.
“Oh, it really wasn’t that bad. We stayed in a couple motels along the way, to get some rest, you know. And then this morning we left from Kansas City and… here we are!” Joyce shrugs and raises her fork up in a victorious gesture.
He steals a quick glance at Will, who’s sitting on the other side of him. He looks tired. His eyelids are heavy, and even cutting the chicken seems like a drain of his energy. Mike would be tired after a road trip like that, too, he thinks. Will should get to bed early tonight. Mike will make sure that happens.
“Why would you stay in Kansas City?” Ted asks after clearing his throat, his voice monotone and his face expressionless. Mike instinctively rolls his eyes at his dad’s stupid question. Everyone at the table goes quiet and confused glances are exchanged. Mike hears a quiet, barely audible snicker from beside him. Will’s trying not to laugh.
Joyce shrugs again, tilting her head, eyebrows furrowed. “Just seemed like a good place to stop.” She replies, finally, and Will’s shoulders are shaking slightly next to Mike. He’s laughing. Mike nudges him with his arm playfully, a smile and a giggle of his own rising to the surface. It’s only a matter of time before they burst into full laughter together. Holly, seated next to her mom, lets out a tiny giggle upon seeing their foolery.
Karen clears her throat from across the table, fixing a serious stare on Mike, as if to say, behave. How can Mike be expected to behave normally around Will? How can he be expected to not join in on the laughter if Will is laughing?
“What have you guys been doing for fun?” Karen asks, glancing between El and Will. “Any fellow Dungeons and…” She trails off, motioning with her fork for someone to remind her of the name. “Dragons.” Mike says. “Right. Any fellow Dungeons and Dragons lovers in Cali?” She smiles and tilts her head at Will.
Will stiffens a bit with all the attention on him, shrugging. He’s really just like his mom, Mike thinks.
“Not really,” He responds. The whole table waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.
“Will is painting a lot. And drawing.” El adds helpfully with a quick glance at Will. Mike notices Will’s face reddening ever so slightly. Mike would say he’s adorable, but that’s more of something he would say about Eleven. Maybe.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re still keeping that up, Will. Your drawings are the best.” Karen smiles fondly at Will. Will’s blush deepens. “Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler,” He replies shyly.
Mike wants to see Will’s new drawings and paintings. He’s always loved them, obviously; One look into Mike’s bedroom or the basement, and you can instantly tell he loves them. He has a whole binder full of Will’s sketches. Now, he can’t seem to remember where he last put it. But he knows it’s somewhere. He should find it later.
“I hope you’re not thinking of pursuing art in college. Artists make no money.” Ted points out unhelpfully. Mike bristles after feeling Will shift in his seat next to him.
“No money my ass,” Mike says rather defensively, and of course, his mother is the first to react. “Michael,” She scolds.
“What? It’s true! Artists can make plenty of money.” He scowls at his mom, then his dad, before rolling his eyes dramatically. “You’re so old-fashioned, Dad.” He groans, leaning back in his chair, the wood digging into his back. “It’s not the fifties anymore.”
“Son, I’m just being realistic.” Ted shakes his head.
Will stares down at his plate. An awkward feeling settles around the table. Mike’s made it awkward again. He cringes internally and picks at his food.
“Thank you so much for cooking, Mrs. Wheeler.” Jonathan says timidly. “You’re welcome. I wanted you guys to have a nice meal after all that driving.” Karen replies, reaching over to help Holly cut her chicken. Mike stabs at his asparagus quietly.
Later that night, El and Mike are in his bedroom (with the door open 3 inches, per Eleven’s request) simply chatting and telling each other all the things they couldn’t fit into their letters. El has made some new friends at school. A lot of new friends. Mike is almost envious of her ability to connect with others so easily. But then, it crosses his mind how Will said he and El keep to themselves at school, and really only hang out with each other. Mike decides not to ask El about this. He knows Will doesn’t lie, though.
“I got you something. For Christmas.” El says, her brown eyes shining with child-like excitement. Mike smiles. “Oh, yeah?”
She nods and moves to get up from the floor. “Wait, wait, wait. Shouldn’t we wait until Christmas Day to exchange gifts?” He asks, looking up at her. She tilts her head. “Oh. Yes.” She nods and sits back down.
El’s only had one real Christmas. Last year, she gave Mike a beaded bracelet, which now resides somewhere in the clutter of his room. He never remembered to wear it.
The door creaks open slightly and Mike glances up to see Will standing in the doorway, already dressed in his pajamas, looking sleepy. Mike stands up immediately while El remains cross-legged on the floor.
“Hey! Are you uh… going to bed?” He asks Will. He nods while his eyes flicker over to Eleven. Mike glances behind his shoulder at her and then back to Will. “Hey, El, I should also probably start getting ready for bed. You should, too. You had a long day.”
She gets up and walks to the door. “I am staying with Nancy?” She asks.
Mike nods. “Yeah, yeah.” Eleven smiles and steps out of the way to let Will in, placing a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder. “Goodnight, Will. Goodnight, Mike.” She slips out into the hallway after Will enters.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Will says with a yawn. Mike quickly shakes his head. “No, you didn’t interrupt anything. It’s all good. We were just talking.” He feels the need to clarify that. For some reason.
“Okay,” Will replies quietly and stands in the middle of the room awkwardly. Mike realizes he forgot to get the sleeping bag out. “Shit. My bad. Don’t worry, I won’t make you sleep in my bed with me.” He grimaces while his back is turned from Will immediately after he says that. Why does he have to make everything weird?
He digs around in his closet for his old sleeping bag from when the Party would have sleepovers. There’s a brief moment of panic when he can’t seem to find it. Please be here, he thinks. He’d rather die than sleep in the same bed as Will. Not because of Will, but because of himself. For reasons he can’t really make sense of.
“Found it!” He calls out triumphantly, fishing it out from underneath all the random stuff on his closet floor. He really needs to clean all of this out sometime.
He turns back around to see Will sitting on his bed again, like earlier. He lays down and unzips the sleeping bag in the space between the bed and the closet, grabbing one of the pillows atop his bed and placing it at the top of the bag.
“Here you go,” Mike says, stepping back to admire his work. Looks comfortable. Except…
He grabs his favorite blanket from his bed and hands it to Will. “In case it gets cold,” He adds as Will takes the blanket hesitantly, his fingers brushing against Mike’s softly.
“Oh- Thanks,” He smiles gratefully and Mike can almost feel his heart clench in his chest.
“Mhm,” Mike hums. He sighs and goes to grab his own pajamas to change into. “Well, I’m gonna go shower. If the bathroom is unoccupied, which I highly doubt it is.” He chuckles, and Will offers a quiet laugh in return. “Alright,” He says.
Mike pads back into his bedroom after showering, seeing Will already nestled up and asleep in the sleeping bag, the soft, navy blue blanket pulled up to his chin. Mike feels himself smile as he gazes upon Will’s serene face, eyelashes resting against his rosy cheeks and lips slightly parted. He’s pretty.
Mike freezes at the thought. No, that’s not what he meant, he meant… Well, yeah. Pretty. Will is pretty. He always has been. That’s not weird to say about your friends, right? No, it’s definitely weird. Mike shakes his head as if to somehow shake away the thought.
He doesn’t want to wake the boy up. He sneaks over to his lamp, switching it off and climbing into his bed as quietly as possible. The wooden bedframe creaks a bit and the sheets rustle as he slips into the warm bed. He really hopes that wasn’t too loud.
Will stirs on the ground below him. Mike cringes as he hears Will shifting or turning over in the sleeping bag. And then– silence. Mike can’t even hear Will breathing anymore. There’s no sound except Mike’s own breathing and the heater softly buzzing within the walls.
“Mike?” Will’s timid but sweet voice cutting through the silence causes Mike to flinch.
“Yeah?” He replies, keeping his voice down, as most everyone has gone to bed by now. He doesn’t know why his heart is racing like this. He stares up at the ceiling, waiting for Will’s reply.
“I’m… I’m sorry I haven’t called much.” Will says. The words hang there for a moment as Mike thinks of what to say in response. It should be the other way around, the way Mike sees it. He should be the one calling. Not Will. He knows that. And he has been the one calling, but Will wouldn’t know that, with Joyce’s new job and all.
“It’s okay.” Mike replies.
“No, it’s not. I’ve just been really busy, and it just slips my mind, and I don’t want to bother you and stuff. You’re probably busy, too, and I don’t want to waste your time.” Will is speaking a bit quickly, rushed, like he needs to get the words out before he implodes.
Mike pauses, then turns on his side to face the closet. “Will, you could never waste my time. You would never bother me. I promise. I promise.” Too much emotion is leaking through his voice, so he tones it down a bit. He wonders if he should really say the next thing, if it’s the right thing to do, or if he’ll just embarrass himself. He hears Will shift around down below.
“If it makes you feel any better,” He swallows. “I’ve been trying to call you. But the line is always busy.” His voice is uneven, shaky. Will has gone completely still. Mike squeezes his eyes shut.
“I’m sorry, it’s– It’s my mom’s new job. She’s always on the phone. I’m sorry.” Will finally says.
Mike is confused why Will is blaming himself and apologizing. “It’s okay.” Mike mutters, a wave of exhaustion falling over him. He suddenly feels like a fool for admitting that he’s been calling Will so much.
“Goodnight, Will.” Mike turns over on his other side, facing his bedside table. His mind is full of clashing ideas and thoughts, confusing feelings, and most of all, frustration. He pulls the duvet over his head, covering himself, hiding from the world. Sleep begins to pull him down into unconsciousness, deeper and deeper. He’s not sure if Will ever responded to him or not. If he did, Mike didn’t hear it.