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Everyone has parted ways after graduation. Hawkins was left with an undeniably uneasy feeling to it regardless of the defeat of Vecna. But what hurt most was the departure of Will Byers.
Mike attempted to pull off a casual departure but he couldn’t help but subconsciously wipe his right eye everytime he felt it water. He wanted to stay strong for Will. The boy who was sobbing in Mike’s shoulder and grasping him tight in a hug before leaving. He was flying to New York City alone for college; a fresh start. And reasonably so, after the undeniable hell he was put through.
For months, letters have been distributed between eachother. Mike yearned for a change of scenery even if it meant reading it through letters. Hawkins has disappointedly never changed and the letters eventually died down. Two letters a week became once a month. Mike attempted to send even more to compensate but Will clearly didn’t seem too interested.
Did he already lose any sort of interest in Mike?
In his best friend?
Did he find new friends? Mike tried convincing himself he shouldn’t or doesn’t care but he found himself constantly thinking about it. Even when Lucas came for a visit back from college just about an hour away.
“At least someone remembered me.” Mike chuckles, opening the front door for Lucas.
“Mike.. we care. But many of us got so much shit going on! Be easy on Will especially. I’ve heard all of your constant complaining through the telephone.”
“Can you blame me. He’s been barely responding to any of my fucking letters. I knew he’d forget me. He probably got some shitty boyfriend. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Mike whines, leading Lucas to the living room couch. Thankfully free from his family for about an hour or so.
“Not that I care. I just care for my best friend you know.” Mike casually adds.
Lucas takes a seat, and attempts to sound as gentle as possible, “Okay.. but all I got to say is.. Mike you seriously need to get out of this hell hole.”
_
It reads 12:39AM on Mike’s alarm clock. He’s been sitting at the typewriter for what seems like hours. His brain clouded by thick and persistent fog. His eye’s constantly trailing back up to the painting hung up on his wall. Will’s painting.
Mike groans in annoyance, using the weight of his palms to push off the desk and rise from his stiff and worn chair.
He storms out his condensed bedroom and down the stairs. Without warning, he yanks the front door open, simultaneously grabbing the car keys hanging on a nailed bolt in the wall.
Finally inside the car, he contemplates on where to go. He can’t bring himself to care at this point. Just somewhere far away from the same yellowed stained bedroom walls he’s been surrounded by for so desperately long.
He decides on some sort of bar, not too close to home but close enough to get there without absolutely losing his mind in that damn car.
_
Mike looks out his car window to see bright flashing lights and music blasting through the one small entrance.
He mutters a line of cuss words under his breathe, not realizing how packed this place would be on a random Thursday night.
As Mike walks towards the entrance, he promises himself a limited amount of alcohol, just enough to mute the constant noise in his head and hopefully sedate himself until morning.
The music is probably the one thing Mike is enjoying about this place although it’s practically bursting his eardrums. The dancing crowd so dense he has to maneuver his way around to get to the bar. At least half of his body being in constant contact with someone or something.
He pats down his already moist and wrinkled polo shirt. Probably not the right attire for a place like this but it’ll do.
Mike takes a seat at one of the tall wooden cushioned stools.
“One beer please!”. The music so deafening Mike practically has to yell to an unoccupied bartender under a song he immediately recognizes: Fire in My Heart by Escape From New York
Mike cracks a slight smile just thinking about it. One of Will’s favorite songs. The song he basically forced himself to like simply because of Will’s love for it. Reminiscing back on it now, it wasn’t too bad. If anything, he missed it.
Oh my God. He’s thinking about him again.
He lays his fingertips on the freezing beer dripping water. Downing it in one go.
Fuck it.
Mike raises that same very hand, motioning the bartender for another drink.
In the meantime, he scans the crowd that somehow managed to get even larger.
Everybody dancing recklessly, bumping into eachother, and most ignorantly grinding up on eachother.
Mike has no interest in joining, but the people watching brings him a couple seconds of entertainment waiting for the beer to really flow throughout his system.
With the lights already being a deep blue, flashing in and out of several other bright colors, the room finally lightens a bit. Enough for him to see clear silhouettes of the diverse group of people.
So clear, he can see a familiar figure.
A figure he never once forgot.
Regardless of it being already five years since he’s seen Will Byers, he can’t deny it’s him.
The second fresh beer is placed within his grasp.
He immediately grabs the bottle. His hand completely disregarding the freezing temperature, clamping it with anxiety.
Holy shit he might just be going crazy.
Mike downs another bottle. All while his eyes are still set on that exact silhouette.
No matter the amount of random figures crossing over his field of view, he finds him again. Dancing freely in the crowd.
He never thought he’d find him like this. But he’s enjoying every bit of it.
Without a second thought, repeating the same motion with his left arm to the bartender, all while his body faces the crowd and his right elbow is holding up his upper body weight.
The figure whips around facing Mike’s general direction, his face barely visible through the clubs flashing lights.
It’s his Will.
Mike’s muscles tense, his lips part, and his eyebrows dip.
He subconsciously bites the inside of his lip, to feel if what he’s witnessing is real. He almost completely forgot what Will did over these past couple of years.
Will completely forgot about him. Will left him behind.
Seeing Will from the crowd had Mike forget it all. Forget his indescribable pain and the sudden abandonment from his best friend. That’s the inevitable power Will has on Mike, even after all these years.
Mike snaps back to reality with the harsh clank of his third beer on the wooden counter. He grips the bottle with his sweaty palm and practically leaps out of his stool.
He swings the beer overhead his mouth, the intoxicating juice gushing right into it. All while he’s unapologetically pushing through the large swarm of people.
Mike charges for Will in the crowd, drink still in his left hand. He’s completely aware of how he gets after multiple drinks, but he can’t bring himself to care.
He just needs to get to Will.
Mike is steps away from him whose still carelessly jumping around the same section of the dance floor. Shamelessly laughing and singing the fuck out of these music lyrics.
Mike forces himself to take those extra three steps.
“Will..” Mike says, not quite loud enough to hear over the music but mainly because of the pure adrenaline running through his veins.
But somehow, Will knows to turn around, almost like he felt him through this crowd of reckless strangers.
Will’s body immediately freezes and his eyes widen.
Inches away from eachother, Mike takes in all the details. Will look’s almost identical to himself from years ago. Yet Mike is aimlessly staring, looking at all the changes Will made.
Will got two hoops piercings on both ears, slight stubble, a messily cut and shaggy hairstyle, and a dark brown leather jacket.
Without even realizing, Mike is grinning ear to ear, eyes wide, corners of his eyes all crinkled.
“Holy shit Mike! No way it’s you!” Will exclaims still frozen in place.
“Will.. God I can’t believe your in Hawkins. I wrote you so many fucking letters, I missed you.”
“Shit I’ll explain later, I’m here visiting a frien-“, Will says scrunching his face.
Interruptedly, a darker curly haired man comes from behind Will. His outfit straight out of a magazine, covered in chained jewelry, and the exact height of Mike.
“Boyfriend. He’s visiting his boyfriend.” The man says with a smug grin on his face. A drink in his hand as well.
Will develops a guilty expression glancing down at the dirty dance floor covered in split drinks and dirty foot prints.
“Oh woa- yeah, shit I mean that’s awesome! Were you going to.. come by or something? I don’t know- but still that’s amazing news. I’m happy for you.” At this point Mike is rambling, his face goes bright red.
“Will was actually planning to head back to New York in a couple days so I don’t know man.” The mysterious man replies, eyeing Mike up and down.
Mike redirects his attention back to Will again with a weakened expression, “Will.”
Mike doesn’t know what else to say. His mind is going blank, the music is deafening, and his hands are tightened around his glass beer bottle.
“Mike I was going to write back. I swear. I don’t- I don’t know.”
“You were going to? It’s been years. Will. Goddamn years.”
The sudden shift in lighting is throwing Mike off guard and the flashing lights directed on Will’s face almost convince him to stop.
“I mean- screw it. Right? I completely forgot about whatever the fuck we had. Those letters don’t mean shit.” Mike shouts regrettably. He’s speaking without thinking and he can’t get himself to stop.
“You promised. You promised to keep in touch. You were my best friend and you threw that all away for some shitty boyfriend! Is New York that much cooler than me? I missed you. So much. But you never even- you never even-“, Mike stutters. Tears welling up in his eyes. He takes another large gulp of his already room temperature and half empty beer.
Will eyes shoot towards the bottle, “Mike. You’re drunk. Can we talk about this when your actually sober? Are you here alone?”
“This is only my third beer. I’m fine. Enjoy your awesome fucking night Will.” Mike practically yells making sure to be heard by both Will and his so called boyfriend, getting ready to storm off.
But he feels a rapid grasp at his wrist, pulling him back to where he was. Mike slightly tumbles back, alchohol already taking its course.
Will, still holding onto his wrist, “You’re drunk.”
The last thing Mike wants to do is have to watch Will and his boyfriend smother eachother for the rest of the night. Better off driving home even blackout drunk.
“I’m driving you home Mike. Give me your keys.”