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29th of May 1992
Will switches his weight from one foot to another, hesitating before knocking the door. The front of the Wheeler’s resistance hasn’t changed, despite all the passing years. He's seen the impressive skyscrapers in New York and coming back here always feels like a time travel. In the corner of his eye he notices a little strap of white paint peeling off the doors. Maybe the time had finally caught up with the Wheelers. He swallows, and hits the wood twice, lightly, half-hoping no one heard him. A few seconds later, smiling Karen opens the door. Her hair now falls down to her chin a bob, and she's wearing less makeup than he remembers.
“Oh, Will, hi,“ her smile seems to become bigger as she acknowledges who stands in front of her doors. “It’s been a while,” she looks him up and down, admiring the new look. "You've grown," she comments, which earns her a smile. She observes that the boy, or rather a young man, is more relaxed now, his shoulders aren’t draw in together like a shield. He’s not protecting himself anymore. His hair is styled differently, he looks like a city boy. He is a city boy.
“Hi, Mrs Wheeler,” he smiles, happy to see her. “You look amazing.” She almost caught up with the current trends, still looking a little '80s. Nevertheless, she'll always be the most fashionable woman in Hawkins.
“Oh, honey,” she draws him into a hug, blinking to get rid of the tiny tears in the corners of her eyes. “Come in, please. How’s Joyce?”
“Oh, mom’s good,” Will responds as he walks slowly into the house. He looks around, trying to notice any changes before they can hit him. The old feelings of bracing for damage, nostalgia and childhood comfort mix as he steps further into the house. There's nothing new. Even the rugs are folded in the same spots he and Mike used to trip over them. It's like he went back in time. He likes it. “She and Hopper are really happy with their home in Montauk,” he smiles fondly at the memory of the cozy cabin.
“And Jonathan?” They stop by the kitchen, where, without asking, Karen puts on the water for tea.
“He’s recording movies now,” Will nods to himself, trying to remember the title of the most recent of his brother’s projects, as he props himself on the kitchen island. “Uh.. The Consumer, he called it.” He looks around again before leaning on the kitchen island.
“Sounds fascinating,” Karen says, but it sounds genuine. “I don’t know if you know, but Nancy dropped out! She’s working full time at the Harold. Last week I’ve actually read her first proper article! It was about the feminist protests in Indianapolis and how little actions can change our daily lives- oh, well, I just really liked it.”
“Really? Wow, that’s— really impressive. Do you have a copy? I'm sure mom would be interested.” He watches as Karen beaming pours the hot water into a yellow cup. She leaves him for a second before returning with a worn-out newspaper. He takes it and watches the tea in his cup, feeling melancholic again. “What about—?” He’s almost afraid to say it out loud, which he hates. He's moved on. He's better than this. Yet he lets Karen finish.
“Mike?” Karen smiles, reading his thoughts. Then her smile drops a little too as she looks at the tea cups. “He’s— working on his novel. It's a fantasy thing with mages, sorcerers and paladins... I think you'd like it.”
“Is he— here?” He doesn’t specify whether here is Hawkins or this house, as he tries to ignore the sting in his eyes at the mention of Mike's book.
“No, he left for the store. You just missed him. But yes, he lives with me and Holly,” he lifts up her gaze. Ever since she divorced Ted, she’s been admiring the silences and peaceful moments the house offered her. She removed some old pictures she could never admit to hate. If Will came further into the living room, he'd be able to see the blank spaces on the walls. He never does.
“Huh,” he chuckles slightly. “It always happens,” he meets Karen’s gaze. “I mean— we’re always missing each other.”
“You, boys,” she shakes her head. “I’m sure he’ll be back before the tea gets cold.” She bits her lower lip ever so slightly, fully aware of the invitation she had just extended. Nothing's ever straightforward with her boys.
“I’m not sure if I should stay,” Will says, almost on a whim, his lips forming a straight line. “I came just for a few hours, I’ve got an art exhibition in Chicago, though I’d visit home on the way—“ He’s rumbling, he knows, but he’s suddenly desperate to not meet Mike. Besides, this was unfair. Ambushing him like that, in his own house—
“Will,” Karen puts her warm hand on top of Will’s. “I will not stop you,” her mouth now matches the expression Will wears. “But— I will not lie to you, either.”
He waits for her to finish her thought, a terrible dread already climbing his back.
“You two might be making a horrible mistake.” She states plainly. “I do not wish to interfere, but— I’ve known you since you were this big,” she motions to show a height of about 4 feet. “And I know one thing about you two— you’re best when you’re a team. You smile more,” her hands reaches up to rest on Wills cheek. “You laugh more,” she smiles at him gently. “You’re happier, I can see that. Everyone can see that.”
“Okay, Mrs Wheeler,” suddenly, Will has to fight back tears. He thought he had outgrown this. “Thank you.” He doesn’t know what to say, what would make this okay. He suspects nothing would, so he keeps quiet as he walks out the door, leaving Karen and the tea in the kitchen.
“Mom?” Just a few minutes later, Mike Wheeler comes into the house to find his mom silently brushing away few stray tears. "Was someone here?”
“Yeah, um, an old friend.” She answers hesitantly. “He had to go, and left his tea,” she signs, looking down at the counter. “Mike? Would you promise me something?”
“Sure, mom,” he walks up to her, taking her hand in his. “What is it?” His glasses sit slightly crooked, and Karen hates to see her ex-husband in her dear son. She ignores the bitter taste in her mouth.
“Please don’t waste your life waiting for something you already have.”
6th of June 1992
”Um, Mrs Byers? Hopper? Anyone?” Mike yells as he bangs on the doors of the Byers-Hopper cabin. The rain’s making his voice muffled, so no surprise it takes a few minutes for Hopper to hear someone by the door.
“Wheeler? What are you doing here?” Seeing the despised boyfriend of his dead daughter wasn’t exactly on Jim’s bucket list his year, so he signs as he takes in the drenched men.
“Sorry— I just was passing by, and the storm started, I thought— “ Mike makes his lost puppy eyes, though Hopper appears unmoved. Thankfully, Joyce ducks her head out and smiles at the sight of Mike.
“Oh, honey, come on in, it’s so cold out,” she ushers Mike inside, ignoring Hoppers groans. “What are you doing in this rain?”
“Thank you so much, Mrs Byers,” Mike takes off his wet coat and hangs it on the heater to dry. “I was just passing by, when it started. I didn’t want to drive in the rain—“
“Of course,” she shows him to take off his shoes and backs into the kitchen to starts the water on tea. “Jim, turn up the heater!”
“Sure,” he growls and sends a fake smile towards Mike. Sure, he’s not a danger to his kid anymore, but Hopper still doesn’t like him.
“Again, thank you so much.” Mike comes up to Joyce. “I actually have a little something,” he starts searching thought his wet backpack, when he finally fishes out a small red box. “I got it at work, but now I think you deserve it more,” he smiles at he hands Joyce a box of chocolates. “For taking the drenched traveler in.” He takes on his storyteller poise, although even after all these years it still feels like an act. He misses being a paladin. His paladin.
“Oh, Mike, you didn’t have to,” she hugs him lightly. “You’re too kind.” Her eyes smile along her lips, as she brushes a hair behind her ear. She's still very much Joyce Byers. Well, Joyce Byers-Hopper, but still.
“Actually,” Jim takes out the box out of Joyce’s hands, opens it and pops a chocolate in his mouth. “It’s a bare minimum for invading my perfect Saturday afternoon,” he grunts, but a tiniest smile appears, when the sweetness melts on his tongue. He takes the box and moves over into the open living room, leaving Joyce and Mike by the kitchen island.
“Jim— don’t be rude,” Joyce scolds her husband. “Mike, thank you again. Here’s your tea.” She hands him a blue cup, filled with dark, hot liquid.
“Thanks,” he smiles at her, and sits by the kitchen table. “So.. how are you?”
“It was better when you weren’t here,” Hopper grunts from his spot on the sofa. He tries to watch a match on TV, but the bad signal (rain's no joke) is making the image pixelated to the extreme. He turns off the TV and reaches for a book laying on the coffee table. Joyce signs, but smiles slightly at the sight of her husband.
“Don’t mind him,” she addresses Mike. “He’s mad, because the TV isn’t working. But we’re really good, thank you for asking.”
“That’s nice,” Mike grins at her and takes a sip of his tea. “Mom’s been asking, so I’ll definitely update her.”
“Ah, yes, Karen. How is she?”
“Good, too. We’re living together, with Holly, I mean. It’s weird without Nance and dad, but it’s alright.” He nods to himself. “Though, I’m considering moving out myself.”
“I think it’d be good for you,” Joyce smiles at him encouragingly. “Will's been pretty scared of living alone at first, but now he hardly visits!” She laughs at herself.
“Uh, yeah, about Will—“ Mike swallows. “I was hoping I’d catch him here.”
“Oh, no, Mike,” Joyce smiles empatheticly. “He’s only here for Christmas and some Easters, definitely not in the middle of the year. But I’ve called him yesterday and it seems like he’s at home, in New York.”
“Oh, okay, thank you, though,” Mike forces a smile on his lips.
“Is that why you came, kid?” Hopper speaks up from the couch. “You know,” he gets up and approaches the table. “You can just call him.”
“I know,” Mike signs and fidgets with his cup. “I-I.. forget about it. Let’s talk about this house. It's amazing,” he tries to change the topic, but shared look between Joyce and Hopper tells him that they won’t forget about it.
7th of June 1992
“Mike?” A voice rings through a deserted grocery store. No surprise: it’s well after 10 pm, and the store is soon closing. Mike needed just a few things. More specifically, two bottles of red wine and a cheese plate. Because why not. He turns around, not wanting to get his hopes up, but he would recognise that voice everywhere.
“Will?” He frowns, taking in his, well, ex-best friend. “Oh my god, hey!” He doesn’t know if he should hug the man standing in front of him, so he opts for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Long time, no see!”
“Yeah, I guess.” Will’s smile seem to be forced and he flinches slightly at Mike’s touch. “What are you doing here?” It sounds more accusatory than curious.
“Uh, been traveling around the country lately,” Mike ignores the tone and answers honestly. “I’ve actually visited your mom and Hopper few days ago—“
Will takes in deep breath, like he’s.. angry. “Why would you do that?”
“Um, well, it was raining,” Mike’s frown deepens. “I didn’t want to drive in the rain,” Mike feels like a child, giving excuses to his disappointed father.
“Sure,” Will signs and nods. “Okay.” He seems to made his peace with that information, but the uttered word was passive-aggressive. He looks at anything other than Mike.
“Are you— mad?” Mike asks, his own anger suddenly bubbling up. “You’d rather I risk my life than visit your parents?”
“I don’t— whatever,” Will grabs hold of his shopping cart and pulls it. “Nice seeing you.”
“What? You can’t leave.” Mike grabs his stuff and follows Will.
“Of course I can. I’m an adult.”
“Well, you’re not acting like one.”
Will whips around, anger visible on his face.
“Oh yeah, and you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve barely talked for years, Mike. And you show up at my parents, looking for me, I know, they told me, and what am I supposed to make out of it? You didn’t call, didn’t write, I—“
“Yeah, I’m the bad one. You did the exact same thing, Will! You drop unannounced at my house, leave my mother crying in the kitchen—“
“What?”
“Just because you left before I came didn’t mean I wouldn’t find out! The whole town was talking about a grand artist coming back, it wasn’t hard to deduce.” He signs. “You’re right, let’s just end it. Nice talking to you.”
“No, Mike,” he grabs the other’s man shoulder. There's something new in his eyes. Regret? Grief? Fear? “I’m sorry. I was looking for you, but then— I got scared. Of all the years of distance, and you changing, and building a life without me in it— After El, and us being so much alike... I didn't want to cause you any pain.“ He looks down, his eyes glassy. Sure, El was Mike's girlfriend, but she was also Will's sister.
“Oh, Will,” Mike puts the bottles on the ground and draws the other man into a hug. They’re both bigger and at first it feels awkward, but Mike finds he fits perfectly in Wills arms. It’s like they moulded with years of hugging as a kid and now they just stayed that way. They both shed a few tears. “I’m sorry, too. I-I wanted to see you, so I took off from Hawkins,” he laughs at himself. “I traveled for months just to find you. It's so stupid. And- Sure, you look similar to El, but you're not her. I-I know it sounds weird, but I don't see her when I look at you. I'm sorry.”
“Why didn’t you come to New York?” Will looks up, straight in his face. "And don't be sorry. I'm glad. About the seeing part—"
“Yeah," he smiles. "Um, well, I wanted to visit you but— you never gave me your address. I was too embarrassed to ask Joyce.” He blushes. “I was trying to convince myself to call you, when I stopped by here,” he motions around the grocery store. “I’m staying in the motel across the street.”
“Oh,” Wills lips form a cute letter o. “I— Well, I might’ve driven over to mom's when she told me you visited, and,” he shrugged. “This is me driving to Hawkins. Again. To see you."
Mike’s eyes swell up as he looks down at Will. “I’ve missed you.”
”Yeah, I missed you too.” He looks up and his eyes lower at Mikes lips.
“Come to my motel?”
“Yeah.”
sometime in 1996
"What if- I know it's stupid, but what if El made us meet in the grocery store? You know, back in June 92'."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, first you went to Hawkins and left before I came."
"Geez, are you going to hold it against me forever? It's been literal years, Micheal."
"Maybe.. No, wait, just let me finish."
"Sure. But after that we're going to sleep."
"'Kay, sleepyhead. [groan from Will] Anyway, then I went to Joyce and Hop-"
"And I wasn't there, because I'm never there."
"Yeah, but I didn't know that. And then I'm going back, and you heard from Joyce, so you're also going to Hawkins—"
"And I catch up with you, because you're driving, like, 10 miles per hour—"
"I was thinking and driving. You can only do that so fast. 'Course, you wouldn't know."
"Hey!"
"Hey what? It's true."
"No it's not—"
"Anyway! And we meet at some random gas station's grocery store in the middle of nowhere. Isn't this crazy?"
"It is crazy. We've been telling everyone we've met in the last 4 years this story. Of course, it's crazy."
"What if El is somewhere out there and she made it happen?"
"I don't know. Maybe, you know, considering superpowers— But I like to think we made it happen. Our love made it happen."
"Geez, we're not 40 years old."
"But we will be. Together?"
"I'm standing by what I said, hun. Crazy together."
"Crazy together."