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53 year old Mike Wheeler is in the car with his wife. He’s sitting in the passenger seat, gazing out the window while his wife drives and talks to him with exaggerated hand gestures. He thinks they’re going to the grocery store or something, but he isn’t entirely sure. He has honestly been spaced out and daydreaming about ideas for his next novel instead of listening to his wife’s ramblings. He has no idea what she’s talking about.
Mike is still a loser and he’s grown to be a nobody, just like his father Ted. he doesn’t even know how to drive because he never learned. No, he was too busy spending his time being delusional and living in a fantasy world in his basement. And to this day, he STILL spends the majority of his time writing stories to escape his horrible reality.
Is having a wife and children who love you such a horrible reality? That’s like a dream life to any sane man in the vicinity. You know, the wife, the kids, a white picket fence. All of that.
But to Mike it’s like a nightmare. And deep down he knows why, but he’s a fucking idiot so he swore to himself long ago that he would take it to his grave.
”I think therapy would serve you some good, honey,” his wife had told him once when she found him hunched over his desk and ugly crying in the basement, tears staining the last page of a work he called ”The Tale of the Paladin and the Cleric.”
No. He doesn’t need therapy! He’s just fine!!!
He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears a familiar voice on the radio. It’s Robin, but that’s not what really brings him back to Earth. It’s what she says.
“ITTTTT’SSSS ROCKIN’ ROBIN, BACK WITH YOU ON WSQK THE SQUAWK! Today I have a brand new song for you, and it was specially requested by a… drumroll, please!”
There’s a stupid drumroll sound effect, before Robin blurts out the grand reveal.
“…William B! And he has a special message. He says, ‘Good Luck Babe.’”
Mike whips his head around so fast he nearly gets whiplash.
“Wait, wait, turn that up!!” Mike says with a tone of urgency.
Pathetic. It’s the first words he’s spoken to his wife the entire car ride. The woman gives him an incredulous glance, before leaning down to turn the knob on the radio. Her brunette hair cascades over her shoulders a bit in the movement.
Yes. of course he married a brunette. yes the sky is blue. the grass is green.
Pathetic.
As Mike sits there silently and lets the music invade his senses, he finds himself actually listening for once. He wants to cry and scream and maybe punch his fist through the windshield, because the lyrics hit a bit too close to home.
This.. this is how he’s felt his entire life. How does a singer he doesn’t even know compose a song that perfectly aligns with his thoughts and his feelings? The secret ones that he’s been haunted with his entire life?
Because yeah, he’s kissed more girls than he can count. He’s tried to drown himself in alcohol until he can’t feel those forbidden things anymore. He’s tried to tell himself over and over that this life is what he wants. Who he is.
This song is making him realize it’s all bullshit. It’s all a facade.
He already wants to die.
But then that’s when the bridge starts to play.
♪ ”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
And when you think about me, all of those years ago,
You’re standing face to face with
I told you so.” ♪
The realization crashes on Mike hard, like a ton of bricks. This song was requested by Will. Which pretty much implies that Will is moving on with his own life; a reality without Mike, and he is wishing Mike good luck in figuring everything out without him.
A reality without Will.
And if that doesn’t make Mike feel a turmoil deep inside his bones that he has never felt before in all his miserable years of living.
Mike almost tells his wife to stop the car, but he closes his mouth with a snap before he can spit the words out.
He has a better idea.
Before his heart can protest, his mind is already making him take action. He unbuckles his seatbelt with a quick press of his thumb.
He swings open the car door and takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He stares at the blur of movement of the concrete below him for a half-second; he watches how quickly the yellow lines pass by.
He ignores the alarmed cries of his wife and kids as he takes the leap.
The last thing he sees in his head is Will Byers. The last thing he hears is a thud and the snap of a bone.