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Michael was a conservative in a way — he absolutely could not stand new music. He denied new music so much that he didn’t even have a subscription to any of the streaming services. He preferred his old CD collection. He saved a lot of his tapes from teenage years, too — Bronski Beat, Tears For Fears, Eurythmics, A Flock Of Seagulls and so many more. He was stubborn about music and didn’t even allow himself to think of giving any music made after the 90s a chance.
William, on the contrary, adored new music. A gay man in his 50s was the biggest pop girlie, which was Mike's favourite reason to banter with. Will had a Spotify subscription and was open to new artists and genres. “Opposites attract”, as they say. Mike hated it when his husband tried to convince him to listen to something new.
“I tell you, you’re gonna fall in love with Chappell Roan!” Will said while trying to connect his Spotify to the car.
“As I already said — there’s no way!”
“She’s like she came straight from the 80s! You need to hear it!” Will stood on his ground.
“No, no and no. They don’t do good music anymore. And don’t try to tell me otherwise!”
“Please! Try before you deny!” Will said and Mike was about to disagree again, when the first notes sounded. He stopped talking, but not because Will had finally convinced him, he was just tired of arguing. He liked — although he wouldn’t admit it — the synthesizer intro. He had always loved synthpop, there was something soothing and dreamy about this genre.
“It’s fine, it’s cool,” the female voice started to sing. They both stood silent, listening, and Mike mentally agreed that the song indeed sounded like an 80s pop song. His face was still frowning, but he decided to give it a chance.
“I don’t wanna call it off, but you don’t wanna call it love,” wow, what a genius lyric, thought Mike to himself. The frown between his brows smoothed out.
“You can kiss a hundred boys at bars,” the chorus started, Chappell’s voice sang higher, and Mike had goosebumps running down his body. The lyrics hit the nail on the head. Something deep inside of him ached. They both were saying nothing, listening quietly and carefully. “You’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling,” hit right through the heart. This girl definitely knew what she was singing about. Mike felt deeply exactly what she was trying to say. He knew exactly what she was trying to say.
Suddenly he was back in 1985, he was a teen again, and the realization struck him that he might feel something more to his best friend. Suddenly he was back in the living room of the house in Hawkins, listening to the TV man saying things about the AIDS crisis and his father mumbling “See, Michael? See what happens?”. Suddenly he was back to feeling sick about kissing El and keeping back some things to her. Suddenly he was back in his bedroom kissing Will for the very first time and then saying shit about being best friends.
He saw all of that so clearly; felt all of that so deeply as if it all didn’t happen decades before. He looked at Will with his eyes wide opened, in pure shock from all the emotions the song evoked in him.
And all of that even before the bridge started, much angrier and more disturbing, with Chappell vocalizing and then singing: “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.”
This was truly powerful. Not only Chappell’s beautiful voice, but her raw emotion and the meaning behind those lyrics — Mike found himself wiping his watering eyes. That was hilarious to him — he, a grown man, sobbing over a modern pop song, but there he was. He stared into the windshield, at the driveway in front of their house, listening through the song. Chappell’s voice went crazy at the high note, but Mike could barely think of her incredible vocal abilities. All he thought about was how deeply this song had hit him, it picked up an old wound.
He looked up at Will. Instead of his husband in glasses with graying hair he saw young Will with his bowl cut and big deer-like eyes, staring back at him stunned with a little hope after Mike had said “Friends? No thanks,” at the radio tower. Mike put his hands on the wheel, remembering that they were supposed to go to a grocery store.
“What did I tell you?” Will said, smiling softly.
“Thank god this Chappell girl didn’t exist back in the 80s. If I had heard that in my teenage years I’d have a heart attack,” Mike said. “Okay, you were right, but don’t you dare ever play such harrowing songs again,” he wiped away a tear. Well, at least Will’s eyes were watery, too.
“Well, she’s got fun songs, too,” Will answered and turned on another one, this time Mike was not resisting, “Like this. It’s called «Hot to go».”