Chapter Text
Fall 1989
Mike
Why did I ever think this was a good idea? Sighing, Mike flopped down on his twin-sized mattress, completely exhausted from the day's long excursion of unpacking his entire life into his new bedroom, almost 700 miles from the town he had called home his whole life. He already missed the quiet of the nights in Indiana, where nothing but the crickets and the occasional car sounded in the moonlight evenings. New York was already a lot to take in with the loud sounds of cars and people every second of the day and most of the night too. It made Mike long for home, an ache forming in his chest. Thankfully, that ache was easily quelled by the fact that his best friend of over 13 years was unpacking on the other side of his door.
Will Byers got his letter from NYU the spring before their senior year at Hawkins High School. He was practically electrified with excitement at the early acceptance and at joining his brother Jonathan in the big city. They had both dreamed of going to NYU since they were children, so Mike was thrilled for them both. What he DIDN’T expect was Will to suggest that Mike submit one of his short stories to NYU’s writing department and to join him and Jonathan in the city for his four years of college.
“It would be so fun to go through this together, don’t you think?” Will had been beaming with warmth and joy when he had said this, and how on earth could Mike resist him with that smile?
It was not an easy feat. It had taken a few weeks of back-and-forth for Mike to find the motivation to even sit at his desk. Then, even more time for him to type anything at all. How could he tell stories when the whole Party wouldn’t be there to reap the rewards they held? He missed her. Mike missed El with all his heart. He was almost swallowed whole by his grief after she left. Will and the Party were the only things that kept his feet planted on the ground. So he would write, write for them and the adventure they had shared, in D&D and The Upside Down alike, and the ones yet to come. When he finally agreed to try to come up with a story to submit, Will agreed to be there for him through the whole process.
It involved several long and harrowing nights full of coffee and little sleep, with Will in Mike’s bed reading comics and offering words of encouragement as he furiously slammed the keys of his typewriter. Will had become so accustomed to the sound of the clicks and chimes that he could sleep through them with little to no interruption. Especially when the nights got too late, and school started far too early. Mike had sent the letter with his application and story a short while after the fall of their senior year had begun. By spring, he had the letter in his hands that, like Will and Jonathan, he too had earned a full ride to the Creative Arts Department of NYU. He had never felt someone hug him as tight as Will did when he read the letter aloud to the Party in his basement. Dustin hugged him with a huge grin on his face, and Lucas patted his back in his own show of pride and congratulations. Max hugged him and whispered in his ear, “Nice going, jerk. She would be proud of you, like we all are.” It had tugged at Mike’s heartstrings to the point of tears prickling the corners of his eyes. He quickly brushed them away as they settled in to celebrate with a movie.
It had seemed so long since he got that letter. Now he was here, in his shared apartment with Will and Johnathan, and classes were mere days away from starting up. He could feel the anxiety swirling in his chest as he looked around his room. Brick wall on one side with a large window that leads out onto his fire escape. He could already see himself sneaking out there to smoke the odd cigarette or two when nights got late and his writing sloppy. The rest of the walls were painted a soft blue, almost white, with the floors made of lightly colored (almost yellow?) wood. Mike had set up a desk under the only other window in the room, his bed not too far off from it. His mom had sent him a mini fridge, which he appreciated, even though he knew his accommodations would include a fully functioning kitchen. He set that up between his footboard and the edge of his desk.
The room wasn’t big by any means, and it would take a while to decorate and make it feel like home, but Mike was fine with that. He closed his eyes for just a moment before there was a knock on his door.
”Mike? Can I come in?” Will asked softly.
Mike sat up on his bed, unconsciously fixing his dark, disheveled hair.
”Yeah! Yeah, come in!”
The nob turned, and Will entered the room with a sweet smile on his face. Mike's chest gave a small squeeze at the sight.
Will’s hair was no longer a bowl cut, but gentle waves that fit and framed his now mature, yet still sweet face. He was wearing his NYU hoodie and sweatpants, with mismatched socks. A silver chain hung around his neck with two pendants attached to it. Mike still wasn’t sure of their significance.
”Hey, I was gonna put on a pot of coffee, did you want a cup?” Mike sighed at the thought of a hot cup of coffee and quiet chatter amongst his friend and now roommate, a warmth spreading in his chest.
”That sounds amazing, thanks,” Mike said, getting up from his bed to follow Will back into the kitchen.
It was a cozy space, comprised of a kitchen with a small island and three stools, a couch, and an armchair, all purchased second-hand. Will set up his desk and easel on the right side of the room, while Mike placed his typewriter on a second desk on the left. Jonathan had been living there for a few weeks before the boys arrived, so his film and photography equipment were scattered around the room on any available surface. Records, cassettes, and books about film, photography, and music filled the space. He had already decorated some of the living space with posters of The Clash and Back to the Future and pieces that Will had made over the years. He framed pictures of his family and articles Nancy had written for The Herald. Will’s canvases and sketchbooks adorned the floor and space on his desk, a crate of comics mixed in. Mike smiled to himself and sat at the island. He had lived with the Byers boys for so long during the final days in Hawkins, and while it was fun, it never quite felt natural. The house had been overstuffed with far too many people, two families colliding into one home. Here, things felt much more relaxed, with a mix of all three in one home.
“How’s unpacking going?” Jonathan asked without turning away from the stove. He was boiling water for pasta, their third round of spaghetti that week.
Mike shrugged as Will pulled two mugs out of the cabinet. “It’s going, I think I’m going to have an aversion to boxes for the rest of my life though.” Jonathan laughed through his nose as the coffee poured slowly into the pot, filling the whole kitchen with the warm aroma.
“You think we’d be used to it after Lenora,” Will added, “but I’m ready just to give up and live out of these boxes instead of unpacking one more.” Will poured coffee into both mugs, leaving plenty of room for cream in his own and none at all in Mike's. He grabbed the milk from the fridge, poured a generous amount into his mug, stirred sugar into both cups, and handed Mike the dark liquid-filled mug. Mike smiled a wordless thanks before sipping his coffee slowly, sputtering slightly at the heat, making Will giggle to himself.
“You should have known it would be hot. I just poured it!” Jonathan nodded his agreement without turning from the pot. Mike rolled his eyes and gently blew into his mug.
“I should get back to it,” Mike said, getting up from the island. This was going to be a long night; he already felt it. “Thanks again for the coffee!”
Will
As soon as Mike’s door shut behind him, Jonathan turned from the pot he had been so interested in moments ago to give Will that knowing brotherly look.
“What?” Will asked defensively.
“Are we going to address the elephant in the room?”
Will’s cheeks heated at this. He’d always been a bad liar, so this conversation was going to go wonderfully.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this whole thing? It’s not too late to back out.” Will rolled his eyes.
It had been years since the conversation in the Squawk, when he had come out of the closet in front of the entire party and his other companions before their final battle against Vecna. He and Jonathan had talked a few weeks after everything that happened about the fact that Will had been in love with his best friend since childhood, for as long as his brain could remember. Jonathan had always noticed things about his little brother that no one else seemed to. Like the way he held his breath whenever there was a loud noise, or the fact that he could hardly stand having more than one beer at any function, courtesy of their father. He still had nightmares, especially when he was stressed. Jonathan knew Will better than just about anyone in the world. So when he noticed the longing looks he gave Mike from across a room, or him lingering near the door in Lenora, hoping for the post to bring a letter, he knew. Mike, thank god, didn’t treat him any differently because of it… because he was still oblivious to the fact that Will’s “crush” was not, in fact, on a boy named “Tammy.”
“It’s fine, Jonathan, really. I’m over it.”
He, in fact, was not over it.
“Besides! I was the one who asked him to live with us, encouraged him to come here to pursue his writing, why on earth would I do that if I didn't think it was a good idea?” Jonathan turned away from the stove and put a hand on Will’s shoulder, his eyes sympathetic.
“Because you’re a great friend.”
Will wiggled out of Jonathan’s grasp, “Jonathan, I’m not a little kid anymore, I’m an adult who can be mature about living with someone who–” Will lowered his voice into a hushed whisper, just in case “who I used to have a crush on.”
“Will?” Mike called, sticking his head out of his room, making both the Byers boys jump. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“NO!” Both boys said at the same time.
“Okay… Well, I was just wondering, could you hold this poster up while I put tacks in?”
Will’s cheeks flushed as he nodded, disappearing with Mike into his room. Jonathan sighed and shook his head. Over it, my ass…
Mike
I’ll always be with you…
I love you.
Say it back, you coward! Say you love her too, say she means everything to you! Tell her TELL HER!
Goodbye Mike.
Mike jumped at the blaring of his alarm and the pounding on his bedroom door. He slept in, again.
It was three weeks into the semester, and Mike still couldn’t find his footing with school. Most nights, he just lay awake tossing and turning, hoping that the same dream that haunted him wouldn’t appear again.
It always did.
He slammed his hand down on the alarm clock, silencing its chirping immediately. Now to deal with the rapping on his door. He jumped out of bed and opened the door to find Jonathan’s hand coming up to strike it again, stopping mid-knock.
”Can I help you?” Mike said, smiling like a child with their hand in the cookie jar.
”You do realize not only has your alarm been going off for ten minutes, but some people DON’T have class today and would love to sleep in for once.” Jon looked like he hadn’t had his cup of coffee yet this morning, so Mike decided not to push his luck.
“Sorry. Sorry, I just didn’t hear it. You know me, deep sleeper.”
”Well, you need to start hearing it because it’s been three straight weeks of interrupted sleep, and I’m over it.”
”Guys?” Will interjects softly. Both boys' tempers immediately quelled at the soft-spoken plea. “If it's okay with Mike, I can come in in the mornings and turn off the alarm and make sure he’s still up on time. That way everyone’s happy.” Mike’s cheeks heated at the thought of Will in his bedroom in the early mornings… or it must have been because he was mad at Jonathan. Yeah, that’s it.
“Um—“ is all Mike could get out before Jon gave him the look only reserved for big brother rage. “Okay. Okay yeah. Yeah, that’s fine by me.”
”Me too.” Jon said quickly, turning away from Mike and patting Will on the back. "Thank you," he mouthed to his brother as he passed. He quickly disappeared into his bedroom. Leaving Mike and Will standing awkwardly on either side of the threshold to Mike’s bedroom. Will looked so cozy in a soft cream knit sweater and dark colored jeans. A pair of red Converse, adorned with little drawings and doodles he and Max had done the summer before school, covered his mismatched socks. Will’s always hated finding the pairs, so he just threw them together in his drawer and left it up to chance.
Why the hell do I know that?
Mike shook the thought from his head as Will broke the silence, clearing his throat before saying, “Class starts soon, you should get dressed.” Mike realized then he was only wearing boxers, no shirt. He suddenly felt very embarrassed and vulnerable. So he uttered a quick string of words he hoped were English and closed the door, determined to get ready and cool his extremely warm cheeks.