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May, 1989
10:26 P.M.
Holly and her friends rush past Mike at the top of the basement stairs. Mike wants to be mad about it, to shoot her a sarcastic remark, but he simply can’t. He can’t think of anything funny to say after the party just shared what Mike expected to be their last D&D game together. And he can't help but think about how the whole party wasn't even still here. He watched and listened as the young kids settled in, excitedly chatting about the game and how to play and what to do.
He stares longingly upon the stairs of the house he grew up in. Countless memories line the walls of the basement. He knows it’s never going to be the same. Sure, everyone will still talk.. Of course everyone will still talk. But it’s never going to be the same. He just knows.
The distant giggles of Holly and her friends start to fade as Mike turns away. He hears the small group bickering and laughing in the lighthearted way his party used to. He can’t help but show a small smile. He feels so excited for Holly’s discovery of how fun D&D really is. Although, as happy as he is for her, a small twinge of hurt sits low in his stomach. He’s going to miss this so much. He might be all grown up now, but he knows Holly has her whole life ahead of her to make the same memories he did.
Mike lingers at the top of the staircase, still reminiscing on his childhood. Well, the portion of a childhood he had that wasn’t centered around the abundance of monsters and interdimensional experiences. (He still didn’t fully understand how exactly everything lined up. Dustin never got the timeline through to him.)
Turning away from the basement, Mike thinks back to his early years. He lived so many lives in this basement.
The little kid who made his first friend.. The storyteller.. The leader of the best friend group he had ever known.. The brave paladin.. A scared boy who lost someone he cared about.. twice. Mike feels like he’s been through 200 years in this short period of time, but he also feels like it's been two days since he realized his best friend was gone. He can’t believe they’ve graduated. They’ve made it.
“Mike?” His mother calls from the kitchen. Mike feels his head whip around, making his gelled-down hair budge.
He would need to fix that.
“Coming!!” Mike shouts as he reaches the top of the stairs. He hears Holly turn on some sort of upbeat music, probably playing an old mixtape for her friends. It sounds like Queen or maybe David Bowie. Mike can’t make it out, but he turns, and the basement door comes to a close.
Mike treads through the small hallway to the kitchen to find all of his friends in deep discussion with his mom. Which wasn’t out of the ordinary, but given how they were all just crying, everyone seems oddly cheery.
“Mike, dude, I will never get over how good your mom’s cooking is!” Lucas laughs, Max beside him. Karen is smiling at the compliment, as she goes to test the temperature of the food. Lucas has a plate of lasagna held in his hands, and it looks like he’s holding on to the dish like someone would have to pry it from his cold, dead hands in order to take it.
Mike laughs and grabs a bowl for himself as the teens continue chatting with his mom.
“Dustin, I just wanted to ask.. How did you come up with this grand speech idea? By all means, I was not expecting something so big from you!” Karen pries, handing Dustin his plate.
“Oh,” Dustin starts, pausing momentarily to smile a little. He looks up a little with a certain glimpse of sadness in his eyes. “I had a friend who really inspired me.” Lucas rests a hand on Dustin's shoulder to show comfort.
Karen smiles, not truly understanding what he meant. “That’s so sweet! Well, it was amazing, and congrats. Congrats to all of you!” She beams. Mike rolls his eyes with a huge grin on his face. He didn't know why she was in such a good mood, considering the time of night, but who is he to bring her down?
He approaches his mother and gives her a firm hug, being sure to make a mental note that she’s safe now. After everything she barely even knew about, she was okay. And she got to see him grow up.
As he pulls away, he notices that someone isn’t in the kitchen.
“Where’s—”
“Here, sweetheart!" Mike was cut off by his excited mother. Karen takes Mike's bowl and quickly fills it. "Go sit, please; I’ll take care of everyone else.”
He shrugs it off and starts to move towards the dining room to sit, where he sees the majority of the party already sitting. Dustin is at the head of the table, to celebrate his valedictorian victory, Mike guesses. Lucas and Max sit comfortably next to each other, and Mike swears he saw a hand shift slightly under the table to rest on Max’s leg, but he chooses to ignore it.
He plops down in the seat in front of Lucas and grabs his fork to begin eating with the group, but Mike looks up, and it seems like Dustin is about to burst into tears.
“Holy shit, this is actually the best food I have ever tasted.” Dustin continues digging into his food as Mike chuckles under his breath. Dustin has a huge grin on his face and he fully looks like he has reached the highest possible The lasagna was good, obviously, but it wasn't that good. It was lukewarm, for heaven’s sake.
Lucas and Max are in the middle of some lighthearted banter about the previous D&D campaign when someone catches Mike’s eye.
Will walks down the hall and into the kitchen.
Shit.
The two of them didn't hang out like they should have their senior year. Mike knows his 12-year-old self would be outraged if he knew that. They didn't get to do any of the cool senior stuff together because Mike was too busy being a miserable asshat who avoided all of his friends. And he knows that Will made new friends and had those experiences they wanted together with other people. It made Mike so mad, but it was his fault, after all. He missed Will and the party a lot, and he's mad at himself because he knows El wouldn't have wanted him to sit in his room and rot like he had been doing all year. But in the last few months of high school, Mike finally snapped out of it. With everyone but Will, that is. This campaign was the most they've hung out in over 6 moths and Mike thought he was going to lose it.
Something was wrong with Mike, and he wanted to know why he felt like his skin was on fire every time Will was in the room with him.
Mike thought he had done a marvelous job at covering his confusing feelings towards Will tonight, but, at the same time, it feels painfully obvious. Will seems to be a lot different now. More calm, more relaxed, more… over it.
The funny thing is, Mike is not ‘over it.'
It’s weird because El’s passing was probably the hardest thing Mike has dealt with since that night in ‘83. And by all means, he is not okay with what happened. He misses El every day. He tries to imagine she's okay, but he knows somewhere deep inside him it's impossible. And in those last moments with her—which he replays in his mind frequently—he realized he really didn’t love her in the way that she loved him. He cared for her, he appreciated her, and hell, he needed her desperately. He didn’t know how he was going to continue to live without her, and her death was a significant chunk of the reason why Mike put so much space between his loved ones for a while. But even in her last moments, the words that she needed to hear refused to slip out from his lips. He knew he should have just said it. If not for him, for her. But when he tried to say the three simple words, his throat closed and the sound refused to emit. He felt physically ill trying to just say it, and he genuinely had no idea why. As much as it hurt El, and Mike is sure it hurt, it haunts and pains him every day.
But since Will came out, he’s seemed like a completely different person. He laughs more. He carries himself a little taller and has seemed more faithful in himself than he ever has before. The permanent sitting tension in his shoulders has suddenly relaxed and his eyes are a little brighter. This should make Mike happy: the fact that his best friend is finally getting to ease up and be happy after years upon years of both internal and external torment and trauma. But something about why Will is suddenly so calm irks something deep inside of Mike. He sits there at the dinner table, staring at the spot in the hall that Will had previously been in when a thought is abruptly prominent in his mind.
Tammy.
He doesn’t know why he thought of this. Who the hell even was Tammy? Mike didn’t know, but, for some reason, he hated his guts. Whoever this dickwad that hurt Will was, Mike wanted him dead.
But it occurred to him.. Will had said Mike was his ‘Tammy.’
And sitting at the dining room table, Will and all of his friends feet away from him, Mike realized that Will was different because the weight on his shoulders this whole time was Mike. He had thought Will might have had a crush on him at one point but felt horrible and stereotypical for even suggesting it to himself. But now, it hits him harder than a truck.
A twang of guilt sits heavy in Mike's heart. He’s still deep in thought when he hears an aggressive clap in his direction.
“WHEELER?” Max is shouting in Mike’s direction, staring at him with her hands thrown up at her sides like Mike had personally killed her dog. “We’ve been saying your name for like 2 hours, dumbass. Where even are you right now?” All three of his friends at the table were staring at him.
“I’m s- just.. thinking.” Mike says quietly, looking down at his food. He can feel Max rolling her eyes at him. They always fought like siblings, and it always worked for them. Lucas and Dustin are clearly too confused to follow what’s going on when Will enters from the kitchen.
“What’s the matter?” Will walks in, seeming concerned for Mike, who is practically face-deep in his lasagna bowl. His posture was never very good..
Mike looks up at him and feels.. stuck.
He doesn’t know why it's hitting him now. Mike had been directly across from Will for almost 7 hours. But he’s just now looking at Will.
His hair is slightly askew, a couple of random strands flying in different directions. He has a puzzled look on his face, his eyebrows scrunched together just enough to make his eyes squint underneath them. Will’s shirt is a little tight on the sleeves, showing off his arms where he’s been working out. Mike finds himself very stuck on this. Will didn’t used to work out. He was never that type. Why is he starting now? What’s even the point if all the fighting and Vecna shit is over? Shouldn’t he have started this in middle school if it was going to be important? Is Will scared that something could hurt him? Why is he—
“Mike?”
Mike’s thoughts are interrupted when his name is called again. He looks down and is suddenly very aware of his horrible posture and the fact that he, for some reason, picked a bowl to eat with. Why would he eat lasagna out of a bowl? He is overly conscious of the fact that he looks stupid.
He looks back at Will and realizes he’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, but he’s empty-handed.
“Where’s your food?” Mike immediately asks, furrowing his eyebrows. He knows he looks too worried, but he doesn’t really care.
“Oh, I’m not really hungry,” Will starts, shrugging to the side.
Mike shoots Will a look of disbelief.
“I ate most of the snacks we had down there during the campaign. I got nervous, I guess,” Will laughs as he walks around the table to the spot next to Mike. He feels his heart drop when Will takes a seat. Mike can’t handle looking anywhere but directly in front of him, and Lucas is visually confused by Mike’s sudden eye contact.
The conversation carries on as everyone finishes their food. Mike keeps a close eye on the empty spot on the wooden table in front of Will, but he figures it’s no big deal. He's is probably just overthinking it. Mike’s mom had come in a once or twice to check on everyone before heading to bed. It felt like it was getting late, and Mike wasn’t sure what they were going to do next. Maybe everyone would just call it a night.. Mike kind of hoped not, honestly.
“Wait, it's only 10:45?!” Dustin exclaims, looking at the clock. It’s almost as if he were reading Mike’s mind.
“Shit, you know what that means.” Lucas chuckles, looking around the table.
Mike did not know what that meant.
“What?” Mike looked around confused, but he seemed to be the only one that wasn’t on the same page.
“Oh, Mike.” Max sighed, pressing her hand to her temple. “Ugh, you know what? You’ll see. Let’s go.”
“Go where?” He stays seated while everyone leaves the dining room table, taking their dishes to the sink. Mike sits alone in confusion, fully unable to think of where they could be going. “Guys?” He re-emphasizes as everyone starts to gather their stuff.
Mike scrambles to throw his dishes in the sink in a clumsy fashion, almost breaking multiple in the process. He runs towards the front where everyone is gathered, coats and bags in hand.
“Guys, seriously. What the hell is happening? You all just got up and started moving. I’m so lost, I—”
“When are you not lost, Wheeler?” Max rolls her eyes again.
“Aren’t you just a ball of sunshine?” Mike snaps back before Lucas shoots them both a look, saying, cut it out.
“Oh my god, Mike, you have to change.” Dustin says, looking Mike up and down.
“Okay, two things.” Mike holds up a hand, slightly offended. “One: What’s wrong with my polo? I feel like it's completely fine. Two,” Mike prepares, raising his voice slightly and throwing his hands in an animated fashion. “How the hell am I supposed to know what to wear if you won't tell me where we’re going?!” He can't remember having any conversation about where they could be going.
“Mike, you look like your dad, dude.” Lucas says, cocking his head slightly and looking quite sad for Mike.
That was motivation enough.
Mike was never going to become Ted Wheeler.
“Ugh, I hate that guy.” Dustin says under his breath. Mike pretends not to hear it. That was, until Will laughed at him. “You’re literally standing in his house, man; have some respect.” Will laughs playfully, and Mike swears he starts sweating. Mike stops listening as Dustin makes a snarky joke about bacon or something.
“Okay, so what do I wear?” Mike looks down at his outfit, really seeing no problem. Other than the Ted thing.
“Will, you go with him to figure that out. I’m gonna go start the car. Be out in 10.” Lucas turns towards the front door, grabbing his keys from Max.
Is he serious?
Mike feels that familiar pit in his stomach when Will follows him up to his room.
The door creaks open as Mike tries to run in to quickly throw all the scattered clothes in his room into a semi-organized pile. It was not at all organized, but at least he had tried to get it out of the way.
“I’m sorry, my room is a disaster.” Mike scrambles to pick up clothes, Will walking in right behind him. Will hasn’t been in Mike's room in a long time, and now that he’s here, it looks like a tornado ran through it. Maybe that’s why Mike is nervous.
Yeah, that’s definitely it.
“Okay, so, you guys know where we're going, but I don’t.. What am I supposed to wear to this mystery event?” Mike digs through his closet. He starts throwing clothes out, completely erasing the evidence that he had tried to fix his room a moment ago.
“Jesus, Mike, you are so clueless,” Will laughs under his breath. "It's so obvious, I don't know how you don't know." Mike can’t help but feel a little hurt. Will two years ago would never be this sassy with Mike. He doesn’t like everything changing. He doesn’t like them changing.
“Here, let me pick.”
Will gently ushers Mike out of the way, going through his closet in a way that's far too navigated for him not being here in months. He’s digging through piles of shirts and pants, almost as if he were on a search for a specific outfit. Maybe he is.
Finally, Will grabs an old sweater that was probably a hand-me-down. It was striped, but they were varying sizes and shades of blue. Plus, they only appeared in the mid-section of the sweater. Will then grabbed a basic white button-up and a brown belt.
"Here. And you definitely need to fix your hair," Will looks up, giving Mike an awkward smile. "They weren't kidding when they said you looked like Ted." Mike was annoyed, but he got it. He grabbed the nearest comb and messily ran it through his hair, trying to loosen it. He stops when it reaches close to his normal hairstyle. Guess he's never trying something new again.
“And you need jeans. Pick out your favorite pair.” Will almost demands Mike. This would have sent him in a spiral if he thought about it for more than two seconds.
When did Will get bossy?
Will practically throws the clothes into Mike’s arms before turning and walking towards the other corner so he can change. Mike is left confused and lingers there for a moment, wondering how Will was able to be so confident all of a sudden.
Wondering why he likes it.
Will stands patiently in the corner, and Mike just looks at him for a moment. He then realizes he’s being stupid and turns away to change.
Slowly switching shirts, he hears Will moving around in the corner. He’s probably just looking around the room, so Mike brushes it off.
The sweater that Will picked out is slightly baggy, giving a sort of vibe that Mike wasn’t sure he fit in to very well. He did like the button-up moment, though. He tugged the jeans on and looked for the belt right after telling Will he was good to turn around. Will started to turn, but Mike saw in his peripheral vision that he had stopped.
Mike hears Will’s breath hitch as he loops a belt around his waist.
“Hey,” Mike looks up to see Will standing oddly still. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“The.. the painting,” Will’s body is completely rigid. “You still have it?”
Mike finds his eyes lying on it. The painting was genuinely a masterpiece. Mike thought about it all the time, strategically placing it on the wall across from his bed. This way, he could see it when he woke up every morning.
For El, of course.
He was so grateful that she and Will worked to make it. Mike thinks his favorite addition to his room will forever be that painting.
“Of course I still have it. It’s beautiful, Will.” The details on the painting always suck Mike in, and he, once again, feels himself staring at it.
Will lets out a soft sound, still frozen in place.
“What’s wrong with it?” Mike asks, walking around his stiff friend to get his shoes. He sits down to put them on and looks up at Will, whose eyes are wide open. “Will?”
“I… I just,” Will finally looks away, turning his head toward Mike. “I didn’t expect you to still have it.”
“Why would I not? Especially now, with El.. you know.” Mike looks down. “I have to keep all I have left of her. And obviously your work is beautiful too, I just—”
“It wasn’t..”
Mike can’t hear the last part of what Will starts to say.
“What?”
Will turns around at the speed of light, rushing across the room to get a coat for Mike. He scoops it in his arms and pushes it toward Mike, making a beeline for the door.
Mike reaches out and grabs Will’s wrist, gently. Mike feels a slight sting on his hand where it makes contact with Will. It hits him that he hasn't been close to Will at all in multiple moths. Physically or mentally.
“Will, what did you say?” Mike starts to feel a little nervous, seeing Will go from zero to a hundred in one question. He can't help but pry, feeling like he needs to know everything Will has to say.
Will turns around and is completely unable to look Mike in the eye. It’s like they’ve reverted again. Scared and confused: the dynamic duo.
“Oh it.. It was nothing! It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.. I just.. Yeah, I—” Will cuts himself off, trying to sound upbeat and sort of like nothing is wrong. He tries to turn around. Mike doesn’t let him.
“No, I want to know. I want you to tell me.”
“No, you don’t. And I don’t really want to talk about it.” Will takes his arm back, bringing both of his arms into this uncomfortable holding stance close to his chest. Will’s tone is low, but he is clearly becoming serious about this. Mike refuses to stop pushing, though. It's too late now.
“Will, I want to know. What could possibly be so serious that you can’t tell me?” Mike walks around Will to stand in front of him, blocking the door. “You used to tell me everything..”
Will looks more annoyed than anything. His eyes are low to the ground, his body language reverted and directed to himself. Will never used to be all ‘to himself.’
Mike doesn’t know why he keeps thinking of how Will used to be.
“I already told you, it’s not important.” Will tries to get around, but Mike prevents him.
“Will, come on. Now I won’t stop thinking about it. I need you to tell me. It can’t be that b—”
“Goddamnit, Mike, I already told you! I’m done talking about this!” Will practically shouts.
Mike takes a step back, processing the version of his best friend he just saw.
The version of his best friend he just met.
“Can you please move now?” Will looks up, somehow not seeing the obvious hurt plastered all over Mike’s face. His voice is still loud, but there’s an old tone in it. Like when they were kids.
The reasonable side of Mike is genuinely struggling to understand what had just happened. The emotional side already knows all it needs to: Mike is hurt.
Mike cannot believe his best friend of over a decade would talk to him like that, especially after not even ever lying to him. What happened? In these past 18 months they haven’t been as close as they were, but Mike didn’t know how this kind of behavior would sprout from Will. The Will that used to draw their D&D characters while Mike wrote them out, the Will that would complain in 5th grade about the English tests that were too easy for them, the Will that gave him countless tries after Mike pushed too hard. Where was that Will? Who is this boy standing in front of him?
Suddenly, before he can stop it, Mike feels angry. Really Angry.
“What the fuck, Will? Why would you talk to me like that? You’re being ridiculous! I didn’t even do anything!” Mike is yelling now, too. He isn’t thinking before speaking, and he knows where that always gets him.
“God, I don't know! You’re being a pushy dick, and I’m trying to get to where we’re going to go! I told you I didn’t want to talk about the stupid painting, and you pushed it, and now you’re holding me captive in your room!” Will backs up, throwing his hands around, and Mike can’t see anything familiar in his eyes. Will never swore before, let alone accused Mike with any insulting word. When did this start happening? How did this escalate so quickly?
What the fuck is going on?
“What is your problem, Will? Why are you being so defensive? You’re acting crazy! What’s w—” Mike tries to catch himself, but he knows Will knows what he was going to say. Will always knows what Mike means.
“What’s wrong with me? What is wrong with me?” Mike watches Will’s eyes narrow, and he slowly approaches Mike.
“That’s not what I was going to say, Will.” Mike lowers his tone a little bit. He tries not to make it super obvious that he's lying, but it's too late already. He had a habit of saying that, but never in his life has he said it to Will. He remembers how harmful his words can be sometimes. Especially to Will..
“Well damnit, Mike, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and you wouldn't either. You haven’t been here to see!” Will presses a hand into Mike’s shoulder in a swift motion, nudging him back towards the door a small amount.
“What could you possibly be talking about right now? I’ve been here the whole time!”
“NO. You have NOT. You’ve been in lalaland, ignoring all of us, and you’re a completely different person! You haven’t talked to me at all since that night on the radio tower, and you..” Will started at a completely different volume, slowly trailing down as he got toward the end of his sentence.
The volume had no effect on how the words felt, though.
Mike was livid.
He’d never even really been angry at Will, let alone boiling mad.
“Okay, Will, well I’m so sorry my fucking girlfriend died!” He shouts, not thinking about how guilt-trippy it sounds. Reasonable Mike knows that’s not an excuse for being a bad friend. Emotional Mike just knew he was pissed.
Will is taken aback by this, and Mike knows it made him feel bad. But Mike knows he didn’t act that way because of her. He should feel bad for weaponizing El like that, but he’s too upset to think about it. As of right now, Mike doesn’t care.
“I’m sorry.. I know, but—”
“But what?!”
“But you’ve still been gone! You barely came to hangouts for, like, a year! Your friends and family are supposed to help you through grief. Don’t you know we lost her too? And I tried to talk to you so many times, and you just never made me feel like you heard a word I said!” Will has backed off a bit, but they’re both definitely way too loud. Mike feels like they’ve been here before, but also that this is completely uncharted territory.
“Do you know how hard it is to lose someone like that?” Nothing Will is saying is getting through to Mike. His judgment is too clouded by his feelings.
“Mike, do not play this game with me,” Will sounds exhausted.
“No. Really. I want to know. Tell me all about your loss.”
Mike didn’t think that through. Will has literally been through hell, plus El was his sister. He could easily destroy Mike in the trauma Olympics that Mike has stupidly set up.
“I don’t want to do this with you, Mike. I want to leave.” Will finally looks up into his eyes, and Mike sees how teary they are.
“I won’t let you out. Why won’t you just tell me? It cannot be that bad, Will, god,” Mike is trying to be more quiet, because he’s aware that they probably just woke up half of the house. He knows how dramatic he’s being, but it’s going to eat him alive for the rest of the night if Will doesn’t tell him what he was going to say.
“Let me out of your room, Micheal.” Will is stern this time. Using Mike’s full name meant he was VERY serious. Will was making dead eye contact now, a very deep frown on his face.
Both of them stare at each other in an angry silence for a minute before Lucas’ car horn blares twice. Mike stands there as Will pushes past him hard and rushes out of the room.
Mike stands in disbelief, staring at the wall for a minute. He’s convinced he’s in an elaborate prank or something because in no world would he ever have imagined the intensity of the fight they just had. Especially over something Mike thought wouldn’t have been a big deal.
Why was it a big deal?
Mike feels like he’s going crazy because it clearly was not a small deal to Will. He would have told him if it wasn’t that important. Why didn’t Will tell him? Mike feels his brain racking, trying to figure out what really happened. Words repeat in his head while he stands frozen for a little longer. He realizes that it’s gonna do him no good to just stand there like a ghost, and the coat grasped in his arms is suddenly very heavy.
He slings it on and shoves his arms in the sleeves as his eyes start burning. He walks over to his nightstand drawer, yanking it open and digging around for a short moment.
He holds a tiny paper copy of Will’s painting up in the light. He had previously printed a smaller version of it to bring with him to college, but in his rage Mike takes it and shoves it in his pocket.
A single tear escapes Mike’s eye as he storms out of his room.
Both of the boys reach the car at the same time, tension incredibly high. Everyone else that had been waiting watch in confusion as the pair sits and refuses to look in the general direction of one another. They can tell immediately.
“What the hell happened to you tw–” Lucas starts.
“Just. drive.” Both Mike and Will say in frustrated unison.
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