Chapter Text
October 16, 1992. Salem, Massachusetts. Friday
College sucks.
Well, at least that’s what Mike Wheeler thinks while he’s rotting away in the campus library. The paper that is meant to be his essay over Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace remains blank besides an attempt at a thesis. He’s been here so long that his legs have gone numb. What knocked him out of his mental anguish was the chair in front of him. Well, more of the person who decided to sit down in it.
He seemed… well, really cool. Short, semi-messy brown hair, some soft black and white makeup, and jewelry. Beautiful silver jewelry. His outfit was a mix of flannel and leather. Mike was wondering how he never saw someone like him before with his unique style. Wouldn’t he stick out like a sore thumb? He could admire, but a cough from the boy snapped him fast from his trance.
“Staring much?” The boy’s voice spoke, a soft baritone. He would pray to hear a voice like that sing. “Hello?” The boy leaned over the table, waving a hand in front of Mike’s face, a small laugh leaving his lips.
“Ah- shit, sorry. That was rude of me.” Mike turned his face down to his paper. Silence fell between the two with the shake of the boy’s head. The silence wouldn’t have been so awkward if the chair across from him hadn’t been occupied by someone so.. so.. God, he didn’t have the words to describe him.
“So, uh, you going to a KISS concert or something?” His attempt at making conversation went quickly into short laughter from the other. His smile was polite, as if he'd been asked the question too many times before.
“Yeah, actually. It’s in a few months,” he said softly, “Are you even a student?” He made a small snort, directing the comment to Mike’s own outfit, which could only be labelled as a grandpa sweater, light jeans, and ‘book nerd’ style glasses. Embarrassment filled into Mike’s mind. It must’ve changed his face too as the boy tried to save himself from being insulting. “I mean, it’s not bad. Just seems like an English teacher kind of outfit.”
“Oh... I mean- yeah. I am an English major so maybe that has its correlations.. but I don’t think I’d be a very good teacher. It’s also a laundry day and, uh-”
“That’s cute.”
What. Cute?
“I-I’m sorry?”
“It’s cute. That you’re an English major. What do you like to write? Sci-Fi? Historical? Oh! Romance?” The boy left room for Mike to respond, sporting a coy smile as he rested his head curiously on one of his hands. Mike didn’t know what to think. He never really took the time to figure out what he liked to write, he just wrote. His hands started to fidget nervously with each other, as the other boy clicked his tongue and stretched in boredom. “You seem like a secret nerd kind-of guy. I’m guessing Sci-Fi, answers locked in.” The boy turned to his watch. Run. Run before you regret something.
“Shit! I gotta go. I got something.” Mike stammered, trying to avoid being awkward with someone so… damn. He needed to think of a word.
“Will.”
“What?”
“My name. Will. Will Byers.” Huh. It kind of suited the guy.
“Uh, Mike. Mike Wheeler. See you.. Sometime?”
“Yeah, sometime.” With that, Mike packed his stuff into the old messenger bag from his mom and left for his dorm building.
Oct. 17. Sat.
The ocean. Mike never saw it much growing up, but ever since he came here, it helped him learn to think. To finally, truly breathe. He usually thought about the small things. What should I eat tomorrow? What’s the next lesson going to be about for any of my classes? Once in a while, the ocean listened to the deepest parts of his mind.
Today, he wanted to talk about Will.
“I don’t know how to explain it. I should be able to, it’s my damn degree, but… I just can’t find the words. You know what I mean?” He took the sounds of the Atlantic as a yes. “I brought a dictionary. Maybe you can help me find the right words.” His brows furrowed as he opened the dictionary, slowly searching. He finally stopped to watch the sun set over the horizon, signaling him to go back to the dorm.
"I'll find the word one day," he gave a defeatist sigh, "Maybe we'll do it soon."
Oct. 18. Sun.
Coffee should help him think. Two days has been the longest he’s ever thought of someone he didn’t really know. He’s met pretty strangers before, usually the few girls that try to talk with him, but they’ve only spent a few hours in his brain. That boy, he was starting to build his own home in the back of his mind. So much that Mike wasn’t eating a lot today. Too much thinking ruined his appetite and he feels that God sent that boy to test him.
All Mike needs to do is get over it. He always got over people quickly. His childhood mirrored that perfectly. Most kids he tried to befriend only stayed for a day or two before he became too much. ‘You keep humming, it's weird’ or the stupid nickname of frog-face, which made no sense to him. God’s tested him before with hate, maybe he needed to send a new test to him.
He’s been at some random cafe for the past two hours staring at the table. His coffee is half full, but his mind won't clear one bit. His methods of staying relatively calm have now been ruined. All because of some boy.
I’m just appreciating a man’s beauty, isn’t that normal?
Oct 19. Mon.
The past few days have been filled with ‘maybes’, but Mike can’t deny it any longer. He’s been on his mind too much for his own comfort.
Will. Oh dear God. It was three in the morning and he was awake thinking about some guy he hasn’t spoken to in days. Mike sat up slowly, looking over to his roommate’s bed to make sure he didn’t wake him up before getting out of bed and stepping into the hallway. He walked down the hall and headed for the stairs. He found himself at the vending machine, just staring.
If it was day time, he’d be mocked for dressing the way he was, old tank-top and boxers, but he was beyond tired yet restless. How on Earth could a man make me feel so… entranced, his thoughts finally settled. The word finally clicked in. Alluring was the man he met. He rubbed his hands on his face, hoping, maybe even praying, to God that he only felt this way from the makeup. He always found women with that style pretty, but Will. Oh, Will. He was different.
A small cough from behind him made Mike spring into reality. The boy behind him was wearing what looked to be a ratty Bauhaus shirt and some old pajama pants. Upon a closer look, Mike realized that it was him.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Mike.” Will gave a quick up-down glance at Mike. “Your way of dressing is… something.” He couldn’t tell what Will meant by that, but he could help feeling embarrassed for the second time from this boy.
“Uhh… S-Sorry, I thought everyone was asleep. I’ll just be grabbing a snack and I’ll be out of your hair.” If only I knew what to buy, he hummed, staring intently at the vending machine as if it could answer his question for him. He ended up opting for some Reece’s cups, feeding the money into the machine.
“That bill won't be accepted. Too crumpled.” Will spoke, and as if on queue, the machine spat the bill right back at him. “Here, I can pay for you.” Will said, stepping forward, picking out a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and finally feeding a crisp, clean bill into the machine. The two items fell quickly to the pick up space. They both went down to grab them, which led Mike into a small forehead collision with the machine glass.
“Ow- Shit,” he said, rubbing his head as his glasses fell to the ground. “Fuuuck. Where are they-”
“Here.” Will spooked him, lightly putting the glasses on his face and the candy in his hand. “You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” He winked before walking away.
He winked.
Winked.
Holy shit.
Holy shit, Mike. You’ve been winked at by people before. But something felt so different. So special. Before he could even thank Will, he was gone.
He was going to be the death of him.