Chapter Text
WILL'S POV
[October 17th, 1990]
Will sat at the edge of his seat, sketching in his book to avoid having to think about his painting assignment. The prompt had been “adoration,” which could mean a number of things– at least to Will, and it was due in a few days.
Will had no idea what he was going to do for it.
He thought about painting a field of flowers, elegant and beautiful, as an example of the appreciation and adoration of nature. And he tried– but he couldn’t get past the sketch. It just didn’t seem right to him to be painting that. He had then shifted to the idea of abstract painting- meshing soft pinks with oranges and yellows, but he hadn’t ever been good at abstract art.
He was having a total, utter artist’s block.
So, instead, he was sketching the base to what would be a face, curving the lines to where the top of the head was, and leaving the jaw sharp and toned. It took him a while to realize he had fallen back into the old routine of drawing Micheal Wheeler himself. He silently swore to himself, only to continue drawing out the boy’s face, who he’d memorized by the sheer amount of staring he had done when they were still both in Hawkins.
Will didn’t know why he couldn’t get over him. They hadn’t talked in over a year– they were barely even friends anymore, let alone best friends. It brought a painful sting to his heart, a sting only cured when Will would read the one letter Mike ever sent him in California.
When his brain was so full of thoughts of Mike that it hurt, Will put his pencil down with a sigh.
He then starts to rummage through his drawer, looking for the letter. Once he finds it, he clumsily unfolds the corners, feeling those damn butterflies as he sees Mike's nice, neat handwriting, which was always endearing to him.
He read it again, like he's been doing for months.
“Dear Will,
How's California? I know it's only been a week, but I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
Will knew that was a lie, and he smiled every time he thought about it. He had gotten it a week after he moved, sure, but Mike definitely wrote it earlier than that in order for Will to have gotten it that soon.
“I miss you. You and El both. Its been… quiet here, since you left. Lucas and Max are always together, and Dustin is always talking to Suzie over his huge radio tower thing, so it gets lonely once and a while. I'm just glad that school is starting soon. Maybe it'll feel less quiet.”
Will stared at Eleven’s name. He still couldn't believe she was gone, after everything they went through together. His eyes pricked with tears with the flashbacks of Eleven standing in the Upside Down, as a bomb quickly and silently took her away.
He hopes she's found peace now.
He looks back at the letter and keeps reading.
“Other than that, Hawkins is still plain, boring old Hawkins. Nothing new, really. Well- I guess, except your absence. That sounded corny, sorry.
Anyways, I wanted to write to you because I don't know your landline and I really just want to call you. I hope you're doing well.
Love,
Mike”
Will smiles softly, fingers brushing against the word “love” as if they may fade if he presses too hard.
God, he missed Mike.
I mean, yeah, he was still pissed about Mike never contacting him in California, and now that they're in two completely different states once again, they’re back to no contact.
He sighed, putting the letter down, back into the safe space that is his desk drawer, and makes a crazy, totally random decision.
He's decided that he's going to write a letter to Mike.
Sure, he might seem out of his mind. They haven't even crossed paths in over a year, for God's sake, but… he needs to know for sure.
He needs to know if Mike truly doesn't want to speak to him.
So he takes out some blank paper from his notebook, a pencil, and starts to write.
“Dear Mike,
It's been a while. I'm sorry for never contacting you, life has just been so easy. I feel like total shit for missing your birthday last year, and the holidays, but I really want to make up for it. I would call you, but I have no idea what your number is.
Anyways, how's that book coming? Have you gotten it published yet? How are you doing? We have a lot of catching up to do. Maybe we could meet somewhere sometime.”
He pauses as he writes that last sentence, a flush creeping on his cheeks. He continues writing.
“We could get the party to have a little get together. If you want. I think it would be fun.
Anyways, just wanted to check on you.
Love,
Will”
Will stared at the letter, unsure if he should really send this to Mike. What if he doesn't like it? What if he just really doesn't want to talk to him at all? What if this letter ruins anything they had left?
His mind swarmed with thoughts. When he (eventually) got them to buzz out of his mind, he folded the paper and put it in an envelope, using a yellow sticker to keep the flaps closed. He wrote “For Mike” on the back, and was about to write down his address, when he realizes.
He doesn't know Mike's address. Hell, he doesn't even know where Mike goes to college, or if he even is in college!
Will curses to himself, feeling dumb as hell. He's gonna have to call Karen, so he drags himself out of his room, going out into the livingroom of the small apartment him and his friend from his class shared. He reluctantly takes the phone from the landline, punching in the numbers to Mike’s old house.
The phone rings for a while, until Karen finally answers the phone, sounding soft spoken as always.
“Hello, Wheeler residence.”
She always was so classy and elegant with answering the phone. Will remembers giggling as Mike would put on a fake British accent to mock his mom.
“Uh- hi, Mrs. Wheeler.” Will nervously said into the phone, twisting the cord around his finger as a distraction to how awkward this may be.
“Oh hello, Will! How’s college?” her voice raises about 2 octaves, basically squealing into the phone at this point, and Will jerks back.
“Uh- good, yeah. I’m studying art, it’s really immersive and interesting…” he says, trying to wrap up this side conversation, but also not trying to be rude.
“Well that’s great, honey. I’m happy for you. What do you need?” she says, sighing slightly into the phone.
“Uh- well… I was wondering if you somehow knew the address or mailbox to…wherever Mike is.” he says, cringing at how weird that sounded.
The line is silent for a moment, the tension practically tightening through the phone. Will gulps.
“Oh… yeah, sure, honey. He’s going to the University of Connecticut. I have his address somewhere in my book…” and then there were rummaging sounds, as if Mrs. Wheeler was looking for her little notebook, where Will knew she kept her phone numbers, addresses, and other notes. She then started flipping through the pages, looking for Mike’s address. When the rummaging noises stopped, he could hear her grab the phone again.
“Sorry about that, Will. His address is 408 Alsop Hall A…Storrs, CT 06269. I’m not sure if he’s available, he never really checked for mail anyways, I always had to give him his letters from Jane…but I hope you can reach him. It would be so nice for you boys to start getting along again.”
Will smiles slightly at that. He really wanted to make things right with Mike. He had been miserable this past year– he was barely ever able to contact Lucas and Max, which made sense. They were travelling together and making new memories together after being apart for 18 months. It was reasonable that they could never really call or write, and Will couldn’t get upset about that. Dustin was too engulfed in his studies to really think about anything else– which Will also couldn’t get upset about.
So yeah, he was pretty lonely without Mike.
He wondered if Mike felt the same. Lonely, like Will was.
Don’t get him wrong, Will had friends in New York. Really good friends— he had even met this guy at the bar– Carlton, who he was in a talking relationship with.
But it just wasn’t the same. He missed his old friends. He missed Mike.
He writes the address down in his sketchpad eagerly, giving a quick thank you and goodbye to Mrs. Wheeler, and hurries back to his room, staring at the letter.
Should he really do this? He wasn’t even sure Mike would get it, and if he did, and just never responded, he would be mortified.
Will stops himself. It’s just Mike, and though he’s been an absolute utter dick lately, he still wanted to try.
Plus, if Mike just didn’t want to talk to him, Will decided, he could go fuck himself.
Finding a little more confidence in that last thought, he wrote the address under Mike’s name carefully, as to ensure no mistakes were made. Once he’s done writing the last number, Will checks the time. It was now about 8 PM.
Shit, Carlton was wanting to meet at the bar around 8:30. Will quickly jumps up, changing into presentable clothes, shoving the letter in his bag, and runs out the door, locking it carefully before he sprints to his car.
Once he gets to the bar, he notices a mailbox on the sidewalk as he walks up to the door. He fumbles the letter out of his hands, slipping it into the slot before he feels two cold hands on his shoulders.
He jumps violently, jolting around, accidentally pushing Carlton away.
Fuck.
“Oh, shit- Carlton are you okay? Sorry, you scared me.” He rambles, even though he’s pissed that Carlton scared him. He hated how he did that. He still wasn’t over everything that happened in Hawkins, and even small jumpscares were ten times worse now.
But Carlton waves his hand slightly, smiling. “I’m fine, William, no need to apologize.”
That was another thing Will hated about Carlton, how he refused to call him ‘Will’ because he thought that saying William would somehow come across as more attractive. It didn’t. Will lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, grabbing Carlton’s wrist and dragging him inside, saying, “Let’s just go.”
Even as they were talking about school and their next big project, Will couldn’t keep his mind 100 percent on the topic. All he could think about was the letter that he’d sent to Mike, wondering if he would get a letter back come the next week.