Chapter Text
June 6th, 1993. New York, New York.
Warm, yellow sunlight peeked through the seams of sheer, blue curtains.
The unforgiving illumination claimed all four corners of the bedroom. There was a stillness that settled, only rivaled by the steady shake of the ceiling fan and the distant buzz of a traffic-jammed morning commute.
A new day peeked over the horizon, although New York had been alive for several hours already. It was a bit of a late start for the boy softly snoring into the pale sheets he clung to. Nevertheless, he barely registered the wake-up call.
That was true for both figures sprawled across messed sheets.
Will Byers lay outstretched on his full-size bed, blinking away the disturbance as he silently began to curse himself for buying those stupid, sheer curtains.
It had been a last-minute decision when he moved in, just a compromise to get something over his windows. Those were only chosen as a means to not going over his budget.
The rest of his money was spent on this cozy flat. 'Cozy' being the word he used to make himself feel better about the place when he couldn't cook without setting the smoke alarm off, or when he tripped over things sitting in the walkway because he didn't have room for them, or when he felt embarrassed anytime he invited someone over.
It felt like a steal three months ago. Now, he just felt cheated.
Shaking off the temptation of the peaceful oblivion that was still calling to him, Will reached a hand up to rub at his tired eyes, trying to pull himself from sleep and the hangover that knocked against his forehead.
He glanced to his left. The clock beside the bed ticked just past ten. It hadn't been set the night previous as the sporadic kisses sucked down his neck on the way towards his bed had been a bit of a distraction.
The faint, drowsy memory seemed to pull his attention, and he brought himself to acknowledge the boy to his right.
Another day, another person Will would probably never hear from again.
Honestly, he was more surprised the guy hadn't made his grand escape during the early hours of the morning. Most did. Then again, they had both overdone it last night, so maybe he was too incapacitated to stand, much less haul ass out of an unfamiliar place.
Will studied him softly from his place mere inches away. The sunlight hadn't found his features yet, leaving him basked in a tender shadow.
It felt somehow poetic, considering Will hadn't been entirely sure what the guy looked like until this moment.
He wasn't half-bad, Will supposed. Curly waves of brown fell over his forehead, a cute contrast to the light tan of his skin. His eyelashes lay carefully against his cheeks. Will wasn't even sure what color eyes were hidden behind them. There wasn't exactly a lot of time to admire last night. Not that he could've in his state.
Or that he really wanted to.
It took a few moments to even remember how he had stumbled upon him in the first place.
Maybe the bar? That sounded right.
It would all come back to him eventually. Probably at night when everything seemed else to come crawling back to him as well.
Lately, life felt as though it was beginning to blend together. College seemed to have dragged by, but after four painfully long years, Will was officially free from regurgitated lectures, endless sleep-deprivation, and all of Jonathan's unsolicited life advice.
Will walked out with his degree in the arts in one hand a newfound sense of pride in the other. He even managed to find a halfway decent place, which had once been wishful thinking considering he decided to spend his days in New York.
He spent a lot of his time sketching or painting. It was nice to come back to the one thing he loved'; the one thing he hadn't really been able to do for pleasure in a long time. For the past four years of his life, his definition of art had been last minute assignments and deadlines. Before that, it was sketching the terrifying now-memories the connection to the Mind Flayer presented him with.
For the first time in a long time, Will felt as though all his passion had returned. Maybe NYU helped with that, or maybe getting the hell out of Hawkins did. Either way, he had big plans, and a summer internship within the coming weeks, all he had to do was stay sober enough to answer a phone call and his life would be headed in the right direction.
Will had left a lot of things at the doorstep.
But not everything.
The only thing he didn't leave behind at NYU was the new world of self-discovery that had slapped him in the face the first time he got black out drunk and woke up next to someone he didn't recognize.
It followed him like an addiction. Suddenly he couldn't stop. Even after four years, it was as all-consuming as the first guy he couldn't remember the name of.
Though, who could blame him? A lifetime spent hiding and suddenly he didn't have to contort every part of himself into a box. It was freeing.
Although Will would be lying if he said he wasn't already tired of meaningless affairs.
This whole idea of 'hooking-up' that plagued his life now just wasn't what he pictured when he dreamed of leaving Hawkins someday.
No, he'd imagined falling in love, building a home with that special someone. You know, all the things he saw in the movies growing up. The life he idealized. The life he never saw his mother receive, not until the end, at least.
The life he always pictured having with someone else...
Shit.
Will practically jumped as the thought crossed his mind. He was expecting company, and most likely in the hours that followed.
He needed to get this place together-shit –he needed to get himself together.
The state of his newfound anxiety could only be blamed on one aspect of his life. One he'd decided on way back before he'd even made the connecting flights into the city.
It was that damned conversation they'd had leading up to the fall of 89'. It had been a last-minute agreement before everyone went their separate ways. A promise they all made in attempts to stay in contact someway, somehow. Phone calls were few and far between and when was there ever time to sit down and really write a letter of any substance?
Will supposed, in the minds of desperate eighteen-year-olds, this was the only option that made sense.
It was simple. Every summer, they'd find a place to meet for a few days and spend time together. The years previous hadn't been nearly as stressful. All of them were still caught in bouts of nostalgia and ready to return to childhood at any given opportunity.
Life was hard, but coming home was as easy as breathing.
In July of 90', they simply returned to Hawkins and stayed a week at the Wheeler's, practically taking over the basement—to Holly Wheeler's dismay.
In June of 91' they got adventurous and took a trip to Chicago for a weekend. That of which ended in a lot of laughs, a few hardcore hangovers, and Max's purse full of Lucas' vomit, leaving a stain on his reputation for not being able to handle his alcohol despite being the first of any of them to drink.
In the early days of August in 92', Dustin was a gracious host, and everyone made their individually rough drives to Georgia to pile onto the floor of his apartment for a few days. They did their best not to disturb his roommates as they attempted a small campaign of D&D right there in his living room. (They were incredibly unsuccessful; Will remembers very vividly the faces of pure rage in the very early morning as Dustin's roommates threatened to kick him and the rest of the party out).
Now, this summer, in June of 1993, Will had so generously—and stupidly—offered his place as refuge for their reunion.
It was nice, he thought then. No one had to jump through hoops to work things out. They could drive or catch a flight to New York and stay with him. He didn't have roommates or anyone there that could get in the way. Plus, there was tons to do in the city.
At the time, it was a great idea.
Looking back over to the boy lying next to him, Will decides it was actually the worst idea he's ever had.
Should he wake him up? Tell him to go? Practically throw his things after him as he hurries for the door? Would that be rude?
Will can't help thinking that the boy's face has grown on him. Maybe he should just let him rest, there's no telling how much he drank before even approaching him.
Or did Will approach him?
Fuck.
Was it so hard to meet someone in a normal way? To not have to be wasted just so he didn't drown in the guilt of bringing another guy home.
Though, he was starting to believe it was less about what they were as opposed to who.
Will was halfway through a thought when he heard a firm knock rap against the front door. He was shaken out of his daze, eyes wide. He jumped up, panicked as he searched the floor for anything he could find.
Boxers? Check.
Jeans? Check.
He was searching for his own shirt when another knock sounded, a bit firmer this time around. Will groaned, pulling what he could find off of the edge of the bed. He walked out of his bedroom, tugging the fabric over his head as he beelined for the door.
There was no time to process as he turned the lock, then the handle, then pulled the door open completely to reveal Mike Wheeler standing behind it.
He could've jumped straight out of his skin.
Out of everyone it could've been. Dustin, Lucas, Max? It had to be Mike?
He was staring. Shit. Will needed to say something. Anything.
"Hey!" Will said awkwardly, smiling to appear at least somewhat casual. He tried to hide it when he maneuvered to get a look behind Mike, searching for the rest of the party that wasn't there.
"Hey." Mike's eyes flitted over Will's state, noticing how disheveled he seemed and something like curiosity swam within the brown of his eyes.
Will could guess. Mike didn't need to say it. Will was a morning person. Always had been. He knew it was odd to see him so caught off guard at such a late hour of the morning.
"You're early. Really early," Will noted aloud, and Mike's wince didn't go unnoticed.
"I know. I caught an early flight; thought I could get here before the others." Will cocked a brow at that. "Oh. What for?"
His tone was off, even Will could hear it in himself. It came out a little harsher than he intended, but it was hard to concentrate when there was a naked guy sleeping about twenty feet away from where Michael Wheeler, his childhood best friend, was standing.
"I thought I could keep you company, I guess. Help set up before the others get here," Mike answered, gnawing on the inside of his cheek.
Will couldn't tell why he seemed so apprehensive. Maybe it was because Will was being apprehensive. They weren't on bad terms. Nothing was ever awkward during their previous hangouts. Then again, it had never really been just them. Together.
Will bristled. Wording it that way... it was like pins and needles. Something buried a long time ago that he refused to let find its old home in his chest.
Suddenly, quiet, muffled sounds of ruffling sheets, distant feet on the floor, and his name muttered in an unfamiliar tone somewhere behind him forced the hair on the back of his neck to stand.
Now, he was panicked.
"Yeah... um ..." His eyes glanced to the side as he attempted to push the door a little tighter, a lousy attempt to hide whatever might appear behind it. Mike could tell something was wrong. Unfortunately, he'd always been a little too good at reading Will.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Is it a bad time?"
Will wanted to groan. He didn't know just how bad of a time it really was.
Will's eyes flickered off to the side, searching in the corner of his eye for a figure to step, very nakedly, into sight. He prayed for words to form in his mouth. Something—god—anything to get Mike to leave. Maybe even to get on the first flight back home and save Will from all this embarrassment.
His heartrate began to rise, stress surging as the muffled noises grew closer. He was running out of time. "Well, it's not exactly a good time–"
Will watched as Mike looked at him in confusion, but the words only died on his tongue when they were interrupted by the foreign words of a stranger somewhere behind him. Too close for Mike not to notice.
"Hey, where'd you go, baby–"
Will tensed, cheeks burning.
He turned his head, finding the wavy-haired man peeking out of the hall, Will's navy-blue sheet was wrapped around his bare frame.
This literally couldn't have gone any worse.
"Oh, shit."
It fell from Mike's lips, quick, as though he hadn't really meant to say it. Then he was suddenly babbling like a fish out of water, unsure of what to do. Will didn't know how to address the situation, much less fix it.
It occurred to him in this moment just how bad everything must have looked now. How he had clearly slept in, his bedhead and frumpled, unbuttoned jeans, a shirt that was just a smidgen too big for him...
Will glanced down. He'd picked up the other guy's shirt and not his own.
Will could only imagine Mike was filled with bouts of disgust, although the only decipherable expression on his features was shock.
"Oh, fuck, sorry!" Will's lover of the night scurried back towards his room and out of eyesight. But the damage was done, and Mike was surely more than aware of Will's new hobby of choice.
Well, he'd certainly grown up from drawings that got hung on the fridge, huh?
His eyes met Mike's, and his mouth opened to speak, but Will didn't dare let him get a word out.
"Uh... can you give me a minute?"
Will shut the door in Mike's face before he could respond.
He rested his head against the dark grain, taking a deep breath as he attempted to gather any sense that was left.
Mike had just witnessed a guy in Will's place. He could probably infer he was nude beneath the thin fabric that, fortunately, covered his... parts, and now Will had to go forward for the next three days without dropping dead at that knowledge.
Jesus, he was incredibly unprepared.
He didn't exactly expect to get caught when he stumbled through the door last night, lip locked with another buzzed stranger. He'd had a drink too many, and maybe the cab driver could tell there was a weird tension between the two touchy men in his backseat, but the last thing Will thought would happen was watching his best friend lock eyes with the man that had him completely undone the night before.
This was petrifying.
It almost reminded him of a time when he would've dreamed of this exact scenario.
The first year or so after he moved here, of course he still wasn't fucking over Mike 'the heart' Wheeler. Of course, he wanted the black-haired boy to find his way down to New York, beat his dorm door down, and throw whatever random guy was propped up in his bed out to the wolves.
There was a time when Will would've hoped to spot jealousy in his gaze over something like this.
Now he counted his lucky stars that shock was the only thing he could make out.
Will tried not to think of the implications. Of what sort of awkward position Mike had put them both in. Or perhaps it was Will's fault for even having a guy there the day he was expecting the arrival of his friends.
Either way, this was new territory, and Will was completely lost on how to get out of it.
Striding back into his room, he was met with a sheepish look from the boy. In this light he looked more boyish, at least. Slumped back into the bed, under Will's comforter as if he was hiding.
Will sighed.
"Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were talking to somebody," The boy apologized, grimacing slightly, his cheeks pink. Will only shook his head. There wasn't a lot an apology could do besides soothe the tension between them. Even so, it wasn't his fault. So, there was no point.
"It's fine." It was short but forgiving. Will wasn't in the market for anything this boy could give him.
Or anything he hadn't already been given.
Maybe that was shallow. But the nights he spent with various strangers never seemed any deeper than the purely transactional instances that they were. It was one night, and it was nice. But it was over now, and Will felt a sense of disconnection as he looked on at him.
"You didn't know," He muttered, shrugging. Will made do with lifting the shirt over his head and setting it on the bed.
The stranger watched him, curious. "Round two?" He asked, an attempt at something light-hearted in contrast to the indifference Will was giving off.
But Will only shook his head. "No. I'm giving you your shirt back."
He nodded. Looking almost disappointed. "Oh."
Will walked over to his closet, pulling a shirt down from a hanger and pulling it over his head. He buttoned his jeans, slid on his shoes, and ran a hand through his hair before turning back to meet the stranger's eyes.
"Uh..." Will looked at him, studying him. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't reach it. The word was lost in the warm haze of fruity drinks, music turned up a tad too loud, and hot hands running all over him.
The guy pursed his lips, looking almost as if he'd been expecting that.
"Carl."
"Carl," Will echoed, tasting it, and finding how unfamiliar it was. Like he hadn't even cared to learn it last night and he wasn't exactly sure why he did now.
He bit his lip, tapping his jeans absentmindedly as he averted his gaze. "Well, Carl, I'm gonna go run some errands and... um ..."
Will finally looked at him, feeling a little guilty for the words that came next.
"Lock the door when you leave, okay?"
He looked a bit stunned, but after a moment, it was merely replaced with this forlorn look in his eyes. There was no doubt it stung, and maybe Will should've made it clear this was a one-time thing last night... but this was how it had to be.
Where the thought of settling down put a pit in his stomach and accepting forever with some guy out of a bar made him physically ill, Will knew his intimate relationships ended here. With the sunrise and a new name to tally onto the list of disappointed faces after he makes it clear there isn't going to be another night.
And he wasn't sure that was ever going to change.
"Uh, yeah, okay."
Will didn't waste any time after that, leaving the room without sparing another glance. He grabbed his keys out of the bowl on the table next to the front door, ran another hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and then opened the door, stepping through the only obstacle separating him and the last person he truthfully wanted to see right now.
When the soft breeze greeted him, he was surprised to have not come face to face with him again. As if he expected Mike was only going to stand and stare at the door awaiting Will's return.
He did find Mike leaned against the railing, only a couple feet away, his eyes out somewhere distant before processing the closing of the door from behind him.
He turned; cheeks still tinted a shameful pink and eyebrows raised as if expectant, or maybe just surprised that Will decided to come back after all.
He cleared his throat. "Oh, hey."
Will wanted to roll his eyes or turn around and retreat. Maybe this was a bad idea.
But he didn't even have to worry about starting the conversation with Mike, as he jumped straight into the next thing without even waiting for reply.
"Look, that was awkward and I'm sure you've tortured yourself enough about it already, so don't even worry about it, okay? I'm really sorry I just showed up like this." A breath escaped him, and Will couldn't tell if he was relieved to get the words out or praying they would go back in.
Mike sighed. "I should've called."
Will didn't say anything for a couple seconds, opting to take it all in before he said something thoughtless. His head still ached, and he wished he could simply lay in bed and nurse himself out of the cave he was stuck in.
But he couldn't, he had to deal with this. He had to deal with Mike.
The boy before him who was making it all too hard to be annoyed. There was always this odd charm about him. Even when they were growing up facing the glorious adventures of school bullies, neglect, and all of the unexplained horrors of Hawkins, it was always Mike that made it digestible. Easy to laugh at, easy to talk about.
Obviously, some of his finer traits hadn't escaped him, and he could still make a case against Will's fury before it even manifested.
"Yeah. You should've," Will agreed, voice still stuck in the confines of something sharp, close to accusatory. But that could mostly be blamed on the exhaustion that seeped through the heavy weight of his bones.
As much as he hated it, he wasn't angry. Barely even peeved. Probably more perturbed than anything.
He only hoped Mike wasn't seeing him differently right now.
He caught the way Mike's face fell, as if he had been expecting the frustration. Will let the tension within him fall away.
"But I can't have expected you to know..."
Mike's head lifted, there was a hopeful look in his eyes, grateful his mistake hadn't been perceived as blatant overstepping.
He began to nod his head rapidly along with every word that flowed from his mouth. "Right. But, still, I'm really sorry. And if you want me to go and find something to do for a while, I totally can. I'll just come back la-"
"No, not at all. It's fine, Mike, seriously." Will cut him off before he could say too much, already kicking himself out of the plans Will had so graciously offered.
God, he felt like such an asshole now. How could he even forget, much less, let something like this happen?
Maybe he should've just let Dustin host again. At least then the only chance they had of seeing someone naked was when his idiotic roommates pantsed one another.
Will shook the thought away, returning his attention to an eager looking Mike.
"Plus, I was thinking we could go do a few things, y'know... while we wait on the others?" He suggested, sounding oddly sanguine for who he was throwing this suggestion to.
Mike looked on for a moment, almost blank, before nodding back with the same amount of optimism. Perhaps getting away from here could relieve the unpleasant tension his arrival had wrought.
"Sounds good to me," Mike said with a friendly smile, something Will didn't realized he missed.
"Cool." Will answered, although he didn't move.
Mike raised his eyebrows, nodding to him. "After you, Will the Wise."
"Right," He responded, finally moving his feet to find the stairs leading down to the parking lot.
He had to shake out of his daze, almost blushing with embarrassment. He'd stared at Mike as if he was going to show him the way. Will guessed it had always just been natural to follow in Mike's footsteps, for him to set the pace and make the rules. This was so foreign that he had to remember Mike was merely a guest here, forced to follow Will's lead in an unfamiliar city.
He was still reeling as he unlocked his car, pulling the driver's side open and watching as Mike piled into the passenger. In his peripheral vision, he watched as Mike was forced to pull the seat back, his long, lanky legs bunched practically up to his chest. Will could've giggled. But he settled for turning the key in the ignition and letting the engine take over with a faint smile on his lips.
As he backed out of the driveway, he could feel Mike's probing gaze wash over him.
"So, what kind of joints do you have around here, anyways?"
Will smirked, sending him a glance.
"You'll see."
Mike sat back against the headrest, eyes roaming over Will with curiosity, as though if he looked hard enough, he might find the answers somewhere. But he didn't ask any more questions, he shut up, accepting the answer.
But, although his eyes no longer had a reason to stare, they didn't move.
And for the remainder of the drive, all Will could do was pretend he didn't notice.