Chapter Text
Saturday, 1994
The apartment was overflowing with life. Stacks of books from Max and Lucas's studies piled along the tight hallway which lead to the main living area. Will's rolled, unfinished paintings leaned against the wall, peacefully collecting dust. A radio lived on the kitchen counter next to their three signature mugs: One sage, slightly off-center, one tall fiery red, and one delicately hand-painted butter yellow. The slightly fogged-up window overlooked Indianapolis’s residential district and its outlying forests. Splashes of color from quilts and throw pillows spilt over from the worn secondhand couch. The wooden flooring creaked with the slightest shift in weight. Beside the kitchen counter, their tiny kitchen table sat, somehow always capable of making room for guests.
Multicolored varieties of acrylic paint stained the walls and door leading to Will’s bedroom from late nights fooling around with Carlton, when the two would carelessly forget about their vibrantly-tinted hands.
On the primary counter, indentations from Lucas’s sprawling equations gleamed through when the light hit the surface correctly.
Max’s skateboard rested beside the robust collection of shoes at the entryway, its trustworthy wheels prepared to be ready in an instant.
Max was currently earning a degree as a child psychologist. She continued her research while still making time for sharing odd electives with Lucas as he pursued electrical engineering.
It was their junior year of college when Lucas and Max moved into an apartment close to their state school. Will moved in with them two years later to finish his master's degree in art history at the same university. The space had two bedrooms that Max and Lucas used to split. Will slept on the couch for the first few days before Max argued how stupid it was for him to live like a guest. She moved her belongings into Lucas’s room that same afternoon. Some nights, after Max went to bed, Lucas would feign his irritation to Will for a while who hilariously indulged in the charade. Afterwards, Will decorated Max's old room with countless printed photographs of his family and friends back home for "artistic reference."
Photos of El and Will in Lenora laughing brightly while whispering some inside joke to each other were beautifully captured by Jonathan’s old Pentax ME. Images of the siblings before their first day of freshman year remained pinned next to faded polaroids of the core-four in elementary school. Other stills included Joyce, Hopper, Robin, Steve, and other friendships that have since faded with time.
Images of El were the most common among the collage. Whenever Will experienced something hilarious or stupid at school or around town, he would think “I can’t wait to tell El all about this!” before the knife of her death twisted within his heart. This habit lessened over the years but never fully disappeared. She was his sister, his twin.
It helped to see her smile, even in old photographs.
Sometimes, new pictures of recent outings would pop up out of the blue thanks to his suitemates (of course).
After all, Will couldn’t wallow in the past forever. Life drummed forward whether he wanted it to or not.
The morning air was crisp that day. The early sunlight warmed Will’s face as he slowly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He shifted under his canary-colored comforter, savoring the fleeting few moments of stillness before the day truly began.
Throwing on his robe, Will turned to admire his photo wall, smiling to himself with that ancient bittersweet sadness that came with each passing year, the wrinkles that slowly crept at the corners of his eyes, the morning soreness. God, he was only 23, was he really that old?
The familiar scent of drip coffee meandered through the hallway leading to the kitchen. Lucas and Max were already settled into their morning routines. The toaster glowed in the corner while Lucas read the newspaper’s business articles. Max was focused on fiddling through the radio’s channels, finally settling on a song Will hadn’t heard since it was released a few years ago: “Waiting for That Day.”
So every day I see you in some other face.
They crack a smile, talk a while
And try to take your place
My memory serves me far too well
George Michael’s smooth voice serenaded the space. Acoustic guitar strums filled the empty air, grounding the scene.
“I love this song,” Will remarked. Max’s head popped up and she grinned as she saw Will’s too-loose robe and messy bed-head. “Me too.” Will smiled back as he walked over to pour himself a coffee.
Lucas looked up from the paper. “G’morning, Will,” he greeted, beaming.
Max and Lucas are early birds. The two usually brewed coffee for Will each morning knowing how late he stays up painting in the university's studio. The couple preferred a steady alternative, typically protein smoothies or shakes. Lucas in particular loved to experiment with new fruit smoothies after Max invested in their new blender. Will always pretended to enjoy his concoctions while Max refused to be dishonest and loudly proclaimed her dislike.
Lucas’s glasses rested on his nose. He had struggled with his vision for a few months before getting tortoise shell horn-rimmed glasses. He was convinced that he was getting rusty with calculus for a while before realizing the numbers and letters were actively blurring together. Will often thought this change suited him. Lucas appeared so… adult.
Lucas’s diamond-stud earrings gleamed in the early sun and Max’s matching belly-button gem peaked out from below her cropped T-shirt. Visual reminders of the day when the trio had gone out after Will had expressed how he wanted to get a piercing. Will, being far-too anxious to go on his own, had been playfully accompanied by the couple and the appointment ended with all three of them donning shiny-new accessories. Will wore his right-ear silver hoop daily.
Max’s bright red hair was held back with a bold green headband. Her short, loose curls bounced as she walked over behind Lucas just to tickle his side and jog away to retrieve her slightly-smoking toast. Lucas shot her a look of playful annoyance before they both shared a smile. Max had gotten a bob on a whim one Thursday afternoon and had awoken in a panic the next morning. After rushing to Will, he had helped her work through it and they decided to go out on the town to cope. The two of them enjoyed Chinese take-out in a park and ended the night by sneaking cigarettes outside their building’s fire exit. When they stumbled back into the room giggling about Seinfeld, Lucas was already waiting and harshly chastised them about how bad smoking is for their health only “because he cares.” Max and Will had nodded along, sharing humorous looks during his spiel. Both of them were working to wean off of smoking (but all three doubt that Lucas's most recent lecture had been their last).
The three lived comfortably in each other’s morning silence. Over the years, they had learned how to easily communicate without necessarily speaking. Of course, as the days progressed (as they always do), they always ended up reverting back to their middle-school selves, stumbling over each other’s sentences while ceaselessly cracking jokes and getting into ridiculous situations.
Will poured his coffee, methodically adding an exact spoonful of sugar and a perfected amount of milk. As he stirred, his eyes wandered over the fridge’s magnets and corresponding melody of notes.
A single yellow sticky note near the center stuck out to him.
RESTOCK GROCERIES??
Prep dinner for five
Laundry
Mike visit SATURDAY
Shit. How could Will have forgotten? Today was Saturday. Today was Saturday.
Mike was visiting in a few good hours. After nearly three seasons had passed since his last visit, Mike broke the silence a couple weeks ago. Will had thought at the time that Mike’s voice was laced with anxiety as he nearly begged to see if he could visit again “as soon as possible.” Whatever that meant. Of course, Lucas, Max, and Will all had other commitments.
Besides school, at the nearby rec center, Lucas enjoyed taking up weekend pickup basketball games while Max continued to skate and learn new tricks. On an average Saturday, Will usually loved to join them but preferred volunteering for their youth crafts program as he encouraged Lucas and Max from the bleachers. To return the favor, Lucas and Max have attended every single one of Will's art showings (both the ones required for his college courses as well as the events for his countless local submissions. They always pretended to not know which work was his but made certain to compliment it the loudest (to Will's playful annoyance, of course).
Class work piled up and new friends kept the in-between hours busy.
So, Mike’s arrival had to be delayed, delayed long enough that it had slipped Will’s mind entirely.
This was so unlike the old him; the version of himself that spent years waiting, hanging on Mike’s every word, begging for the next silently shared look, even if it was a passing glance. He left that Will in Hawkins years ago. Time passed, people changed, people grew, he convinced himself. Max and Lucas understood him, of course. And they were such incredible friends in practically every aspect. But at the end of the day, they would go off to the same bedroom and Will would fall asleep alone, most nights at least.
The years will come and go
Some of us will change their lives
Some of us will still have nothing to show
Nothing, baby but memories
And if these wounds are self-inflicted
I don’t really know how my poor heart could have protected me
But if I have to carry this pain
If you will not share the blame
I deserve to see your face again
It would be ridiculous to say that Will felt like a third wheel. He had Carlton, he wasn’t single anymore. Carlton was sweet and would spend a night at Will’s now and then, but it was always temporary. He wouldn’t ever be able to live with Will, Will wouldn’t allow that. In a perfect world, Will would have someone who truly understood the past he couldn’t rewrite, the nightmares he needed comfort from, and the reminders of the trauma that defined his childhood. Carlton simply couldn’t understand Will in the way Lucas and Max understood each other.
And Carlton was great, undoubtedly. He had sweeping, full dark hair and eyes that seemed to yearn for something Will wanted so desperately to return.
Nights were fun, of course. The thrill of sneaking Carlton up the back fire exit complimented the undeniable excitement that followed their make-out sessions in the low light of Will’s bedroom. The slow tease of hands under one another’s t-shirts was gentle and routine. Warm. Sometimes, although Will would never say it aloud, that was part of the reason he would call up Carlton late, asking him to come over. Not because he didn’t truly enjoy their affairs, but because sometimes having to spend the night cold and alone was all too familiar. It would send him spiraling and in a split second he was 12 again, breath frozen and body aching, terrified and solitary in the Upside Down.
The phone was right down the hall and so, Will would ask if Carlton was free to stay for the night. Their romantic flings were an added bonus. In the end, Will slept better next to somebody he could trust.
But Carlton could never know the extent of the past. The haunting curse Will silently carried must stay hidden, forever. Even if there was a future with Carlton, it would be a half-truth.
Why was Mike on his mind?
Because Mike was visiting! His visit in itself isn’t unusual. Old friends would come by often. Whenever Dustin or Robin or whoever visited town, they would crash on the couch. In Mike’s past visits, he would too. But sometimes, an unspoken arrangement would result in Mike resting on the floor of Will’s bedroom. No one ever dared to mention this but the implication seemed clear. Will’s nightmares often returned whenever Mike was around. His presence in Will’s new life reminded him of everything he had left in Hawkins: the torture of the Upside Down, the pain of El’s absence, and all of the sorry, sappy feelings Will thought were finally gone.
Max and Lucas never seemed to remind him of the same things. But it was always different with Mike. Mike was there first.
Mike would silently lie himself down by Will’s bedside, comforting him in the still of the night. Residually unspoken, simple proximity seemed to ease the pain. Somehow, Mike always knew when Will needed reassurance. Will would be reminded of those nights years and years ago when Mike first began this habit. It might’ve been a distant mirage, but whenever Will awoke in a freezing sweat, he was able to trust that Mike was always there. At least, he always used to be.
The last time Mike had visited, Will had fallen asleep to the steady rhythm of his breathing on the floor beside him. When Will stirred the next morning, Mike was already gone. His bag was no longer sitting next to the shoe rack. Only a note.
Early bus.
From, Mike
That was seven months ago.
Come back to me darling
I will make it worth your while
Come on back to your baby
I miss your kiss
I miss your smile
Seems to me the peace I search to find ain't gonna be mine, 'til
You say you will
Don't you keep me waiting for that day
___
The trio waited patiently at the bus stop, a crisp breeze swirling Max’s hair around in the golden light of the sunset. Lucas tucked a loose strand behind her ear, resting his hand on the side of her face. She and him locked eyes with such deep affection and care that Will’s heart couldn’t help but melt for them.
He hated being such a romantic sometimes. It made his situation with Carlton… difficult. Carlton didn’t care for the excess of flower bouquets or museum dates, he was satisfied through their midnight charade. Sure, he would occasionally cook a meal or brew them some black tea, but Will yearned for a love in the sun, to be greeted in the sweetness of the day. He knew it was obviously different from Max and Lucas than it would ever be for him and another guy, but it was the ‘90s now. He wanted to believe times were changing enough that he could hold Carlton’s hand in public without fear of violence. Maybe in a few more years, he considered.
The bus pulled up with a deafening, painful screech, reeking of diesel. Folks started spilling out. Families, singles, and every combination in-between until a familiar pale face caught Will’s eye as he stepped down onto the sidewalk.
Mike’s hair fell flat. His gray jacket swallowed his tired frame. The backpack of his travel necessities weighed down on his shoulders. His eyes peered absently through the lenses of his reading glasses. Will barely recognized him.
He could have swore last time Mike visited, he still maintained his childhood smile despite all that was running through his head. Maybe Will had been romanticizing too much in hindsight, this change hadn’t occurred overnight.
The drain seemed to have begun even before that final night. Will figured with everything that had been going on, Mike had been managing just as everyone else, day by day. But the man that stood in front of him might have been mistaken for a shadow, a shell of the person he once loved.
Lucas jogged over to greet Mike in a solid embrace. “Missed us much?”
“Hey! Yeah, yeah… Hi, Max.” Mike remarked as Max was the next for a reunion hug. “Your hair!”
“Oh yes!” Max laughed, remembering Mike hasn't seen her since before she cut it chin-length, “You can’t talk, you used to seriously consider getting a hot-orange mohawk." That made Mike crack a half-smile.
“It’s good to see you guys.” Mike’s eyes finally met Will’s. Jesus Christ.
Will was 12 again. “It was a seven.”
Will was 13 again. “Crazy together.”
Will was 14 again. “You’re destroying everything and for what?”
Will was 15 again. “What about us?”
Will was 16 again. “He was just my Tammy.”
Will was 23 now. He swallowed. He waved. “Hey.”
Mike stalled for a beat, eyes still locked on Will’s, he suddenly averted his gaze, studying the pavement. “Hi, man.”
They didn’t hug.
The four walked back to the apartment, slowly catching up on the trivial things. Generic questions of “How’s Nancy?,” “Any job updates?,” “What grade is Holly in now?” Will kept relatively quiet, unsure of what to ask, how to start that conversation, how to share with Mike anything about Carlton. He was supposed to join them for dinner tonight and Mike had no idea who he was.
From their mildly-shallow conversation, it was clear Lucas and Max were happy to see Mike, of course, but rather reservedly. He had drifted from them. Their lives didn’t stop for him. Time can build fondness, but more often than not, people grow up. People move on.
“I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?”
Will loved Stand By Me, but he had only ever seen the movie twice. The first time was the fall when it came out, in 1986, while he was staying with Jonathan and Joyce at the Wheeler’s house. The second time was when Mike and him had an unplanned movie night on some random weekday of senior year. The two had been stumbling around each other, trying desperately to spend more time together in El’s absence. Yet, continuously fumbling to find the right words. It never seemed to really work. The movie spoke for them. When they got to the scene where the boys found the dead body, Will excused himself and left without a goodbye. He had never done that before, he always gave Mike notice. But this time, the tears spilled out before he could stop them. Mike shouldn’t see him like that. Later, when Mike realized Will wasn’t coming back, he had called Hopper’s cabin where the Byers had been staying. Jonathan had taken the phone and made some half-assed excuse but everyone involved modestly understood. Will refused to watch the film again after that.
Will lived with the pain just as Mike did. It was slightly different, sure. But El’s absence lingered in the air whenever the boys were near each other.
Once too often Will was thrust back into deja-vu when it was just him and Mike again, together at the end of it all, that spring break of 1986 in California. El’s existence tied throughout their every interaction, twirling her beautiful curls just around the corner… somewhere.
“El needs you Mike and she always will.”
Always.
Despite all of the change, the jokes started piling on and the discussion gradually shifted as the group began to remember everything that made their past together so comfortable. Every aspect of maturity dimmed when the four were surrounded by the light of their oldest friends; the same kids who loved getting ice cream at Starcourt mall, who played DND until they were told to go to bed, who fought the great forces of evil before they had their junior prom.
How could anyone else possibly understand?
The echo of their laughter filled the hallway leading to their unit. Will unlocked the door as Max teased Mike about another one of his failed dates. Lucas slung a friendly arm around Mike’s shoulders, ensuring him that the ladies don’t understand the appeal of men with bifocals. Max playfully nudged his arm for that one.
The front door groaned open and Will was still looking back at his friends before he turned to the surprise of Carlton simmering something savory-smelling over the stove.
When Carlton heard the overlapping voices and the door loudly swung open, he rested the wooden spoon on the pan and rushed over to greet Will with a tight hug. Will had let it slip his mind that he had given Carlton a key to the place ages ago as usually Carlton would always call him up to notify Will that he was headed over.
It was a sweet surprise to see that Carlton had started dinner while the haze of dusk washed the suite with an indigo light. Will stepped inside and smiled softly at Carlton’s bright brown eyes.
“Hey, handsome!” Carlton slipped his hand around Will’s waist. Will appreciated their casual touch but wished this version of Carlton existed outside of this small apartment so his other friends besides Lucas and Max could joke about the corniness of “new lovebirds.”
Will opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Mike’s sharp, “Who’s this?”
Carlton dropped Will’s waist, noticing their new guest. Lucas and Max quieted their giggles as they stood stunned by the entrance, taken slightly-aback by Mike’s shift in demeanor.
Will spoke quickly, “Oh, Mike this is Carlton. Carlton, this is Mike, we grew up together.”
Carlton extended his hand, “Nice to meet you, dude.” Mike drew back and plunged his hands into his jacket pockets. “You too.”
Carlton awkwardly drew his hand up to brush some hair out of his face. The silence was broken when Mike asked, “How do you know Will?”
“Oh, I- uhh,” Carlton turned to Will for permission, unsure if Mike was “allowed” to know. Will spoke for him, subtly reaching down and taking Carlton’s hand, “We’ve been seeing each other for about a month now.”
“Oh.” Mike responded, soundly mildly surprised but otherwise emotionless. His gaze still stuck on Carlton’s nervous expression. At this point, everyone was aware of how the flow of conversation had halted.
Max finally called them out, “Okay, guys lets have the staring contest later. Who wants to help finish making dinner?”