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Michael Wheeler, if you asked him, would’ve described himself as an honest and hardworking man. A man who loved his kids and used to love his wife— At least that's what he would say to anyone on the street who asked, or just anyone else in general.
In reality, he believed he was another deadbeat just as his father had been, and an alcoholic like his mother had been, and it broke him to think he became everything he told himself he wouldn’t become. Something he once told his friends—and him— he wouldn’t become.
Yes—he loved his kids; they were his world. But love didn’t fix the hollow part of him that felt stuck, like he’d missed the mark somehow. He wasn’t where he thought he’d be at this age, and happiness was still a stranger. Finding a place with three waterfalls had seemed like a dream once, but reality rarely matched dreams—and his relationship with the party had grown distant, frayed by time and choices he didn’t want to unpack. He’d reached out to all of them, except one—the one person Mike couldn’t bear to think about anymore. Adults didn’t get what they wanted. That was a lesson he’d learned too late, and now he had to settle for what he had.
And settling was exactly what Mike did.
As the result of a drunk hookup involving a woman named Heather, Jacob William Wheeler was born, and soon after their marriage, they had another. This time, a daughter—Margaret Jane Wheeler. Both children were unconsciously named after the two people he had loved most when he was young.
After realizing that his relationship with his wife and kids wasn’t going to magically repair his internal issues, Mike began drinking. However, unlike his father, who had been an ‘angry’ drunk, Mike Wheeler had used his drunkenness as an escape from the weights that burdened in his mind. It was almost as if drinking made everything pathetically comical to Mike. But it also ended up being enough for him to tell Heather he wanted a divorce—not that Heather was surprised. She was already well aware of Mike’s issues and that a falter in their relationship was bound to happen.
However, the divorce was never about Mike and Heather’s relationship. Of course, Mike never mentioned this to his ex-wife, but conflicting thoughts about a certain Byers boy had heavily contributed to his decision.
Will Byers, had been living a life full of luxuries. Moving to New York City felt like it had been the greatest choice he’d ever made — after all, he had everything one could want — a successful career in the art industry, all the money he could ask for, a beautiful husband.
Yet he still felt empty, as if he were missing something — or someone.
But one thing about the “new” Will Byers was that he never let his worries get the best of him. He left that part of him in Hawkins.
Hawkins.
The place that he called home for oh-so many years; the place where his childhood was taken from him.
Will didn’t necessarily miss it, but the town carried a sense of nostalgia to him. Those late nights at The Squawk before everything went down, shopping at Starcourt Mall during his teenage years, playing Dungeons and Dragons in Mike Wheeler’s basement.
That name stung Will.
Once upon a time, Will Byers had been unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Mike Wheeler. From the ages of twelve to seventeen, Will spent his days yearning for his feelings to be reciprocated. After many fights, a friendship breakup, and a reunion, Will, at last, came out to the party at the Squawk. Mike showed his support, but he could tell his heart was shattered.
“He’s just my Tammy.” The words echoed through Mike’s head almost daily. How had he been so oblivious? How had he not recognized any of the signs Will had constantly been giving him? However, yet another question rattled through his mind.
Why does he care so much about this almost ten years later?
Typically, Mike wouldn’t care about things such as relationships within his old friend group, but Lucas and Max had invited him to their wedding, and he couldn’t just reject their invitation. They had always had a tight bond with each other, whether it were in battles with Vecna or just living life. Along the bottom of the wedding invite, a small note read, “Gifts are highly requested, but never required!”
Mike knew that he didn’t necessarily have the money to give Lucas and Max anything significant, yet he still felt unusually inclined to do so.
That’s how Mike found himself and his two children at the store on the hunt for something small—meaningful and inexpensive; maybe a card would do? He thought it was the least expensive thing and he could just write a nice note, since writing was what he did best.
Also receiving an invitation to Lucas and Max’s wedding, Will Byers also found himself back in the God-forsaken town of Hawkins. Lucas had mailed him an invite in hopes that Will would come, and of course Will couldn’t turn it down. However, he had brought a plus one: his husband, Carlton.
And for some unexplainable reason, Will also found himself in the exact same store, looking for a card to go with the gift he and Carlton were getting the soon-to-be married couple. In all honesty, it was difficult for Will to choose just one gift for the two of them—after all, they had been inseparable as children. The brunette boy continued gazing at those cheesy “CONGRATULATIONS!” cards that seemed a little extreme for a wedding for a couple like Lucas and Max , when his gaze was unexpectedly met with Michael Wheeler’s.
For a long moment, it was just the two of them, staring at each other, like awkward teenagers again. Like not a minute of time passed since they last saw each other. Like them awkwardly saying goodbye as Will was leaving for New York.
Will’s gaze shifted to the little boy holding onto Mike's belt loop and the little girl in the shopping cart—”so he had children,” Will thought to himself.
Mike couldn’t help but stare at the boy; he looked oh-so familiar in some way. Before he knew it, his gaze had shifted to his lip, and with that, he noticed that beauty mark that he knew all too well. This wasn’t a random guy that looked like his ex-best friend. This was his ex-best friend.
Time seemed to slow to a stop as their eyes locked for a brief moment.
But as soon as the moment started, it ended.
Mike was brought back to reality as Jacob tugged on his belt loop, pointing at a coloring book hanging on the wall in the distance.
And within the blink of an eye, Mike was nowhere to be found.
Will had caught himself staring at the ravenette, his figure slowly disappearing into one of the many aisles of the store. He hated how much he wanted to say something. His thoughts slowly spiraled into a jumbled puzzle of memories with Mike’s face in the direct center.
Will was pulled back when Carlton grabbed a card, showing it to Will.
“Babe? You okay?” Carlton queried the Byers boy, waving a hand in front of him with a smile on his face, "What are you looking at?”
Will flinched slightly, his demeanor taken aback, “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out or something,” he replied, turning towards Carlton; his conscience told him that he was just seeing things.
In the time that Will’s panicked disbelief, Mike had found a card for Lucas and Max’s wedding, checked out as fast as possible, and sped home. He couldn't bring himself to talk to Will—not after everything that happened.
It was odd to Mike—he'd never thought about it, about how he felt it, how he could've possibly been feeling the entire time.
The mere second that Mike got home, he locked himself into his room, leaving Jacob and Margaret off to nap, immediately throwing himself into wine and ink. He found himself stuck in an endless cycle of constant drinking—whether it was some cheap ale, or a cabernet from a wedding.
Soon enough, he was drunk enough to write himself into oblivion; poem after poem. He couldn't stop thinking about him. The stare, his clothes, his face, his hair… everything.
Mike stared into the mirror, his reflection a drunken mess. He didn’t even recognize himself at this point. He wished he could stop his thoughts of this for at least until he sobered up. Alas, his hopes and dreams of this escaping his mind didn't work. The next thing he knew, he was back at his typewriter, writing away.
Mike almost felt guilty about staring at him. Will already had a husband— a stupid, disgustingly rich douchebag that could give Will just about anything Will wanted.
Mike was spiraling; that was a given. But he was now spiraling about the amount of hatred he carried for a man he's never even met. Spiraling about how he could do so much better than that blonde-haired idiot. He couldn’t control himself anymore. In the blink of a tired eye, he found himself in his bed, sleeping capturing him instantly.