Chapter Text
Mike Wheeler stares at his computer in frustration. The cursor blinks at him on an empty screen, where his first book is supposed to be writing itself. If only he could think of ideas…
Maybe he can start with characters! That was always a good way to begin. Then he could figure out a plot for them. Mike leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and searching through his memory for inspiration. A familiar face appears in his mind’s eye. Will. It’s been a while since he’s seen his best friend, four months and three days (not that he was counting or anything), but he still knows exactly what his face looks like. His mind relived some of his favorite memories of them together, which, for some reason, made him feel better than he’s felt in ages. Well, of course, Mike thinks to himself, it’s normal to miss your best friend.
That’s it! He’ll make a character based on Will. It’s a perfect idea; Mike knows Will better than almost anyone, so he’ll be able to make a great character. And of course, he can just change a few details so as not to arouse suspicion.
Will should get a happy story for once, after all he’s gone through over the last few years. So… what do happy stories have? Mike thinks back to the books he’s read recently. Friendship… no tragic situations… love… Love! That’s it! He’d write Will - shit, his character based on Will - a love story! Ok, so he’ll have to make a love interest for him. Of course, Will is gay, so the love interest has to be a man as well. Mike’s mind flashes briefly to Will’s coming out, on that fateful day when they’d defeated Vecna once and for all.
What does Mike know about gay men? Well, he only knows one: Will, so that’s not much to start with. But he’ll make it work. Just use your imagination, Mike urges himself. You’re an author, that’s what you do! First, he has to make up names. He thinks for a good long time. What to call Will’s character? A name pops into his head: Warren. And for the love interest, why not… Matthew. Warren and Matthew. Matthew and Warren. Those sounded pretty good together, for some reason. Perfect, now I’ve got two character names! It can’t be that hard to write gay romance. Right?
Mike puts his fingers on the keyboard. For Matthew’s character, he’ll need to make him someone who can treat Will - no, Warren - right. So, somebody who listens to him, spends a lot of time with him, knows how to comfort him, understands him… Okay, so they’ve got to have known each other for a long time. Maybe even since they were kids? Yeah, childhood friends-to-lovers was a cute trope. He remembers a book he had read a few months back about two best friends who fell in love. It was good, but it had felt oddly familiar to him, and he never could put his finger on it. Maybe he could see the future, and he knew his future book would have something like it!
Now he has to deal with the setting, Mike realizes. All those D&D campaigns have prepared him well; he knows exactly what to do. It’ll be in some medieval fantasy land, not the D&D universe, but like it, and Warren can be some kind of … Sorcerer! That would be awesome. Matthew can be a warrior class, maybe a Ranger. That’d be a cool pairing. Great, so now he needed some kind of plot line. Nothing too bad. Mike winces, remembering all Will’s trauma. He really couldn’t catch a break, could he? Good thing he’s happy in New York, with his new beginning. If only it weren’t so far away, though…
PLOT! Mike reminds himself angrily. What was he doing, wishing him and Will were closer, anyway? Will was happy. Mike was happy too, right? Yeah. Everything had worked out. Okay, so maybe they had to go on some sort of quest. A quest is always interesting, right? They could be trying to defeat some evil monster - nothing like Vecna, though. Mike didn’t want to even think about Vecna. It could be… Mike glanced around his room, searching for an idea. Suddenly, the muscular dragon poster on his wall caught his eye. A dragon! Yes! They could be on a quest to defeat some kind of… greedy dragon, maybe like the one from Beowulf. Ah, Beowulf, that had been a good high school read. Yeah, that could work! And they could, like … fall in love on the way? Yeah, yeah. It was all coming together! Time to start writing.
He begins the story in a small village where Warren and Matthew live, just setting up who they are and where they’re from. Maybe he’ll have some sort of Gandalf-esque character that calls them to action. Hours pass, and pretty soon, Mike’s written a relatively acceptable first chapter.
“MICHAEL JAMES WHEELER!” someone shouts. His door bursts open, revealing Max’s fiery red hair. Lucas is with her, of course. Mike jumps out of his skin, nearly shutting his computer off with the switch before realizing that would ruin all the data. He quickly goes through the necessary steps to power down the computer, saying, “Hey guys,” as he does.
“We,” Max declares, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Are going to a party. In half an hour. Krystal invited all three of us. So get dressed, Wheeler!” She leaves the room excitedly, chattering with Lucas about everyone who’s going to be at the party. Mike groans. They always just had to have some kind of impromptu plans, didn’t they? Don’t get him wrong, he likes Krystal, Max’s roommate and best friend, but she’s a little … much. She’s very enthusiastic, and she and Max are always dragging them to some event or other. And Mike is looking forward to adding to his book; he always gets excited when he gets out of writer’s block.
Mike opens his closet, the sight of it familiar, looking at it, hoping something new will be in there, even though it obviously won’t. He’s reminded of when he was younger, opening the fridge three times a day, hoping something new would be in it. All he sees is the same old collection of shirts and pants, most of them blue or yellow. He grabs a yellow button-up shirt and a pair of pants, shrugging them on. Doesn’t matter much what he wears; he’s not trying to impress anyone there. He doesn’t want to be there in the first place.
“You coming, dude?” Lucas calls from across the hallway.
“Yeah, yeah! I’m coming!” Mike snaps back. Jesus, why is he so moody? He should be ecstatic. After all, he just wrote the first chapter of his novel. Smoothing his messy hair down, he grabs his keys and shoves them in his back pocket, locking the dorm behind him as he exits.
“Finally. You’re lucky you’re a guy, I had to spend like, half an hour on my hair to get it to look this good,” Max chatters as they head down the hall to the stairwell. Her hair does look nice, Mike notices, all smooth and shiny, one side of it pinned back with a star hair clip. Lucas is dressed similar to him, but Max is wearing wide-leg jeans and a black crop top. She’s always been pretty, but she looks especially good tonight. Mike wonders briefly if Will goes to parties in New York, and what he wears to them.
Wait, what? Why does Mike care what Will’s wearing? You need to get it together. He’ll call his best friend tomorrow, and then he can stop … pining, or whatever this is.
“It looks great, babe,” Lucas tells Max. “You always look great.” They kiss, and Mike looks away. Gross.
“Hey!” Krystal chirps as they meet her outside the dorm building. She’s wearing a short turquoise dress, her blonde hair teased into a cloud around her head. “Hi, Mike!” He says hi back, trying to muster up some enthusiasm to match her energy. “Y’all ready to go? Pacey’s drivin’ us, he’s DD, so he’ll be here in just a sec. Max, honey, does my lipstick look alright? I thought it did, but now I just don’t know about the color and —” the girls delve into a conversation about cosmetics, Krystal’s Alabama accent ringing strong, and Mike tunes them out, turning to Lucas.
“Pacey? Designated driver? That’s new,” he whispers. Pacey is Krystal’s boyfriend and is known across campus for getting absolutely wasted at parties.
“That’s what I said,” Lucas replies, “but apparently Joey — you know Joey, tall guy with the glasses — well, he has a test tomorrow so he’s not going and normally he drives, so Pacey’s stepping up.” He shrugs. “How well we can trust that I don’t know, but worst comes to worst, we’ll walk back.” Mike nods.
“Sounds good.” He’s not too worried about it. The party where they’re going is a seven-minute drive away, mostly due to traffic, so walking is totally plausible. Pacey’s red convertible pulls around the corner, coming to a stop.
“Hey, guys!” he shouts. Pacey is friendly to a fault, which is what makes him so popular, but Mike doesn’t mind. He’s just glad he’s not a douche like some of the guys back in Hawkins. Lucas immediately calls shotgun, which the girls have no problem with. Mike takes the seat behind Pacey, folding his long legs up to fit. Max squishes in next to him, sandwiched between Mike and Krystal. Mike puts his elbow on the door, leaning his head out and feeling the wind rustle his hair.
“Pep up, Wheeler!” Max chastises, nudging his side. Mike rolls his eyes and slides further back into his seat, wishing he could be back at home on his computer, or reading comics, or even back in Hawkins with Will, anywhere but on the way to some lame Maryland college party. The loud talking and blaring radio, for some weird reason, just makes his thoughts louder. His thoughts about his book. His thoughts about Will.
God, why couldn’t he get this off his mind? It was nothing new. Just Mike Wheeler writing stories about fantasy worlds and epic adventures, the way it always was. So why did it feel so… different?
“Earth to Mike! You there, bro?” Lucas twists around to reach the back seat, waving his hand in front of Mike’s face like he’s trying to snap him out of a trance. Lucas furrows his eyebrows. “Mike, are you okay? It’s not like, Vecna or anything, right?” he asks quietly. Mike shakes his head quickly, the sound of that awful name returning him to a conversation he’d been zoned out of. How long had he been like this? Seconds? Minutes? It doesn’t matter; he just needs to make sure his friends know that he’s not possessed, just… lost in his thoughts or something.
“No, no,” he sputters, “Nothing like that. I’m fine. I’m fine, just tired.” “Uh huh…” Lucas doesn’t seem too convinced. “Well, what we were saying is that there’s going to be a bunch of games at this party, and a bunch to drink too. Maybe you’ll stop sulking, because honestly, dude, we’re all sick of it.”
“Yeah!” Max chimes in. “Either you tell us what’s wrong, and we help you with it, or you sort it out. Because sitting here like there’s a storm cloud over your head sure isn’t going to do anything.” Krystal nods her head in agreement. She’s still relatively new to them all, but she seems to be fitting into their group pretty well. That is, for someone who had no idea about all the weird supernatural stuff they’d dealt with in their childhood. She pretty much accepts without question the strange things they say, only asking once who “that Vecna guy” was, content with the answer of: “This asshole from our hometown.”
“Nothing’s wrong –” Mike says sharply, suddenly defensive. “I was just kind of… in a different world.” Mike doesn’t know how to explain it exactly. “Like, a vision or something?” Lucas is still confused. “You know you can tell us anything, right? If he’s back, we wanna know.” Mike shakes his head again, his messy curls hitting the back of the seat. “No, it’s my writing. I just wrote the first chapter of my book, you know? Big stuff.” He smiles to convince him and hopes it reaches his eyes. Everyone nods, not quite convinced. Krystal jumps in for the first time in a few minutes. “
Are writers usually so… depressed when they accomplish things? Or is that just Mike?” Lucas laughs at that.
“No, that’s definitely just a Mike thing.”
A few more minutes pass, everyone lost in a conversation about some campus drama, and Mike lets his mind slip again, watching the traffic of the street all blur together in the sunset. He wonders what Will’s doing right now – and El, of course – all the way in the Big Apple. Will’s probably sketching another masterpiece, maybe trying to render the cityscape or something, and El’s probably catching some new show on their TV. Mike tries to picture their apartment, suddenly getting a rush of curiosity. He’s never seen it, but he’s already got an image in his mind of what it might look like. No doubt they’ve decorated it nicely, and filled it with stuff that makes the place theirs – Will’s papers and pencils scattered across a table, a fridge full of Eggos, posters of movies and bands. Mike wonders if Will still wears his watch from years ago, the one they have matching. I still do, Mike thinks as he glanced down at the familiar shape on his wrist. 5:57, it reads.
A jolt startles him as the car rolls to a stop. He’s suddenly aware of his surroundings, parked on the curb near the driveway of a house he’s probably seen before, but doesn’t strongly recognize.
“We’re here!” yells Max, her voice failing to contain her enthusiasm. Mike can hardly say the same, still grumbling as he opens the car door to survive whatever antics tonight is going to consist of. Inside, though it’s barely six o’clock, the party has clearly begun.
No one seems to be too drunk yet, but JT from Mike’s linguistics class seems to be getting pretty close. Mike pours himself a cup of punch from the large bowl in the kitchen. It’s a suspicious neon pink, but a sip proves there’s not too much alcohol in it, yet. It doesn’t taste half bad.
Krystal and Max have already found some people they know and start up a conversation with them about some new movie that’s coming out - Mike can’t catch the name - and Lucas tags along with them. They gesture for Mike to join in, to “meet some new people”, but Mike stays in place, looking out at the crowd of people. Some have already started to dance, and the sun hasn’t even set yet. What a bunch of losers. Mike stares into his cup, a bored expression plastered on his face.
Mike is almost annoyed with the fact that the drink’s not strong, surprising even himself. He kind of doesn’t mind the idea of getting a little drunk. Maybe it’ll drown out all these weird thoughts he’s been having. Mike drinks more as he slinks into a corner, where he can stand without getting caught in the middle of the limbo contest that seems to be starting in the center of the room. This is going to be a long night.
Mike would’ve been more than content with spending the next few hours moping and drinking in the corner while his friends giggled and danced, but some girl standing next to him clearly wants to make sure Mike’s plan doesn’t succeed. She’s got an arm extended, holding out a flip phone on clear display as she talks into it, probably just trying to show off the fact that she owns a flip phone.
“You won’t BELIEVE what Kimberly said to him!” She goes on, practically yelling at the phone. Mike shoots her a dirty look and walks off. He does not give a fuck what Kimberly said. I’ll just explore whatever’s going on at this party, he tells himself.
Mike wanders from the room out to the hallway, glancing around. Just more people standing around and talking, and more pink plastic cups. Dusk has fallen now, and the room is nearly dark, but illuminated with tacky, colorful lights all around. There’s gotta be more to this party. Mike glances at the stairwell, and immediately regrets it. There’s a couple making out on the second-to-last step, holding each other’s faces and tilting their heads excessively as they kiss, faces pressed practically on top of each other. Mike looks at them in confusion and a little bit of disgust that they’d do that in such a public place. An all-too-familiar face with caring green eyes and a birthmark above the lip flashes to the front of Mike’s mind, for some reason he can’t place. Will. That’s weird, Mike thinks. The couple has now stopped and turned to face him, and Mike realizes with a start that he was staring, probably with a rude expression. He quickly looks away. What the hell were those last two minutes? Probably just the alcohol kicking in, combined with the fact that he was thinking about Will earlier. What other reason would there be to think of Will while staring at two strangers with their tongues in each other’s mouths?
Speaking of alcohol. He spots a bottle of something in the kitchen; upon further inspection, it’s revealed to be vodka. Well, I did want to get drunk. Mike’s always had a good alcohol tolerance, so he drains the rest of his punch and replaces it with the liquor. Here we go. He lifts the cup to his lips.
“Hey, Mike!” Lucas laughs. “Holy shit, is that straight vodka? Dude, you’re gonna get wasted!” Like Lucas isn’t already. Mike shrugs and takes a swig. Immediately, it burns his throat, but he pretends to ignore it. He doesn’t want Lucas thinking he’s a baby with no alcohol tolerance to go on his list of weird things that have happened today. Max waves over at the two guys.
“Lucas, Mike, come over here! Everyone’s playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, and it’s going to get wild!” Lucas’ mouth settles into a smirk.
“Alright, babe, we’re coming! Hey, who knows, Wheeler, maybe you’ll find a hot girl to play the game with. Stacy M’s been eyeing you all night.” She has? Mike exhales, trying to remember who Stacy M even is. He feels like maybe he has American Lit with her.
“Right. A girl. Right.” That would be a good idea, right? Ever since he and El had a mutual breakup about a year ago, Mike hadn’t thought much about romance, focusing on his classes and his writing instead. But now the idea of having a lover was burning into the front of his brain. Tonight could change things, he realizes.
And it will… just not in the way he thinks. At all.