Chapter Text
June 6th, 1990
Will assumes he's the last to arrive. Standing outside the only restaurant in Hawkins, twenty minutes late, hands trembling with nerves. He digs into his pocket for the crumpled pack of Marlboros and a lighter. Surely he can waste another five on a quick smoke; it will help ease his frankly concerning tremors, and he'd rather not deal with another wave of withdrawal-induced nausea in the middle of dinner. He keeps trying to quit, but it's an exhausting cycle; swinging between the torment of cravings and sickness to the short-lasting sense of relief. Quitting is a whole lot easier said than done.
He's holding the cigarette between his lips, trying to spark a flame from the janky lighter, brow creased in frustration with each failing flick, when he hears the voice behind him.
“Since when did you smoke?”
A heart-achingly familiar voice, just as the flame snaps to life.
Mike comes to stand beside him, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of his lip.
The cigarette nearly falls from Will's mouth, now exuding a ribbon of bitter smoke. He fumbles, catching it between two fingers.
“Mike–”
How ironic would it be for him to die of a heart attack right now, not from months of inhaling cancerous chemicals, but from seeing Mike Wheeler's face for the first time in nearly a year?
Mike's smile widens. “Will.”
For a moment, the world seems to stand still between them, and then he remembers how to breathe again.
“Still awful at arriving anywhere on time?” He teases awkwardly.
“Could be worse,” Mike argues, “We're only, like.. twenty-three minutes late?”
Will grins with a small breath of laughter, the taller boy smiles in response, somewhat hesitant as his eyes fall, lingering on the cigarette between Will's shaking fingers, slowly burning down. Strangely enough, he doesn't seem too shocked. Sooner or later, this sort of thing was bound to happen.
“I know,” Will quietly acknowledges, following his gaze. “It sucks. I always hated seeing Mom with them, and then Jonathan, too–”
“Will, it's okay.” Mike presses his lips into a downward smile, sympathetic, but not pitying. “I don't blame you, I mean after everything we've been through…” There's no need to elaborate further.
Will brings it to his lips, turning away from Mike as he inhales. At least he knows that of all people, Mike would be the last to judge him. He tries to recall when it had become a personal habit. It had started in those crowded bars Carlton would drag him to, where the haze of second hand smoke was already enough to give him a headache. It progressed to smoke breaks between classes, his (now ex) boyfriend handing them to him, already lit. Then, before he knew it, there was always a pack tucked away in his pocket.
“You won't tell the others, right?” He asks, smoke spilling from his mouth. “I don't want them to worry. They wouldn't understand.”
“No, of course not.” Mike promises quietly, eyes lingering on the glowing embers that flutter to the ground, then back to Will's face. He lightly bumps their elbows together with a tender smile. “I take it this hasn't been the easiest year.”
It's more of a statement than a question.
“I've had worse.” Will looks down, smirking with a sardonic edge. “How about you?”
The calls between them in the past year have been limited, the last one being late November, when Mike had suggested this reunion. Thankfully, they've matured since the last time they were apart this long, and although Will has longed to see him again, he doesn't feel so betrayed by the lack of contact.
He doesn't protest when Mike takes the cigarette from between his fingers, bringing it to his own lips.
“It could be worse,” he supposes, tapping away the ashes. “But I mean, this course is feeling like a massive waste of time, and so far my only income is a shitty minimum wage part-time at a Surfer Boys, yeah, I know- don't laugh.” He grins as Will tries to hide his giggles, taking the cigarette back, their fingers brushing momentarily. “It's like I've had no time to work on anything I actually want to do.”
“Your novel?”
“Yeah, that.” Mike shrugs, his voice lowers. “I don't know, maybe it's just a stupid waste of time.”
“What? Come on, don't say that.” Will's eyebrows furrow at the notion of Mike having doubts. “It’s not stupid.”
“You think?” Mike winces sceptically.
“Are you kidding?” Will smiles softly, “It's- your writing is amazing, seriously. And I'm not just being biased as your best friend, I swear.”
Mike beams in a triple-take, looking from Will to the ground, then back to Will again in the span of a second. Maybe it's just the neon signs behind them, but Will is sure he sees a faint blush creep across his face.
They pass the cigarette back and forth a few more times, the routine feeling somewhat intimate, until it's burned down to the filter. Will lets it drop to the ground, crushing it under his heel, and the moment is over.
He nods towards the entrance, and they wordlessly make their way inside.
–
“Alright, I can excuse maybe ten minutes, but being half an hour late is insane even for you, Mike!” Max glares with disingenuous anger, looking between the two of them in shock as they finally take their seats at the table.
There's already an arrangement of appetisers in the centre, laid out on a lazy susan.
“We said we were sorry!”
“You invited us!” Dustin complains, his voice hitting an unexpectedly high note, “You called us, said we'd all be able to stay at your place for the week, and then you show up half an hour late?”
Lucas laughs, looking between Mike and Dustin. “He thought you were gonna bail and leave us to sleep in our cars for the night.”
“I personally assumed you'd forgotten what day it was.” Max offers.
“That’s plausible, he does have a track record..” Will agrees, side-eyeing the man beside him.
“Alright, you can't talk; we showed up at the same time!”
“But technically I was here first.”
“That doesn't count, you were still outside.”
Will just hides his smile behind his drink, the others naturally jump to defend his side.
“C’mon, Will is allowed to be late ‘cause he isn't the one hosting the damn reunion!” Lucas points out.
Mike sticks out his bottom lip like a child, “This is clear favouritism and you all hate me.” No one bothers to correct him, though Will gives him a sidelong smirk.
Dustin raises a question, “Hey, you're sure there's enough room for us at your place, right? I don't know about these guys, but I'm not exactly looking forward to Ted giving me the death stare whenever I'm in his vicinity.”
“Oh, God. I forgot how much he hates you all.” Mike snorts, “No, they're all staying with Nana in Illinois for the summer. We have the whole place to ourselves.”
Max claps her hands together with a small, very unexpected squeal, “We have the whole house to ourselves? For the whole week?!”
A buzz of excitement swims across the table, and Mike holds up a hand to try and stop it, “Guys, guys, come on, we're all, what? Twenty? It's not like we're gonna be having wild parties and shit.”
“Killjoy.” Max scoffs, in unison with Lucas.
“Fuck both of you guys.” Mike rolls his eyes. “Anyway, we've got one guest room, the basement, and-” His gaze flits towards Will involuntarily, “Um, I can fit a spare mattress on the floor in my room, too. If you– or, I mean, if anyone– wanted to share-” He forces his eyes back to the table centre, a light pink brushing his cheeks.
Will raises his eyebrows at Mike's sudden flustered demeanor, but doesn't mention it.
“Or, there's Nancy's old room as well. Anything she didn't take to Boston either went to Holly or Goodwill, so that's empty as well.”
“We’ll take the guest room.” Lucas jumps in.
“Aw, come on, that's the best one!” Dustin whines.
“Duh, that's why I'm claiming it now.”
“Alright, fine. I'll take Nance's old room.” He glances at Will, “Are you cool with the basement?”
“The basement–” Will repeats, “Right, yeah, the basement- I'm fine with the basement.”
Mike's eyes widen slightly, “You sure? I mean, it can get cold down there sometimes-”
“I'll be fine,” He insists. "It's the middle of summer."
The conversation moves on, and Max begins eagerly discussing plans for the week ahead.
From Will's point of view, it seems like they're desperate to do anything that could spark even the smallest flame of positive nostalgia; bike rides, movie nights, malted milkshakes from the old machines at the back of Melvald’s. It's funny how even a hellhole like Hawkins still has its small pleasures, but Will can still feel the ghost of goosebumps at the back of his neck, and the slight tug of nausea in his stomach.
It's just Hawkins, he has to remind himself. The Upside Down is gone. The Mind-Flayer, Vecna, everything ever connected to the hivemind, it's all gone.
He feels a shoe nudge against his calf under the table, and he looks up to see Mike eyeing him, his brows knit together in a wordless ‘you ok?’
Will nods, forcing a small smile. ‘Of course, I'm fine.’
Mike presses his lips together, unconvinced. Still, he doesn't push any further, even if his lingering gaze in the corner of Will's peripheral says that he definitely wants to.
Dinner continues with an optimistic ambience, only slightly marred by Will's unease and Mike's innate tendency to care too much about it. His leg remains against Will's. Not pressing, just touching. A small reminder that Hawkins may still suck, but his friends will always be here by his side.