Work Text:
April 8th, 1980
“Will?”
“I copy!”
“Hi, Will! Over.”
“These are pretty cool. It was nice of your mom to get one for me too.”
“Yeah, I know. Also, I think you’re supposed to say over when you’re done. Over.”
“Oh, okay. Over.”
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Over.”
“Bye, Mike. Over.”
November 9th, 1983
“Will?”
…
“It’s been three days. I miss you.”
…
“If you can hear me, please, just…give me a sign.”
…
“I have to go. I’ll see you later. Bye. Over.”
January 12th, 1986
“Hello, you’ve reached the Byers.”
“Will? It’s Mike.”
“Oh. Hey, Mike.”
“Hey! Um, what’s up?”
“I’m fine. Um, what about you?”
“I’m okay. How’s your family?”
“Oh, right. Um, El is upstairs, one second. El—”
“Oh, wait—actually I wanted to—”
“Here she is.”
“Oh, I—um, ok. Bye.”
“Bye.”
February 14th, 1987
“Will? Do you copy? Over.”
“Yeah, I copy. What is it? Over.”
“Is Jonathan asleep? Over.”
“Um, actually, he’s not here. Over.”
“Oh. Where is he? Over.”
“I think he’s out with Nancy. You know, for Valentine’s Day. Over.”
“Oh, right.”
“Um…is that all? Over.”
“Oh. Um, I was wondering if you wanna come up to my room? And, um, just hang out. I don’t know, I’m just bored and I can’t sleep. And I bought chocolate the other day. We can share it. Over.”
“...”
“Will?”
“Um, yeah?”
“You good? Over.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m…”
“Can you come up? Please? I wanna spend time with you. Over.”
“Yeah, I’m coming. Over.”
“Bye, Will. Over.”
“Bye. Over.”
May 17th, 1989
“Hello?”
“Will?”
“Mike?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, hey.”
“Hey, Will.”
“Um…what’s up?”
“Oh, not much. I’m just bored. And I’m pretty sure I’m gonna bomb my calc final.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Yeah.”
“...”
“So, prom next week, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Prom. Crazy.”
“Yeah.”
“...”
“Do you have a date?”
“What?”
“A date, Will. You know, like someone you’re going with.”
“Yeah, I know what a date is, Mike.”
“So do you have one?”
“Mike…”
“What?”
“You know I can’t.”
“You could.”
“No, I couldn’t. Plus, I don’t even think anyone is like that at school.”
“Anyone?”
“I mean—I don’t know, maybe someone, but I wouldn’t be able to go with them anyways. Not…openly.”
“Well, we could go together. I mean—like, as friends. Um, I mean, only if you want—”
“No, yeah, totally. That sounds…fun.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“...”
“Well, bye, Will. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Mike.”
August 27th, 1989
“Hey, you’ve reached the Byers-Hopper house. Will speaking.”
“Will?”
“Oh. Hey, Mike.”
“Hi.”
“Um, What’s up?”
“You leave today.”
“I do.”
“Are you scared?”
“Where is this coming from, Mike?”
“Nothing. Just—are you?”
“Um, not really. I have Jonathan nearby, so.”
“Right.”
“You okay, Mike?”
“Yeah, I’m just—”
“Scared?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s gonna be okay, Mike. I know it will.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m gonna miss you.”
“Mike—”
“Will, I can’t—I need to see you one last time. I—I don’t want you to leave, please don’t leave me, please—”
“Mike, stop. Stop crying, please, I—I can’t.”
“...”
“Mike—”
“We’re—we’re gonna keep in touch, right?”
“Of course.”
“I’m gonna miss you, Will.”
“I’ll miss you too, Mike.”
“Goodbye, Will.”
“Goodbye, Mike.”
April 3rd, 1992
“Hey, you’ve reached Will Byers. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep—”
“Oh—”
“Oh, hey, Will, um, it’s Mike. Um, Mike Wheeler. Obviously. O–or not, I don’t know if you know other Mikes now or. Um. Right, um, I–I just wanted to call and say hey, I guess. It’s been a while. I heard from Max that you’re coming up to the city next weekend? I don’t know, maybe we could meet up, there’s this cafe by my building. You would really like it there, they have this mural on the wall and—”
“Sorry, I’m getting off topic. I just wanted to say hi. And, um, I heard about your new boyfriend. I hope he’s nice.”
“Um, call me back when you’re free and maybe we can make a plan. Bye, Will, I’ll ta—”
September 16th, 1993
“Pick up, pick up, pick u—”
“Will Byers speaking. Who’s this?”
“...Will.”
“...”
“Will? Are you—”
“Mike?”
“Um…speaking.”
“Shit, Mike. Shit.”
“...”
“Why are you calling?”
“Um. I don’t know. I miss you.”
“What are y—”
“Do you ever think about us?”
“...”
“Will?”
“Mike, are you drunk?”
“...”
“Mike?”
“Um. Yes. I…yes. Yeah, I’m drunk. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called, I’ll just—”
“Mike—”
“Bye.”
March 22nd, 1994
“Hey, Will, happy birthday. Um, I know we haven’t talked in a long time or whatever. I just wanted to say, um, sorry. About…you know. About the last time we saw each other. I know…”
“Fuck. Sorry. I know you have a boyfriend. And—and I shouldn’t have done that. But—
“Sorry. Fuck, sorry, this is hard. I just—”
“Why did you kiss me back? I mean, I know it was just for a second—but you did.”
“I hate your boyfriend. I hate that motherfucker, Will. And don’t think I didn’t notice you fake laughing at his jokes.”
“Um, anyways, I’m veering off topic. I wanted to ask you to meet up? I have a birthday gift for you. Um, and I wanted to show you this new song that I found. It really reminded me of you. Um, I guess that’s it. If you can meet up just call me back at this number. And, um, I’m pretty sure you have my address. So if you ever just want to, like, show up at my apartment or something, feel free, I guess.”
“I, um, I bought you flowers.”
“Shit. This is a really shitty voicemail to leave on your birthday. I’m sorry. Shit, how do I delete thi—”
January 27th, 1995
“Hello, Will Byers speaking.”
“...”
“Hello?”
“...”
“Hello, is anyone there?”
“...”
“Okay…um, bye? I guess?”
May 26th, 1995
“Matthew speaking, who’s this?”
“Matthew?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Um…is Will there? Will Byers?”
“Sorry, who is this again?”
“Who are you?”
“Sorry?”
“Sorry. Um, I’m Mike. Michael. Mike Wheeler. Um, an old frie—”
“Mike? You’re Mike?”
“Um…yeah?”
“Will’s not home.”
“Okay…um, can I leave a me—”
“Bye.”
February 14th, 1996
“Hey, you’ve reached Will Byers. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the—”
“Shit. Um, hey, Will, it’s been a while. Um, I was just, um, I’m just. Yeah, I’m gonna be in Philly next week. I want to see you. Please.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I miss you, a–and my life is just total shit without you. I—”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. Happy Valentine’s Day, Will. I hope yours is going better than mine.”
“I love you.”
December 31st, 1997
“Hey, you’ve reached Will Byers. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the—”
“Will.”
“Will, I can’t do this anymore.”
“I miss you. I miss us. I miss everything about you. I know you’re happy. I’m happy you’re happy.”
“But—”
“But I’m not happy. Fuck. I can’t do this anymore.”
“I—I want you to know that I love you, Will. I love you more than anyone and anything in this world. I—I can’t live like this anymore Will. Please, I just—I—”
“I just need to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Will. Goodbye. I’m sorry. I love you.”
“Happy new year.”
January 2nd, 1998
“Hello, Will Byers speaking. Who’s this?”
“Will—it’s—it’s Karen—Karen Wheeler, I—”
“Mrs. Wheeler? What’s wrong, why are you—what’s going on? Mrs. Wheeler?”
“It’s Mike, he—”
“What? Mike? Is he—is he okay? Is he—”
“He’s gone—he’s gone—”
“What? What do you mean, I don’t—”
“He’s dead, I can’t—god—”
“…”
December 31st, 1999
“Hey, Mike.”
“I miss you. I miss you a lot.”
“It’s been two years without you. I mean, not that I was really seeing you or anything…before. Um. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t visited. I—”
“I didn’t come to your funeral. I…I just didn’t come. I—I don’t really have an excuse. Everyone else came. My mom came, my brother came, Hop came, Lucas, Dustin, Max, I mean—Jesus, everyone came. Except for me. I just…I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. I…I couldn’t watch it. I couldn’t.”
“I—I broke up with my boyfriend. A long time ago. He just…he didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand why I couldn’t move on. And I…I don’t blame him, I mean, the whole time we were together you and I barely interacted, it just seemed—it seemed so stupid. Maybe it is stupid. I don’t know. Fuck.”
“Um, did you know that I was the first person your mom told? Before anyone else? She called me first. Um, I don’t know why.”
“Maybe I do, actually.”
“I think she always knew. About us, I mean. Not that there was really much to know about. But she knew how I felt about you, I think. I don’t think she knew about…you know.”
“I’m so sorry, Mike, fuck. I—I can’t stop blaming myself, and I know you wouldn’t want me to, but I know it’s my fault. I could’ve stopped this, I could've done so many things to stop this. I–I could’ve answered the phone, just once, I could’ve—”
“Did you know I heard the phone ring? On New Years? I heard it ring. A–and I knew it was you, I just knew, and—and I didn’t pick up. I ignored it.”
“And then you were dead and your mom was calling me, and—”
“I thought I knew how you felt, all those years. I thought you were fine. I thought you never could’ve felt like I felt when we were younger, thought you were just confused, or missing El, or it was just plain old nostalgia or something.”
“I was wrong.”
“Um, you probably felt a lot worse than I did, huh?”
“Anyway. Um. We’re entering a new millenia. 2000. It’s weird. I don’t—”
“I don’t want to leave you in the 20th century, Mike. I really don’t want to. I just want you back. Shit.”
“I brought you flowers. They’re roses, I thought you might like them.”
“I don’t know what to do, Mike. I’m lost. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know anything without you.”
“Well. I, um, I guess I’ll see you soon? Please, Mike, I just—”
“I love you. Over.”