Chapter Text
1995
Often in this world, success will be seen as the finish line. Promotions, projects, degrees, relationships, someone's approval… There isn't anything beyond it that is worth a mere thought, right? Because everything will fall into place once you get that letter in the mail that your book has been officially published or that an opportunity has appeared for a comic adaptation, maybe a movie adaptation.
Blood, sweat and tears were spilled for Mike to arrive at this finishing line. Of his friends, loved ones, and even himself; so why does he feel like there was more ahead? A completely new road?
A blazer was thrown at him, cutting through his thoughts.
“Dad said to give these to you for the wedding. You have a week to get a new one if you don't want it. You better dress well for my wedding!” Nancy warned as she walked away from the door.
Nancy and Jonathan, after 6 years of an additional slow burn, had decided to get married in Hawkins. Not shocking at all, but everyone around them was thrilled to hear the news anyway. From what Mike understood, they did break up before the final battle, but as they became financially and emotionally stable, one thing led to another. An old sparkle lit up, as Nancy described to him at the time. Romance wasn't a thing he understood anymore.
As he lazily sat up on his bed, putting away his notebook with annotations of his latest novel, Mike inspected the dark blue blazer. It wasn't a bad quality one; the fabric felt smooth at his fingertips and it looked like it was in good condition, despite being several decades old. Mike could not imagine his own father being once his size, but apparently he was.
His gray sweatpants and white t-shirt certainly looked horrible being combined with the blazer, but the size fits so he figured it would look good with suit trousers of the same colour, leather shoes and god knows what kind of tie. Most likely a plain black one. Mike sighed as he put the blazer away, hidden away in his closet like it would bring any less shame to his bones.
Mike wouldn't even be able to tell you what he was so ashamed of, however he could tell you it had been haunting him, to the point of eye bags becoming part of his skin.
Eleven's voice rang in his ears like she was right there. Alive and breathing. “You understand me. Better than anyone.”
“I love you.”
Maybe he knew part of it.
All of his friends’ lives moved on, as one would expect. Max and Lucas were aiming to be teachers, Dustin continued to further his studies, Steve continued to be a teacher, Jonathan worked as a photographer and cinematographer, Nancy continued journalism. And Will… When was the last time they spoke? It would be an optimistic guess to say they had called each other maybe once or twice that year. Mike had no idea why they drifted off so… easily, and distance certainly had nothing to do with it. He was able to keep contact with literally everyone else, so what was so wrong with Michael Wheeler that he could not get himself to dial a series of numbers?
Last he heard, Will was studying art in New York, and at some point in these six years he had acquired a boyfriend, Carlton. Mike couldn't say his name without a bitter aftertaste in his mouth; Mike never had a problem with Will being gay and still doesn't, so Mike came to the conclusion that it was because Carlton could never truly understand Will. He could never be truly good to him.
Carlton could never understand the pain he went through in the Upside Down, with Vecna, with the Mind Flayer, or literally anything else Hawkins threw at them. They had all lost something, and he could never understand that excruciating pain. Will deserved someone who could recognise Will by breathing alone in a crowd of people and noise.
Mike knew that, and no one else seemed to agree.
Granted, Mike never asked any of them, he figured he would just sound like a massive jerk. But he wasn't, okay? They briefly knew about Carlton during one of their catch up hang outs at Mike’s earlier that year, everyone asking for details, truly happy for Will while Mike’s heart sank with each word. He was only able to muster a “I’m proud of you,” which soon after got drowned out by Max’s (arguably inappropriate but gleeful) questions.
Point being, Mike was not trying to be a jerk to anyone and he felt lost in his life.
The novels he ended up writing and finishing over the years were his only goal since the final battle; it was something to keep him busy and provided a sense of comfort too, reminding him of young Mike planning for the next D&D campaign. Part of him wanted to sit in the basement and pretend that he was waiting for Lucas, Will and Dustin to come over to play, but he knew that was stupid. Crazy, even.
Crazy together.
Mike wondered if Will still remembered saying that.
•••
Three days later, Jonathan had a bachelor party at a pub he had never heard of before, but went anyway to see everyone and have lunch at the same time. As Mike parked his car in front of the place, he caught a glimpse of Will, who was far from the glass door, but angled in such a way he could still be seen from outside. Time slowed down and the sounds around him became white noise at best.
Will almost glowed, confident and free, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders after so many years. Even his hair was different, and the light jeans with the yellow long sleeved shirt shaped Will’s body in a way that poets would write pages upon pages about.
Mike’s hands and feet were on automatic, suddenly inside the pub and greeting everyone. He was the last one to arrive, but it didn't matter, Mike’s eyes rarely left Will’s figure unless spoken directly.
“It's good to see you, Mike.” Will said in a hug.
God, he was warm.
“Yeah! Totally, it's good to see you too.” Mike responded.
The hug was separated, but the touch seemed to last a beat too long or Mike’s wishful thinking was louder than he remembered. That was when he noticed a crescent moon golden necklace and one of Will's ear lobe pierced, he… looked beautiful.
Mike wanted to sit right next to Will, but Jonathan had taken that spot already, while Lucas and Dustin sat right across the two. Mike had no choice, but to sit at the end of the table (Dustin to his right and Will to his left). They ordered their lunch and a few drinks, before Lucas started:
“Jonathan, you're getting married, dude, how does it feel?” His elbows confidently leaned on the table, Lucas smirked at him. “I’m sure you didn't wait for marriage, so that's definitely not a reason you decided to.”
“Wait, no! Don't say such things,” the table laughed with Jonathan. “I'm marrying her because it finally felt that we weren't dragging each other down, especially with the lying, we used to lie to each other to make the other comfortable. It never worked.”
“Any honeymoon plans yet?” Dustin asked.
“No, money's tight and we're having a wedding party,” Jonathan leaned on the chair. “We said that we would have time for ourselves, after we leave the party and that would be enough. We're going back together anyway.”
“That makes sense.” Will commented, nodding his head slightly.
“And you, William Byers,” Lucas was still smirking, but now at a different Byers. “You have a plus one, don't you? How's your relationship going?”
Mike felt his anxiety crackle under his skin like electricity, but his eyes stayed focused at a random spot on the wooden table. Maybe not looking at him would make the answer easier to take.
Will chuckled, the chair squeaked as he moved self-consciously. “Ah, it's going well, he's a really nice guy. But I don't want to take the spot away from Jonathan-”
“Oh please, I'm always glad to hear about how happy you are.” Jonathan responded with a smile. His eyes met Mike's and lasted a second too long before he leaned back on the chair again.
What the hell was that?
“Max made me promise I would tell you that you can call her up any time you need boyfriend advice,” Lucas added. “She said she'll keep a secret even from me, can you believe that?”
“Actually, I can,” Will laughed. Mike did not, but the others did. “I mean, right now there isn't much to tell besides that we do… normal couple stuff, I suppose.”
Mike's mind went wild with the idea of “normal couple stuff,” and the discomfort and shame became too much to bear. So before anyone could say anything else, he suddenly announced:
“I, uh, I gotta go to the bathroom urgently, so I’ll be back.”
And left. If any of his friends tried to respond, Mike didn't hear. His heart loudly hammered, echoing inside his ears and he felt slightly dizzy. Mike wanted to throw up and he felt like the most horrible friend in the entire world. Why couldn't he just be happy? Regardless of whether Carlton could ever understand Will and his past, it was not up to Mike to decide; this was a decision that Will Byers needed to make on his own, and by the looks of it, Will had already decided that his relationship was worth it.
Would Will and Mike ever be what they once were?
The cleric and the paladin.
The sorcerer and the storyteller.
Best friends, maybe more than that.
Well, more than best friends but less than a lover. What kind of limbo had he landed on? In any case, Mike felt that he had no right to say they were best friends because things had changed. Mike once again became distant and Will moved on with his life without him, and part of him wished Will would yell at him again for being an asshole again. At least he would see a piece of Will that he was familiar with, and not… the stranger that became of him.
Mike threw cold water at his face, trying to get his shit together before going back. All Mike could hear was his own breathing and heart beat, bouncing off the walls; it was loud, he just wanted to feel silence for a minute. Feel peace of mind.
Out of nowhere, the door of the bathroom opened – its hinges almost begged for lubricant – which made Mike jump out of his skin.
“Woah, it's just me, man,” it was Jonathan's voice. He closed the door and Mike sighed in relief. “What’s going on? You've been sulking from the beginning.”
“What? I'm not sulking! I just-” his hands gestured helplessly. “I need to do my… business, yeah.”
“Right, and I am the tooth fairy,” Jonathan chuckled. “Look, don't ruin the day for me or Will, all right? You can solve your issues another time.”
Mike stayed silent, not quite agreeing or disagreeing, but avoiding eye contact. Jonathan sighed before continuing, “If you want to go home, you can, I’ll create an excuse for you.”
“No, no, I- I'll stay. I won't ruin anything for anyone, I’m sorry.” He blurted it out.
Jonathan looked at him like the older brother he never had before. Maybe this was how Will felt whenever he was going through something, and Jonathan wanted to help somehow; maybe like a babysitter 2.0. Like Steve.
Would Steve be able to give advice in a time like this? Dustin used to praise him for romantic advice, despite him not ever holding a relationship together.
“You two are so obvious,” he murmured. “Come on, everyone's waiting.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
•••
The rest of the bachelor party was normal, and Mike had lifted up his spirits to a point where he could pretend he felt normal. It seemed to convince everyone else. Mike and Will never spoke privately, as much as Mike wished to, but he still viewed them as friends and Mike was happy to hear how much Will hadn't been the stranger he had imagined.
Will still became thrilled to talk about D&D and possible future campaigns, art continued to be a big passion in his life and he wanted to be a tattoo artist (claiming he wanted his art to always mean something to people, whether that would be a silly tattoo or a memory of a loved one) and he found out parties can be fun with a few drinks.
At home, Mike resided himself in the basement, standing by the shelves with a row of binders from the last time they played a full campaign. Max, Lucas, Dustin, Will and Mike, each of them next to one another. His thumb slowly caressed the letters of his own name, foreigner to his fingertips like that was a different him, a different Mike that was left behind at some point. And like it had a mind of its own, his fingers moved to Will’s name.
It doesn't make sense, it doesn't make sense.
He couldn't say I love you to Eleven, only when his mouth was forced to. It made no sense that Eleven would ever commission a painting about a game she had no knowledge of, let alone interest. It didn't make sense that something like Will having a partner, Will being so apart from him – physically and emotionally – bothered him so deeply to the point of being anxiety inducing. The binders blurred and the colours seemed to mix together into an ugly mixture.
It's not my fault you don't like girls!
The sick, sick irony of his words.