Chapter Text
Mike is late.
He knows that. Mike is always late. He’s late to his classes, to the point where his professors don't even spare him a second glance when he slides into his seat 6 minutes after class started. He was late to work, so much so that he got fired from his part-time kitchen job at a cheap 24-hour diner. He isn't always late to his new job at the comic book store on his block, but that's only because the manager schedules him to start 15 minutes before he actually has to be there (he's still late about half the time, especially since he caught on to his kind boss’s tricks). He's late to movie nights, lunch plans, and study sessions with friends. Hell, he used to be late to the DnD sessions that he planned and he hosted at his own house.
So, Mike knows he has a problem with being late. He gets that he's chronically behind. He understands when people get annoyed or frustrated at him when they have places to be or reservations to make. He's always felt like he's permanently at least 5 minutes behind the rest of the world - like no matter how much he plans or how hard he tries, he’ll always end up trailing in the back, running to try to catch up with everyone else. Mike has accepted this about himself. He doesn't like it, and the acceptance certainly doesn't stop him from entering a self-hatred spiral whenever he notices the time on his alarm clock. But he's accepted it. He knows it's just a part of who he is, and that's… fine.
Mike had always hoped he would befriend people who understood him well enough not to be offended when he knocked on their door 22 minutes after he said he would. And he’s grateful that so far, he has. His friends may tease him and roll their eyes and get annoyed, but he knows they aren't going to leave him just because of that (until they finally get sick of you, says a voice in his head that sounds like a strange mix between his own and his dad's). Whatever. His friends know that he's chronically late, and they only give him a bit of shit every time he pulls up to movie night without the snacks he said he'd get on the way because he forgot them. He knows they’re only joking, and by now he expects it from them. Well, from all of them except for Will.
Will.
Will Will Will Will Will.
Patient, gentle, kind, beautiful, understanding, perfect Will. Even when they were little kids, Will never once made Mike feel bad for being late. He never once sighed or rolled his eyes or looked anything other than happy to see him.
***
When they were little, maybe around the second grade, he and Will had made plans to meet up in Castle Byers on Saturday and read Mike’s new comic books together. Not only had Mike woken up late that day, but then he couldn’t find the stack of comics that he knew he had seen on his dresser the day before (or was it the day before that? Either way, Mike remembers seeing them there; he’s sure of it).
After scouring his room to no avail, Mike stormed downstairs to find the pile of comics set neatly next to his backpack by the front door. Mike stormed back up the stairs to get dressed, only to be met by his mother standing next to his open bedroom door, gazing at the hurricane he had left behind in his attempts to find his books. So, after cleaning his room as fast as he could, Mike changed out of his pyjamas and rushed back downstairs, where his mom was chatting on the phone with some cousin or aunt or something. After impatiently waiting for her to stop talking long enough, Mike asked for a ride to the Byers’ since he was running late. Pulling the phone a few inches away and putting her hand on the receiver, his mom unhelpfully informed him that she was on the phone and to ask when she wasn’t busy later.
Unwilling to wait, because even at age 7, Mike already knew from experience that “later” could mean anywhere from 5 minutes to 2 hours, he stuffed the comics in his bag, ran out the door, and hopped on his bike, peddling as fast as he could. A glance at the clock told him he was almost two hours late for his meeting with Will.
While he biked, Mike couldn’t stop the fear running through his head. He was so worried that he would get there and Will would have left. That Will had given up on waiting for him, gone home, and was probably already trying to find a new, better best friend to replace him with. One that wouldn’t miss scheduled hangouts and was super good at drawing and already knew all of the words to Will’s favourite songs. NewBetterMike, he mentally dubbed him, was certainly not a mess and was probably tidy, just like Will. Will would never have to wait around again, because NewBetterMike was always at least 10 minutes early to everything.
NewBetterMike was definitely funnier than Mike, and he and Will were probably already joking about OldWorseMike and how stupid and lame he was. By the time Mike reached the woods, his lungs were burning, but he hardly noticed. He dropped his bike on the side of the path and ran in the direction of the fort.
When Mike finally got to Castle Byers, not only was he surprised that Will was still there, but Will simply smiled, asked him for the password (dragon-rider) and let him in. Shaking himself out of his shock at seeing his best friend, Mike stuttered out an apology-explanation, not quite coherent. As he stood there, catching his breath, Will just smiled up at him and asked if he was ever gonna sit down, and did he bring the comics they had talked about? Confused, Mike apologized again, thinking why wasn’t Will mad at him before realizing he had wondered that out loud.
Will just tilted his head ever so slightly to the right, still looking at Mike, and gave him a smile that was ohsoWill that Mike immediately felt his shoulders relax. Sitting down, Mike let out another apology and asked again if Will was upset that he was so late. Not breaking eye contact, and with a small shrug, Will simply responded, “I don’t mind waiting. Especially if it’s you.”
And that was that.
***
When the others would bike ahead, Will always waited while Mike took an extra moment to zip up his jacket or adjust his backpack, before they took off behind the others, together.
Even when Max would loudly scoff at him as he jogged to meet them outside the mall, or Dustin and Lucas would tease about how “only Mike could be late to his own campaign,” or El would let out a resigned sigh, Will would just look at Mike and give him that ohsoWill smile that Mike knew was meant for the two of them. Yes, Will would chuckle at the others' jokes, but he never once joined in on the teasing, instead opting to bump his shoulder into Mike’s as he slid into his seat next to him.
Everyone else in the party would make some sort of joke or complain or roll their eyes at Mike and his habitual tardiness, but never Will. Will was the exception.
He usually is, when it comes to Mike.
Mike wishes Will were the exception to his constant state of delay. Because Mike is late. And for the first time in nearly all their years of knowing each other, Mike realizes that Will didn't wait for him long enough for Mike to catch up.
For the first time in their friendship, Mike was too late. Because Will had stopped waiting. Will has moved on. And by the time Mike's brain finally catches up with his heart, Will isn't there to greet him.