Chapter Text
Summer is a lot more drab than Mike remembers.
It’s his first summer since being broken up with El, which isn’t something he dwells on or regrets, but it leaves a lot of empty time he’s not sure how to fill now that the constant obligation of a relationship doesn’t hold him in place.
Plus, without Starcourt Mall, the town of Hawkins isn’t exactly the most entertaining place to live. He and the Party have already hit the arcade more times than they can count, and contrary to what his twelve year old self may have believed, a loud, dark room full of video games they’ve all perfected at this point can only keep you entertained for so long.
Besides the arcade, Mike’s summer has consisted of a few reluctant bike rides out against the scorching Indiana sun, reorganization of his room (enforced by his mom), followed by the slow but effective act of turning it into a complete disaster again, one or two DND campaigns, and a whole lot of movie rewatching.
Like, a lot of movie rewatching. The Party has probably spent more time huddled in Mike’s basement, eyes glued to the screen, than they have outside.
His newest routine has been to sleep in as late as physically possible, and hunker down in his room occupied with mostly nothing but his inner monologue of self deprecation.
Mike knows it’s not healthy. He’s a teenager. One that’s been through arguably a hell of a lot. The universe owes it to him to allow his summer hermit behavior.
His mother, however, will not allow it.
On day four of his new routine, when he stays asleep until 3pm in the afternoon, she finally snaps.
His mother stands in his doorway, examining the mess of a room and a lifestyle.
“Michael,” she starts firmly.
Mike, just woken up, sits up and rubs his eyes. When he feels a little more like a conscious human again, he rolls his eyes at the use of his full name.
She narrows her lips into a tight line before she speaks. “You can’t just sit in your room all day.”
Mike huffs indignantly. “It’s summer,” he shoots back, his voice rough from just waking up. He rubs a spot in his shoulder blades where he seems to have a tense knot, probably from sleeping wrong.
“Yes, it is. All the more reason for you to get out of the house,” she pushes, placing her hands on her hips.
Mike spots Nancy passing his room by in the hallway. She stops, wrinkles her brows, and steps in the doorway next to their mother.
“Jesus, Mike. You’re still in bed?” She asks with a judgmental laugh.
Mike hates these goddamn people. Apparently it’s national bully Mike Wheeler day today.
He groans and rolls his head back onto his headboard. Increasingly annoyed, he answers with, “There’s nothing to do in this shithole of a town anyway.”
Nancy’s laugh is very clearly targeted toward him as she shakes her head. She shoots him a ‘you’re such an idiot’ face and turns expectantly towards their mother.
“Language, Michael,” she snaps, and shakes her head. She suddenly looks full of intention, a clear, most likely torturous idea in mind.
“That’s it.”
Mike scoffs. Whatever his mother has planned for him as punishment, he can surely get out of.
“You’re getting a job,” she decides firmly, in her tone that does not have any trace of question in it. She’s not asking, she’s telling.
Mike is not getting a job. He is going to spend his summer in his room, no matter how hard he has to fight for it. Teenagers with jobs are people too eager to feed into the bullshit economy by working too much and getting paid too little.
He’s going to remain in his room until he’s inevitably dragged out of bed to start the school year, wether anyone likes it or not.
He’s not stupid. He knows he could do more. He just doesn’t feel deserving enough.
“I’m not getting a job,” he says shortly, and runs his hands through his hair.
His mom huffs. “Yes, you are. It’s either that or no video games and no movies for the rest of the summer.” She tightens her grip on her hips. “Take your pick.”
Nancy snickers from the doorway next to her. “I can’t believe Mom has to take away your things just to get you out of bed,” she comments.
The statement isn’t entirely true. He’s been out of bed plenty. On his hermit days, he rereads comics, jots down ideas for new campaigns, and reminisces on the binder full of art Will has gifted him over the years.
He finds himself turning to the last activity frequently, since it somehow never seems to get boring, no matter how many times he sits on his bed and flips through the papers.
There’s so much to think about when it comes to Will.
Why that is, Mike isn’t sure. They’re best friends, or at least they were. Will seems to be oddly wary of him every time the Party gets together. Like he’s too afraid to commit to being close to Mike again for some reason. He’s definitely not sure why his heart stings and his fists clench when Will refuses to meet his gaze or sit what he’s silently deemed as ‘too close.’
It hurts. Mike’s heart is tight.
Will and Mike had always been the closest out of the party, but something in the air between them has seemingly shifted. At first, it was presumably because Mike was pushing everyone away, no matter their relationship. But lately, it’s starting to feel like Will is pushing too.
And he’s not sure he can handle that.
Mike would analyze all of it if he could think straight for two seconds without spiraling completely.
He found it easier to push it down, bottle it up, and pray it wouldn’t find its way out.
He stares at Nancy. It’s not like she has tons of friends to hang out with either. She spends most of her time doing jobs for the newspaper in the town over, or at least when she’s not with Jonathan.
Mike internally rolls his eyes as he thinks about how close they are. It’s sickening.
Sometimes late at night he thinks about how he and Will used to be bonded closer together than Nancy and Jonathan. It was a great feeling, the best feeling. There’s a small hole in his heart that was once filled with Will’s friendship, and having it left hollow wears on him deeply.
Why can’t he and Will have what Jonathan and Nancy have?
…
Or-, no. It’s different. It’s obviously different. It has to be different. Nancy and Jonathan are in love, and he and Will are…friends.
Right. Friends. Best friends.
Mike ignores and files away the gnawing pit in his stomach when thinking about Will. It’s not something he completely understands, and therefore it will not be dealt with.
He ever so slightly shakes his head to clear the confusing thoughts away. “I get out of bed,” he mutters defensively in Nancy’s general direction.
“Sure,” she answers unbelievingly.
Their mother looks back and forth between them, frustration tainting her eyes. Her gaze stops on Nancy, the familiar purposeful look of determination settling on her face.
“Do you know of any jobs around town he could do? Close enough to bike, too.”
Mike rolls his eyes for the millionth time. He hates being talked about in the same room as if he’s not even there. Either address him as an existent person, or get the hell out of his earshot.
Nancy looks thoughtful for a few moments until her eyes light up. “Steve and Robin are always looking for help at Family Video,” she suggests.
Mike closes his eyes in attempts to shut the world out. He’s not working with Steve Harrington and his weird probably girlfriend at the video store.
That’s a shit idea, and he’s going to make it be known.
He sighs dramatically. “I’m not doing that.”
His mother sends him a sharp glare.
“That sounds great, Nancy,” she says courtly. “Can you talk to them soon?”
They’re doing the goddamn thing again. Mike is very much in the same room as them and would like to be treated as such.
“Don’t,” he grumbles, and rubs the bridge between his eyes.
Why is everyone trying to stomp on his unhealthy plans of living in his room for the rest of the summer?
“You’re doing this, Michael. It’ll be good for you,” his mother insists. Her tone is firm and isn’t something he thinks he can argue with.
Mike does it anyway.
“I’m fine the way I am. It’s summer, I’m supposed to sleep in,” he insists.
His mother looks like she’s about to explode. “I’ve had enough with your back talk. You need to start learning responsibility.”
Another eye roll emerges. Why won’t his family let him waste his life away holed up in his room? Talk about inconsiderate.
Nancy chimes in with, “I’ll call Robin. She’ll be thrilled to have someone to push around.”
Mike groans. His summer plans are completely, utterly foiled.
“I think you’ll like it,” Nancy tells Mike as she drums her hands against the steering wheel.
Steve and Robin did predictably accept her offer of relinquishing Mike’s freedom over to them.
Mike tried his very best to squirm out of the situation, but was unsuccessful. His mother put her foot down, and that meant it was non-negotiable.
Mike throws his head back against the carseat. “I won’t like it,” he mutters back.
Nancy rolls her eyes as she makes a right turn. “You’re a total movie nerd, anyway. This is like, the perfect job for you,” she offers.
Mike scoffs indignantly. “I prefer the term, ‘movie enthusiast,’ thank you very much.”
So maybe Mike is a little bit of a movie nerd. No, enthusiast sounds way cooler. But who cares? He likes for people to get their facts right when discussing the classics. It’s common courtesy, okay?
Will would get it. Mike knows he’s the same way with music, thanks to Jonathan. Mike’s frustration when someone remembers one of his favorite films wrong is equally matched when someone forgets which album a song belongs to for Will.
Will may be the kindest person alive otherwise, but god forbid Mike mix up one of The Smith’s songs versus one of The Cure’s song. He didn’t hear the end of that for weeks.
He let the harassment slide since it was Will, though.
The way his eyes light up when he gets a chance to bring up music is enough to keep Mike silent for a lifetime.
He’d let Will’s warm, soft voice fill the air forever, if he could.
“Nerd,” Nancy confirms, launching him out of his thoughts.
Mike protests silently as he stares out of the window, watching them pull into the Family Video parking lot.
He misses Will’s voice, actually. A lot. Mike thinks it’s one of the best sounds in the world.
He startles slightly when Nancy puts the car into park, and says, “Hey.”
Mike whips his head around. “What?” He asks unenthusiastically.
Nancy narrows her eyes, her tone suddenly serious and from. “Don’t be a little shit like you are to me. Steve and Robin are doing you a favor here, okay? Be respectful,” she orders.
Mike lets out a tiny huff. “Okay, fine,” he answers.
Nancy looks satisfied enough to cut him loose. “Good. Now go, you’re already five minutes late.”
Mike rolls his eyes. She’s the reason he’s behind five minutes after her mini speech on how grateful he should be for something he doesn’t even want.
He decides he’ll forget what she’s said in a matter of minutes, anyway.
Mike opens the car door and hops out reluctantly, signing as his feet hit the asphalt.
He stares down the video store bitterly.
What exactly was the Party going to say about this? He’d be mercilessly teased and mocked no doubt, especially by Max.
Mike Wheeler, showing up employed in a store he and his friends had spent half their summer in picking out movies, after disappearing for a week.
Yeah, he’s never hearing the end of this.
Max is going to give him the most shit about this, of course. He could take a breath of air in and she’d find some reason to mock it. It wasn’t like he doesn’t return the favor, of course he does, but still, this forced event in his life might as well be wearing a giant lit up sign which reads, “Mock me, please!”
Lucas and Dustin will tease for a while, but Mike thinks maybe they’ll eventually get used to it and start asking him for discounts and special favors. El will giggle along with them, but she doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body when it comes to her closest friends.
And of course, there’s Will. Mike smiles to himself like an idiot for some unknown reason.
Will’s teasing is softer and has less of a bite to it compared to anyone else in the Party. He’d never dare insult something someone genuinely cared about or worked hard on, unlike their other friends.
He laughs softly and makes a few harmless comments, but no one can stay mad at him, especially Mike.
The sound of his laugh is enough alone to make anyone want to devote the rest of their life to him.
Not in a weird way or anything, of course.
Will’s amazing. Perfect. Anyone with eyes would see that.
Mike waves to Nancy courtly as she pulls out of the parking lot.
He’s really in this now, big, light up sign be damned.
He trudges towards the door begrudgingly, silently parring that if he’s a second slower, somehow something will come and stop him from having to do this.
Nothing does.
Mike sighs and opens the door to Family Video, instantly hit with a burst of light, laughter, and music.
He decides it’s all feeling very familiar. Not unusually; he comes here multiple times a week, but something is incredibly familiar and comforting, and yet he can’t put his finger on it.
Mike scans the room for a few seconds, hovering in front of the door as it closes, and then recognizes a voice next to the front counter.
He turns to meet it, and his face lights up with excitement.
“Will!” He calls, thrilled.