Chapter Text
Mike knows his ending isn’t the happy kind you read about in stories. Everyday, he sits down, and he writes.
Today, his assignment is to write on a topic he's been given. Write about it like it's the most interesting thing in the world. He finds this so freaking tedious. He's not very keen on spending most of his time researching rather than writing. The topic being transportation makes it a bit better, at least. Mike finds it interesting to learn about how humans got on before cars, and the science behind it all. Still, he catches his mind drifting multiple times.
He doesn’t hang out with the party much, even when Lucas and Dustin ask. That hasn't happened much, though. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t find any joy in his life now. He should be happy that he goes to a college just a couple hours away from Hawkins, in Bloomington. But he just can’t shake the feeling, this loss. Because worse than his boring life is the daily reminder he’s given when he sees the painting on his wall. The painting, the one that will gave him in the van on the way to save El. Everyday, it reminds him of what he lost. Who he lost. Nonetheless, he hung it up on his wall, because seeing it also brings him a little hope. He knows it's silly, but Mike can't help fantasizing about a world where El hadn't commissioned it. Where Will had put his all into a painting, and made it special just for Mike. Not for Mike And El. It's embarrassing, but Mike has been fantasizing about this since he was given the painting. Sometimes he would get lost in this world, automatically relax at the thought of Will's gentle voice, his face, and absolute care for Mike (in the fantasy, at least). This fantasy gave him a special feeling. It felt something like sunshine exploding from his chest.
The feeling got harder to ignore. The knots that twisted in his stomach, the way his cheeks flushed when he thought about Will. The thought first came to him when the Byers family was staying at the wheelers house. When will slept in the basement, and sat next to Mike for breakfast. The thought that maybe… maybe Mike wanted them to be more than friends. He wasn’t used to being around Will anymore, and now he slept only 2 floors under Mike.
that year, it had been easier to suppress his feelings with Will gone, the only thing hard to suppress being his longing for Will to return. And now with Will back, his feelings had been stronger than ever.
But he would never make a move. Boys don’t kiss boys. So, Mike tried to ignore his feelings, even tried to convince himself otherwise. He was doing a great job, too.
And then will came out. For the first time, Mike had hope. But Will couldn’t possibly be talking about him, So he never addressed it. He almost did. They had a moment together on the tower, alone, finally. Will was happy mike accepted him, and that they could be friends. This was mikes chance.
“Friends? No…” he said, trying to confess.
What should he say? Lovers? Boyfriends? But then he realized this was wrong. Mike might be accepting towards will, but deep down, he still felt like these feelings were wrong. That boys shouldn’t like other boys. He couldn’t be… like Will.
“Best friends.” He said instead, knowing now that he couldn’t have what he wanted.
He was probably wrong about his own feelings. Friendship and romance get mixed up easily. A lot. Right?
So, Mike convinced himself that he loved El. He did, but not in the way he should.
He hadn’t known they were still together, but he should have been relieved she still liked him when she kissed him. But It was hard. Too hard. El was dying, and he couldn’t kiss her. Not like he meant it. He was going to miss her so much. Like a best friend. But he still had to convince himself he didn’t like Will, so he told himself he missed her like a girlfriend.
Mike sits at his desk, window in front of him. It feels wrong that the sky is clear, that there's so many people in the street, trying to run errands in the first sunny day of the week.
After graduation, Mike knew he had lost will for good. And the feelings were hard to ignore, harder to than ever. And despite having come to the conclusion that he was wrong about having feelings for Will, wrong about himself, he cried a lot that day. When his friends went home, and the world around him slept, he cried, his sobs and shudders lost to the night. Because nothing would ever be the same. Of course it wouldn’t. But now Mike would rarely see Will, even get to be friends with him, And Will was moving to New York, where he would probably meet a boy. A boy that wasn’t Mike.
So now, Mike focuses on school, because if he doesn’t he might do something stupid. He might visit Will, but he could never ever do that, not if he wanted to avoid his feelings. it would be weird to visit, anyways. Mike hasn't had an interaction, not even a call, with him for nearly a year now.
this writing assignment is going to be on the trickier side for Mike. As a dungeon master, he enjoyed the aspects of making up a story and characters, making plot and action instantly, but his stories often had plot holes or poorly researched things in them. It makes sense why this assignment is important. It's just something he's really not enjoying. But it has to be done, so he sits at his desk, typewriter in front of him, and a pile of paper by the side of it. Mike's desk is in his bedroom, bed next to his desk, where he's placed every book he could find on the history of transportation. The books he thinks most useful are in a pile on his desk.
His apartment is small. The bathroom is across from his bed, which is next to his desk that has been placed in front of a window that looks down on a busy street of cars and walkers. The living room isn’t very big, but there’s enough space for a small couch and coffee table, where a portable TV and leftover coffee mugs sit. Mike usually sits in the living room for school assignments and studying, but today he needed the space his bed provided to spread out his data.
After about an hour of researching and writing, Mike remembers that today is Saturday, and tomorrow is laundry day. To make sure he doesn't forget anything else tomorrow, he goes to his desk to grab a pen and paper and writes down other tasks he needs to get done on Sundays: Laundry, groceries, cleaning and the time of his shift at the gas station.
As he walks out of his room to hang this on the fridge, something catches his eye. Will’s painting. He’s been able to ignore his strange miserableness for a whole week now, thinking he might break his 7-day streak. But today, seeing he painting immediately makes something drop in his stomach, his chest feeling ten times heavier than before. The feeling is back. Mike stares at the painting for a good minute before dragging himself to the kitchen and putting his to-do list on the fridge.
He tries to ignore the feeling, tries working on his bed for a change of scenery. When he can no longer focus on his assignment, he goes back to his desk, but just decides to stare out the window, watching the now familiar hustle and bustle of Bloomington, people taking advantage of a sunny day in this rainy autumn week.
The feeling still sits heavy at his chest, and as it gets harder to ignore, Mike can feel tears start to form. Despite the tears forming, his face doesn't scrunch up, like someone about to cry. he just stares off into space, feeling a sob build up.
He knows what this is about. When the party all went their separate ways, Mike had still been hung up on losing Will. Will was off to New york city to pursue his art, and Mike desperately wanted to follow, to go wherever Will went. Mike knows that Will is happy now, probably enjoying his life in the city, with other people. Other boys. Mike knows he shouldn’t feel any regret at this, shouldn’t miss will to this extent. But maybe it's normal. After all, he and will were very best friends, more than anybody else in the party, so it would make sense to miss him more than Lucas, Dustin and Max. But this much? Was it normal to feel so anguished at the thought of growing apart, regret for not coming with will to New York or confessing at least his confusion with his feelings? Was it normal to be afraid to find out whether Will was seeing anyone, or even liked anyone at all, almost as if Mike would hate it if he was? He knows he should be happy for will if he finds love, but when he thinks of it, his stomach ties in knots, the kind that you get when you’re scared or sad. The harder Mike thinks t about this, the more cloudy his vision gets with tears, both from loss and confusion. He’s crying now, so he leaves his desk as to not get any tears on his schoolwork before they start spilling down his face, and curls up in his bed, his body trembling as he sobs silently, like this is a moment to keep even from himself. Mike doesn't fully know why he's crying. He knows it's from being away from will, but he doesn't know why he feels this way, to this extent. The confusion of his feelings, it was too much to process before the tears came. Sometimes he wonders if he still wishes him and Will were more than friends, but he pushes those thoughts down, because he knows even if he did, it would be wrong. It’s wrong for Mike to like other boys. He hopes will finds love. He wishes will wouldn’t date any other boys, other than Mike. No, Mike hopes he does date boys other than Mike.
When Mike is done with his silent sobbing, he uses his blankets to wipe his eyes, tears still rolling down his face. He decides that he’ll continue his school assignment tomorrow, because he can’t possibly focus in this state. He also can’t deal with these thoughts though, so he sets off for a distraction.
The first thing he does is add “work on assignment” to his to-do list for tomorrow. Since he’s already in the kitchen, Mike decides to make some hot pockets. His eyes are sore, bloodshot, and watery from the crying session he just had. They drift to the clock on the kitchen counter. It reads 4:30pm. Mike realizes he hasn’t checked the time all day, but it certainly didn’t feel like he’d been awake for nearly a whole day. It must’ve been another sleep-in, another night he forgot to set his alarm, either too tired to think of it, or too lost in confusing thought to remember.
Mike is startled by the beeping of the microwave when his hot pockets are finished, thinking about how late is. When he gets them onto a plate, he decides to turn on the radio to further distract him from his thoughts about Will, the crying he had done earlier. At least an hour earlier, he supposes, because the tiny window in his kitchen shows the sky in evening hues, where earlier, it had been a bright afternoon. He decides to play the radio sitting next to the clock for extra distraction. He’s not in luck today, though, the first thing playing when he turns it on some religious talk show. Today's topic? Why queerness is such a terrible sin, and to avoid anyone that you suspect “works with the devil.”
“I mean, it’s just the right thing to do to keep yourself and loved ones safe.” the host states. “These queers, they’re danger-” Mike switches frequencies before he has to hear anything more. Now there’s a song playing, one he recognizes. “William, William, it was really nothing,” the lyrics go. The radio is just making his situation worse, so Mike sits and listens until the song “William, it was really nothing” by the smiths is over before deciding the radio has been no help today and switching it off. After finishing his hot pockets, there’s no distractions left other than reading comics while listening to a track on his Walkman, so he does just that. He reads until he falls asleep, which he quickly does, the sun barely set.