Chapter Text
Hawkins Indiana
25th of July, 13:31, 1988
Mike
Hawkins had never looked more ideally suburban than the July afternoon Mike and Will left. At least Mike thought so. The rich green grass almost luminous. The Wheeler house, as white and symmetrical as always, shimmered with nostalgia that Mike shouldn’t be feeling. He’d be coming back in a month, for God’s sake.
Will, on the other hand, lingered on the doorstep. Mrs Byers was worrying his hair, probably listing everything that could go wrong on the trip and telling Will for the thousandth time to call her if he needed anything at all. Mike’s mum seemed to be subtly ushering them both to the road, while Jonathan slipped out the door behind them, carrying Will’s suitcase to the car.
Mike’s car. The one his mum had bought him as a graduation present, pale blue and almost too sleek and clean to be his. Will had admitted that it was probably more road-worthy than his own second-hand fixer-upper. Secretly, Mike preferred Will’s car: it had a charm to it.
Will was moving into the spare room in Max and El’s apartment in Portland. He had no clear plan. He wanted to go to school, study art, but he didn’t have an offer yet. Really, he had said, when pushed, he just needed to get out of Hawkins.
They had only graduated a few months ago. Max and El had been planning to move to some faraway city ever since the party had defeated Vecna. Max had insisted that they needed to experience ‘real life’, whatever that meant. Will’s eyes lit up a little whenever they brought it up, although he never said anything. That was until El had called him a month ago. Their roommate had moved out and she missed him. She’d said that, if he wanted to join them in Oregon, even if just for a year, he would be welcome to. It wasn’t a glamorous lifestyle: Max was working nightshifts at a bar, regularly making the five-hour round trip to the University of Oregon where Lucas was studying chemistry and playing college Basketball; El waiting tables in a local café, scraping by on tips. But, whenever Mike called El, the simple happiness of having a life that was hers glowed in her voice.
Once Will moved in with El and Max, almost the whole party would be within a three-hour radius. Except for Dustin, who was making them all unbelievably proud, studying theoretical physics at Yale. And Mike. Who, so far, had nothing to show for his post-grad life besides a trash can full of failed manuscripts.
Of course, Mike would accompany Will on the week-long road trip to Portland. He had nothing better to do, and besides, the idea of not seeing Will every day left a pit in Mike’s stomach so uncomfortable he had no choice but to postpone as long as possible.
Will and Joyce were walking, arm in arm, toward the car at last. Mike’s mum followed behind. The car dipped as Jonathan loaded Will’s suitcase into the trunk.
Mike had been itching to leave for half an hour now, shifting from one foot to another, sticky with sweat. The Byers took their time with Goodbyes. When Nancy had left for her internship in New York, he and his parents had made do with a brief ‘goodbye, good luck’. The greatest display of affection had been his mum’s quick peck on the cheek.
“Don’t brood.” Mike started, turning to see his mum standing beside him, gripping his arm. Her head was tilted, eyes studying him. “Will won’t see them for God knows how long.” She gestured to the trio, huddled behind the car, Joyce stuffing a last-minute bottle of sunscreen into Will’s hands. “More crucially, Joyce won’t be able to see Will.” She hesitated. “You two will be fine. I know you can take care of yourself. Look after Will. I’ll be reassuring Joyce that you’re keeping an eye on him.”
“I will.” Really, Mike wasn’t sure Will needed Mike to ‘keep an eye’ on him these days.
The boy in question was looking at Mike pleadingly from where he was sandwiched between Joyce and Jonathan. Mike nodded, pulling open the car door and getting into the driver’s seat.
It was just turning two as they finally pulled away from the Wheelers’. Will waved out the window at their meagre send-off party until they were completely out of sight. Then, Will sat back, a small crease between his brows. He stared out the open window as a sun-gilded Hawkins slipped by.
"You said you made mixtapes, right?” Mike prompted, trying to pull him out of his thoughts.
Will smiled shyly, pulling a cassette binder from his backpack and unzipping it. Each cassette was labelled with the state Will had tailored it for. He slotted out the first – Indiana – and handed it to Mike, who slipped it into the player.
The guitars of ‘Ceremony’ by New Order flooded the car. Mike grinned. This was one of his favourite bands – surely, Will knew that. Silence in Hawkins always filled Mike’s mind with the smell of grass cuttings, the rhythmic whir of his bike and echoes of his friend’s pre-pubescent teasing. Somehow, the music cut through the nostalgia. Maybe it wasn’t so bad – leaving. Even if Mike would be coming back.
“I can never tell whether I hate or love this town,” Will mused, chewing his bottom lip.
“I sort of wish I didn’t have to come back,” Mike admitted.
Will paused, gaze averted. “I don’t think I ever will.”
They passed through the ‘You are now leaving Hawkins’ sign without a word, Mike’s chest hollow and buoyant with the thrill of escape.
Soon, houses gave way to fields. Will unfurled the massive map they had bought for the trip over his knees like a blanket. Mike bit back a grin – it looked almost comically big. The wind rustled the paper threateningly, and he prayed it wouldn’t be snatched from Will’s hands.
“You took a wrong turn,” Will grumbled, tracing his finger over the paper. “Definitely, look!”
“I can’t look, Will,” Mike groaned. “I’m driving!”
“Fine, just trust me then. Take the next left and we’ll loop back around.”
While Will was no navigation genius, he had a better sense of direction than Mike, who had been known to get lost in the supermarket. Once they reached open highway, where the way forward was as clear as a massive, concrete arrow, it would be Will’s turn to take the helm, while Mike dozed in the passenger seat. Mike couldn’t wait.
“I said next left!” Will screeched, shaking Mike’s shoulder. There was no-one on the road. The stakes were non-existent. Mike smirked at him, slamming the break with unnecessary drama.
“Geez Byers. No need to shout.”
Will rolled his eyes. He gave him one last shove. For emphasis.
Mike corrected course and soon they were cruising. Heading for Chicago.
After a few hours of driving, the sun was bleeding into the horizon. Will’s skin glowed in this light. The hazel of his eyes caught with orange, like they were a little bit on fire. He was looking sleepy already, blinking slowly.
“Lotta wheat,” Mike commented for no reason at all.
Will rolled his eyes again. “You grew up here, Mike. And the wheat surprises you?”
“Just making conversation.” Mike shrugged, trying not to grin at how easy it was to irritate Will. He’d gotten feistier since California – Mike liked it
“Aren’t you gonna miss it?” Mike asked.
“The wheat?” Will slouched in his seat, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Yeah. I don’t know. I guess a little.” His hair, getting shaggy these days, was fluttering in the wind. It kept flying in his face, though he didn’t move to brush it away.
“You need a hair band or something,” Mike suggested, then immediately felt stupid.
The rest of the drive was silent, mostly because of Will’s intermittent dozing. Mike spent half his time with his eyes on the road, the other half glancing over at the other boy to make sure he didn’t fall sideways in his sleep.
By the time they made it to Chicago, it was dark. Will had been roused by the streetlights and Mike’s excited chatter about his plans for their time in ‘Chi-town’.
Will yawned.
“We should find somewhere to spend the night first. I didn’t expect you to be so excited. It’s Chicago: you must have been here before.”
“With my family once.” Mike recalled, scouring the passing buildings for any sign of a cheap hotel. “But never with you- with friends. We can actually… like hang out and stuff.”
Will shrugged, clearly not satisfied. Mike didn’t blame him. He wasn’t sure himself why the idea of him and Will exploring Chicago made his whole body buzz. Perhaps it was something about independence. Or the fact that he’d only ever seen Will against the quaint, suburban backdrop of Hawkins.
Mike spotted a flickering vacancy sign and they pulled over. Mike crawled out of the front seat, his legs feeling stiff already. God knows what another couple hours driving would have done to these old bones. The hotel took up only a narrow strip of the housing block, the whole section painted a candy pink. Will shuffled round the car to stand beside him, swaying slightly and rubbing his eyes.
"This alright?" Mike asked.
The other boy made an indeterminate sound of confirmation.
Once inside, Mike found the place cramped and dingy: exactly what he had been hoping for. After paying for the night in cash, they hauled their overnight bags up the garishly coloured stairs and collapsed into twin beds.
“Comfy,” Mike sighed, rolling onto his side and looking out the window, through a film of grime. The residential backstreet below was empty, blue with twilight. A strange city and his best friend, who he hadn’t spent nearly enough time with while they’d been busy saving the world. Life hadn’t been this good in a long time. He frowned. Maybe ever.
When he turned to Will to suggest they go out and get pizza – Chicago-style – he met closed eyes. Will had already drifted off: his dark lashes resting starkly against his flushed cheek, hair finally falling out of his face.
Mike left him to nap, pocketing the key to their room and scribbling a note. When he returned, two pizza boxes in hand, Will was just sitting up, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes and ruffling his hair back into place. Will was magically revived by the smell of food and Mike's chest glowed with heroism.
“I was starving.” Will beamed, crawling onto the floor to sit across from Mike, open pizza boxes steaming in all their greasy glory between them. “Sorry for falling asleep. I know you wanted to look around.”
“It's fine,” Mike said, grabbing a slice. “I saw my fair share of loiterers and shady back-alleys on my hunt for a pizza place. We can see the good stuff tomorrow.”
They sat in companionable silence while they ate, passing cars casting shifting orange light over the darkening room.
“Mike,” Will started, hesitantly. “I’ve been meaning to ask."
Mike looked up expectantly.
“What are you going to do once we get to Portland? You’ll stay for a bit, right? I know with El– things are complicated. But… I hate the idea of you just turning around and leaving.”
Mike hesitated, chewing his pizza slowly.
El had broken up with Mike before leaving Hawkins. Mike hadn’t been shocked: it had seemed almost inevitable.
His mum seemed to think El would take him back as soon as he landed in Portland. She implied the possibility as though it were only natural. But Mike knew that this wasn’t like their silly, childish break-ups when they were thirteen. This had been serious: no hard feelings, just distance.
Mike took another bite of pizza, barely tasting it.
Will was looking at him imploringly.
“I don’t know. I want us to be on good terms. And we are. But… calling sometimes and intruding on her space are two different things. I just… I don’t ... It doesn't make sense but I don't want to lose her again. Somehow, her having to tell me I'm not welcome feels like that. Once and for all.”
Will reached out and cupped a hand over Mike’s own. Mike focused on the warmth of his fingers.
“I’m sure she still wants to be your friend. You’ve been through so much together. Just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you don’t care about each other. You are special to her, Mike.”
He stared at Will, whose brows were furrowed, eyes concerned. Mike tried to smile, to reassure him. Will was right, of course. But, his mind compulsively replayed all the mistakes he’d made in he and El’s relationship. He’d barely taken the time to really think about El, about how she was feeling, he’d been so focused on just filling the role of ‘boyfriend’ and leaving it at that. Giving her what he thought she wanted. It hadn't been what she'd needed at all.
Mike's limbs grew heavy as they polished off the last pieces of pizza. They binned the boxes, hastily brushing their teeth and changing before crashing.
Mike tried to sleep, but his eyes kept drifting to Will. He couldn’t believe he was here, with him, in some shitty hotel in Chicago. Will, grown up: his hair long, cheeks high, shoulders broad. Not quite a stranger. He could still recognise the boy he’d first approached on the swing set. But there was something else now too. Something changed – new and exciting – that made Mike’s hands itch.
He clenched them into fists, rolling over and burying his head in the stale duvet. Ever since they’d become teenagers, he and Will had lost their natural rhythm. He’d missed him while he was in California. But then, even once Mike had joined him there, and once they’d both landed back in Hawkins, the feeling didn’t go away. He’d missed their old friendship; feeling close to Will now was just messing with his head.
Somehow, Mike felt that this Will wasn’t all his – the way he was when they were kids. Mike wanted to know all the ways Will had changed. Besides getting feistier.