Chapter Text
July 12th, 1985 (11:34 AM) A sharp knock at the door broke the heavy silence of Mike’s room. He let out a long sigh, rolling off his bed with a groan. He trudged over to the door and pulled it open to find his mom standing there with an expectant look on her face.
"Hey Mike, can you do me a favor?" Karen asked, offering a small, encouraging smile.
"Uhm, sure," Mike muttered, hesitating at the threshold.
"Okay, well, we’re having a garage sale soon. I was wondering if you could go down to the basement and clear out whatever you don't want anymore. You can even invite your friends over to help if you’d like."
"Oh, sure!" Mike’s tone shifted instantly. The basement was his domain, and the idea of a project—especially one involving the party—beat sitting in his room alone. Karen smiled and headed back down the hall. Mike closed the door, a little more energy in his step as he walked back to his bed. He reached for the heavy plastic of his walkie-talkie and pulled out the antenna.
"Hello? Anyone here? Over," he said into the receiver, waiting for the familiar static to break.
"I'm here! It's Will. Over." A grin spread across Mike’s face at the sound of Will’s voice. They talked for a few minutes, catching up and coordinating a plan to contact the rest of the Party later. But Mike didn't really want the rest of the Party yet.
"Hey Will, do you wanna come over early? Just to hang out? Over," Mike asked. On the other end, Will stared at his own walkie-talkie, a small smile tugging at his lips. He missed this—the quiet moments when it was just the two of them, without the chaos of the others or the looming shadows of the Upside Down. He lost himself in the thought for a second before realizing he hadn't replied.
"Oh, yeah! Definitely. Over," Will responded quickly.
"Okay! Feel free to come over whenever. I’m not doing anything all day," Mike said, trying to sound casual despite the excitement bubbling up.
"Okay, I'll be there in about thirty minutes!" They exchanged goodbyes and the static cut to silence. True to his word, thirty minutes later, the muffled sound of knocking drifted up from the front door. Mike didn't just walk; he ran out of his room, racing down the stairs to let Will in. Mike pulled the front door open so fast it nearly hit the wall. Will was standing on the porch, his bike leaned against the railing and his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked a little out of breath from the ride over, a stray lock of hair falling over his forehead.
"Hey," Mike said, a grin breaking across his face.
"Hey," Will replied, stepping into the cool air of the Wheeler house. He looked around the quiet foyer.
"So... is everyone else coming later?"
"Yeah" Mike said, shutting the door and locking it with a click that sounded surprisingly loud in the empty hallway.
"My mom’s busy with garage sale stuff, and Nancy’s out with Jonathan. Lucas and Dustin are... doing their own thing. And El is out training with Hopper. I figured we could just hang out. Just us." Will’s eyes widened slightly, a spark of genuine relief and something warmer—something like hope—flickering in them.
"Just us? No D&D? No... mall?"
"No mall," Mike promised, rolling his eyes at the mention of the place that had been stealing all his time lately. "Come on. Let’s go upstairs before my mom finds a way to make us carry heavy boxes." They climbed the stairs, their footsteps thudding in sync on the carpeted steps. When they reached Mike’s room, he pushed the door open and tossed his walkie-talkie onto the desk. The room smelled like old comic books and Mike’s laundry detergent. Will sat on the edge of the bed, looking around at the posters on the walls—posters they’d probably put up together.
"It feels like it's been forever since I was actually up here," Will said softly. Mike sat down in his desk chair, spinning it around to face Will. He kicked his feet up on the edge of the mattress, right next to Will’s leg.
"Yeah. Too long." The silence that followed wasn't awkward, but it was heavy—filled with all the things they hadn't said over the last few months of growing apart. Mike noticed Will looking at a stack of drawings tucked into the corner of his desk. They were the ones Will had made for him years ago.
"You still have those?" Will asked, his voice barely a whisper. Mike looked at the drawings, then back at Will.
"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?" Mike and Will make eye contact with eachother the both smile before bursting out laughing. Mike reached over and pulled the stack of drawings toward them. He didn’t hand them to Will; instead, he moved his chair closer, so their knees were almost touching. He laid the first drawing—a dragon Will had sketched in seventh grade—on the bed between them.
"I remember this one," Mike murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "You gave it to me right after that failed campaign. You said I needed a 'win' even if it was just on paper." Will looked down at the paper, then up at Mike. The proximity was dizzying. He could see the faint sprinkle of freckles across Mike’s nose that usually blurred together from a distance.
"You kept it in the front of your binder for a year," Will reminded him, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "It got all crinkled."
"I flattened it out," Mike said, his fingers brushing the edge of the paper—dangerously close to Will’s hand. "I couldn't just throw it away, Will. It’s... it's yours." The way Mike said yours made Will’s heart do a strange, painful flip. He reached out to trace the ink of the dragon, and for a heartbeat, his pinky finger hooked over Mike’s. Neither of them pulled away. Mike didn’t even blink. He just watched Will’s hand, his breathing hitching just enough for Will to notice. The "garage sale" downstairs felt like it was on a different planet.
"Mike?" Will whispered, the air in the room suddenly feeling very thin.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For keeping them." Mike finally looked up, meeting Will’s eyes. There was a look there—something intense and searching—that Mike usually reserved for things that truly mattered.
"I keep everything you give me, Will. You know that." Will smiles again at Mike nodding pulling his hand away. He glances at the clock on Mike's wall.
"When are the others going to be over here?" Will asks. Mike looks up and looks at the wall respond.
" They'll be here any time probably." They continued looking through the old drawing Will gave Mike years back. The quiet of Mike’s room was shattered by a frantic pounding at the front door. Mike and Will shared a quick, disappointed look—the "just us" time was officially over. They headed downstairs as Mike pulled open the door, only to be met by a wall of wind and a heavy, grey downpour. Dustin, Lucas, and El scrambled inside, dripping wet and shivering.
"It’s pouring out there!" Dustin yelled, shaking his head like a wet dog. Mike looked past them at the driveway, where their bikes were lying abandoned in the deluge. He looked at Will, a silent communication passing between them that the others didn't seem to notice.
"I’m going to put all the bikes in the garage so they don’t get rusted or soaking wet," Mike announced. His eyes locked onto Will’s. "You guys can go wait in the living room. Dry off or whatever."
"I’ll come help you, Mike," Will said immediately. He didn't even wait for a response before stepping back out into the damp air with Mike. The two of them worked in a rhythmic silence, grabbing the bikes and wheeling them into the dark, cramped garage. The air was thick with the scent of wet asphalt and motor oil. As they maneuvered the very last bike into its spot, the space felt suddenly very small. Mike reached for the kickstand just as Will leaned in to steady the handlebars. Their shoulders brushed—a firm, lingering contact that sent a jolt through Mike’s chest. Neither of them moved away. In the dim light of the garage, with the rain drumming a frantic beat on the roof above them, the rest of the Party felt a million miles away. Mike looked over at Will, noticing a stray drop of rain sliding down Will's temple.
"Thanks," Mike whispered, his voice caught in his throat. "For helping. And for coming over early." Will looked up, his eyes dark and searching.
"I'll always help you, Mike. You know that." They make their way back inside and downstairs to the basement to start cleaning.