Chapter Text
Friday, November 17th, 1989
Leaves skittered across the road as the blue Chevette sped over them. Bare trees lined the worn two-lane road, their branches swaying in the autumn breeze. A layer of gray clouds hung overhead, muting the landscape. The chipped mile markers ticked steadily downward as the car carried them closer to home.
Inside the vehicle, a frustrated Lucas Sinclair banged on the top of the dash board.
“Man, how do my parents expect me not to get pulled over when the damn speedometer’s broken?”
Beside him, Mike Wheeler turned his head where it rested against the seat. He let out a silent chuckle at the behavior of one of his best friends.
“Maybe next time you can spend your paycheck at the mechanics instead of on Max.” he jabbed, smoothly twirling a pen through his fingers.
Lucas shot him a glare, though they both knew Mike had a point.
The radio DJ tossed out a quippy remark before cueing the next song, Tone-Loc’s Funky Cold Medina. Neither of them missed the mismatch between the song’s lively beat and the flat, colorless stretch beyond the windshield. Even so, Lucas started drumming his fingers against the tattered steering wheel. Mike weakly nodded along and slid the pen between the pages of the notebook on his lap.
They had decided to carpool from Indianapolis to save money. Plus, Mike had figured he would not be driving enough over break to justify bringing his own car.
He leaned back in his seat, making a weak attempt to stretch his sore muscles. Aches sharpened by time spent folded into a space too crammed to accommodate his long limbs. A groan slipped past his closed lips as he did.
Lucas cut himself off mid-song, immediately taking the opening. “Oh come on, I didn’t push you that hard.”
Mike spoke through what was left of the groan, “I keep telling you, my body was not made for physical activity. It’s a miracle it hasn’t fallen apart from your torture.”
Lucas barked out a laugh. “I’m hurt you think quality time together is such a pain.”
Mike rolled his eyes as Lucas jumped back into the song. He rested his forearm along the window ledge and turned to stare out through the dirty glass.
Since starting college at Indiana University, Lucas had made a point of dragging him to workouts a few times a week. Nothing crazy. Just enough to keep Mike moving.
To keep Mike from retreating too far into himself.
Over the past year, each of The Party members had found their own way of preventing that. Dustin kept bringing him in on whatever new electronic or scientific obsession had taken over his brain. Will helped him brainstorm story ideas before unleashing them on the rest of the group. Max had practically forced him into taking a part-time job with her at the record store.
And Lucas made Mike curse his name through every mile and every rep, playing drill sergeant with far too much enthusiasm.
Mike would never have told any of them, but those things had been lifelines. Anchors to the present. Small, deliberate ways of holding on to the people who mattered most to him.
It helped.
Mostly.
A sign flashed by, which signaled that the town was only ten miles ahead.
Out of the corner of his eye, Lucas noticed Mike’s leg had started bouncing. He suspected this homecoming might stir something uneasy in him. It was the first time Mike had come back since leaving in August.
“How you doing?”
Mike’s leg went still at once.
“Just wish I knew what I got on my calc test,” he said. “It was harder than I expected.” His fingers drifted to the car door, picking at its worn texture. “I just know my dad’s going to ask me about it.”
It was not a complete lie.
Grades had been a source of tension between him and his dad for years, and yes, that made him anxious.
It just was not what had set his leg off.
Thankfully, Lucas did not push the issue.
“Yeah, I get that. Couple weeks ago, my parents spent an entire dinner playing twenty questions. Guess it’s a good thing they’ll have Nancy to grill too.”
Mike let out a humorless laugh. “No kidding. Don’t know which of us is a bigger liability to their image.”
They both knew the Wheeler parents were sick of people asking them how their two oldest were “holding up;” feigning concern while fishing for juicy gossip.
It was a toss-up between their once-golden eldest daughter, who dropped out of college and their moody middle child, whose unraveling during the last years of high school had been far too visible to ignore.
Glancing up at the sky, a crooked smile tugged at Mike’s mouth, “Do you think Nancy’s about ready to throw Dustin out of the plane?”
Lucas laughed at the image. “Might be her worse nightmare, getting trapped with Dustin after he got his hands on Wolverine #19.”
“She’s definitely regretting not taking Robin up on the road trip.” Mike paused for a second. “Then again, maybe a few hours with Dustin is easier on her than two days in a car with Robin.”
Mike thought it was funny how three of them had somehow ended up in Massachusetts.
Dustin being accepted into MIT was not the surprising part. Hawkins High’s valedictorian ending up there made perfect sense. The weird part was that it put him in the same city as Nancy, who was hustling as a trainee at the Boston Herald after her brief stint at Emerson. And only ac couple hours away, Robin was throbbing at Smith College.
Despite Robin’s passionate pitch for all them to pile into a car together for the trip to and from Indiana, Nancy and Dustin had chose to fly.
Seven miles.
To occupy himself, Mike reopened his notebook and reread the last lines he had jotted down. They described the way his dorm building, Ball Hall, looked in the November afternoon light. The bricks warmed in the overhead sun and the windows caught the blue of the sky. He had thought the image might fit perfectly into the short story he was drafting for his writing class.
Despite pursuing an engineering degree, he had still managed to enroll in creative writing; arguing that the fine arts course fulfilled the requirement for an open elective.
It was one of the few choices about college that felt entirely his.
That, and is roommate.
Mike had not been about leaving his living situation to chance, so it had been a no-brainer to room with Lucas. They had been best friends since grade school, so there was no point splitting up the duo now. Besides, it spared him the possibility of ending up with some mouth breather who brought back his latest hookup or turned the room into a pigsty.
The transition from friends to roommates had gone smoothly. They matched each other’s level of cleanliness, had slipped into unspoken rhythms, and gave each other something steady to return to as they branched out into a new city.
Lucas, at least, could say he had made a handful of new friends. The same could not be said for Mike.
Sure, he was friendly enough and would spend time with classmates when the opportunity arose. But for the most part, he found it easier to keep anything unrelated to school limited and most conversations safely at the surface.
Whenever Lucas invited him to a party or a campus sporting event, he already knew Mike would decline. He kept asking anyway, partly out of habit and partly on the off chance that one day Mike might actually say yes. It was just another way Lucas seemed determined not to let his friend slip through the cracks.
Four miles.
“Its going to be weird without Will around.”
Mike nodded.
Two weeks earlier, Will had hesitantly told them over the phone that he would not be coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving.
He and Jonathan had decided to spend the holiday in Montauk with their mom and stepdad; a title which was still strange enough to make something in Mike’s brain snag every time he thought about it.
Following graduation and a courthouse wedding, Joyce and Hopper had relocated there. To the knowledge of the local residents, it was a move strictly motivated by better pay. However, to anyone who actually knew them, it was an escape. A way out of the town that had too many ghosts in it.
So logistically it made sense. Will had no family left in the town, and Montauk was much closer to Jonathan and his apartment in New York City. Even so, the news had caught the boys off guard.
“You guys can still use Castle Byers for the bonfire,” he had added quickly, trying to soften the blow.
Once the initial surprise wore off, Lucas and Mike had assured him that while they would miss him, they understood.
As much as the Party would feel his absence, Mike knew staying away was best for Will. From the way he talked on the phone, he was thriving in New York. He spoke about the city’s constant motion and how it gave his mind something to latch onto. He had sounded genuinely excited describing the art classes he was taking during his gap year, a pause in academics that everyone around him had supported. He had even tossed in how he was making new friends, lingering a little extra on one named Chance; a detail that made Mike and Lucas exchange an amused look.
With so much in his life finally moving in the right direction, why risk coming back and tearing open the healing wound?
Will deserved the escape too.
A flicker of jealousy lit in Mike’s chest.
Three miles.
“Yeah, I know.” Mike added, “I barely managed to figure out how to swap him out in the campaign this weekend.”
“Good thing our Zoomer agreed to tag in.” A twinkle lit Lucas’ eyes at the reminder that his girlfriend would be joining them on Sunday, especially after Max’s blowup following the last session in May.
Amusement flashed across Mike’s face. “Oh, I’ve got something perfect lined up just for her.”
“Just don’t piss her off so badly she never agrees to play again,” Lucas implored the Dungeon Master.
Mike threw up his hands in mock innocence. “No guarantees.”
After a shared laugh, the boys settled into a comfortable silence.
It was something Mike had come to appreciate over all their years together. Neither of them felt compelled to fill every quiet moment. While it had taken time to trust that silence, now they both understood it for what it was: ease, not distance.
They crossed over a trickling creek, the familiar landmark telling Mike they were only minutes from town.
Mike’s eyes flicked to the numbers glowing on the radio.
3:37.
They had made good time, especially considering they had both taken two tests before leaving campus. And that was after showering from their workout, haphazardly packing between bites of food, and squeezing in some last-minute studying.
He guessed he would get home around the same time as Holly.
That thought brought a small smile to his lips.
Out of everyone in his life, Holly knew the least about his baggage. Combined with the fact that she was only twelve, she treated him the most consistently in all the time that had passed since the Fall of ’87. With her, he had an outlet for what came most naturally to him: forgetting himself for a while and focusing on helping someone he loved.
A lot of the time, that meant checking on her when he heard sniffling behind her bedroom door or taking her out for ice cream when the weight of being home became too much for either of them. Over time, their conversations had shifted. Less of him listening while she tried to make sense of her trauma. More of the two of them bonding over campaigns and helping her hone her skills as a novice Dungeon Master.
One mile.
The radio sounded with a faint vinyl crackle as the DJ returned from the commercial break. “Alright, welcome back - hope you grabbed that Pepsi and didn’t go too far, because the hits keep coming right here on your favorite station. Now, if you’ve been missing somebody lately… this next one’s gonna hit. Fresh off her latest album Rhythm Nation 1814, she’s back on top and not letting go. Turn it up, sing it out.. It’s Janet Jackson with Miss You Much.
The clipped percussion kicked in with its easy, swinging rhythm. Lucas pressed the gas pedal a little harder without seeming to realize it, his body swaying faintly with the song.
As the music built, Mike shifted in his seat and tugged the sleeves of his patterned sweater lower. Then Janet’s voice floated in, and a plain brown Welcome to Hawkins sign appeared ahead.
For one suspended moment, a sharp ringing flooded his ears. The lyrics dissolved into something distant and meaningless. His leg started bouncing again, quick and uneven, nowhere near the song’s tempo.
Then the sign was behind him.
Mike blinked, and everything snapped back. Anyone looking at him would have been none the wiser, save for the restless motion of his leg.
He was not naive. Mike had expected coming back to hit him somehow. Returning to the town where nearly everything bad in his life had happened. Or maybe worse, returning to the place where he had once known the most joy, before it had been ripped away from him.
He just had not expected the reaction to start before they were even properly inside town.
He cleared his throat as they passed a small, dilapidated building that had once served as a military checkpoint. Most of the fence around it had been torn away, though a few rusting metal posts still stood as markers of what had been there. Graffiti crawled across the outside, and a couple of bullet holes scarred the door. That, at least, evoked a closed-lipped smile from Mike.
As they drove closer, he glanced at the rows of houses with For Sale signs planted out front and the boarded-up businesses lining the street. The latest casualties were the Hawkins Motel and the small gas station beside it.
Since the so-called earthquake and quarantine, the town seemed to be hemorrhaging life. Businesses had not recovered from the prolonged lockdown. Families had been itching to leave the moment their movements were no longer controlled. Few people willingly chose to visit a small town tangled in rumors of dangerous conspiracies and unexplained horrors.
It did not bring Mike any satisfaction to see his hometown struggling, but it did not stir much sympathy either. As far as he was concerned, the town itself had played a part in the pain inflicted on the people he loved. The secrets and scars scattered across its limited miles might have been invisible to most, but the weight of them was palpable.
Hawkins was haunted, even if the curse had been lifted.
Jolting over the railroad tracks, Lucas let out an annoyed sigh as he steered around a large washout on their side of the road, yet another sign of the town’s deterioration.
They came up on the middle and high school. Both boys’ heads turned as they looked at the buildings that had held so much of their lives. Even though school would have let out less than twenty minutes ago, the students and faculty had cleared out fast, everyone eager to begin break.
“Oh shit, is that who I think it is?” Mike asked, his eyes landing on a lone figure crossing the nearly empty parking lot.
“I think it is. Should we swing by?”
“Might as well.”
The Chevy rocked as it bumped over a pothole at the entrance to the school grounds. Turning left at the fork, Mike reached to roll down his window. A blast of crisp air hit him at once, biting at his cheeks and cutting through the warmth of the car.
“Steve!” They called in unplanned unison.
Turning instantly, Steve Harrington whipped off his sunglasses and squinted toward the source of the disturbance. Once the car got close enough, recognition flashed across his face, followed quickly by a cocky grin. He planted his hands on his hips and called out,
“Well, well, well. The big city boys decided to grace us with their presence.”
As the car pulled up beside him, Steve leaned down to peer into the backseat.
“Henderson back there?”
Mike’s face went flat, “Good to know where we rank.”
Lucas answered, “No. Him and Nancy should be rolling in later tonight.“
Steve ran a hand through his infuriatingly good hair, styled to look as effortless as possible.
“God help her.”
They all laughed.
“How was the last day before break, Mister Harrington?” Lucas asked with genuine curiosity. Sometimes it baffled them that Steve had ended up as a teacher. Other times, it made perfect sense that their once-reluctant babysitter had landed exactly where he had.
Steve threw his head back with an exaggerated groan. “Let me tell you, you’d think these hormonal brats had been trapped in school for eight days instead of eight hours. I almost gave four kids detention for smartass remarks. Honestly, you all prepared me for dealing with these little shits. Especially you, Wheeler.”
Lucas snickered while Mike answered with a mock salute and a smug expression.
Steve grinned. “Where you guys headed?”
Lucas tipped his head in the direction of their houses. “I’m dropping Mike off, then headed to pick Max up from work.”
“Ah, got some big plans for the first night back in town?” Steve said, wagging his eyebrows.
Mike snorted at his friend’s expense while Lucas rolled his eyes and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Despite the joking tone, a faint blush rose in his face.
“Ha!” Steve barked, “I really wouldn’t, but it’s all part of the job.” Then he shifted his weight and added, “Anyway, I’ve got Nance and Robin coming over on Sunday. And seeing how you’re all adults now, I guess I can invite you guys to swing by.”
A slight frown tugged at Mike’s mouth, “Can’t. The Party is getting together at my place that night.”
“You dorks playing that game?”
Mike did not take the bait, though a flicker of defensiveness still rose in him. “We are. But thanks. If it works out, maybe we can plan something another time before we head back next Sunday.”
Steve nodded, “Besides Thursday, I’m free all week.”
“Sounds good.”
“Well we’ve got to get going or I’m going to be late.” Lucas stated while shifting the car back into Drive.
Not quite ready to end the conversation, Steve asked, “Max still working at Youth Services?”
Lucas beamed, always jumping at a chance to brag on his girlfriend.“Yup! She’s killing it over there. From what she last told me, they’re considering her for a promotion.”
Following graduation, Max had forgone college. There were a number of factors which went into that decision: feeling burnt out from hustling to make up school work in order to graduate on time, not feeling ready to leave her mother after everything that happened, and lack of funding. Instead, she opted to keep working while volunteering at the Hawkins Youth Services Bureau.
However, around the time summer was coming to an end, Max had found herself getting frustrated with the limitations in her ability to help the kids in the program. She was quickly hired and hit the ground running to enact some change. Already in her short time, Max had helped double the size of their after-school program and was in the process of writing a grant to get more monetary support from the government. She was determined to keep as many kids as possible from having to fend for themselves.
“Good for her. I actually sent a kid their way not too long ago.” Steve slid his sunglasses back on and reached into the pocket of his brown coat for his keys. “All right, I’m off the clock and ready to unwind. Get out of here, you crazy kids.”
After exchanging goodbyes, Lucas pressed the gas and pulled them back toward the road.
Another quarter mile later, Mike looked out his window in the direction of the Palace Arcade. A fond smile touched his face at the sight of the overflowing bike rack, with even more bikes strewn carelessly across the ground. He saw his seventh-grade self reflected in the group of boys charging toward the building. The image came easily: him, Will, Lucas, and Dustin preparing to lose countless hours inside the overstimulating haze, eyes bloodshot from flashing screens, fingers sticky with the soda and candy that fueled them.
Then the smile faded as nostalgia curdled into envy.
Envy for the version of himself who had still been innocent enough to believe adventure came without a cost. Whose greatest frustrations had been losing at Galaga too many times and getting harped on by his friends. Whose life had revolved around invented peril, neatly vanquished over the course of an hours-long campaign. Whose whole being had been propelled by idealism and a hunger something larger than himself.
That version of Mike had been chipped away.
Shaking off the image of his prepubescent self, Mike jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “How much money do you think we spent there?”
Lucas glanced at the arcade in the rearview mirror, “Shit, I don’t even want to think about it. Probably two months’ pay now.”
“Really set ourselves back on those investments.”
“Alright, Ted.”
Mike pulled a pained face, though he could not deny that his lame excuse for a joke had sounded more like his dad than he ever would have liked.
Less than a minute later, the car turned onto Maple Street. They passed the Sinclair house just as Lucas sister was strolling up the driveway. Bundled against the cold after the walk home from school, Erica carried a book in one hand. Lucas blared the horn, accomplishing exactly what he had intended.
She jumped.
“Nerds!” Erica shouted, flipping them off as they continued on their way.
The boys’ childish giggling had barely faded by the time they pulled into the Wheeler driveway. Mike tucked his notebook into his backpack while Lucas shifted the car into park. He zipped up the green-and-white top of the bag, then reached for the handle.
“Thanks again for the ride,” he said. Pushing the door open, he added, “I’ll get you your six dollars tomorrow.”
Lucas waved him off. “The arcade didn’t break my bank that badly. Just get me the gas money when we’re back at school.”
Mike clasped Lucas’s hand across the console in a quick goodbye. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” Then he stepped out and added mischievously, “Tell Maxine I said hey.”
He slammed the door and cut off Lucas’s retort.
“She’d for sure back out of her Zoomer duties if I did that.” Lucas repeated as Mike opened the back seat to grab his duffel bag.
With a lopsided grin, Mike slung the bag over his shoulder. “She secretly loves it.” Then, with one hand on the door, he added his final jab. “Keep it safe tonight. I’m not ready to be Uncle Michael yet.”
Before Lucas could fire back, Mike shoved the door shut and smirked to himself.
As he made his way along the pathway crossing the front of the house, Mike caught the Chevette in his peripheral vision as it finished backing out and started driving away.
Mike dropped the lingering smile from his face.
He drew in a deep breath and adjusted the strap cutting across his chest. His gaze settled just ahead of his feet, expression blank.
All week, Mike had listened to his fellow freshmen talk about how homesick they had been during the semester. They had counted down the days until they could go home, eat a home-cooked meal, reunite with old friends, and sleep in their own beds.
He learned to make the right face when they said things like that. To nod when he was supposed to. Smile when expected. Let them assume he felt the same.
Now, standing at the front door of his childhood home with his hand hovering over the knob, Mike admitted to himself what he could not say out loud.
He was sick of home.