Chapter Text
Sat alone in the back of Jonathan's Ford, I was very much bored. We were barely 3 miles away from Hawkins, but of course El had all of a sudden needed to go to the bathroom right that second. Don't get me wrong, I loved El with the whole of my heart, but I just wanted to be in Hawkins. I blamed the sheer amount of Coca-Cola she'd drunk that journey and her insistence she "wouldn't need the bathroom" at the last 3 stops. We were almost there, though. 5 more minutes, and I'd be with the rest of the Party.
God, I missed them. I hadn't managed to call any of them, not since Mom got her new job. Before that, though, Mike had called a few times. El almost always got to the phone first, and I was never able to say anything to him before she hung up. The one time I'd gotten to the phone first, we talked for ages, me and Mike, about anything and everything. It was like I'd never moved, and we were just catching up on one of our late-night walkie conversations. But then El had forced me off the phone again, taking over the conversation once more. Dustin, Lucas, and even Max had sent me letters over the past month, but I hadn't yet received one from Mike. I missed him most of all.
Suddenly, there was a loud crackle from my bag. Confused, I rummaged around until I pulled out my walkie-talkie. With a gentle pull of the antenna, the static cleared, the frequency dial showing channel 7. Channel 7 was always mine and Mike's channel, the one he'd promised me he would always be available on when we were 7 and my dad had really begun acting like a dick. We'd never told the others about this channel; it was just ours, but now someone was talking on it.
"...Day 39, it's 3:34 in the afternoon," a voice surprisingly like Mike's came over the static. How though? We were still a while out, and our TRC-214 walkies only had a range of 8 km, max. But I guess we were only about 5km from the outskirts of Hawkins. However, Mike lives on the opposite side of town – there's no way his walkie range would reach out here.
"I miss you. Like a crap ton," Mike continued, "but you're coming home today! Mom said you'll probably get here at, like, 4 at the earliest, but I can't wait till then. I need you here, like right now." He was probably talking to El, like he did when she was missing in '84. I never told him, but I overheard his walkie broadcasts sometimes. I never interrupted, though. We'd all needed to find ways to cope with thinking El was gone, and I guess one-sided walkie-talkie conversations were Mike's method.
I probably shouldn't have been listening to this, it was private for Mike. After El and I had moved to Lenora, this must have been his way of dealing with the distance between him and his girlfriend. But still, I missed Mike's voice. I was glad to hear it after so long, even if I was going to hear it again very soon. So I kept listening.
"I've spent the whole day running around the house, putting everything away. Mom tried to help, but she just wasn't doing it right." I chuckled at this. Mike was always very particular about how his things were arranged. His room was always a mess, but he hated it when Karen or Nancy tried to clean it. I guess he wanted the whole house 'his' perfect for El. 'His' perfect may not have been the neatest, but I'd always loved it. The mess was hidden, but everything he cared about was on display. Photos, drawings, trinkets, all of it.
"You know, I had to hide about three pairs of underwear last time I double checked my room to get it ready for you," Mike said with an awkward laugh. That's strange. El wasn't going to be staying in his room, I thought I was. Maybe he was planning on spending time with El in there. If they were going to be anything like they were last summer, I doubt they'd be leaving that room very often. God, I hope they weren't going to act the same way as they did last year, that was so disgusting. I wanted to hang out with the whole Party at least once before I left again.
"I know we have spoken," Mike went on, "but I feel I've not said anything to you since you left. I should have written more often, or sent some of the letters I've been too much of a coward to just drop in that dammed post box!
"Currently, I'm sitting in Castle Byers, or at least the ruins of it. It's such a shame it was torn down. Fuck, it's my fault it was torn down. I still feel like such a dick for that; I should have never said what I did. Like, seriously, Mike? "It's not my fault you don't like girls"? God, I wish I could keep my mouth shut sometimes, keep the thoughts inside my head. I'm glad Castle Byers was built so far into the woods to hide from Lonnie, or else the people living in your house now would be dealing with a random kid sitting in their back yard an awful lot." So that was how I managed to actually hear his broadcast—he was near my old house, right on the very outskirts of town.
I remember the fight he was talking about, in the rain last year. What he'd said, scared me. How had he been able to tell? It had taken everything in me not to burst out, to scream at him, "But it is!". Fuck, it was his fault. And, fuck, I wish it wasn't.
"Wait, fuck, I'm not glad that it was built to hide from Lonnie, fuck no! That guy's a dick vein. A limp-dicked ass-wipe! I swear, he's the fucking reason they put instructions on bloody shampoo bottles! Plus, he literally looks like a scrambled egg." This caused me to laugh out loud, I'd almost forgotten how creative and weird Mike's insults could be, but only when he wasn't actually saying it to the person's face.
"I'm just glad I can hide here," Mike continued going, still oblivious to my presence on the other end of the channel. "I'm actually really lucky Dustin and Lucas haven't found out I come here, or I'll never hear the end of it. Or worse, they'll try to make me talk through my feelings again, like they tried to do that week in '85. You know, those two dumbasses genuinely made me promise I wouldn't spend all this week locked up in my room having "regular make-out sessions" - their words, not mine! Like, of course I won't! I literally told them, "El isn't the only one coming home this week." I think they have a surprise planned for the whole group, but we'll see, I guess."
Now, a surprise with the whole group, I was excited about. I was going to arrive in Hawkins today, Tuesday, because Mom felt guilty that we were going to be staying with the Wheelers and she wanted to at least help cook for Thanksgiving to show her gratitude. That meant I had the end of today and tomorrow to hang out with my friends, since Thanksgiving was Thursday and we'd need to be back in Lenora by Sunday, so we'd be leaving Hawkins again on Friday.
Sheesh, can't the others hurry it up? When El had said she needed the toilet, Jonathan and Mom had decided they wanted to stop by the loo too. Seriously, was their only one toilet here or something? I wanted to maximize the amount of time I'd have with the Party before we'd have to leave at ungodly o' clock on Friday, so I just wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible.
"I can't wait to see you again," Mike repeated, "I already have tomorrow and Thursday planned out for us. Although I might need to reshuffle them a bit, I did slightly forget to include your "twin" in our plans!" This stung. I can't believe he was actually planning on spending the few days he was going to see us with only El. He'd actually forgotten to include me? Still, he continued, completely unaware of my presence, let alone how his words hurt.
"Apparently, people in Lenora think that, that you two are "twins". Or at least that's what Max says, but with her, you can never be sure how true what she says is. I know it's weird, but I am genuinely pissed that those dickheads in Lenora get to see you every day, while I'm stuck here on practically the other side of the country, talking to you through my walkie-talkie, telling you things I know you'll never be able to hear, let alone I'll ever say to your face. There are some things I should probably say that I don't think I've even figured out myself yet, let alone come to terms with.
"Anyway, I'm planning on forcing people to play a lot of DnD in the coming few days. I have a campaign written for the Party to play as soon as your car pulls into my driveway. I've also written a one-shot for all six of us to play after Thanksgiving dinner! I've even managed to persuade Max to join in, and I risked my life to help her with her character sheet, although she keeps insisting on being referred to as a "zoomer," which is pretty annoying. Don't tell her, but her character is literally just a rogue in all but name. I also had to let her keep her skateboard, but only because I'm scared of what she'll do to me if I don't. I know if you heard this, right now you'd be laughing your ass off, but Max can be terrifying sometimes. You only don't think so because she likes you."
Although I may not be El, Mike was right about me laughing my ass off. I don't know why he seemed so scared of Max; she actually could be really nice sometimes. I guess he never did particularly like her, so she'd always been just that little bit more sarcastic towards him, although I had hoped they'd begun to grow on each other over the past month and a bit. But, clearly, it seemed they hadn't.
"Fuck, I know I keep saying it, but I miss you," Mike said again, "but there is so much I've been waiting to show you. Like my Hellfire T-shirt! Hellfire's this school DnD club that Lucas, Dustin, and I joined, you'd love it." Well that was weird. El had never shown any interest in DnD, like, ever. But still Mike spoke, "and the Dungeon Master, Eddie? Fucking God, he's so cool! He's been held back by, like, a year or 2, but he wears leather jackets with pin badges on, and he has this amazing, long, curly hair. But every time we play, I end up practically crying myself to sleep after. God, it's fucking pathetic, but I can't help it. I can usually handle the big things that cause me to miss you, like the empty chair I have saved next to my left, but its the small things that are the worst. Like whenever someone offers me a Reece's Pieces, or your favorite song comes on. When that happens, sometimes I'll just lie down, shut my eyes tight, and try to imagine your lying listening next to me. Sometimes, even just the color yellow sets me off - your color."
Hold up, Reece's Pieces? El doesn't even like those. She's obsessed with Eggo's. Reece's Pieces are my favorite candy, not hers. And I sit on Mike's left. I always have. Heck, El and Mike have never even gone to school together! And El only found out her favorite song, 'Running Up that Hill' by Kate Bush, a week after we moved away, when Max sent her a tape of the song. Even if she'd told Mike, he would be caught dead listening to it.
Still, Mike went on, "I've known you practically my whole life, I can't even remember a time when you weren't right there by my side. And now that you aren't, I'm realizing how much I need you there. I can't wait to see you soon. I need to see you soon. I'm gonna go triple check my room, see if there's any more underwear that needs hiding. Bye, Will." The walkie-talkie returned to static.
Wait, what? What the fuck? Did he just say Will? None of that was to, or even about, El? It was about me? Me? Like, me, William Byers, me?
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuck.
I just sat there, breathing heavily, gripping the walkie-talkie tight in my hand. What was going on through Mike's brain right then? How he'd talked about me, could he feel- no. It was impossible. There was absolutely no way that Mike liked me the way, the way I liked him. No. No! He was dating El. He loves El! He just missed me. After all, I was his best friend.
I thought I was going crazy. Hah, 2 years ago, when I'd told Mike almost the exact same thing, he'd promised me we'd "go crazy together". But there I was, being driven absolutely insane by something I don't think I was meant to hear, sat alone in the backseat of my older brother's 1971 Ford ltd, going mad over the person who promised me he'd go crazy alongside me.
I looked down at the walkie in my hand, channel dial on 7, antenna extended, speak light glowing.
Wait, what?!
I rapidly removed my thumb from the speak button, my mind racing. Fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck. He knows I heard. Or at least, knows someone heard. I hadn't said anything, the only sound I'd made my panicked breathing. Surely Mike wouldn't be able to recognize me from my breathing alone, right? To him, my breathing would just sound like the crackling static of the walkie, right? Right!?
Of course, now was when my family conveniently decided to reappear. They all piled into the car chattering away, saying something about how they couldn't find the bathrooms, which turned out to be out of service so they all had to go for wild wees, whilst I was still sat there, trying to figure out whether I heard Mike right or whether my ears needed the wax removing.
"You alright there, baby?" I heard Mom say, "what's with the walkie?"
With a start I looked down to see the walkie-talkie still in my hand, faintly crackling away. "Erm, yeah, I was just, erm, checking to see if I could, could get a signal yet," I stuttered out the excuse, "no such luck though." I quickly sorted the walkie out, shoving it down into the bottom of my bag.
Mom didn't look convinced - fuck moms and their super senses - but fortunately, El piped up excitedly, "How far away are we? I cannot wait to see Mike! I need to talk to him. Once I have unpacked my stuff, please could I go find Max?"
"We're about 10 minutes out," Jonathan replied. So I had 10 minutes to figure out how I was going to act around Mike after hearing all that. Fun.
This was going to be a fun Thanksgiving break.