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Dear [redacted], 15 August '85
How’s California? El says it’s hard settling in at first but that the four of you are liking it there. I hear it’s really hot there. Max said it was always boiling. How’s school? El’s told me she’s made friends already and that everyone’s really nice in Cali. Have you made any yet? I hope you have. It would be pretty shit for you if you didn’t. We all miss you in Hawkins. It’s just not the same without you. I miss Hope to see you soon!
Love
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 5 September '85
I know it’s been a while. I mean, god, you moved away almost a whole month ago. That’s crazy, right? It feels like you left yesterday and like you’ve been gone for years. Lucas has joined the basketball team. He’s like a jock now. Always with these assholes on the team. It’s like he’s trying to be popular. He still plays D&D with us sometimes, with this guy, Eddie Munson. He’s great, he’s our DM. It’s this club called Hellfire. You’d love it here, I think, with Eddie. He’s super cool. Anyway, how’s Cali? Not too hot? I bet it’s super duper hot. El’s been telling me about all her friends there and all the fun things you guys get to do. The most fun we have at Hawkins is sneaking out with Eddie and Dustin to go set up the next campaign together. I wish you were here It’d be so much more fun if you were here, too! The whole Party again. Hope Cali’s treating you well, see you soon!
LoFrom Mike
Dear [redacted], 15th of November, '85
Hey, I'm sure El already told you but I wanted to let you know myself too. I did try to call, but the line was busy so I gave up. I won't be able to come for Thanksgiving. We've got my mom's siblings coming and they haven't seen us in years so mom said I can't go because I need to do thanksgiving with the whole family. But she said I can come over Christmas! So it's not toooo long, right? Time goes really fast sometimes anyway, so hopefully you won't even notice me not being there and BOOM! I'll be there for Christmas!
Anyway... How's school? Did Lucas tell you Max broke up with him again? Well, now you know. I think she might be serious this time, though. She doesn't seem too well. She’s sort of drifting away from us and always alone and Dustin keeps saying she’s acting like me which is a weird thing to say because I’m NOT drifting away from anyone. Well, except you, I guess. He's been talking to Suzie a lot so I haven't been able to nick Cerebro off him much to radio you or El. Maybe if I radioed you, I could actually talk to you instead of that horrid ringing of the busy line. Why is it so busy anyway??? Is it El? It can't be Jonathan ‘cause Nancy's rarely on the phone since she's always working and stuff. Is it you? Are you the one on the phone all the time?
I was looking through your old drawings yesterday and noticed that one of them was that first sketch of our D&D characters you did. You know, when we'd just found out about it and you got really excited and I thought you were just so cute were going to be drawing your character forever. Whatever, I just thought it was funny that I still have it. I thought you'd kept it, but I guess I just forgot I had it. haha. Can't wait to see you and El at Christmas, but Happy Thanksgiving for now!
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 22nd of November, '85
If I've timed this right, you should get this the 27th so HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
Aunt Ruth is here already (save me, [redacted], please) and she sends her regards as she says. That basically means she says hi and she remembers you from "that summer in '79". I don't know if you remember, but that was the summer mom's WHOLE family came to stay and you, Lucas, Dustin, and me all made everyone listen to us explain D&D and Aunty Caroline fainted because she thought it was the game of the devil. It was really funny. Well, not in the moment because I thought I'd just killed her, but in hindsight it's hilarious since we were 8. Is it going to be cold in Cali for Thanksgiving or Christmas? I've always wondered that. Now I'll finally get an answer, right?
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 3rd of December, '85
I know this is super fucking early for a Christmas letter, but I wanted to make sure that if the package got their early that you don't open it! It's yours and El's presents and you can't open them until Christmas. I know I said I'd bring them with me when I came but Nance said this would probably be easier or something like that, I don't know. I don't listen to her much anyway, but she's probably right. Don't tell her I said that.
How's school? Have you made any friends? El was telling me that you were painting a lot. She said there's tons of Cali girls who like you, is that true? Have you got a girlfriend? Is that who you're painting for? Are you painting for me I have all your other drawings, why give them It was really weird to hear about that, I don't know why. Anyway, can't wait to see you, and whatever you're painting for those Cali girls , I'm sure it's great, your art is always great.
Love Mike
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 18th of December, '85
Dad's not ok with me going to California for Christmas... He wants me home studying because he says my grades are dropping. Which, so what if they are? It’s not because of wanting to see you and El, or because I want to visit you in Cali. But dad doesn't get it and mom won't tell him otherwise. Mom never tells him otherwise. It's stupid. I really wish I could come spend Christmas with you. And El, obviously. Of course I do. But, you know, we talk all the time. Us two? I miss you, man. The line's always busy and you don't write and god knows I don't send the letters I do write. I miss you a lot. I really wish you were here.
I don't know why I'm still writing this. I don't think I'm going to send it. I haven't sent you a single letter since you moved to California. I'm sorry for that. I really am. I don’t know why I don’t send them. It’s not like you’d judge them or anything. There’s no logical reason. That’s probably why it makes me feel so shitty.
Fro
Love From Mike
Dear [redacted], 1st of January, '86
Merry late Christmas! If I get my Spanish and English up to a B+, dad said I can come over spring break! Oh and Happy New Year! Got any resolutions? I do. From now on, I will actually send you the letters I write instead of keeping them in the stupid box underneath my desk to let them gather dust instead of sending them to you. El told me you've got a crush on a Cali girl. Is that true? please don't Is she pretty? I bet she is. Is it like a faraway crush, or is she a friend of yours? Will I get to punch meet her?
Nancy says she's not been able to call Jonathan, and she wants him to know it's something about work. I don’t know why she wants me to tell you to tell him, but whatever. She keeps telling me to call you, but the line’s always busy. I did ask El about it, and she explained it’s Mrs. Byers new job. Telemarketing. Always on the phone. I can’t ever talk to you. I really want to talk to you. I miss talking to you.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 9th of January, '86
Well.
I didn't do too well with my new year's resolutions, did I? I still haven't sent you a single letter. I promised I would, but of course I didn't. I don't know why I keep writing these if I'm not going to send them, and I don't know why I won't just send the god damn letters. It’s not like it’ll kill me to send them. In fact, it’s killing me NOT to send them. I want to, I really do. I want you to know I care and I want you to know I’m still your friend. I keep trying to call, but the line’s always busy and I want you
Ms. Kelley, she’s the school counselor, keeps telling me I need to get an appointment with her. She keeps going on about how important mental health is, or how I need to take care of myself if I want my grades to get any better. I’m sure I’d know if I was not well mentally. I’m sure even my dad would know, and you know what dad’s like. He doesn’t pay attention to anything but the food and news in front of him.
Anyway, hope Cali’s good, and I hope to be able to see you over Spring break.
I miss you, Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 16 January, '86
So maybe Ms Kelley wasn’t exactly wrong.
I did finally get an appointment with her, only so she could see I’m fine and she could shut up about it. But then she started asking me these questions like if I’m enjoying my classes and how much time do I spend a day alone in my room and weird shit like that. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.
Maybe even I wouldn’t know if my mental health went to shit. Maybe I wouldn’t. Do you think you would know? You would know. You always know when something’s wrong with me.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 29 January, '86
You remember when I told you about Ms Kelley? About her being concerned with my mental health or whatever?
Well, she’s sort of starting to make me actually worry, like not just on a surface level. She had me fill out this survey thing-y and I swear it looked like a depression test. Like the ones in the hospital pamphlets. Do you think she thinks I’m depressed? Do you think I’m depressed? I keep going back over the questions in my mind and what I wrote and I keep realizing that maybe Lucas or Dustin would have answered differently and maybe there IS something wrong with me.
I’m honestly kind of scared that she’s right. I haven’t spoken to El about any of it yet. Or mom. I don’t think I’ll ever talk to dad about it, he wouldn’t get it. He just thinks everyone should pull their own weight and that we’re just getting too soft and whatever. Do you think Nancy would understand? I mean, she’s smart so probably (don’t tell her I said that), but I’m scared she’ll think it’s a huge deal when it’s not. I mean, I don’t think it’s a big deal. Is it?
F Lo From Mike
Dear [redacted], 5 Febuary, '86
I will definitely be coming over spring break!
Dad said I can, and Mom did too, and Nancy should be coming with me to see Jonathan. I already told El so you might already know this but I felt I should tell you myself anyway. Haha, tell you myself, like I’m actually going to send this to you…
It’s weird with El right now, she seems, I don’t really know how to explain it but like, on-edge? Like something’s gonna happen, but she doesn’t know what. She’s been telling me about all her friends in Cali and how nice everyone is, but there’s just something off with how she writes. I don’t know, maybe I’m just used to not having friends who have other friends or something. Nancy once said it sounded like jealousy, but I don’t think I’m jealous of El having friends in Cali, that’s ridiculous. I’m glad she has friends. I guess I’m just worried for her. Not that she wouldn’t tell me if something was up, friends don’t lie, El wouldn’t lie to me. Right?
Anyway, can’t wait to see you over Spring break!
and^El
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 Febuary, '86
I started to make this gift. For your birthday. I know I don’t usually make the gifts because they always turn out shit and Mom always says it’s easier to buy things than make them but I just really want it to be special and I know I can’t buy this. I started making the plans for it last month and hopefully I’ll have it made in time for Spring Break since my flight comes in on your birthday. You’re going to love it. I know it.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 18 March, '86
It’s finished!!!!!
I finished your present and you are absolutely going to love it and it’s going to best every gift anyone’s ever gotten you. OK, that’s a huge exaggeration but you are going to love it! I tried to make it life-like but I’m not the best sculptor and you usually help me with sculpting when we make pieces for DnD but I really tried and I really think it turned out super well. I really hope you like it. I’m going to bring it with me and I’ve told El about it so she knows and everything. I hope she hasn’t forgotten it’s a surprise and she’s already told you. Anyway, I just really hope you like it as much as I think you will. Can’t wait to see you again!
All my Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 1 April, '86
It’s really weird now, because we live in the same house. I never really thought that you’d end up living with me. I guess it’s kinda like a really long sleepover. It’s nice to see you all the time. It’s weird when there’s no El but I can always radio her.
I don’t really get you anymore. It’s like sometimes you’re super distant and I don’t know what to do and I should because you’re my best friend.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 7 May, '86
I don’t know if El told you, but we broke up. After everything, it just seemed right, you know? I realized I just don’t love her the way she wants me to, god I can’t even say it, even if I tried to lie about it. And El wants to concentrate on herself. She doesn’t want… whatever our relationship had become when you guys moved away. She didn’t want a boyfriend who couldn’t love her like that. I don’t know why I couldn’t. I wish I did. It’s a bit like me not being able to send you these letters. I keep trying, telling myself I will, hoping it’ll be easier if I finally do it, but I never do. And either way, it’d be useless to send you letters now that you live here with us. I guess writing it down just makes it make a bit more sense.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 19 June, '86
I didn’t give you your gift. I just remembered. I brought it with me and I was going to give it to you and I was finally properly unpacking my bag from California and I saw it. It’s ruined. I ruined your gift and I think I ruined your birthday and now I can’t give it to you because it’s broken and it’s horrid. I worked so hard on it so I could make you happy and so I could really show you that even though I haven’t been sending you any letters I’m still your best friend. Instead I got in a stupid argument with you, ruined yours and El’s spring break and ruined my relationship and ruined our friendship and now I’ve ruined your birthday present too.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 6 September, '86
I haven’t written in a while. I guess I’ve been trying to stop writing it all down when you’re right there and I should just talk to you. I guess there is another reason. I’m terrified you’ll find all these letters. I hate feeling scared so I thought if I stopped writing them then there wouldn’t be anything for you to find and I wouldn’t be scared. But I’m still scared, and now I’m snappy. I snapped at Holly this morning. I can’t believe I snapped at my baby sister. Just because I’m not writing stupid letters I don’t even send.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 31 October, '86
It’s Halloween. You used to love Halloween. We all did. We’d do all this stuff so it could be fun and we’d all go trick or treating together. It wasn’t as fun last year without you. I was really looking forward to Halloween with you again this year. I wanted to hang out with you and we could have been Mike the Brave and Will the Wise like we used to be but when I asked you said you didn’t feel like it. I don’t think I’ve known you ever not wanting to celebrate Halloween.
It used to be our thing. I wish I knew what was up with you. I wish you would talk to me about whatever’s going on because I can tell something is going on.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 Novemeber, '86
I feel like you’re avoiding me. Is it because of something I’ve said? Something I’ve done? I don’t think I did anything wrong, but maybe I did and I’m such a shitty person that I didn’t even notice. I just wish you would tell me so I could apologize and make things right between us. I wish I could be a good friend again.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 27 November, '86
Thanksgiving is going to be fun. All of us and all of you. Lucas’ family said they’d come over too and I think Dustin said we should all meet up at the Squawk after lunch.
Mom said she’s going to be doing a lot of cooking and you sounded so happy when she said she’d love your help after you offered. Mom’s always loved you. Sometimes I think she loves you more than she loves me. I’m not sad about that. I think most people would be. But I know you and you’re such a great person and to be honest I also love you more than I love me so I get why Mom would too.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 30 November, '86
I was right! Thanksgiving was fun. You weren’t avoiding me so that made it way better and I don’t know what I did right but I’m glad I did it. I hope I don’t fuck this up again. This is actually a really short letter. I just wanted to tell you how glad I am that we’re talking again because I missed you a lot and I was really worried you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.
Fro Lo Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 4 December, '86
Christmas is coming around and I tried to fix that present I’d planned for your birthday this year, you know, the one I forgot to give you because Vecna was killing everyone. Well, I still really want to give it to you so I thought I could try to fix it. It's hard, but I think it’s easier because I’ve already done it once. I do still really hope you like it. I’m still really sorry I didn’t give it to you for your birthday.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 26 December, '86
I know most of these letters have been quite short for a while. I think it’s because we’re spending more time together and so I don’t really feel like there’s that much to say to you because I’m saying everything (well not everything, obviously) to you directly.
Christmas was nice. We exchanged gifts.
I gave you mine.
I watched you open it, watched you open the letter and read it and I watched the tears gather in your eyes and I just really hoped it was happy tears and not, like, ‘this is horrible why would you’ tears.
There were happy tears. You told me yourself.
I worked really hard on the face. It looked better the first time, I think. I know it probably doesn’t look the most like the little figurines you make for DnD. You do them better and I’m not good at painting the finer details but I tried really hard and you looked so happy. You told me you’d keep your Will the Wise with you all the time. Like how I keep my Mike the Brave on a necklace. Of course, you couldn’t keep him on a necklace, he’s too big.
I’m really glad you liked it. I was worried. So worried you wouldn’t. That this would fuck everything up again. You hugged me so tight. I don’t think I remember the last time someone hugged me like that. You make me feel so safe, [redacted].
Yours, Mike
Dear [redacted], 1 January, '87
We spent all of New Year's Eve together. Like old times. But just the two of us.
You know how people usually kiss each other for the countdown? Is it weird that I kind of wanted to? Kiss you? Nancy and Jonathan kissed. I know they did. Lucas spent it half with Dustin and then the other half with Max, in the hospital. I know Mom and Dad didn’t. They never do. I don’t know if they’ve ever kissed a day in their lives.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 17 January, '87
I was talking with El Jane about that painting. The one she commissioned. You lied.
You lied to me. She didn’t commission the painting, she didn’t even know it existed. Why did you lie to me? Why would you lie to me? Was it all a lie? About what you said, about what she felt? That she’s scared to lose me? Was that a lie too? I have so many questions, [redacted]. SO many fucking questions. You have never lied to me before. So why lie about this? You know I would have loved the painting even without all the lying about Jane commissioning it. God, [redacted], she doesn’t even know our D&D characters. She doesn’t know anything about D&D. Does she really feel that way? Does she really fear losing me? Because it doesn’t feel like it. And she doesn’t know anything about that fucking painting, so you lied and you made me feel fucking loved with a lie. Why would you lie to me? To me, of all people. I just don’t understand.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 9 Febuary, '87
I should probably actually ask you about the painting, right? I mean, that’s what a normal person would do. Isn’t it? But I think we both know I’m barely a normal person. And, to be honest, I’m still so confused. I mean, you lied to me. You of all people. The one who always stuck by “friends don’t lie”, you who has never lied to me before. Or have you? Have you? I didn’t notice this time, so why would I have noticed any other time? Was that the first time you lied to me or not? God, [redacted], I don’t think you understand what you do to me. Do you realize that you lying to me about that painting was worse than breaking up with Jane? You lying to me, actually lying to my fucking face, felt like the worst thing you could have ever done to me. I don’t even know why it hurts so bad. I mean, it’s just a painting, right? But you said those things and they were lies. They were all lies and I believed every single one. It hurts, [redacted].
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 2 July, '87
We had an argument today. It was stupid. I feel like our arguments always end up stupid now. I’ve ended up stupid. I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit or anything. I always end up doing it, though, don’t I? I feel like I’ve just become a really shit friend, and I keep hurting you and I keep writing these letters and I don’t do anything about any of it. I was just worried. I’d had one of those dreams about finding you at the quarry, but it wasn’t then you it was now you and there was no one else there. I just wanted to check on you because it got me all worried and you didn’t leave a note. You never leave notes. I know that, out of all people, you must be the most affected by all this shit but, God, [redacted], I’m your best friend. I was your best friend. I don’t know what I am anymore. But I was scared. OK? You weren’t there and for a second I thought you were dead and that the body in the quarry really had been you. I couldn’t handle that. I can’t lose you. Not again. Not ever again.
I’m sorry I acted like that though. I shouldn’t have and it’s none of my business where you go in the morning and I’m sorry. And I will apologize. Properly. We both know I’m not sending this. So I will come find you later and I’ll apologise properly. I need to stop doing shit that makes me have to apologise. I really just need to be a better friend. Like I used to be. I’m sorry.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 21 September, '87
Hopper’s being a real ass about the last Crawl. I know I messed up and almost got him caught but I didn’t in the end. I managed to knock the guy out and everything’s fine. I don’t know why he’s got to be such a fucking dick about it all. I know I messed up, I always mess things up, I really don’t need him breathing down my neck and reminding me of that every second of the day. I know I’m a screw-up, everyone knows that.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 14 October, '87
Nancy had a really bad nightmare last night. She came to my room. I don’t think she’s ever come to me for help before. Not really. She was crying. Like, really hard. She could barely speak.
I think it was about that vision Vecna showed her. The one of Hawkins destroyed and all of us dead. I think she came to me because Venca showed her that I was dead. She hugged me really tight, like she had to make sure I was real and I was alive.
It’s been a while since we’ve slept in the same bed. I think I was 5 the last time. It was just before the start of kindergarten. I was terrified of being alone and I went to her room because Mom just kept telling me I’d make tons of friends but I just wanted someone to tell me that I was allowed to be scared. Nancy told me I was allowed to be afraid.
I remember she helped me get ready for school in the morning and then she kissed my cheek like Mom used to, said Mom does it because it’s magic, that maybe she had magic too. She said it was good luck. I met you that day. Maybe she does have good luck kisses. Or had.
I felt like I was supposed to be like her. Like I needed to hug her and tell her she was allowed to be afraid and that maybe I had good luck kisses too. I did. Well, not the kisses. But I did hug her and I let her cry even when my sleep shirt got really wet. I told her what she told me. Told her she’s allowed to be afraid. I told her she didn’t have to carry it all. I rubbed her back until she fell asleep and then some.
She was still sleeping when I woke up. I think all the crying drained her. I can’t remember if I was tired that morning after all my crying. Maybe I didn’t cry as much as her. It was a long time ago.
I remember meeting you though.
Maybe that means we’ll win. Because I got to be like Nancy and tell her it’s ok and when she did it, I met the best person ever so maybe she’s going to win now.
Maybe that’s wishful thinking.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 25 October, '87
I had another one of those horrible nightmares where you’re gone. The one where it’s the real you they find in the quarry. Where you’re really dead and we didn’t find you. I woke up and I thought I was dying. It’s 5 AM right now and I woke up an hour ago and I’m writing this because I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I can’t sleep. I know you’re ok and alive and you’re just in the basement, sleeping. Like a normal person. But it felt so real and I’m so scared I’ll see it again, that dream. I keep seeing you, dead. Actually dead. And I can never save you because you’re gone and I’ve failed. Every time. I hate it. I’m scared.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 14 Febuary, '88
I don’t think I’m going to send this. I don’t think I’m ever going to send any of it. I guess I’ve come to that conclusion a couple of times since I started writing letters to you. I never send them. I know I should have. But I won’t. So I guess, I’m sorry for that. But it’s still comforting in a way to write it all down, imagine I’m telling you because you’re always so understanding, and you never get mad. It makes opening up just that bit easier.
It’s weird without Jane. It’s also kind of weird to call her Jane. For years it was always El, but she said that who she is is Jane Hopper and I can’t let myself or anybody else take that away from her. She explained it to me once. Why she’s so attached to the name Jane. That was the name she would have had if Brenner hadn’t taken her. The one her mother gave her. Did you know that? You probably did, she was like your sister, she was your sister.
I miss her. It feels weird with her gone.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 3 March, '88
It must be so hard, without Jane. You had a twin sister for over a year, and now she’s gone. Just like that. I can’t believe how hard that must be. To lose a sibling. I almost lost Holly, but I got her back. I don’t think we’re going to get Jane back, however much I write stories that she’s just traveling, and she’s in Europe. Do you think she’d prefer Spain or Iceland?
Now that I’m thinking about it, Jonathan had to go through it twice. With you and now Jane. If I actually send this letter, give him a hug from me or something like that, I don’t know.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 22 April, '88
I keep thinking about something you said, before we fought Vecna. When you were telling us about being gay. You said something and you were looking right at me but then we had Vecna to deal with and I never really had time to ask you about it. You said the guy you liked was just your “Tammy”. What’s a Tammy? Why’s he a tammy and why did you look right at me when you told me us about it?
LovFrom Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 June, '88
You had a nightmare last night and you came to my room. You came to me and I felt useful and trusted and you looked so scared and sad and I just wanted to hug you so so badly. I didn’t though because I didn’t know if you wanted me to and you were already upset enough as is.
We slept in the same bed like we used to, when we were younger. Before your dad started spouting his bullshit about it making us bad. It doesn’t. It can’t because you aren’t bad. You’re so so good.
I woke up and we were hugging, wrapped around each other in the way we used to fall asleep when we were small. I woke up and felt young, like all the bad stuff hadn’t happened yet.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 2 November, '88
It’s almost that day again. The worst anniversary ever. I hate how it ruins Halloween for you. You get so jumpy and you’ve always been jumpy but the closer to that day it gets, the more jumpy you are. I know you’re scared, every year. I know it’s weird to think this year should be calm even though something has happened every single year since he took you. But he’s dead now and he can’t hurt you. He can’t take you from me again. From us.
I hope you learn to love Halloween again.
Yours, Mike
Dear [redacted], 27 March, '89
Graduation’s coming up. Are you ready? I’m definitely not. I feel like I’m moving on from everything even though I'm still back there. I feel like I’m moving on from Jane too quickly. From her death. I know it hurt us all and I guess that’s why I don’t talk about it, you know? I mean, you and Jonathan lost your sister, Mrs Byers and Hop lost their daughter, we all lost our friend. I know I’m not the only one mourning but sometimes I feel so alone and I can’t talk about it because it’s not fair to anyone. I can’t make her suicide about me when it hurt everyone. I don’t know what to do.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 19 April, '89
My mom got scared this morning.
Last night I snuck out and went to Castle Byers (I know, it’s your space and I know, I made you destroy because I was seriously fucking stupid, I’m sorry) so I could, I don’t know, hide? I’m not sure why I went, it’s not like it’s even a good hiding place anymore and you weren’t going to be there.
She woke up and was making breakfast as usual. Nancy told me she called me down three times before she sent Holly to go get me. Obviously, I wasn’t there. Cause I stayed out and I fell asleep at some point at the memorial.
Nancy said Mom got really panicky and she called Mrs Byers and Mrs Sinclair and because no one knew where I was Mom even called Hopper and he found me this morning and I must have looked so stupid, asleep on the bench, mourning his daughter while he was able to function like a normal human being. I didn’t mean to scare her like that. She thought it was like you, when she couldn’t find me.
Fr Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 3 May, '89
I don’t think I’m going to graduation. I don’t think I can do it. I keep thinking I’m leaving everything behind. Leaving Jane behind, leaving my childhood behind. I feel like graduating will make me forget everyone. Eddie, Nance’s friend Barb, Bob, Jane. Everyone who died because of Vecna. Because of everything that happened. I know Mom wants to see me walk up there and shake hands and take my diploma. I know she wishes I was more like Nancy. I can’t blame her. But I can’t do it. I can’t leave it all behind. I can’t forget, can’t let myself forget any of it.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 11 May, '89
Holly asked me to explain D&D to her earlier. I felt like I was passing on super important knowledge to her. She said she wants to play because I do and she thinks I’m brave. Is it sad that I felt like crying when she said that? I just felt like maybe, if I can’t be a good son to my mother or a good best friend to you, I could maybe still be a good brother to Holly.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 17 May, '89
Hopper’s cabin is almost livable again. It’s just going to be you, Mrs Byers and Hop, right? What with Jonathan moved out already. You said the last thing that needs dealing with is the hole in the roof that didn't get fixed properly before when Jane was living there with Hopper. Is it crazy that I wish you wouldn’t move out? That I wish you could stay and live with me us until we both move out for college?
I'll miss you, Mike
Dear [redacted], 22 May, '89
It's weird again.
Mostly because it's been The Wheelers and you and Mrs Byers for so long in the house that now that you and Mrs Byers are properly moved in with Hop in the cabin, the house feels empty. I miss being able to go down to the basement to talk to you. I also miss being able to check that my nightmares were just nightmares more easily. The first few weeks after you moved out, I’d have my nightmares and sneak down to the basement and usually you'd be there and I'd calm down but now you're not and it makes me panic and I keep forgetting you moved out. You didn't DIE. You just live in the cabin now. But you're not here and after seeing you die in my dreams, it's hard to remember that.
Love Mi
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 8 June, '89
Graduation wasn't that bad I guess. I wasn't planning on coming. Hopper found me at the memorial. He told me I have to live for Jane. He keeps calling her El. I didn't have it in me to argue or correct him. People like that never change. Not really.
Sometimes I feel like Hop wasn't actually a very good dad for Jane. He doesn't seem to respect who she is, you know? Like, we all call her Jane because that’s who she was, who she wanted to be known as but Hopper just clings to “El”. I don’t get it.
Anyway, he told me I have to go to graduation and shit and I did go.
Dustin’s speech was really good. I could tell he was thinking of Eddie. So was I. Eddie said he’d grab his diploma and flip Higgins the bird. I guess he lives on in the rest of us. Mostly in Dustin.
Lo Fro L Mike
Dear [redacted], 9 June, '89
Last night was really cool. And sad, I guess. I was thinking about Jane and I realized some stuff and, you know, maybe she’s still alive somewhere. Somewhere safe. I hope she’s safe.
It was a good campaign. A good ending too. Do you ever wish you were more like your DnD persona? I do. A lot. I guess that makes sense.
Your Mike
^ignore that, from Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 June, '89
It was a good film. Dead Poets Society. Do you think Mom would let me rent the DVD when they start selling those?
It was nice, seeing it with you.
I kept thinking about Todd and Neil. They’re a bit like us, don’t you think? Kept thinking how much I related to Todd. Especially when he learned Neil was dead. It felt like watching them pull your body out of the quarry. I remember riding home and crying and I cried so hard I threw up. Like Todd. Like Todd when he found out Neil was gone.
I kept thinking about it. When we were biking home. I felt like I had to tell you that I something. I didn’t. I got scared and I chickened out. I don’t even know what I wanted to tell you. That’s a lie. I wanted to tell you that I li God, I can’t even write it down. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? You wouldn’t say that though. Even if you thought so too. You’re too nice for that.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 27 July, '89
You were all packed up to leave, I’d almost forgotten you were moving away from Hawkins. I wish you’d stay but I do understand why you’re going. I get how horrible it must be to have everyone constantly staring at you and being weird. I remember what it was like when you came back and everyone was calling you Zombie Boy, you always looked so sad. Jane always told me about how much happier you seemed in public in California because no one ever said stuff like that to you. I hope you’ll be happy in New York.
You probably didn’t see, but I slipped a little something into your suitcase, just a piece of a comic book I’m trying to write. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually write it properly, but if I did, I’d love it if you did the illustrations.
Anyway, hope New York treats you well and I hope we call more than when you were in Lenora.
See you soon, Mike
Dear [redacted], 30 December, '89
How’s New York? I know it’s been a while since we last called, I’m pretty busy right now, I’m looking for a job so I can think about college. I know, I totally have the money to go to college without an extra job on the side but I got into this big argument with Dad and he told me that I’d be more grateful for the work he does (he doesn’t) if I went and paid for my own degree. I think he might be serious and even if he isn’t, at least this way, I’ll already have some money saved for later. Mom told me I should have worked hard enough to get a scholarship and then Dad wouldn’t have to talk like that. I think she just doesn’t want to admit that Dad is being stupid. Or that I’m stupid. Whatever.
Miss you, Mike
Dear [redacted], 21 January, '90
Dad’s health is getting worse than it used to be. He’s old and the whole Demogorgon attack back in ‘87 shook him. The doctors said that he might only have a couple more years. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be sad or not. I’ve been working as a story teller for the kids in the hospital. I think it was supposed to be charity work but some of the kids have rich parents who pay me to tell their sick kids stories. A lot of them are ill because of the snow from the Upside Down. Some of them don’t have parents anymore. I met this little boy, Devon, he lost an arm when a demobat attacked his home and tried to fly off with him. He told me he was brave and he tried to get away. I don’t think I’ve ever been so sad to talk to kids before. They’ve always been like carefree people to me but I guess I’m starting to see that being a kid didn’t ever make life any better. We were simply younger.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 8 March, '90
I should really pick up the phone, shouldn’t I?
I know I should and I wish I would but… I don’t know, I just can’t seem to make myself do it. It’s not fear, exactly. Just this heavy feeling in my chest, like an elephant standing on me, crushing my lungs. Max called the other day and I sat in front of the phone, listening to it ring, over and over and over until she stopped trying. She left me a voicemail asking me why the hell I wasn’t answering the phone. I haven’t called her back to explain, I don’t know how.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 30 March, '90
Lucas came over. I wasn’t expecting him and I was up in my room, looking at your drawings stuff from high school, you know, photos from the graduation. Then someone’s knocking on my door and it’s Lucas.
He kept asking me these weird questions like if I was actually ok or why I was avoiding everyone. I’m not avoiding anyone. Lucas wouldn’t leave it alone. I didn’t tell him about the elephant on my chest thing. I just sort of told him I was busy and hadn’t had time to answer calls since I’m working and everything. He didn’t seem too convinced but he left at some point and I can’t tell if I feel like the elephant got off my chest or if it brought all its friends to stand on me too.
Wish you were here, Mike
Dear [redacted], 4 May, '90
Is it normal to start feeling trapped as you get older? Like, I know I should probably have moved out already, you have, Max and Lucas are planning on moving in together in the next couple months and Dustin is out seeing the world with Steve until his first year at college starts. I know I’m the last one still living with my parents with no plan. I didn’t think I’d feel so trapped all the time. I can do what I want, when I want, I’m an adult now, yay. Mom doesn’t force me to go to bed or shower or study, Dad just… doesn’t really care. I feel more trapped now than when I wasn’t allowed to do anything after school and I thought the world was ending. Well, before the world actually was ending. It’s just me and Holly, and even Holly isn’t actually home often because she’s got tons of friends and I think Mom’s gotten less over the top about curfews now that she’s seen how we all handle the world literally ending around us. I think she finally trusts that Holly isn’t going to get herself killed cycling to her friend’s house.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 16 June, '90
Mom told me I should style my hair instead of leaving it a mess all the time. She said it looked nice when I styled it for graduation. I told her I’d try it again if she liked it so much. I wish I hadn’t. Mom told me I’m starting to look like dad. I think she meant it in a good way, you know when moms are all embarrassing and telling us we’re getting so handsome now. She said it like that. She was trying to be nice. I don’t know, I guess I just really don’t want to look like a man who can’t even remember my birthday.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 2 August, '90
People don’t call as much. You do. Sometimes. You try, you always did, even when I didn’t deserve it. Lucas and Dustin and Max don’t call as often. I haven’t talked to them in days, weeks maybe. I know it’s my fault. I never answered their calls and when I had time I never phoned them myself. I know it’s my fault. I’m not a good friend. I wish I was. I want to be. I wish I would just pick up, call you, talk to my best friends again. But I can’t and that elephant really did bring all its friends to sit on my chest.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 28 November, '90
I’ve started to write poetry. Do you think I could become such a great poet that in a couple decades or centuries, they start studying me in schools? Well, I’d have to publish my work for it to be studied so maybe not. Do you think I should publish any of it? I might, if you think I should. Here’s one I wrote not too long ago.
Memories flood my mind like a river,
The water of thoughts rippled by touch.
A past that wipes me from my life,
An innocence I miss so much.
A raised hand,
An accidental trigger,
My mind forms the memories
Of a past of pained vigor.
I try to find a thought where I am no outcast
A wisp of smoke in the lake of my mind,
A painful past with which I am blind.
I am a spectator of my own past,
Watching the child I was through adult worries
Digging myself the hole in which I am buried.
I don’t know if that’s worth being studied, really. I think you are. Worth studying, I mean. Your paintings. Not, like, you as a person. Not that you’re not worth it but You paint like someone who deserves to be talked about forever. Like Da Vinci or Monet or those other painters you love so much. I can’t remember all their names like you can, but I know how much you like to talk about them, to learn about them. I hope one day, some little kid who loves painting and DnD just like you ends up talking non-stop about what an amazing painter you are. You’ll be the next Monet, the new Da Vinci. You’ll be the greatest painter ever, whether for everyone or just for me. I’ll always think you’re the best of all painters.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 3 January, '91
I’ve started to write this book. Well, technically I’m still in the planning phase. It’s about this guy, James O’Conner. James is this average guy, you know, married, two kids, office job, but he’s always wanted more than that. Always thought his life was supposed to amount to more than your average American life. At some point, James decides to take his life into his own hands and do something worthwhile with it. He decides to kiss his wife and kids goodbye and go on an adventure. Then it's sort of like DnD, James becomes a paladin and starts protecting people in this world that he finds a way into. Anyway, I hope you read it if I ever publish it.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 23 May, '91
I got accepted into college! I’m going to study literature and become a writer or something. Dad says it’s not a real job but what does he know? At least I’ll have a job I actually enjoy, unlike him and Mom.
I’m going to start my first semester at Indiana Uni in a couple months and I’ll move out of home and go live in the school dorms so I’ll be able to get away from the arguing all the time.
I hope your proud of me. Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 11 July, '91
I wrote this poem about all the shit that happened to us, it’s not a very good poem though I’m sure you’d find something good to say about it, you always do. I keep thinking about it, mostly because I can almost imagine you drawing stuff to illustrate it. You know, it’d be so cool if we worked together on a comic book, or even some kids book. Something with a story and tons of drawings. I could write it all and you could paint and we’d become famous and you’d never have to worry about money and I’d be able to get away from Hawkins forever. It would be great, wouldn’t it? The dream.
Though, I guess that’s all it is. A dream. Especially since I don’t ever answer your calls and we haven’t spoken in months. I can’t very well write a book for you to illustrate if you don’t know about it, now can I?
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 24 August, '91
I’m moving into the dorms, Mom is helping bring all my stuff. I’ve got your painting pinned up on my wall. A couple other cool things, mostly your art. My roommate is this guy called Zach. He seems cool, a bit of a basketball guy but he doesn’t seem like a dick, not like Jason.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 1 November, '91
I’m making tons of progress on that book I told you about. My professors are helpful too. You know, one of them is the guy who wrote Idle Hands. William O’Rourke. My mom loved that book. When I told her, she wouldn’t stop asking me to ask him questions about his process in writing it. Anyway, it’s going good. I’ve finally finished the planning a couple weeks ago and I’ve already written 7 chapters. It won’t be too long. Only maybe 30 chapters, give or take. I hope to have it done by next year. Would you read it? If I published it? I hope you would. I always look to see if any more of your art is out there in the world, in galleries and studios and wherever else I can find them. Do you ever wonder if I look for you in every painting I see? Do you look to find me in every book you read?
Love MFrom Mike
Dear [redacted], 29 November, '91
I met this really cool girl called Alice. I was trying to get to class and she was too and she tripped over herself. I helped her up and we ended up chatting for so long we barely got to class for the last 30 minutes of our classes.
We met up for coffee afterwards. She’s really cool. She’s kind of “punk”. It made me think about that orange mohawk I’d wanted when I was a kid.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 15 December, '91
Alice introduced me to some of her friends. There’s this guy, Daniel. He’s cool, he’s super punk, even more so than Alice. He has a mohawk and tons of piercings and enough tattoos that I know Mom would have a heart attack if she met him. Alice has got this friend called Sascha and I can’t actually figure out if Sascha is a girl or a boy because everyone calls Sascha ‘Sascha’. They’re style is super Alternative and like a mix of boy clothes and girl clothes, almost like they’re trying to make it hard to figure out.
Do you think they do it on purpose? It’d be cool, I think. Maybe I should try out that kind of style.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 22 December, '91
Sascha is really cool. I can’t work up the courage to ask them if they want to be a girl or a boy but Alice and Daniel both use ‘them’ so that’s what I’ve been doing and no one seems offended or angry so I guess I’m doing it right.
Daniel gave me this really cool pin with some symbols on it. I don’t know what they all mean but they look cool and I promised myself I’d find out what every single one means so I can understand what Daniel is like in that way. He’s really cool, you know.
Love Mike
Dear [redacted], 2 Febuary, '92
You know I told you about my roommate Zach. I said he was cool, a bit of a basketball guy but nice. Turns out he’s not so nice.
I was hanging out with Alice and Sascha, who, by the way, I’ve figured out IS doing it on purpose and just prefers to not really be either, which I don’t understand but it’s super sick. Anyway, I was hanging out with Alice and Sascha and Zach walks over and I thought he was just going to warn me he’d have his girlfriend over but instead, he stopped at our table, looked at my friends and glared at me and then called me a fag.
Sascha tried to punch him for it but Zach fucking broke their wrist and called them a stupid girl. Alice looked really mad and Sascha looked like they were going to cry and I don’t know if it’s because of their wrist or because of what Zach said.
After me and Alice brought Sascha to the ER, I went and submitted a thing to get a new roommate. I don’t want to be with guys like that. I don’t want to live with anyone who hurts my friends.
LFrom Mike
Dear [redacted], 15 March, '92
I published my first book! I published A World Hidden Away. It’s independent and it was a bit costly but Dan helped me and Alice and Sascha told me that it’d surely get tons of orders and the cost of publishing would be absolutely outweighed by the profit. I hope they’re right. I really want this book to do well. I worked so hard on it.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 2 June, '92
I decided to let my hair grow out again!
I really liked it long, the only reason I cut it was because Dad was being a dick about it and then so was Hop. I don’t think Hop was trying to be like my dad, I don’t think he’d ever like being like my dad, but he was. So I chopped it off. Which I didn’t want to do. You can do such fun stuff with long hair. Sometimes me and Holly would braid each other’s hair, just because we could. I’d take it out after but she’d sometimes go to school with her hair how I did it. I always felt like maybe I was being a decent brother for once by doing that for her.
Love, Mike
Dear |redacted], 27 June, '92
I asked Nancy how she gets her curls to actually look good and not like a rat’s nest like mine.
Turns out, you need a routine and products and you’re not even supposed to brush curls dry. How crazy is that??
Anyway, she took me to a shop and we bought products and she told me to try out her routine, see how it works on my hair, then make adjustments depending on what my hair needs. Like moisture and maintenance and stuff. I didn’t understand it all but I guess I’ll just have to get used to it if I want to keep having long hair. If I don’t take care of my hair, it’ll die and I’ll have to cut it short again. Which I think we’ve established that I absolutely do not want that.
I totally should have thought about my hair years ago.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 16 November, 92
I’m going back to Hawkins for the holidays.
Is it normal that I don’t want to go back?
I mean, sure, being away and having my own autonomy is SUPER cool, but is it supposed to make me hate the idea of home this much? Am I broken? Or is home broken…
I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to deal with Dad and his stupid comments. He doesn’t know I’m growing my hair out again, I don’t know what he might say about it. That’s not true, I know EXACTLY what he’ll say. That I’m a fag and that I should act like a man. He always tells me to act like a man. Is being a man not enough? Do I have to be like him? Is that what being a man is? A fucking whiny deadbeat who’s never really there?
I don’t want to be like my dad. Mom always says a boy should always be happy when compared to his father but I never am. I don’t think she thinks it's true either. She gets this faraway look in her eyes whenever she says it.
What am I even supposed to do? If I don’t go back, Mom will be sad and so will Holly. She told me she was looking forward to seeing me again. But I’ll also be happier and I won’t have to deal with Dad.
I really wish you were here. You’d know what to do. You always have the answer.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 7 December, '92
I went home. I’m home now, in my childhood bedroom. It looks so small now. There’s still a bunch of your drawings on my walls. Well, not that many actually. I took most of them with me. I think that might be weird. At this point, I don’t think I care that much if what I do is weird.
It makes me think about everything. Back then. It wasn’t easy, the end of the world. But at least everything was so dire that no one had time to think about anyone being weird if it wasn’t immediately putting us in danger. I mean, sure, it’s super sad, but it’s true.
Before that, it was even easier.
Just us, so small, we didn’t know what was weird and what was not.
Do you remember when I used to kneel down and kiss your hand like I was a knight and you were some Lady. Dad would get so annoyed. Then we stopped. Why did we stop?
Lov From Mike
Actually, I remember. We got scared, when your dad saw. He called us both fags and then he was going to hit you. I wanted to be your knight in shining armor, so I got in front of you to protect you. You were so scared, I remember you were clinging to me, we were both crying. It really hurt, when he hit me. But at least it was me. Better me than you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I hated seeing you hurt. I still do.
Hope you're ok, Mike
Dear [redacted], 11 January, '93
I have realized something. I mean, truly, fully realized. I am like you. I was always like you. That is why I couldn’t tell Jane that I loved her, why I couldn’t love her. I don’t like girls. I am a homosexual. I am 22 and I’ve only just realized this part of me exists.
I’m sorry.
I wish I knew before.
I wish I had known. Back then.
I’m sorry.
It’s easy to apologize when I know that you are such a forgiving person that you could forgive me for murder. Much easier to write this letter when I know I’ll never send it. As I have never sent a single letter I have ever written for you to you. I wish I had. I wish I did. I wish I had that courage to speak my truth. I wish so many things [redacted]. I wish, I wish and I wish and it always comes to nothing, because I don’t have the courage to wish under a shooting star and not just under the blinding sun.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 14 February, '93
It may seem completely stupid now, considering. Considering the time, considering the distance both in miles and in heart. But I know now, and I realize that knowing is not always a comfort but sometimes a curse so like the unknowing. It has taken so many years to find this out, and it will take me so many more to admit to it on anything but paper I will soon lock away. My roommate will never know, my parents will never know, our friends, the Party, will never know, my sisters will never know.
You, [redacted], will never know because I will never send this letter to you. I have never sent a single letter to you. I regret that. I regret so many things. I regret not knowing, I regret not sending you letters when you were in Cali, then in New York, now wherever it is you find yourself today. I regret my own idiocy, and the distance I purposefully put in between me and the rest of the Party. I regret thinking that what I had with Jane was the love I thought I was supposed to find when you were right in front of me. You were always right there until you weren’t, and I thought the hole in my chest was her, but it was you. It was always you. It will always be you.
I’m sorry, [redacted]. I’m so so sorry.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 21 March, '93
I played this game with Holly, a new video game that came out recently that her partner got her. Well, her boyfriend, but she insists we call him her partner. I think she does it because she knows it pisses dad off. The first time she said she had a partner, dad thought she’d “gone lezzer”. Well, that’s what he said. He seemed pretty fucking angry. I don’t think dad’s looked that angry about something so benign before. He was yelling at her, I remember wishing mom would say something but she didn’t and Holly wasn’t just taking it but she’s still Holly and I couldn’t let her be yelled at for nothing. I don’t think I’ve ever properly stood up to my dad before, not when he’s like that. You remember when I used to just hide under my bed or take my bike and ride out to yours. I didn’t do that this time. I didn’t hide. I didn’t run away this time. I stood up to him. It got me slapped but I’d rather it be me than Holly.
Fr Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 29 April, '93
I’m back at the dorms, my roommate Sam (he’s the new guy I’m rooming with now that I’m not rooming with Zach) locked me out because he’s got his girlfriend over so I’m over at Dan’s dorm right now. His roommate is this guy a bit like Jonathan’s friend from California. Remember him? Argyle. Anyway, his roommate Walker is constantly high out of his mind. One time he gave Dan some weed and he promised me we’d smoke it together one day. I wonder what it’s like. I know Nancy’s smoked weed before, Steve and Robin probably have as well. I wonder what it’s like, being high. Dan tells me it’s like being up in the clouds. Or like you’re dreaming. Have you smoked pot before? I bet you have, you’re way funner than I am. Especially in a place like New York, that’s where all the fun shit happens.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 6 May, '93
Dustin called me today. I haven’t really talked to him for the last couple months, maybe even a year now. I haven’t really talked to anyone from Hawkins. I know it’s my fault, I stopped trying to talk to anyone after Jane’s death, after graduation and everyone started leaving Hawkins. I know that. So, I don’t know why Dustin called. I think I only picked up because I was so surprised. I didn’t expect it. He told me that he saw something that made him think about me and he realized we hadn’t talked in a while. So he just… called. Like it’s simple. I’d forgotten how much I missed everyone. I miss you all so so much. So much that it’s killing me. And we just chatted. He filled me in on those road trips he goes on with Steve. I told him about my book. Did you know he bought it? He bought my book because it was me. He bought and read a book that had nothing to do with science, or DnD, because it was me, a guy who he hasn’t talked to in over 6 months.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 23 October, '93
I miss you. I miss you so much. I want to see you again, I want to talk to you, I want to be the best friend I was supposed to be. How long has it been since we saw each other face to face? How long since we called? I wonder, sometimes, why I couldn’t pick up the phone when you used to call me. I wonder, much more often, if maybe it’s because I am broken. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward back then. I could’ve been a better friend, I could’ve even been more, if I had the courage to say anything, and if you felt the same way. I wonder how much might have changed if I had only known myself sooner, if I had had the courage you have.
I miss you, Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 17 January, '94
Dad’s dead.
He died in his old Lay-Z-Boy, in his sleep, last night. Nancy’s flying over for the funeral with this guy. She’s been going out with him for years, but this will be the first time we’ll meet him. I don’t know if Nance is relieved or sad that this guy of hers will never meet dad.
I know you’re all trying to reach out. I’m sorry I’m not. I wish I were. But I just feel… like I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t know why. Maybe because of you, or this funeral or the look I can imagine on all your faces if you knew what I’ve become now.
Anyway, the funeral is this Friday and I just wish I didn’t have to go. I know that must sound cruel, not wanting to go to my own father’s funeral but dad was barely a father by the time he was dead. He was just a man who ate at our table, a man who watched our TV, and a man who wouldn’t stop yelling.
I don’t think I liked my father very much. Not really. Maybe I should have. He never hit us or anything like that. He wasn’t anything compared to your bastard of a father. If you can even call that waste of human resources a father. But there were times when I wished he and my mom stopped pretending to be in love.
Nance once told me she didn’t think they’d ever been in love. Not even before they had us, not even when they got married. Nancy says, and I have to agree, that it was just because my dad was a young-ish guy who had enough money for a comfortable life and my mom was a woman who didn’t want to struggle. At least not in the ways she might have if she hadn’t met him because their whole marriage was a struggle, really.
I’m sure Nancy’s told Jonathan, and he’s probably told you by now, and I know you won’t get this information from me, but maybe, it could be nice if you dropped by Hawkins. Not even for the funeral, just so I could see you and be sure I’m still actually alive because I really don’t feel like I am.
If only I had the courage to tell you that myself.
From Mike
Dear [redacted], 22 January, '94
The funeral was… weird.
First of all, it’s weird to walk into the living room and not see dad in his chair watching the quiz or reading the paper. It’s weird not seeing him every time I sneak downstairs after nightmares for water. But other than that, I guess it’s just odd how little it’s changed. It really makes me realize how little he actually was IN our lives. He was just a presence that existed in the same house as us and that’s about as far as it went other than the news and the quiz show and the random bigoted comments or the stupid arguments.
The funeral was really weird, though. It was the first funeral I’ve actually been to since yours. Which is a weird thing to write because you’re alive but, and you know this, at some point, we thought you weren’t. It was so fucking weird. To stand there in front of the coffin being lowered into the ground, knowing that’s my father in there but feeling like I’m twelve again and I’m watching people bury a fake body of you they found in the quarry I almost killed myself in.
Now that I've written that, I realize that neither I nor Dustin ever told you about that.
During that week you were “dead”, Troy tried to cut Dustin’s baby teeth out when we were by the quarry. He told me he’d do it, unless I jumped. El saved me though so I just ended up floating in the air instead of, you know, falling to my death.
Now that I think about it, that might have been good to bring up to Ms Kelley back in High School.
Anyway, it hasn't changed much. Even mom doesn’t really seem like she’s grieving. I guess we’re all a bit glad he’s gone, in a pretty twisted way, but glad all the same.
I miss you, Mike
Dear [redacted], 27 January, '94
I wonder if this is what it was like for you when your dad left. I mean, sure, he was still alive, but he was gone, he couldn’t bother you anymore. The house is quieter now. Less yelling. I think this is the first time I’ve seen my mom actually look peaceful, unguarded I guess. It’s nice. She smiles more, though sometimes she’ll catch herself, like she’s thinking that her husband’s dead and she shouldn’t be happier. I think it’s good that she's happier. We all are. Nancy’s not stayed in the house for more than a couple days since moving out, but now, she’s been here for almost a week and a half. Because the thing stopping her was dad. Same for me.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 4 February, '94
I think I’m happier. I mean, obviously, there’s a bunch of super not cool shit going on right now, but I can be at home and talk to my mom and my sisters and their partners without feeling like I’m being watched or judged by a man who barely knows me. I know Holly is home more often now, helping Mom around the house. I know Mom is happier, she’ll ask us to come over more often now. It’s nice. I think we all needed that weight off of our shoulders. It’s shit to know that weight was Dad, but at least it’s gone now and we know.
I’m back at the dorm now, as I write this, Sam keeps pestering me about how I’m feeling. I think his dad is probably real nice because he’s basically walking on eggshells around any mention of dads, like he’s scared I’m going to start bawling if he says the wrong word. Sascha and Dan and Alice get it. I think being homo and all makes it easier to understand why Dad’s death hasn’t broken me. At first, Dan seemed pretty worried, so was Sascha. I’ve talked about Dad with Alice enough though that she knew I wouldn’t be too beaten up about it. It was nice, being known. I think that’s one of the things I hated most about my dad. He didn’t know us. He barely knew how old any of us were, or when our birthdays were. He didn’t know what we liked. I remember, when he still bought Mom stuff for her birthday or their anniversary, he’d just get her the same exact bouquet of flowers. These yucky smelling red roses. He said he knew his wife’s favourite flower. Mom’s favourites are peonies. Like those orange peonies that sometimes look like the rising sun. Those were her favourites. Not red roses. She thought they were too basic. Those peonies were probably the only real thing she let herself keep when she married him. And he didn’t even know it.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 May, '94
I don’t know what to do. I’m sure you do. You’ve already been done with college for two years now, right? I took two fucking years to go to college after graduating. And now I’m done with college and I don’t know what to do. I’m back at home, mom said she missed having people around the house, what with dad gone and Nancy living alone again (did I tell you she broke up with her boyfriend?) and Holly constantly at Marie’s or Derek’s or her partner’s. I’m working at Melvald’s. Did you know the guy who owned the place gave it to his daughter? So now she runs the place and she’s, like, Nancy’s age, and she said she remembers me and the “other kids”. So, the rest of the Party. It’s weird, you know, being the one behind the counter now. It’s like I’m Mrs Byers now ‘cause she’s gone and I’m now doing the job she used to. That probably doesn’t make any sense. I hope you’re ok, doing good. I hope you have an actual job. I think dad would tell me I’m not working a real job.
Take care of yourself, Mike
Dear [redacted], 23 November, '94
You know my book? A World Hidden Away.
It’s still getting money, which is good. It’s helping my mom way more than my salary at Melvald’s. But it does cost a lot to pay for the production. But I still get more than I lose so it’s good.
I haven’t been writing much since. Just little ideas or scenes. I never write anything proper. Not anymore. Well, other than these. The letters I write for you. That’s about it, really. I write for you.
I can’t even send any of it. The only things I write, I don’t even goddamn send. I can’t. I write them knowing you’ll never read any of it. I at least hope that you’ve read A World Hidden Away. If only that.
God, [redacted], what am I doing with my life? I’m going to be stuck in my mom’s basement, writing letters to someone who’ll never read them, crying over missed opportunities I can only blame myself for. What am I going to do?
I love you, Mike
Dear [redacted], 21 April, '95
I went to a bar with my friends last night and I got really drunk. Like REALLY really drunk. My head hurts really bad right now even after I took aspirin. I can’t really remember everything from last night but I do remember being with Dan. And, maybe, sort of, having kissed Dan. And him kissing back. And then we went over to his place and did a bit more kissing and a little more not kissing after that. I woke up in his bed and that was nice until the headache hit. Dan was really sweet about it, which is normal, Dan is an absolute softie. And we both decided we were better off as friends. But it was nice. But I also was thinking about you during a whole lot of it. Which isn’t at all fair to Dan. Though Dan also told me that as much as the sex was good, we were definitely better friends than potential boyfriends. I’m glad he was so understanding. I think he was quite glad I was too.
Yours truly, Mike
Dear [redacted], 1 June, '95
With the money from the book, I might finally move out. What with my salary. I’ll have enough to actually start my own life somewhere else. Be me. Sort of. My friend Alice said she doesn’t mind moving in and paying rent as long as we pretend to be in love. Which sounds weird but it does make sense. Alice is a lesbian and her parents keep saying they’ll send her away if she doesn’t “fix herself”. Alice and I have been friends since my first year at college and I guess she noticed that I’m gay and she wants a beard. To be honest, it might be nice to have someone to hide behind. Someone who can step in and say “no, this one’s mine” if guys like Troy or Andy or Zack show up. Someone who I know I can protect by doing the same thing.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 30 July, '95
I’m going to meet Alice’s parents. I toned down on the punk because Alice said they are super catholic. Do you think they’re like dad? Do you think they’re like your dad? I don’t want to let Alice get hurt. I need to do this, to protect us both from anyone who tries to get us killed. I hope you have someone who’ll protect you. I hope you’ve got so many people who will protect you. Mostly, I wish we didn’t need to think about protection. I wish we were safe anyway. But we’re not, and Alice is here so I should go. I hope you’re safe and you’re happy. I might try to phone you later, but I don’t know if I’ll have the courage.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 3 August, '95
Alice’s dad is a fucking dick. He’s like the worst mix of my dad and your dad. He hit Alice when she said we were moving in together before marriage, before even engagement. He hit her. I couldn’t let that happen so I told him to back off and Alice was staring at me like she was genuinely scared he was going to kill me. [redacted], for a second, I did think he was going to kill me. I thought I might actually die. At least it would be while protecting my friend. At least it would be a worthy death for a Paladin. He didn’t kill me. Evidently. But he did hit me. He hit me a couple times. I ended up grabbing Alice and leaving and I can’t remember making the decision but I drove us to Nancy’s. I went to Nancy. She wasn’t expecting me. Your brother was there. So were Steve and Robin. They weren’t expecting us. Nancy saw the bruises and the blood and I couldn’t speak so Alice explained and then she was crying and Robin was hugging her. I don’t remember. Nancy hugged me. I felt like I was twelve again. I felt like I was twelve and I’d just been fighting monsters and my sister was hugging me and we were both so scared. I cried. I cried so hard. It was like having my sister back.
I told her. I told Nancy. I told her I’m gay. She’s ok with it. I guess that’s obvious since she was ok with you back in ‘87 but I was scared anyway. I cried again. I haven’t cried like that in a while. Not since you died Jonathan and Steve and Robin are ok with it too. Alice cried again and hugged me and told me she’s sorry for making me come with her. I told her I chose to come, I chose to do this. Steve patched me up. I didn’t realize Steve was good with that sort of thing. He said he’s used to needing to patch people up and he gave this weird look to Jonathan. I didn’t have it in me to ask what that meant. I’m staying here tonight. Nance said she doesn’t want me out of her sight while I’m knocked around like this. So I’m staying here tonight.
I wish you were here
Dear [redacted], 5 August, '95
Still at Nancy’s. Alice has gone home, well, to our apartment, which isn’t much of a home yet but it will be. I hope.
Nancy asked if she’d rather the other three leave. I told her it was fine. I didn’t mind. I guess it was nice to have people there with me. I ended up asking Jonathan how you were. He told me about your growing collection of art and all the galleries that want to display your stuff. He told me about this guy you were going out with for a while. I don’t know why, but he told me the guy reminded him of me. Maybe it was important. I might figure it out later when I‘m less freaked out by what happened yesterday. Steve told me I should be fine, Alice’s dad didn’t hit me hard enough to do any real damage. Just some bruises and the split lip.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 August, '95
I’m at the apartment now. Alice is here with me. She apologized again. I told her it was fine again. I’m not in that much pain, a little headache but nothing an aspirin can’t fix. Some of our stuff is here. The apartment is actually starting to look like a home now. I’ve got some of your art framed on the walls and Alice has got movie posters up. I don’t think I ever wrote this but I framed your painting. The one you did for me. It’s on my wall, beside my bed. So it’s always the first thing I see when I open my eyes. It’s nice, the apartment. It’s close to Alice’s work and it’s close to mine too. Did I tell you I got a job? I can’t remember. Anyway, I did. Nothing big and important, but it pays and I get by. With our salaries, it’s enough to pay the rent and the water and the electricity bills AND we still have a little left over for ourselves. I’ve put some aside for any potential publishing (I’m not exactly sure it’ll ever get used since I really haven’t been writing shit other than these letters to you, but I thought I might as well).
Mike
Dear [redacted], 6 October, '95
I got an invite to Max and Lucas’ wedding today. I don’t even know how they know where I live seeing as I haven’t given anyone my new address. Maybe Nance told your brother and he told you and you told them. I don’t know. Anyway, I got the invite. It’s going to be a nice winter wedding. I think they want to make a reference to the Winter Ball, you know, when they first kissed. I remember watching them and they looked so happy and I wondered why I wasn’t that happy kissing Jane. I used to wonder if there was something wrong with me. I guess you did too, before. I hope you know that there is nothing wrong with you and there never was. I hope you know you’re the greatest person I ever met. Anyway, that went completely off subject. The invite, the wedding. I want to go. I want to see my friends get married, I want to see you and Dustin. I know Nance and Jonathan and Steve and Robin are going. Nancy told me. I think Mom’s going to go because it’s Lucas. He was basically her second son. She’ll want to see him get married. You’ll be there. I’m sure of that. And maybe with a guy at your side, holding your hand, kissing you. Maybe not. But I don’t think I could bear it if I showed up to the rehearsals and found out you had a guy coming with you who you love and who loves you. I think I might actually cry. I shouldn’t. I know that. I know I missed my chance and I should have said something before. I shouldn’t have shut you all out. But that doesn’t change the fact that it would break me.
Wish me luck, I guess, Mike
Dear [redacted], 28 January, '96
I don’t think I can do it. I can’t. I told Alice about it and she keeps telling me to go for it and reconnect and finally fucking talk to you again but I can’t. I seriously don’t think I’ll survive it. What if you have this handsome boyfriend who’s so much better than I ever could have been? What if it’s the proof that I missed my fucking chance? I can’t take it.
Nancy told me to stop being scared and to come. She said she knows I love you. She said she used to think you and I would get married when we were all younger. Was I that obvious? Did you know I love you? Maybe it was always unrequited and you never did like me back and there was no chance for me to miss. Maybe I was just reading everything wrong. I think Alice wants me to stop being so scared. I want to stop being so scared.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 22 February, '96
I sent Max and Lucas a letter to explain that I can’t come. That I’m super busy and I’ve had something planned for a while that I can’t miss. I lied to them. I’m sorry. I don’t want you guys to think I don’t care about you but I just can’t do it. I don’t want to lie, I don’t want to miss two of my closest friends’ wedding. But I just can’t do it. It’s that same feeling I’d get back when you guys would call and I’d stare at the phone, listen to it ring, not breathing because it felt like an elephant was sat on my chest. It was the same now. I just can’t do it. I don’t know why, I didn’t know then and I still don’t know now and I wish I did and I wish I would just man up and go but I fear it would kill me. Just as it’s killing me to stay away.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 5 April, '96
I heard the wedding was nice. Beautiful. Nancy told me that Lucas was wearing a white suit and Max was wearing a black dress. Switching it up. I’m almost shocked Max didn’t show up in a matching suit and tie.
I heard Steve walked her down the aisle, since her own parents couldn’t do it for her. I’m glad she had someone who stepped up and filled that role. I’m not surprised it was Steve. Steve was sort of like everyone’s older brother, at that time. I know he’s still close to everyone. I think we could have been. If I had picked up the phone more often. Or, at all. Nancy told me you were there, wearing this beautiful baby blue suit. She said you’d really “grown into your features”, which I think is just her saying you’re really handsome. I wish I’d gotten to see you. I wish I’d had the courage to go. Nance told me Jonathan took the photos and she’d make sure to get me some.
She said you were alone. I mean, sure, your brother was there and so were Hop and Mrs Byers (who I guess isn’t Mrs Byers anymore since her and Hop got married but whatever) but you didn’t have a date. A boyfriend. Or maybe you do and he just didn’t come. I don’t know. I should’ve gone. I should’ve shown up for my best friends, for their wedding, for you. I should have. I know that. I’m sorry.
Thinking of you, Mike
Dear [redacted], 7 April, '96
I’m back in Hawkins for my birthday, Mom wanted me home.. Nancy’s here too, she’s got all these photos from the wedding. There’s one of Max and Lucas’ kiss. Max was rocking the black dress, Lucas looked really cool in the white suit. It was a good choice, mixing it up. Very them. Very Max. I wish I had been able to see it with my own eyes. She showed me some pictures of Steve and Dustin and everyone else. And you. Of course, you. She was right, when she told me you were very handsome now. I mean, I think you’ve always been handsome, but now you seem so much more confident in your looks, in yourself. I’m really happy for you. I’m really happy for Max and Lucas, I’m really happy for Dustin. I heard about his NASA job from Nancy, who heard about it from Steve. I can’t believe our best friend is going to go work on rocket ships and space stuff. I knew if it was any of us, it’d be Dustin.
I'm starting to feel old, Mike
Dear [redacted], 22 March, '97
I keep telling myself I’ll stop writing these letters and I stop for a couple weeks, maybe months. But then I’m back at my desk, pen in hand, writing to you like a moth drawn to a flame. I think it’s going to kill me, at some point. I can’t talk to you or send you these letters and writing them just makes me miss you and I can’t take it and I wish I wasn’t so fucking scared. I wish I would have let myself love you and I wish I could tell you I love you now. Now that I can let myself love you and I’m not scared of how I feel, I could, right? But I’m too scared to talk to you, I’m too scared to send you a single piece of paper. A single piece of my heart. God, what is wrong with me?
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 17 October, '97
A friend of mine recommended I read a piece from The New Yorker, said his sister had it with her when she’d come to visit him. It’s not a long one, read it in barely any time. It’s about some Texans, herders on a ranch. It’s not the kind of thing I would have thought he’d think I’d like. It definitely wasn’t what I thought it would be like when I first started to read it. Maybe you read it in your own issue of the paper. Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx. It’s not the sort of thing I usually read, my friend knows that.
I finished reading it properly last night. I ended up cutting it out of the paper so I didn’t have to feel like dad while reading it.
I think he knows. I think that’s why he asked me to read it. He must know, that’s the only reason I can think of as to why he’d think of me when he read it. He must know.
When I finished it, I was alone in my room, just a little light to see the paper. I couldn’t breathe. It was like my lungs were failing. Like they were squeezing shut and I couldn’t fit any air in them. He must know. I’m sure. It’s the only reason. Even now, breathing properly, it’s hard, [redacted]. I don’t know how he knows but, God, I’m scared he wanted me to read it so I’d know that if I did it like those two in the story that I’d end up like Jack Twist. I’m fucking terrified. He can’t know. But he does and I know he does.
Stay safe, Mike
Dear [redacted], 10 November, '97
It’s been enough time now that maybe I was just scared for nothing at all. I think Sam just wanted me to read it because it’s well written or because I’m a writer too or something harmless like that. Maybe I was terrified for nothing at all and no one plans to tire iron me like Jack Twist was. I had this weird dream last night, that I was a rancher or a herder and I was with the sheep and then you were there. I know what I am, not like Ennis who claimed he wasn’t, but it wasn’t like Ennis and Jack, me and you. It was just that stupid hug, the last time they saw each other before Jack got the tire iron. And you were wearing that jacket you’d had on when we were talking in the field. Do you remember? It was before the end of it all and I called you a sorcerer and you looked so happy. It was like we were there but also like we were Ennis and Jack. I think you were Jack. I don’t like that it felt like you were Jack. It got me all scared when I woke up, made me think I’d lost you in the same way Ennis lost his Jack.
Dreams like to take from what we see in real life. Faces we see in the streets and stories we see on the TV or that we read or overhear. I also know that my dreams like to fuck with me. Like to scare me and make me feel like I’ll never be as good a friend as I used to be. I know my dreams like being about you. Always you.
I don’t like that you were Jack. I don’t like thinking I’m going to lose you for good and I won’t even know for months like Ennis who found out from a fucking postcard. At least Ennis is honest, at least he knows and at least he sent his stupid postcards.
I hope you don’t end up like Jack before I get the courage to see you again. I hope you don’t end up like Jack at all.
Mike
Dear [redacted], 18, June, '98
Sam doesn’t know. I’m sure of that now. And that’s good. I don’t need him to know. I have Dan, I have Sascha and I have Alice. They know. I’m glad they know. I have Nancy, and I have Holly. And they know too. I don’t know if Mom knows, or if I’ll ever tell her. But I don’t care so much anymore. I have who I have and that’s all I need right now. I think. I still have weird dreams about Jack and Ennis, just like I still have nightmares of the Upside Down or your body in the quarry. They’re still there, just less present. Most of the time. I don’t have nightmares about people finding out anymore. I think that shows that I don’t care so much anymore. About people knowing, about people’s opinions. That’s good. It helps, not caring. I’m more punk than I was before, and I wear pins and I go to manifestations with my friends to fight for shit. I went to the Indiana Pride March on Saturday, with Alice and Sascha and Dan. I even bought a gay man flag pin. I don’t know if I’ll put it on my bag or if I’ll just keep it for next year, but it felt nice to hold it and know it was me, and it was mine.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 6 July, '98
I don’t know if you remember, but a while back, Dan promised me some pot. Well, I finally got to try it. Him and Sascha came over to the apartment to visit and we all ended up climbing up the fire escape and up onto the roof so we could roll some blunts and get high under the stars. It was really fun to be honest, though it was hard at first, inhaling the smoke and all.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 21 August, '98
I had this really bad nightmare. I don’t really want to even write it down, but it was bad. Worse than they have been in years. I don’t know why. I hate it. I wish I could just close my eyes and go to sleep and wake up feeling refreshed like normal people. But, oh no, I just have to go to sleep, have horrible nightmares, wake up in the middle of the night sweating and barely breathing and go back to sleep to get the world’s worst sleep ever. I swear, it should be put in the guinness book of world records at this point.
I hope you're ok, love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 31 August, '98
I hope you’re doing alright. I saw Holly the other day. She’s grown so much since the last time you saw her. She’s almost 21, you know. Since dad died, she’s been getting into this style that some of my friends from college were into. Alternative, I think she called it. She keeps telling me I should get more into that but I have to admit that my friends have been pushing me towards punk and I think it’s way more me. If that makes any sense. You remember when I wanted that orange mohawk? Well, it totally fits punk and Dan told me I should absolutely try it out. Nance has decided she wants to go for no guys for a while or something like that. She still hangs with Robin and Steve and your brother. She told me about a recent meetup, you know, when they all go down to Philly to Robin’s weird uncle’s house. Nance told me all about it so I know all the details. Well, actually, that probably isn't true. She probably didn’t actually give me all the details, but let’s pretend she told me everything. She told me about Jonathan’s movie. Mom said we should all get together and watch it. I’d love to see you again. I miss you a lot.
Missing you, love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 September, '98
Holly came over to visit. She’s basically glowing now, away from Mom and away from everything that happened. She turned 21 a couple weeks ago. She told me it was fun, with all her college friends and some friends from Hawkins Middle.
Derek is still around. They’re almost inseparable, I guess shared trauma does that. I think the big thing is that Holly can’t talk about what happened with any of her other friends. They can’t know. But Derek already does, he was there, he’s in the same situation. I think that’s also one of the reasons I’m always so glad nowadays when Nancy comes over. I don’t have to pretend like the worst I’ve seen is a knife or a gun. I don’t have to pretend that I had a normal childhood like with everyone else.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 October, '98
I don’t know if you saw it in the papers. The Matthew Shepard story. I did. I read it and reread it. Then I reread it again before I threw it out. I didn’t want Holly seeing that. That kind of violence. I couldn’t let her see that. She’s too young. Even now, an adult, she’s too young. I can’t let her see that after everything I couldn’t protect her from before. Not with everything she’s already had to survive.
Sending you lo From Mike
Dear [redacted], 25 October, '98
I’ve started having these horrible dreams. Dreams that I wake up, read the papers and see your name there. It says [redacted] found beaten and robbed and tied to a fence in New York, says you were injured so badly, says you died in the hospital just like Shepard. I keep dreaming of you in Shepard’s place. That poor kid, tied and robbed and hurt for who he is and I can’t stop dreaming that it’s you instead and every time scares me more than the last. I keep having to ask Holly if Mrs. Byers called or if Jonathan called or anyone called to say that something happened to you. I keep having to make sure that you’re ok. Holly is starting to get worried. She says I look thinner, says I keep acting weird, asking weird questions. She doesn’t get it, she doesn’t know. I don’t think she even cares about Shepard or why he died. I know dad would have said “good”, he could have said those redneck homophobes were the “blessed saviours of America”. I called Mom, I wanted to ask her if she felt bad for Shepard, I wanted to know if she’d care if it was someone she knew. I don’t know what mom thinks. She never does say her opinion. Even now she just brings up dad instead, like she feels she has to be overshadowed by what he thought. But he’s dead now and I need to know what she thinks.
Take care, love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 4 November, '98
The other day I had one of those dreams again. But it wasn’t you in Shepard’s place. [redacted], it was me. I was in his place. It was like I was watching it happen from afar. Holly got up, read the morning papers. Then I saw her read it, read my name in the article, read my story, read my death. I was dead. I was dead and Holly found out and they put my picture in the news and Holly saw it. Then I woke up. And everything was fine and Holly didn’t see anything and I’m not dead.
Sometimes I wish I was.
I know I shouldn’t say that and that I should be grateful, I’ve always been told I should be grateful but I just don’t want to. I don’t have the courage to send you these letters, don’t have the courage to tell you I love you, don’t have the courage to go to New York and see if I’ve really missed my chance with you and I definitely don’t have the courage to be the real me. And I hate it. Maybe if mom and Holly found out I was gay through my death, then I wouldn’t have to worry about their reactions. But I can’t leave Holly and mom so I won’t. I just won’t.
I miss you.
You were brave enough.
How did you find that courage?
Yours, love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 12 December, '98
I finally told her.
It’s the last day she’s in Bloomington before she goes back home to South Bend, she’s getting some of her stuff from around the apartment into her bags. I asked her if we could talk. She looked worried, I guess I’m not too good at hiding how anxious I was. I sat her down on the couch and I managed to tell her that I’m gay. For a split second, I was so scared that she’d be like Dad, which is obviously nonsense because she always did what she could to piss him off back then. But I was still scared. Then Holly showed me her necklace that still had her little Holly The Heroic figure on it and told me that nothing would change how Holly The Heroic saw her big brother Mike The Brave.
She hugged me and I maybe cried a little. She asked if I’d told Nance, I told her I had, she told me I was so brave for deciding to be truthful. My baby sister was comforting me. My baby sister doesn’t hate me.
Love, Mike
Dear [redacted], 27 May, '99
I went to this gallery in California. I went on a hunch, saw it in the papers and saw a painting I was sure was yours in one of the pages about it and I bought a plane ticket to go to Cali in less than an hour. I guess I sort of hoped I might bump into you, hoped if I saw you right there in front of me that I’d have the courage to talk to you. But you weren’t there. Just some art critic who was completely unaware of why you paint, of who you are, what your art means to you and to those around you. He was just spewing textbook shit. These colors mean this and that placing means that and that color on her shirt and the mountains in the background and—
I recognized her in a few of them. She was in that dress. I remember you telling me she wanted it so bad but Mrs. Byers couldn’t afford it so she never got it. They were saying that she was some lover, a lost love or a current one, I don’t know. I stopped listening when the guy said she was anything but your sister. They think that your sister is your lover.
They don’t understand the first thing about you.
I still wandered around and looked at every single painting with a plaque with your name written on it. So proud and beautiful just like you. There were paintings of Jane and of dragons and our last campaign. It was the line of mountains with the ruins right at the top. I remember telling you how I thought it should be, and we both made plans of it and you helped me sculpt it. I remember those first drawings you did. This painting of it was just like it and yet so completely different. You were always good at painting but, God [redacted], you’ve gotten so fucking good I’m surprised they aren’t already studying you and your art.
I wish I had known. Back then. At any point, when we were still friends, I wish I had known. That year I lost you, I wish I had known that I loved you, that just because Lucas told me I liked Jane didn’t mean I did, that love isn’t about what I’m supposed to do but about what I want and need and do by my own volition. I wish I had known, when we got you back, when the Mind Flayer got you, when me and Jane started dating. I wish I had known why I always thought of you when I was with her. I wish, god, I wish. I wish I knew all the things I know now. And most of all, I wish I still had you. I wish I hadn’t said those things, when Jane was dying, in the Mindscape. I lied. And I said things I should never have said. And you were right there. You were right there when I told her that the day I found her, the day I lost you, was the day my life started. I lied. I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t lose her or rip your sister away from you. So I said what I thought she wanted to hear, so she would live and come back to us. She definitely knew I had lied. I mean, that’s why we broke up. But you maybe didn’t. Didn’t know that it was a lie. [redacted], I thought my life was over, when Hopper came to school that day to ask who had seen you last. I felt like my heart had broken into a thousand pieces and left this hole in my chest that was shaped exactly for you. I remember when they pulled the body out of the quarry. I cried all the way home. I thought you were really dead. Gone. I thought I’d never see you again and that I would be this broken thing for the rest of my life. But I did. I did see you again, and you’re ok. You were as ok as you could possibly be after all that and I was so happy I spent three days in the hospital with you, always there. To the point the nurses knew who I was. Mom thought it was sweet, she was worried about you. I remember dad telling me I cared too much.
That day, in kindergarten, when I found you on the swings and you were as alone as I was. I asked you to be my friend. I asked and you said yes. You said yes and it was the best day of my life. I wish I could go back. Go back to that time. When it was just us and there were no portals or demogorgons or Vecna. You were ok and I was ok and it was just us. It was so much simpler back then. Everything was so much easier.
I love you. I love you so much, [redacted]. I love you more than anything and I’m so scared. I’m so scared of everything I’ve done and so scared that I was wrong and so scared that the wrong person finds out. But I love you and I’m not scared of that.
I love you, Mike
Dear Mike, The eighth of October, 2006
I read your book. I read your first book too, obviously, but I mean that I read the newest one. The epistolary book. I read it. It’s beautiful. You know, some of those letters really made me cry.
Were they for me? Were the letters in that book letters to me?
Why did you never send them?
I don’t know why I’m asking that, you made it quite clear in your letters that you don’t know either. But maybe you do know now, 7 years after that last letter.
It must have been confusing, when I came out, when we were fighting Vecna. I’m sure you still don’t know what “Tammy” means. Tammy Thompson. She was that girl who sang like a muppet but ended up moving to Nashville and becoming a singer. She was a friend of ours’ first crush. The reason I said that was because I thought I needed to accept that you were never mine. That you were Jane’s. That the best I could do was accept I could not have you and try to move on. But now I’ve read your letters. Every single one. And I’ve realized that perhaps you were always mine, from the very beginning.
I know I still love you. I know I always will, even if I meet someone and I’m allowed to get married. I know that deep down, you were my first love and that I will always love you.
But maybe I don’t need to meet someone new?
Maybe I just need to find that courage you keep saying I have and use it for something so much scarier than anything else we’ve faced. Use it to finally forgive ourselves. I need you to find that courage, Mike. I know that I will send this letter and that it will reach you but I need to know that you will open it, read it, take into consideration the fact that I desperately want to try again, however old we are. Even if it takes you until 2010 or 2020 or 2030. I will wait, I just need to know I’m waiting for you and not just hoping and wishing for you.
So maybe, just maybe, Michael Wheeler, we could try again.
Maybe we can get coffee. I’ll go to Hawkins or you come to NYC or we find an inbetween. Anything you like. Anything at all. But, please, let’s get coffee. Let’s figure this out. Let us love each other and not be scared.
Yours truly, Will