Chapter Text
Mike stays in Hawkins the longest out of the party. He tells the others, his parents, Nancy, anyone who asks that it's because he isn’t sure what he wants to do, that he needs more time to figure it out. But what he can’t admit to them, or even fully to himself, is that he really stays for the tiniest possibility that El might come back. That if she did, he would have to be there, where she could find him. He takes a job at the Family Video store to fill his days and spends most of his free time in his room, trying to write her one final letter. He tells himself that once it's written he will finally leave Hawkins and start living his life.
No matter how hard he tries, the words never come out right on the page. He starts with an apology every time, though he’s never quite sure what he’s apologising for. After that, he tries a million different ways to say what he’s feeling. He starts at the beginning, when he first saw her drenched and shivering in the woods. He starts on the day he lost her the first time, and recalls how he never lost hope for her return. He starts when they argued in Lenora and she didn’t understand why he couldn’t tell her he loved her.
I was a child, he writes. I didn’t know how to tell you what you meant to me. I was scared for the future and of losing my friends and of growing up.
But it’s never quite right. It’s never quite enough. It’s never quite the truth.
He doesn’t know what the truth is. He doesn’t know what he can say to help him move on. To help him feel like he wasn’t the reason El made the choice that she did. Despite his conversation with Hopper, he can never let go of the feeling that things could have been different, if only he’d been better.
Will is the only person to come back that first summer. Lucas and Max both have part-time jobs in Chapel Hill which keeps them occupied for the summer, and Dustin gets accepted onto a summer research programme which takes him to MIT for six weeks. Mike doesn’t know what he had expected. That they would all be back for the holidays and everything would be like it used to be, like time had frozen again? That they would be back on their bikes journeying around Hawkins, climbing hills and experimenting with whatever new invention Dustin had brought with him? He knows better than any of them that things would never be like that again, but he can’t help but wish for it.
Still, it’s good to see Will again. Especially given that he has the least reason of any of them to come back, what with having no family in Hawkins any more. When they’d spoken on the phone, Mike tried to assure him that he didn’t need to come, and that he would eventually find the time to come out to New York and visit, and maybe he would even spend a Christmas in Montauk one year, if Will would want that. But Will had insisted, to a degree that made Mike feel a little pitiable. He’d been struck with the feeling that he had been talked about amongst the others, and that Will had been the one to volunteer himself as forfeit to go and check on Mike.
As they both pull away from an awkward-half hug in his doorway, Mike is struck with how different Will seems. He’d already started to come into himself in the time that followed their final fight against Vecna, but having only spoken to him on the phone for a year, the difference this time is shocking to Mike. He wears a white leather jacket and his hair is a little longer than when he’d last seen him, no longer in the shape of one of Joyce Byers’ famous bowl cuts, instead parted to the side and less messy, as though he’d used product in it. The biggest change, by far, is the small, gold, hooped earring in his right ear.
Mike becomes deeply conscious of his own appearance, almost unchanged, still wearing the same clothes he’d worn since he was sixteen. Well, the ones that didn’t have to get tossed because they were covered in blood or mud or slime from the upside down.
Over Will’s shoulder is slung a brown leather duffel bag which feels very grown-up to Mike, and when Will throws it down on the old mattress in his basement, it looks distinctly out of place against the childish bedding. Mike watches Will take in the scene with a distant glaze over his eyes, as though he’s been planted in a memory he has to work to recall the details of because it has grown hazy. Mike shuffles uncomfortably, fidgeting with his hands in his pockets when Will’s eyes land on the binders lined up on the shelf, adorned with each of their names written in stickers. A soft smile lifts the corner of Will’s lips, and he turns to Mike.
“So, what do you wanna do?”
“Uh,” says Mike. He can’t quite recall what there is to do in Hawkins any more, having done none of it for nearly a year. The town which had once been full of adventure and mystery to him had been reduced to the few blocks on his drive from home to the Family Video Store and back.
“Do you wanna take a drive out somewhere, maybe?” Asks Will.
Thankful for the suggestion, Mike says, “Uh, yeah. Where to?”
Will suggests that they just get in the car and see where they end up.
Once they’re out of central Hawkins and onto the roads past Lake Tippecanoe, Will visibly relaxes a little. Mike hadn’t really realised that he had been tense, but the drop in his shoulders and the way he slouches into his seat as soon as they pass the ‘Now Leaving Hawkins’ sign is impossible to miss. A pang of guilt hits Mike as he realises this is the first time Will had set foot back in Hawkins since leaving, and that out of all the memories that are surfacing for him, a lot are bad.
“So how’s Pratt? How’s New York?” He asks, trying to get Will’s mind back on his new life. The life he’s living without Mike in it.
Will gives Mike one of his gentle smiles and a small eye roll. “You already know how it is, Mike. I’ve told you everything there is to know.”
“There’s always more to know. How’re your roommates? Uh, Jill and… And…” Mike scratches around for the other name he knows he’s heard Will say over the phone, but has never really taken in.
“Ash,” Will supplies. “I mean, yeah, they’re… Do you really care?”
“What? Of course I care,” Mike protests. “I wanna know more about them before I meet them. You know, when I come visit.”
“Yeah,” Will huffs. “When you visit.” He looks out the window, not meeting Mike’s eye.
“Hey, I know I should have been before now. It’s just, like, work is really busy, you know? And.. and I’ve been… I mean, I’ve been busy with other things.” Mike keeps his eyes on the road, but he feels Will’s gaze turn back to him.
“What other things?”
Scrambling for a lie, Mike replies, “I’ve been working on an application letter. For… for Berkely.” He scrunches his face at the stupidity of the lie, hoping Will doesn’t notice.
“Berkely?”
“Uh… yeah.”
“You… you wanna go to Berkely?”
“Yeah, creative writing, you know? And then I would be able to move out there and we could hang out more and… stuff.” He grimaces again at how unconvincing he knows he sounds.
“I didn’t even know you wanted to go to college.” Says Will, turning back to the window and freeing Mike from his gaze.
“Well, yeah. I mean, I don’t know. I guess I do.”
Will remains silent, watching the landscape go by, his hair blowing in the wind through the open car window. Mike’s guilt settles in between them in the silence. He had wanted to go to college once, hadn’t he? He’d pictured it. The four of them, all on a campus together somewhere. He and Will living together like they always wished for whenever Will had to leave to go home after sleepovers.
When we have our own place, we can stay up all night watching movies! He’d say, excitedly.
But after El came along, he can’t remember having thought about that again. His future with El had always felt like one where they’d be hiding, where he’d have to keep her safe from anyone that wanted to use her. He’d been so ready to do that for her. He’d been ready to give everything up if it just meant she would stay-
“Well, I guess I could help you write it,” says Will, breaking Mike out of his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“The application letter. I could help you write it.”
“Oh.” The guilt settles deeper in Mike’s stomach. “Yeah, thanks.”
They decide to stop in Winona and grab a bite to eat before heading back to Hawkins. The conversation is kept mostly to pleasantries, but Mike can’t help but smile every time Will talks about his art projects for college. He describes them so vividly, gesturing with his hands as he describes his creations, that Mike can almost see the imagery Will is describing. His smile falters every time Will mentions somewhere in the city he loves, and says, “Hey, if you get into Berkely, I can take you there. You’ll love it too.”
Mike excuses them from the family dinner that evening, wanting to avoid the Wheelers grilling into Will too much about his new life in the city, knowing his dad might ask questions that Will won’t want to answer honestly. Instead, they swing by Melvalds on the way home and pick up some TV dinners which they heat up in the microwave in the basement and eat on the couch watching horror movies. Mike is painfully aware of the distance Will is creating between them, almost glued to the arm on his side of the couch, his legs pulled together. Mike finds himself lamenting the times when they used to share a blanket, sitting cross-legged together on the sofa with their knees knocking every time they recoiled excitedly at something gory happening on the screen.
Will had started to create this distance not long after his confession at the WSQK, and after Mike’s stupid conversation with him on the radio tower in the upside down.
Friends? No thanks… Best friends.
Mike shudders at the memory of it.
If he’s being honest with himself, it’s not just Will who created the distance. Mike became more conscious of everything after Will came out. Every bump of the elbow. Every brush of the shoulder. He told Will that nothing had changed, and that he would never think any differently of him. And he didn’t, not really. Not in any way that mattered. But still, there had been a shift. Something existed between them that hadn’t before. Or at least, Mike hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it before.
Later that evening, as Mike says goodnight and heads up the stairs to his room, he finds himself lingering at the top of the stairs, waiting for Will to call him back down and - what? Ask Mike to stay with him? Ask if they can stay up a little later for old times’ sake? Keep Mike there for any reason, so that he won’t have to go back to the loneliness of his bedroom? But Will’s back remains turned to Mike as he roots through his bag on the bed, and so Mike returns to his room feeling stupid.
The morning light is filtering through the curtains and falling in lines across Mike’s face when he overhears Will’s voice downstairs, muffled.
“Is Mike awake yet?”
He hears his mother reply, “I haven’t seen him yet, honey, but why don’t you just head on up and knock? He won’t mind.”
“Thanks.”
Mike hears footsteps coming up the stairs. He shoots up, aware that under the blankets he is only in his underwear, and grabs a t-shirt and sweatpants to throw on. The footsteps reach his door, and he braces himself for the knock. It doesn’t come right away. He is frozen in place, listening. He hears the floorboards creak as if Will is shuffling back and forth on his feet a little. The creaks get quieter for a moment, as if he has turned to leave, but then they return and eventually Mike hears the knock.
“Uh, come in.” He says, hoping his voice sounds adequately groggy and just-woken.
The door opens and Will peeks his face around, eyes taking in the state of the room a moment before landing on Mike, sitting on his bed.
“Hey,” he says, still not stepping into the room.
“Hey,” Mike replies.
“I just wanted to see if you still wanted me to help with that Berkely letter?”
“Oh,” shit. Mike scrambles, having completely forgotten about that conversation. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds… yeah.”
“It’s just, I'm going back tomorrow, so I figure we should probably make a start soon.”
Mike knew they only had a weekend together, but that felt criminally short now. He felt like they still hadn’t really spent any time together.
“Yeah, makes sense,” he says, resigned. He gets out of bed and pulls the covers back in an attempt to make his pigsty of a room seem slightly less disastrous, and motions Will towards his desk. Will reluctantly steps into the room, stepping over piles of clothes in the process.
Mike realises the last attempt at his letter to El is still lying out, and he quickly snatches it up and crumples it in his hand before Will has time to see it. Will looks at him, confused, and Mike says, “Uh, that was a crappy draft. Maybe we could just start from scratch?”
He throws the crumpled letter into the trash can next to his desk and it lands on top of the pile of the hundred others. Will looks suspiciously at him, but nods and grabs a piece of paper from the stack on the desk and places it in front of Mike.
“Okay, so, when I was applying to Pratt, I had to write about why their course specifically interested me.” He says.
“Okay,” Mike replies, staring down at the page.
“So… What is it about the course at Berkely that most interests you?”
Mike scrunches his face up, unable to think beyond the heavy feeling settling in his stomach.
“I guess the… the whole thing,” he says weakly.
“The whole thing,” Will replies, flatly.
“Yeah, like the tutors and… and the subjects, and stuff.”
“Okay, well, I think you’re gonna have to get a little more specific than that, you know, to really impress them.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” replies Mike, then, “you know, actually, I just have to pee. I’ll be right back.”
He escapes out the door as quickly as he can and spends as long as possible in the bathroom before returning, desperately trying to come up with something, anything that he might know about Berkely to throw Will off the scent. Failing that, he tries to think of a way he can steer Will away from this for now. When nothing comes to mind, and he’s splashed his face with cold water for the twentieth time, he resigns himself to go back to the bedroom.
He opens the door to see Will crouched by the trash can, one of the letters open in his hands, and more scattered on the floor around him. He looks up in surprise when Mike enters, and then his expression turns to worry.
“Mike…”
“What are you doing?” Mike shouts, running over to grab the letter out of his hands.
“Mike, I’m sorry,” Will says, releasing them without a fight and standing up as Mike stuffs the letters back into the trash hurriedly. He stands up slowly, fists clenched and head down in shame.
“I thought they were your drafts to Berkely, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” says Will, stepping towards him.
Mike takes a step away, and Will halts. They stand in pained silence for a few moments before Will speaks again.
“Mike, please.”
Mike looks at him then, his throat aching with the force of holding back his tears. He feels so, so ashamed. He’s meant to be the strong one, the one who holds everything together so the others can go on in their grief.
He isn’t angry at Will, not really, but he can’t help but say, “Will, please get out.” It comes out quietly over the blockage in his throat.
Will protests stepping towards Mike again, and again Mike steps away. He forces out, “Please,” as the tears threaten to well over his eyes, and he turns his face away so Will won’t see.
Slowly, Will walks away. Mike scrunches up his face to fight against the inevitable tears which start to pour as soon as he hears the door click closed behind him. He crumples to the floor, sobbing, dragging the trash can towards him and going through each letter, reading over the words that Will had now seen - broken and desperate and pathetic.