Chapter Text
Autumn, Mike Wheeler could argue in detail, was the best season one could visit Hawkins, Indiana. If there was ever someone that actually took the time to spot it on the map.
Weather was exquisite at this time of the year, not freezing cold but windy enough for a light jacket and hot-to-go coffee from Mama Gee’s local café; The tree’s foliage turned a beautiful parade of orange, red and yellow shades, making the entire town look like an impressionist landscape painting.
Maybe locating Hawkins on a map was hard work, but it only took flipping through a magazine or catching a late night TV special about the “Top 10 Haunted Places in the Midwest” to hear its name come up. Truthfully, it was a very creepy town, old, too, and Mike agreed that the older the place, the more haunted it felt.
Either way, the label didn’t bother the locals. The town took pride in celebrating Halloween, which meant carved pumpkins everywhere and creepy cheap animatronic figures decorating storefronts and front yards.
“Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana! Where weird is our normal, and everyone here has a garlic wreath on their doors just in case.”
Mike had written that line for a college assignment about his hometown a while back, but it had been considered tacky and not catchy enough for a newspaper. The criticism had crushed him at the time, but now he couldn’t care less.
One thing that wasn’t so fascinating about Hawkins, no matter the time of year, was its community college. Mike had a full four years of that, a journalism major with a shitty internship at the local newspaper, writing local articles and thinking local everything.
While all his friends scattered across the country, going to the colleges of their dreams, he was left pretty much alone, with only Max Mayfield for company, a girl whose hair was as red as the flames of hell.
She wasn’t so bad. In fact, she was generous and cared a lot about cats and puppies, but Mike was neither of those. He used to joke that if he could, he’d trade Max for a piece of trash. He learned to shut the fuck up after he woke up next to a trash can two years ago, courtesy of Max.
Another reason why autumn was the best season in town is because graduating during the summer was absolutely awful. Mike remembers sweating so much under the July sun, his gown clinging uncomfortably to his body. He thinks that if he were, say, graduating in New York, maybe the feeling would be different… not because it would be less hot, but because, well, it's New York.
A graduation in New York sounds a thousand times more interesting, or at least that's what his best friend Will Byers told him on the phone a few months ago.
Another reason in favor of autumn is that Will Byers would be returning to his hometown of Hawkins after four long years living in the big city. At last.
Mike wants to think that Will's return is because he misses him as much as Mike misses him, but deep down and literally, in Will's own words, he did it because he didn't have enough money to keep paying the rent.
Today marked October 5th, Will’s flight arrived later that day, and all Mike could think of was just how different this fall would be. Or familiar. Or differently familiar, he wasn’t quite sure. All he knows is Will is back. His Will.
Creedence Clearwater Revival's ‘Bad Moon Rising’ plays softly on the turntable. The vinyl needle fills the silence as Mike concentrates on making sure he paints within the lines. He was working on a last minute, handmade poster with the message "Welcome Back, Will!". His handwriting was terrible, and he wasn't as good at drawing as Will, but it was the thought that counted.
Was he excited his best friend was moving back to town after college? Obviously. Was he also nervous as fuck to see him again after four long years of distance? Terrified.
But Mike’s a changed man now. A twenty two year old, soon to be an actual journalist, and a changed man. A man who does his own breakfast and pays for gas, drives a Ford car and wears cologne now.
“Can I use your blowdryer?” Mike asks his younger sister, Holly, who is laying down on her bed flipping through a book. George Orwell’s ‘1984’, What the hell was she doing reading that book?
“Why?” she asks, cautious.
“Just ‘cus.”
“Hmm…” Holly pushes her tongue inside her cheek. Mike rolls his eyes, leaning against the door frame as she thinks. “Sure, but be careful with it, Mike. I mean it!”
So, Mike grabs the pink blow dryer, runs back to the basement, plugs it into the wall, and uses it to speed up the drying process of his freshly painted banner. He had zero to no patience and he still wanted to go around town and buy more stuff for Will’s welcome dinner.
He looks at his wrist watch as he dries, it’s already a quarter to five. Will was probably boarding the plane by now. “Shit,” he curses under his breath, taps his feet rapidly and then shuts the blowdryer off. He grabs his car keys from the coffee table and runs upstairs, once again, towards his sister’s room.
“What, Mike!” Holly grunts, closing her book.
“Do you wanna win five dollars?”
While Holly Wheeler had the assignment of finishing the banner, Mike drove downtown to get some supplies. His list was as it follows:
- CHOCOLATE COOKIE ICE CREAM
- A SLICE OF ELIO’S PIZZA MAC N CHEESE SPECIAL
- A HORROR MOVIE WE HAVEN’T WATCHED TOGETHER
- BEER (FOR ME)
FLOWERS- WEED (ASK EDDIE)
- FUZZY BLANKETS
It did take him more than one hour to get everything, he had to convince the convenience store employee he was over 21 since he forgot his ID at home and Eddie’s trailer was so fucking far away that he had to go get the weed as Elio’s Pizza made his order.
Had he not asked Holly, well, paid Holly, he probably wouldn’t have made it.
Nevertheless, everything was taken under control. Everything but the twisting feeling on his stomach as he waited for Will to cross the arrival’s gate in the airport.
He only managed himself because Misses Byers was there too, and Max, Lucas and Dustin, but had it not been for them he would’ve been in shambles by now. They just didn’t get it… what Will meant to him.
Will was his best friend since kindergarten. He was his safe space, the one person he could trust in everything, it was a very special bond that may have weakened over these past four years since New York City swallowed Will Byers whole and just now decided to spat him back into his arms.
“Would you relax already, Wheeler? You’re making me nervous,” Max groaned, squeezing her arms together to show just how tense she was.
“I’m relaxed.”
“Dude,” Dustin eyes him.
“I am!”
“Dude…” Lucas adds.
“Okay, so what if I’m a little… nervous?” Mike lowers his voice so Misses Byers won’t hear. He then points over at Max. “You were shitting yourself the entire morning of Lucas' arrival.”
“At least I shit it out of my system,” Max crosses her arms, daring him. “You just look pathetic right now.”
“Okay, we all missed Will and we’re excited to see him. Let’s just leave it at that, ‘kay?” Dustin tries to play peacemaker but knows perfectly that his comment won’t do much.
They wait for a couple of more minutes until the muffled announcement that flight 1530 just landed from New York. Will’s flight. Mike’s hands gripped tightly the banner in his hands, he’ll probably leave a sweat stain there.
A moment later, a crowd walks out through the gates bringing the sound of luggages rolling around and chattering.
“I see him!” Dustin points towards the crowd.
Max stands up in her tippie toes just as Joyce squints her eyes and walks closer. Mike doesn’t need to do all that, he can see his best friend clearly as if the rest of the passengers disappeared.
There, dressed in a gorgeous brown jacket over a navy blue sweatshirt, was Will. And gosh, how kind had New York been to him because he looked great.
His hair was longer now, not drastically but a few long layers, his facial structure was sharper and his ears were pierced and holy shit did he gain muscle?
“Are we sure no one swapped bodies with Will and we’re witnessing an impostor?” Lucas mutters between them, he could notice too. Heck, even Dustin was nodding with an approval look on his face.
They all watched as Joyce Byers pulled him into a warm hug. Even though she visited him often and claimed he wasn’t her favorite son, something Jonathan, Will’s older brother, loved to tease her about with a “You’ve barely visited me in Cali”, the moment still felt special.
Joyce made small talk with him, helping with one of his suitcases, before pointing back to where his friends stood. They all waved, and Will’s face broke into a wide smile as he rushed toward them.
Dustin was the first to catch him in a hug, “Byers!”
Mike saw the scene perfectly from his spot, and noticed the way Will intertwined his fingers on Dustin’s curls as he talked to him with eyes closed. Will’s hugs had always been the best, one hug from that boy and whatever illness you have was gone.
Then Lucas claimed his turn in a much more cool way, with a handshake before pulling him into a hug. Will obviously was taken a little by surprise but followed along with no problem whatsoever.
“You got buff, my man,” Lucas says with a teasing tone, almost singingly.
Will laughs, Mike almost wants to cry just by hearing his laughter in person and not through the phone.
“I’m so not buff,” Will chuckles, pulling back to stare at Lucas. “You on the other hand…”
“Hey! No flirting with my boyfriend, Byers,” Max jokes, hugging him now. She pulls her head back, arms still wrapped around his neck. “Holy shit, you did get buff.”
“I did not!” Will cackles, smile so big his cheeks must hurt.
“Your arms say otherwise.”
“Okay, maybe I joined the gym but nothing crazy.”
“I’d say you must’ve broken hearts back there,” Dustin elbows Will’s arm, still standing near him.
It’s only then that Will realizes he’s missing one last person. His gaze unconsciously searches for Mike, falling on his brown eyes before dropping down to the banner Mike is holding in his hands.
“Welcome back,” Mike says, almost too quietly.
“You made that?” Will’s brows furrow, he lets go of Max just to take a step closer to Mike. Everyone grows silent.
“Depends,” Mike responds but it comes out as a question.
“On what?”
“If you hate it.”
Will takes a moment, looks up and down from Mike to the banner, making him nervous and in anticipation of approval. Mike visibly relax and lets go of a repressed breath when he sees Will smiling enormously, he nods.
“I love it,” Will shrugs, grabs the banner, his fingers brushing Mike’s. “Welcome back, Wiff.”
“Wiff?” Mike frowns, then looks down at the banner.
Yup. There, smudged in yellow paint, read Welcome back, Wiff. Not Will. Wiff.
If he remembers correctly, though, he outlined in pencil the name right. Even when he had meticulously filled the letters with paint, the name was right. Which meant, the problem came after.
“Fucking shit,” Mike slaps his forhead in distress. “Holly must’ve dried it wrong.”
“It’s amazing,” despite the grammar mistake, Will found it amusing.
“Are we ready to go, sweetie?” Joyce’s voice cut through the moment, her hand resting on Will’s back.
“Yeah, we’re all good to go, right?” Will looks between all the friends, earning different approving reactions. He then faces Mike. “A-are you coming with us?”
“Right behind ya’. Brought the Festiva,”
“Show off,” Will says, a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“Not every town has amazing public transportation, Will,” Mike dares to initiate physical contact, grabbing Will’s arm and holy shit, he was buff. “Some of us had to learn how to drive.”
Will didn’t say anything, but Mike’s sure he can feel his body go tense and by the way his smile dropped he wonders if he did something wrong. He drops his hand and gestures an ‘after you’ sign with his arm, making sure to walk last behind everyone so he can fully process what just happened.
Now, Mike wasn’t one to keep grudges, but if he recalls correctly Will had hugged absolutely everyone but him.
Mike makes him a Welcome back, Wiff banner and gets no hug. Okay. He’s definitely not getting the Mac n Cheese pizza now. For sure.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀👻⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Dinner at the Byers’s was way less chaotic than over at the Wheelers’s, or at least Mike thought so. Without his sisters yelling in his ear, and his mother constantly pleading her good-for-nothing husband to be present at dinner, family meals could be pleasant.
Joyce was a doll, seriously, but she couldn’t cook for shit. Everyone pretends to enjoy her lasagna but Lucas swears it was still a bit undercooked and chewy, at least Chester, their dog, enjoyed the secretive feeding under the table.
The rest of the group didn’t linger much longer, but they promised to see each other the next day. Mike drove everyone home, constantly complaining about ending up as the designated driver, but at least Will claimed the passenger seat for the ride back to his house, where they had an exclusive sleepover planned for two.
Mike parked outside the Byers’ house for the second time that day, but before heading inside, he grabbed from the trunk a cardboard box decorated with a walking slice of pizza wearing a chef’s hat and a mustache, slightly offensive, if you asked him.
“Now, I wasn’t going to give this to you, but…” Mike handed it over. “We deserve it after surviving your mom’s lasagna.”
“No fucking way,” Will laughed. “Do you know how much I missed Elio’s pizza?”
“I bet New York doesn’t have breakfast eggs and waffles on their pizza menu,” Mike shrugged, taking a moment to really look at him. Sure, Will seemed more mature now, sounded like it too, but deep down, he was still the same kid who got way too excited about beating his high score at the arcade.
“I, uh, also brought weed and ice cream and… a bunch of stuff, actually,” Mike added, glancing back at his backpack, avoiding Will’s intense stare.
“Really? You planned all this?”
“Don’t sound so flattered, Wiff. It’s my Wheeler way of saying welcome back.”
“Well, thanks, Mike. Really.” Will’s chest puffed slightly, and even in the dim light from the car, Mike could see how bright his eyes were. “W-we should probably save the weed for later, though. My mom’s got the nose of a hound dog.”
“Sure, yeah. Movie night, then?”
“Movie night sounds awesome.”
Usually, movie night was in Mike’s basement. It had always been that way, but tonight was different. Will was back, and he was probably tired from his flight, so Mike wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.
They changed into cozier clothes. Mike popped open a cold beer while Will grabbed two spoons from the kitchen so they could share the ice cream straight from the container. They settled on opposite ends of Will’s couch, a comfortable distance between them.
Mike had rented a weird indie Japanese horror movie, something neither of them had ever heard of but it had them on the edge of their seats. The cinematography was eerie, the music was jaw-tense-good and the lead girl was terrifying.
There was a sequence in the movie where the protagonist started running through an abandoned hospital and Mike caught Will’s eyes hiding discreetly behind his hand.
Mike laughs hard and loud, “You’re scared!”
“Shut up, Mike," Will, clearly caught, readjusted himself on the couch.
“Admit it, you’re scared.”
“I’m not.”
“Scared.”
“Not.”
“Whatever, scaredy cat,” Mike giggles, just as he was about to grab the last piece of pizza, Will’s hand came into contact. “Oh, shit, sorry. You can have it,”
“No, it’s okay, you have it. I uhm… I’ll go grab a glass of water.”
“Should I pause the movie?”
“Please don’t,” Will huffs, standing up and grabbing the cardboard box container as Mike picks the slice in his hand.
With Will back in the kitchen, Mike resented the sudden solitude.
It was one thing to watch scary movies with company, but quite another to be completely alone, in the middle of nowhere, because of course the Byers' house had to be far removed from society.
Perhaps there was one thing Mike didn't enjoy about autumn, and that was how noisy the wind became at night, causing the curtains to flap against the window and making frightening sounds.
The images on the television showed a contorted figure emerging from the roof, Mike grimaced. His heart was racing, and the beer can was starting to slip from his hands.
Suddenly… Mike felt a breath on the back of his neck. He squirmed in his seat, and Will burst out laughing.
“Gotcha’,” Will falls back down on the couch, triumphantly.
“Jesus Christ, Will,” Mike hisses. He puts a hand to his chest, feeling his heart race. “That’s not fair.”
“It is fair. You called me a scaredy cat,” Will shrugs.
“It’s not fair! You know this place gives me the creeps.”
“What? My house?” Will fakes to be outraged.
“You know what I mean,” Mike rolls his eyes, pausing the movie. “Besides, didn’t you used to say you saw ghosts here or whatever.”
“That was one time.”
“No one should even have a “one time”,” Mike makes air quotes with his fingers.
This town’s no stranger to the paranormal, like Mike said, weird is normal here. The Byers’s house? It deserves its own category on the list. To begin with, the house is on the outskirts of town, in a wooded area, which means you have to take a slight detour from the main road to get there. It's old, dilapidated, and just gives the impression that strange things happen there.
Mike has never made fun of his friend for this, on the contrary, he likes spending time at his house. But he wasn't going to lie and say that he wasn't scared of being alone in this place.
Partially, it was all Jonathan’s fault.
The stories that Will's older brother used to tell the party to scare them when they were kids are still etched in Mike's memory. Handprints on the walls, lights flickering, doors unlocking by themselves. So much so that he could write books about them, Stephen King style.
“My dad hexed us before he left,” Jonathan casually explained to them when he was thirteen and the kids were nothing but thoughtless children. They cried that night.
Yet the one story that will always live rent free in Mike’s brain is the one where Will claims to have seen a ghost outside his house, waiting for him to welcome him in. The worst part was Will’s creative brain did the drawing of said ghost. Mike had nightmares for two days.
Almost as if on purpose, the lights suddenly flicker. One second there was warm light, one second back in darkness.
“See this is the type of shit I tell you about,” Mike points to the flickering ceiling lights with his finger. “Creepy as fuck.”
“Maybe a racoon bit the electricity cords again…”
“Twice is a coincidence, Will, but this is the umpteenth time your lights go all poltergeist. I’m telling ya’,” Mike takes a sip of his beer before speaking. “It’s haunted.”
“It’s not,” Will chuckles as he extends his foot on the sofa and gives Mike a friendly kick.
“It’s soooo haunted.”
“Whatever you wanna think, Mike,” Will pulls the blanket off and stands up, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. Mike takes a quick look at the way Will’s shirt lifted up and exposed his bare back. He blushed, for some reason.
“Do you wanna keep watching or should we go to sleep now?”
“What? It’s so early!” Mike complains, his voice high pitched.
“I know but I’m tired.”
“Alright, fine,” Mike didn’t seem much convinced.
“I mean… you can stay here and finish the movie,” Will teases, his lips stretching into a cheeky smile. “That is, of course, if you’re not scared.”
“Shut up.”
This was the first time in four long years that Mike had set foot in Will's room. It looked exactly as he had left it, only much emptier since Will had taken several things to his apartment in New York.
Nostalgia hit him hard, and Mike hadn't realized how quiet he was until Will was standing in front of him, waving his hand in front of his face to get his attention.
"Sorry, what?"
"You left," Will said, his face very close.
"Sorry."
"It's okay. I was just asking if you don't mind sharing the bed."
"What?!" Mike snapped back to reality at those words. Normally, when they had sleepovers, they slept on a mat or sleeping bag on the floor, that was what Mike had been expecting, but apparently Will had other ideas.
"Okay, I see you do mind," Will took a step back, embarrassed.
“No, no, it’s not that,” Mike quickly tries to fix things up. “I don’t mind, really.”
“Oh, okay,” Will nods, walking over to his bed to unmake the bed. “Thanks. It’s just I’m really tired to fix you a spot on the floor. I’d rather just hop in and sleep.”
Well, that made sense. Mike wasn’t sure why he panicked all of the sudden.
Carefully, Mike makes his way to Will’s bed, taking the left side.
This felt like a very hard tetris game. He didn’t want to take any more space that would cross over to Will’s side, but his tiny bed made it impossible, at one point in the night personal space must be invaded and Mike’s head was suddenly scrambled.
Will, who was peacefully laying down already, rested his head behind his arms, his biceps involuntarily flexed and it made Mike want to use them as a pillow instead of--
“What the fuck,” Mike blurts out as he catches his own thought.
“What?” Will opens one eye.
Mike shakes his head, nervously laughing.
“Nothing.”
“Alright.”
Mike carefully slides down the bed, cautious enough not to look over at Will or brush their legs together.
"Um, good night," Mike says, sounding a bit slurred. Maybe he drank too much beer.
“Good night, Mike,” Will says slowly, ready to drift off to sleep. “If you feel something pulling your legs at night, scream.”
“Jesus,” Mike hisses under his breath. He pulls the sheets all the way up to his nose.