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The idea of soulmates is beautiful. Someone perfect for you in every way, like a little jigsaw puzzle. Like the cool ocean and glowing moon; everlasting and tied together to create something magical and otherworldly. Beautiful. Something that makes you feel warm and prickly. Something that turns your frowns and tears into toothy grins and lit-up eyes. Absolutely perfect. And absolutely beautiful.
Mike really likes having a soulmate.
However, the reality of soulmates is terrifying. It's not perfect, nothing is perfect, so really it can't be blamed. But people have a habit of blaming things on anything but themselves. And it's a sad day when the love of your life doesn't have the same mark as you. It's terrifying when it's not safe to parade your mark to the world. Mike, unfortunately, learned that from experience.
But the most terrifying part in Mike's opinion is the fact that you're the first person to know of your soulmate's death. The second person to feel any of their emotions (including happiness, joy, but also fear and terror). And on a terrible, terrible day, after, one: you've felt their death, two: all their emotions fade away, lastly, third: your mark disappears. As if it never marked your skin at all. As if your soulmate never really existed.
Mike's never had to experience that. He only knows from what his mother has told him, from when she lost her soulmate, from before she met dad. And now her mark is gone forever. You only get one chance with your soulmate, one lifetime. Savor each moment with your soulmate, protect them, help them. That's what his mom told him. And he would be damned if he lost his soulmate at twelve years old.
Mike supposes all of that added together is why he's begrudgingly sitting in Hopper's office while the clock on the wall is nearing midnight.
It's all that and the fact that the police were wrong. Mike doesn't care about a body in a quarry. His mark, a swingset, still sits on his left ankle as an important reminder. He checked. And then checked again just to make sure his brain wasn't playing a stupid trick on him. Imagine. If that body really is Will and Mike's mind is delusional that it's forcing him to see a mark that isn't there. Just the idea of that makes Mike dizzy. He thinks he'd rather die than for that to be true. But he still feels Will's terror and pain. It hurts to feel his soulmate so scared but it's grounding. Will is somewhere. That body is not his.
So they're wrong. And that's why Mike ends up impulsively running out to the water. He doesn't care if he gets soaked and suddenly he's freezing because November is chilly, especially at night, and the quarry water doesn't help either. But Mike keeps going, splashing as he runs after the police. He has to tell them their mistake. He has to.
"That's not Will! It's fake! It's fake!" The words were heavy in his throat, like a thick custard that made it hard to do anything at all besides tear up. The body is so lifelike up close, and for a second Mike really does think he imagined his mark. But Will's terror is still there, tugging at his mind uncomfortably.
The police grabbed Mike gently by the shoulders, attempting to use soothing words to help him calm down. He didn't stop yelling and hollering until his words turned to choked whispers and sobs and Mike's throat started to burn.
Not a lot of things make sense to a twelve-year-old, but soulmates do, so Mike doesn't understand why the policemen whisper something about him being insane. He's not. He just wants his Will back. Safe. With him, in Mike's basement playing D&D. He's never going to let Will out of his sight after this.
So, yeah, that'd be why he's in Hopper's office, arms crossed and staring at the police chief as he stares back. He's mad, clearly disappointed, but Mike can't even begin to care. Will is alive. That's much more important than some curfew rule.
"Look, kid. You went directly against what I told you. I ought to call your parents, but first, we need to have a little chat about obeying the rules." There's an edge of tiredness in Hopper's voice, and Mike understands. He's certainly tired as well, but that's no reason to stop searching for Will.
"Will's alive." It's as simple a fact as the sky is blue. He can feel it in his gut. And still, the likelihood of Hopper believing Mike is laughable. Because he really hadn't been of much help in finding Will thus far. And Mike knows that's not fair to say and that his mom would scold him for it, but he can't help but be a little mad. It feels a little like Hopper doesn't really care, but maybe that's just how police act. But care is how you find people. And Hopper doesn't care enough to believe him.
The idea of the police chief's response makes him uneasy. His stomach twists in anticipation and he really hopes Hopper isn't actually thinking about calling his parents. He'd never be let out of the house again, and then how would he find Will?
Mike also realizes that Hopper might ask him to explain and the idea of that is terrifying and suddenly the window is a hundred times more interesting than anything the chief may have to say in response.
The window reminds Mike that it's a big bright world and a big universe and Will is somewhere. He misses his best friend like a bird would miss flight. It's hard to understand loss at such a young age, but Mike thinks that you never really know how much you need something until it's gone. Like the bird that doesn't realize how important the gift of flight is until suddenly they're stuck on the ground forever and can't lift off. So fundamental that you don't think about how much you need it.
But with Will, well, it's never been like that Will. He knows how important his best friend is and how much Mike needs him
Maybe that's what makes this worse. Maybe it's worse because they're soulmates, but Mike doesn't want something so pure to be associated with something so bad.
"Kid, I'm sorry, but you saw the body. I know he was your friend, and I'm real sorry, but I just can't do anything."
Friend. Except that he and Will are so much more than friends. How does Mike explain the significance of more in a moment like this? Friends and more is the difference between Will being found.
Hopper really doesn't know anything.
Mike scoffs. "Bullshit. I'd know if he died. I'd know."
Hopper looks tired of explaining, and by the look of his raised eyebrow, he doesn't believe a word of what Mike has said. And maybe Mike gets a little bit because why would he believe anything? Very few people know about Mike and Will's secret. The two of them had agreed young—too young to know why—that they wouldn't tell anyone.
It was kindergarten year when they decided only a few people needed to know. No one else. They never broke the rule, not when the party formed or when Lonnie left, or anything like that. A sense of danger protected them. They needed to keep their connection tucked away from anyone. Mike didn't necessarily like having to keep such a secret while everyone else got to parade their soulmates around, but he knew why.
Only three other people in the whole world knew. Nancy, Jonathan, and Mrs. Byers. And Mike hates breaking promises, especially this one, but if it'll save Will, then Mike thinks that speaking up is the better option. He can take whatever Hopper might want to say about him, but he can't take any more days without Will. It will break him.
It's hard for Mike to gather the courage to ask his next question. The idea of breaking the promise is just so overwhelming that it sends his mind into a panic. But he can be brave and do it. For Will, he can do anything.
"Did you ask about a soulmate?" Mike says as he stares at the window, too scared to make eye contact until he's done talking. "Because you can't close the case until the soulmate confirms death." Dustin mentioned it once, throwing around the idea of a possible soulmate helping them find Will. Mike quickly shot that idea down. Not safe.
"Does Will have a soulmate?" The chief's words are hesitant, almost confused as he scans Will's file. It sits on the corner of his desk with an obvious 'no' written on the soulmate line. Mrs. Byers knew better than that.
"Yes," Mike says simply, although the confirmation makes his gut twist. His mind is telling him it's not safe, but there's nothing he can do now.
Hopper exhales, hastily reaching for his phone, dialing a number that Mike's sure he has memorized by heart. The phone rings, once then twice before Mrs. Byers picks up.
"Joyce, we have reason to believe Will is alive."
There's a cry of relief from the other end and it sounds like how Mike feels every time he looks at his mark. He scratches his ankle with his other foot, reminding himself that it's still there. That Will's still there.
"Were you aware your son has a soulmate?"
Mike can make out the words "yes" and "sorry" from the other end. Hopper asks her to describe the mark, the location, the icon, the color.
Hopper gestures a hand in Mike's direction, telling him to reveal his mark. Mike rolls down his sock, taking the time to look at the swingset and thank the universe for making him and Will soulmates.
Hopper tells Mrs. Byers that Mike is with him, and that's when it dawns upon her the purpose of the call. He hears a soft sigh from the other end of the phone.
"Oh, I didn't even think to ask or see how he's doing," and then a little louder, "Mike, honey, I'm sorry. I can only imagine how you've been feeling."
It's a little awkward showing Hopper the mark, although at this point it's more of a formality than actual proof. Still, Mike feels bad, like he's telling the world a dirty little secret that he shouldn't share. Mike's breaking the longest promise he's ever kept. He hopes Will won't be too mad. He'll make it up to him. And plus, a few angry days is infinitely better than no Will at all.
It's just Hopper. It's better than Troy or his parents. It's fine. He won't tell anyone. Hopefully. His parents are just one phone call away. He looks at Hopper writing something down, and Mike's twitchy. It would be so easy to change their files. A couple of words a difference and Mike and Will would probably have to leave Hawkins for good.
Mike's voice shakes as he asks, "You won't, like, change our files right?"
A shake of Hopper's head is all Mike needs to feel better. He closes Will's file as further confirmation that he won't touch anything.
"I know better, Mike. But I'll be checking up on you regularly until we find him." Mike nods.
And then there's a sigh of relief when Hopper informs him that they still have a chance. That his proof is more than enough to keep this investigation going for however long it takes. They still have a chance. And Mike will be damned if they don't get Will back. Because soulmates are terrifying but they're also beautiful and Mike thinks what he and Will have is beautiful.
So they'll find him. Mike knows.