Chapter Text
July 18th, 1995
Mike was 24 years old now, and he had a job as a screenwriter for short films, commercials, and sometimes short novels. This was his dream life: to experience creative writing and be able to spread his stories around the world.
But why wasn’t he happy?
———————
Mike wraps his robe around him and slides his slippers on. He was going to check his mailbox. He would always let it pile up for about a week. He was either too busy or too tired to check it, so he didn’t.
He never goes outside. Not ever. He writes all day and all night for small movies, short novels, and commercials. He speaks to no one. Well, he does keep in touch with Holly. But not Nancy. Not his mother. Sometimes Lucas. Dustin? Maybe once every blue moon.
Never Will. Not ever Will.
Sometimes, he wonders, where did it all go wrong? He saved the world with these people, and now, they just… don’t speak.
He hasn’t spoken to Nancy since 1990. He got drunk one night during sophomore year and told her too much. So he ignored her after that. She called, of course. But he didn’t answer. Not after the things he told her. He couldn’t answer.
———————
October 31st, 1990
The rain hits the ground like bullets as Mike is being helped to his dorm by his roommates.
He’s sloppy drunk, and he is a mess. He keeps saying something about ‘saying something sooner.’ The boys kept reassuring him that he’d be okay and that they were getting him home. They didn't know what he meant about saying something sooner. They were just his roommates who thought he needed to get out and have some fun.
Mike didn’t usually get drunk, but tonight was different.
It was Halloween, yes, but the occasion wasn’t it. No. Not at all. It wasn’t because he wanted to impress his roommates either. He didn’t care to. They had only been in a dorm together because housing prices had gone up, and Mike had no choice but to move into a 3x3.
Mike was getting drunk because he missed Will. It had been exactly one year since the night they had gotten into a heated argument.
Neither one of them apologized. That was weird - for Mike and Will. Mike always apologized to Will. He always did.
The last time he and Will spoke was Halloween last year. They got into an argument because, apparently, Will lied about the painting. About his late girlfriend, El, about the things that ‘she said about him?’ They weren’t true. El didn’t commission that fucking painting. She didn’t say those things. She didn’t say he was ‘the heart.’ Why would he lie to him? Will never lied to him.
When Mike was in his dorm, he stumbled to the couch.
“Okay, dude, we’re heading back out.” His roommate, Tyler, says.
“Yeah, man. You’re pretty messed up. Drink water… get some sleep.” Chase, his other roommate, says while patting him on the back.
They leave, and now it’s just Mike in the dorm. But he can’t drink water or get some sleep. His mind is racing. He needs to talk to someone. He needs to talk to Will. He can’t. He can’t call Will.
Will hadn’t called him. Not in a whole year. Who was he to call out of the blue, asking for his comfort?
Mike stumbles over to the phone. He almost falls and catches himself with the counter.
He pulls it off the hook and starts dialing.
RINNGGG
RINNNGG
RINNNGG.
*No answer*
‘Fuck.’ Mike thought to himself. Maybe he did just need to get some sleep.
He placed the phone back onto the receiver and began to walk away.
He had made it only a few feet away when the sound of the phone made his drunken ears sting.
RINNGGG
RINNNGG
RINNNGG.
It was ringing.
Mike runs back to the phone and snatches it up immediately.
*Answer*
“Hello?” He pants. “Nance? Is that you?”
She called back. Nancy called back.
“Mike, yeah.” She says. “Are you okay? You sound like you just ran a marathon.” There’s music in the background, and she must be in another room because it isn’t drowning out her voice on the other line.
He did sound like he’d just run a marathon. He picked up that phone faster than he’d picked up his fallen pencils in creative writing.
“No. Yeah, no, I’m okay.” He lies.
“So… what did you need at 12 a.m.?” She asks.
Mike’s heart sinks. He just wanted someone to talk to. He just…
“I miss him so much, Nance,” Mike says, voice now just above a whisper.
There’s a beat of silence. Nancy doesn’t say anything for a minute. Then she does.
“You miss who, Mike?”
His eyes begin to sting. When did he start crying?
“Will. Fuck.”
“You guys still haven’t apologized? Get a fucking grip, Michael.”
Mike lets out a broken sob, and he can hear Nancy gasp on the other line.
“I know. I know. It’s just… he lied to me, and he never lies to me. Will never lies to me, Nance.” He presses his lips together, then releases them, letting out a shaky exhale. A breath he didn’t even know he was holding.
“So…” Nancy says, trailing off. She sounded like she didn’t know what to say. Good. He just needed to talk to someone. To tell someone. He had to tell someone.
“Nancy?” Mike says.
“Yes, Mike?”
“Did you know that…that in French literature, I learned that we don’t say ‘I miss you.’ We say ‘Tu me manques.’ It’s a lot closer to ‘You are missing from me.’”
“What?” She laughs. “Mike, what are you talking about?”
“I like that. I like that a lot. ‘You are missing from me.’ It’s like, Nancy, it’s like he is missing from me. Like a limb or… or an organ, or blood. It’s like he’s a part of me.” Mike whispers.
He’s leaning over the counter now, tracing circles into it with his finger.
“You mean… Will?” She asks.
Mike doesn’t say yes to that. Nancy isn’t dumb. That was hypothetical; it had to be.
“I don’t know, Nance. I mean, I want to be his friend. I do. But then again, I don’t. You know?” Mike says.
“But you and Will are best friends, Mike. Why are you guys letting one little argument over, what, a painting? A lie, split you up?”
Mike’s neck begins to burn.
“Nance, it’s not… it… just listen!” He snaps.
“God, okay. I’m sorry. Keep talking.”
Mike sighs. “How can you be friends with someone when every time you look at them or think about them, you’re thinking about how much more you really want?” He slurs over his words.
“Mike… are you okay? Are you drunk?”
He doesn’t answer that either.
“I tried to date girls, Nance. I tried to fall in love with other people. God, I even tried to fall in love with El, and I couldn’t even do that!” He blurts. “People ask me if I’ve ever been in love… and I think of Will. I think of Will. I think of him every single time someone asks me that. And I say, ‘A long time ago.’”
Nancy just lets him speak.
“I miss him so much it feels gross. I feel gross. It feels nauseating, Nance. I get physically ill when he crosses my mind… I- I want to rip my heart out and shake it like a magic 8 ball and say, ‘Is this okay? Does he miss me, too? Or am I just weak?’ And he hasn’t tried calling, so I’ve concluded he might not miss me. Maybe he wanted to get away from me.”
Nancy exhales. The music is still in the distance.
“Listen, Mike. Of course, Will misses you. You’re not gross. It’s normal to miss your best friend. You guys can work it out. You always do. Jonathan says-”
“I don’t care what Jonathan says!” Mike interrupts. “Please, Nance. Just let me talk, please?”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Okay.” Mike breathes. “I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve said something the day he told me- us… that he didn’t like girls.” Mike's voice breaks. “Nance, why didn’t I say anything? What if I never forget him? What if, all my life, when I meet someone new, I can never fall for them… because they aren’t him. I'm so sick, Nance. I’m so fucking sick of him.”
“Mike…”
He was sobbing now. His shirt was drenched with tears. Lips quivering.
“It feels like drowning, but you won’t just fucking die, Nance. I tried everything. I did. I- I smoked, drank, drove 100 on the freeway. Anything to make my heart feel the way it did when it beat next to his.” He’s stuttering now and can barely get his words out.
“Do you love him?” She asks bluntly. It sounded like there was no emotion in her question. Like she knew his answer.
Mike’s eyes went wide. He paused. If he was saying too much, he was too far gone and way too drunk to fix that.
“So fucking much. I’d walk through every painful part of my life again if I knew he was waiting at the end of it. I love him so much, Nance. I would die for him. I just… I want him so bad. I love Will so, so fucking much.”
“It’s okay, Mike.”
“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t feel this way. Not about him. Not about any other guy.”
That’s the last thing they say before he just hangs up.
After that night, Nancy called daily. His roommates would answer, and he’d tell them to tell her he was busy. After a while, she just stopped calling.
Then, in 1993, there was their father’s funeral. Heart attack. He got mail for it, but he didn’t go. He couldn’t face Nancy. He wouldn’t. It was selfish, yes, but he was so sick with himself from that night. He wasn’t going. He’d just visit his grave. He didn’t do that either.
———————
July 18th, 1995
Mike sits on his couch flipping through mail.
Bill.
Bill.
Parking ticket.
Jury duty.
Bill.
Letter from Lucas.
Bill-
“A letter from Lucas?” He whispers to himself.
Mike drops the rest of the mail on the floor and tears the envelope open. This was sent almost a week ago! This could’ve been important! He began to read, and his mouth dropped.
Max and Lucas were getting married? Hell, of course, they were getting married. They were all adults now, and every time they spoke, Lucas would speak about how much he wanted to marry her.
Of course, they were still happy.
Mike looked at the date. July 25th. That was in seven days. He had enough time to postpone any writing he had; he had enough time to get a gift. He had enough time to find a nice outfit. He had enough time to be ready.
Mike noticed that there was a second piece of paper inside the envelope that had fallen out when he pulled the invitation out. He read it, chewing his bottom lip.
Boy, oh boy. Did Mike’s heart drop…
He stopped breathing for a second, the paper trembling in time with his hands.
Mike hadn’t thought about the fact that the group would be there. That Will would be there. That he’d be “one of” Lucas’ groomsmen… that meant the other two would be Dustin and Will.
Shit.
He had to write him back. He had to call him.
Would he go? What would he say? Six days didn’t feel like enough time to prepare now. It didn’t feel like enough time at all. Mike began to feel sick. He set the paper on his coffee table and gripped the couch armrest until his knuckles went white.
He couldn’t miss Lucas’s wedding. That would be terrible. In what world would that be okay? It wouldn’t. Should he write? Should he call? Calling would make more sense. He couldn’t write. What if it didn’t get to him in time?
Mike stood up too fast and immediately got dizzy.
‘Calm down.’ He told himself.
Mike rubbed his palms into his eyes.
He should feel good, right? He was going to see Will, and Lucas, and Dustin… he should be happy… he was happy. But he was scared, too. Maybe just a little? Seeing Will after not speaking all these years. After not speaking for five years. What would he say? Would he hug him? What would he do?
“Okay, okay. I’ll call him tomorrow.” Mike whispered to himself.
———————
July 19th 1995
Mike waited until around 1 p.m. to call Lucas. He had to make sure that he’d be able to come. He sent an email to all of the companies and people he was writing for and let them know he’d be on vacation in New York. He’d booked his flight and everything. He was ready.
He wouldn’t shop for a suit in Massachusetts. He would go shopping when he landed. He only packed casual clothes and night clothes.
Mike placed the final article of clothing inside and zipped up his suitcase.
He walked over to the phone and dialed Lucas’s number.
RINNGG
RINNGG
RINNGG
*Answer*
“Hello?” Max says.
Mike takes a deep breath before he replies.
“Hey, Max. Congratulations!” He says.
The next thing Mike hears is screams and squeals and a series of voices.
“Wheeler?! Oh my God, man, no way that’s you! How have you been, man? Shit! Babe, Dustin, get over here! It’s Mike!”
Mike’s eyes go wide. Fuck. He didn’t plan anything else to say. The phone was in Lucas’s ear now.
“Mike, man!” Lucas says. “Is this about the wedding? Are you coming? Will you be one of my groomsmen?”
“Hey Mike!” Dustin yells from the background.
“Hey, guys! Yeah uh… I will, Lucas. Would we be at your place until the wedding or…”
“God, no, man! Get a pencil and a sheet of paper and write this address down.”
7002 Hurtwood Ave
NYC, NY
“Okay. Okay, cool. I’ll be there.”
“That’s great, man. Thanks for coming, seriously. Will gets here tomorrow. When will you be here?” Lucas asks.
“Oh.” Mike freezes for a moment. Of course, he’d be arriving the same day as Will. His fucking luck. “I was heading out today, actually. I was gonna crash at a hotel tonight and get on my flight in the morning. So I should be getting there tomorrow, too.”
“Great! Can’t wait to see you, man!” Lucas says.
Dustin and Max scream ‘Bye, Mike! See you tomorrow!’ in the background.
Mike sets the phone back on the receiver and lets out a large sigh.
‘It’s just six days in the same house as Will. Maybe more… Hopefully more.’
Mike left home and booked a hotel room for the night. He didn’t get any sleep, though. All he could think about was all the faces he would see that he hadn’t seen. The faces he avoided.
Nancy.
Karen.
Will.
Fucking everyone.
———————
July 20th, 1995
Before Mike boarded his flight, he stopped to get a wedding gift. He wasn’t sure what to get a couple… no one really is.
He got them a few candles.
Mike boarded his flight with sweaty hands. He was barely on the plane and was still scared shitless.
When he made it to his seat, he stuffed his suitcase into the compartment. He sat down and fell asleep.
———————
When Mike woke up, the plane was landing. He looked out of the window.
New York City.
He was here, he really was.
He stepped off the plane and left the airport. He waved down a taxi and handed the driver the small slip of paper with the address on it.
“7002 Hurtwood Avenue, please, sir,” Mike says.
“That’ll be $15, son.” The driver says, holding his hand out.
Mike chews his lower lip and reaches for his wallet, which was stuffed in his suitcase in the pocket with all of his hygiene essentials, so they sat there for 5 minutes of Mike trying to pull his wallet out.
He finally gave the driver the money, and the taxi began to move.
Mike's eyes fluttered shut.
———————
15 minutes later, he was there.
“7002 Hurtwood Ave. This the place, son?” The driver asks.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m sure it is.”
Mike steps out of the taxi and takes his suitcase with him, rolling it on the concrete.
It was a nice townhouse. Super nice.
It had to be at least $200 a night just from looking at the outside, Mike thought. Then again, Lucas and Max did both have decent-paying jobs. This vacation rental was way nicer than Mike's own townhome back in Boston.
He walked up the steps and did three soft knocks on the door.
He waited for a few seconds. He could hear footsteps and voices shuffling around inside.
‘Maybe they didn’t hear the quiet ass knocks you did, dipshit.’
“I’ll get it!” A familiar voice called. A painfully familiar voice. Not like Will’s. No. Not like his.
When the door opened, it was Nancy.
They both just stared at each other. It was like looking in a mirror, Mike thought. His older sister, the one he hadn’t spoken to in years. The one he ghosted because he couldn't live with himself. The one he used to be so close with.
Before Mike could get a word out, Nancy wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him so tight that he thought that he would pass out. He didn’t pull back. He melted into the hug.
“I’m sorry, Mike,” Nancy whispers. “I'm so sorry. I should’ve been there, and I wasn’t. I-”
Mike pushes her back. Holding on to both sides of her shoulders.
“Nance. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I went all MIA on you…”
She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
“Come in.” She says, stepping to the side.
Mike walks in and shuts the door behind him.
Holy shit.
This vacation rental is nicer than any of the 5-star hotels Mike had ever seen back home.
It smelled of spaghetti and garlic bread. Someone was cooking.
“Hey, everyone, Mike’s here!” Nancy yells.
Suddenly, Mike hears footsteps rushing to the front door where he’s standing. There are so many arms wrapped around him, and he can’t tell who is who. There are so many ‘I missed you’ and ‘How’s life?’ floating around him.
Steve peeks out of the kitchen, spatula in hand, and pink apron loose around his body.
“Wheeler!” He screams. “Good to see you, man.”
Mike is just about to say something when a woman walks past and kisses Steve.
“Oh my God, are you Mike?” She says, turning to him. “I’ve heard so much about you!” She walks over to the crowd surrounding Mike.
“This is Eve,” Steve says, walking over to Mike while drying his hands off with a paper towel. “My wife.” He smiles, giving her a shaky side hug.
“Wife?” Mike’s mouth drops.
“Eve. Evelyn. Whatever you wanna call me.” She holds out her hand for Mike to shake. He doesn’t want to, because his palms are sweaty, but he does anyway.
“Crazy, right?” Lucas says. “You missed the wedding, not sure you ever got the invitation. How are you, man?”
Mike cannot even process this right now. Steve was married, and everyone was just so… calm?
He shook his head.
“Hey, guys,” Mike says. “I’m so glad to see all of you, seriously.” It’s true. But his eyes are darting around. They’re searching for someone else.
Dustin squeezes Mike’s shoulder. “So, due to everyone, for some reason, wanting to stay at the rental, we’ve had to make a few accommodations.” He says.
“Accommodations?” Mike asks.
Max walks into the room. “Nothing huge. You’ve just gotta share a room with Byers. No biggie.”
No biggie? It was already enough that he had to see his face for a week and try not to combust. It was a whole other thing that he had to sleep next to it.
“It’s only one bed… but it’s a pretty fucking huge bed,” Dustin says. “I think you guys can make it work!”
A chill goes up Mike’s spine. “I… uh- that’s… It’s fine. Okay. ‘No biggie.’” Mike mocks Max.
She rolls her eyes and heads upstairs. Robin and Nancy follow. Before Nancy goes up, she shoots Mike a reassuring smile. A ‘Hey, don’t worry. I’m here.’ smile.
Steve and Eve (which Mike thought sounded stupid, and he decided he'd just call her Evelyn in his head) headed back to the kitchen to finish making dinner.
Only Dustin, Lucas, and Mike were left in the room.
“Let’s go put that stuff up,” Lucas says.
———————
When they make it into the room, Mike thinks this house is full of surprises. There was no way this room wasn’t the master bedroom. The bed was huge, and it looked like it was made for a king.
“Wow, this is…” Mike trails off.
“Fucking amazing for $150 a night. Right?” Dustin says.
Lucas and Dustin both pull Mike in for a hug.
“I'm so glad you came, Mike,” Lucas says.
Mike smiles a little.
When Lucas and Dustin pull back, they make this confused, or maybe sad face at Mike.
“Why weren’t you at your dad’s funeral, Mike?” Dustin asks, shoving his hands into his hoodie. “Then you like, completely ghosted Nancy.”
Mike’s blood runs cold.
“Yeah. And… you and Will used to be inseparable. He never talks about you, and you never talk about him. Then when I ask either of you about the other person, you get all defensive about how you’re not being defensive.” Lucas says.
Mike throws himself on the mattress. “Guys, I… I can't even begin to explain how sorry I am for going ghost on all of you guys. I didn’t mean to. I was just in a pretty dark place at the time and…” He stops.
“Mike,” Lucas says. “That's not what we asked you.”
Mike wouldn’t answer that. Of course not. So he was super relieved that someone was at the door.
“I’ll get it!” Mike squeals.
He runs downstairs to the front door and slings it open.
He is no longer relieved.
Will is at the door, and Jonathan is behind him with a camera strapped around his neck.
“Hey Mike,” Jonathan says, gently moving past Will, who had stepped to the side for him. Eyes locked on Mike’s.
“Hey… Jonathan.” Mike says, eyes still on Will’s.
They just stare at each other. For a really, really long time. Mike doesn’t even notice everyone starting to come down for dinner. All the sounds are drowned out. All Mike can see or think right now is Will. That beautiful face he hadn’t seen in years.
Will’s hair was different, and he had a clear, shaved face. Will was that type of person. He never cared for social appearances or facial hair. Still, even without facial hair, he looked… older. He was still shorter than Mike, but his build was finer than the last time Mike had seen him.
He looked great.
Mike thought about what he looked like. He wore glasses now, and he suddenly became aware of his own stubble and his haircut that is shorter than it was during college. He’d gotten tired of taking care of it.
Will, obviously, had not gotten tired of taking care of himself.
Did Will think he looked older? Did he think he looked great? Did he think that Mike looked mature? Did he miss him?
“Hey…” Mike says, scratching the back of his neck.
“Michael,” Will says, rocking back on his heels.