Chapter Text
Mike Wheeler has never been an easy person to impress.
When he was nine, his mother surprised the entire family with tickets to see a revival of West Side Story on Broadway. Nancy was out of her mind with excitement, jumping up and down and screaming “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” over and over again. She was more excited about going to New York City than seeing West Side Story, but Mike is sure their mother appreciated the reaction anyway. Holly wasn’t even a year old, so she just cried for food. Mike doesn’t remember much of the show now, but he thinks she would have liked it had she been old enough to understand it. Mike’s father didn’t care much for New York City or Broadway, but it was his money that paid for the entire trip.
Mike couldn’t think of anything more boring.
To Mike, the three-day weekend in New York City felt like a lifetime. Nancy wanted to go into every store and see the city from the top of every building. Mike was run ragged with all the walking and bag carrying he was doing. When Saturday night finally arrived, the prospect of sitting for three whole hours, even though he wasn’t interested in the musical, felt like a godsend.
Objectively, Mike knew the musical was good, because it got a standing ovation at the end. He knew the actors must have been the best of the best, because they wouldn’t be on Broadway otherwise. But as Tony and Maria stared longingly into each other’s eyes on the fire escape, convincing themselves that it all began tonight, Mike didn’t understand why he should care.
Mike could say that DnD impressed him in the early days, back when he and Will were only beginning to learn the complexities of the game, long before they were the ones teaching Lucas, and later Dustin, to play. It wasn’t long, though, before Mike found his passion in writing the campaigns. Being the dungeon master meant impressing others with his adventurous and twisting tales but never getting to experience the thrill of a plot twist himself. He loved the feeling he got when his friends were actually shocked by something he came up with, the validation that what he wrote was good.
Not many things shock Mike these days. Fighting interdimensional monsters with gaping mouths for faces, running from the government more than an actual felon does, hunting a disgustingly viny creature who was once a man, and knowing a girl who can look inside people’s minds and throw things without touching them can do that to a person. Maybe the initial novelty of those things made them shocking the first few times, but now they feel like a fact of life.
So it takes a lot to impress Mike.
Will Byers suddenly channeling Vecna’s powers and stopping a Demo in midair, just as it was about to kill Mike, was… really, really incredible. And to learn that Will killed two other Demos from a distance at the same time? For the first time in years, Mike was impressed.
Well, that’s not exactly true. Mike is constantly in awe of his best friend. And he’s not afraid to tell him so.
As the group agrees to get some much needed rest before putting the two proposed plans in action, there is a significant shift in the atmosphere of the room. Everyone still feels terrible about losing all of the kids, but the possibility that the new plans could work instills in them a shred of hope. Things are looking up more than they were when the military intervened with their great escape. Maybe the military will leave El alone now that they’ve seen who the real problem is. At the very least, they will need time to recover after losing so many men.
Mike and Will are the last people to leave. But before Will gets more than a few steps from the couch, Mike grabs his arm. “Hey, wait!” Will looks at Mike expectantly. “I just realized I was so amazed by the powers and everything that I totally forgot to thank you for saving my life.”
Will flushes, trying and failing to hide a smile. “Mike, you don’t have to–”
“Oh, I definitely do!” Mike cuts him off. “I mean, I’d be Demo dinner if not for you.” He grins at how flustered Will gets. It’s far too easy to embarrass him with a single kind word, but Mike’s not complaining. “And I always knew you could do it. I predicted it, didn’t I? You’re an actual, honest to God sorcerer, Will! That’s insane!”
Will’s hair is still damp from the burst pipe, and his white sleeves are made darker by dirt. The skin under his nose is stained pink from where he couldn’t quite wipe away all of the dried blood. He looks straight out of an action movie. Why can’t Will see how badass he is?
“How did you know I could do something like that?” Will asks. “I didn’t even know myself.”
Mike’s voice goes soft as he says, “You never give yourself enough credit. Anyone looking closely enough at you could have seen that coming.” He pauses, eyes going wide at what he just said. “Not that I’m, uh, looking closely… at you. Um. I don’t even know what that means.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. Somehow, he made it much worse by trying to explain himself. Will probably didn’t think anything of it in the first place. It is at this point that Mike realizes he’s been holding onto Will’s arm throughout their entire conversation. He tries to retract his hand without being obvious about it, but his hand has other ideas and jerks back in a very conspicuous manner. “Uh…”
Will smiles bemusedly. “I knew what you meant, Mike.” He is always kind enough to let Mike get away with being a mess without questioning him, and Mike is really grateful for that.
The conversation drifts off, and reality settles back into Mike’s mind. His little sister is missing somewhere not even El can find her, and his older sister is trapped in the Upside Down with half of his friends. Everyone is counting on the group on the rightside up, and all they have to offer is two plans, one of which involves throwing Will into Vecna’s mind without knowing where he’ll land.
The plan is stupid, and Mike has had enough stupid plans of his own to know how low the odds are that it will work, and how high the odds are that someone will get hurt. And that someone will most likely be Will.
“Hey, uh,” Mike breaks the silence, “so, Lucas’s plan is a little silly, right? Like, activating those particles in Billy is not the same as bringing a Demo back to life. How do we know it would even work?” Mike pauses, looking Will in the eyes. “What I’m trying to say is… you don’t have to do it. You shouldn’t do it, honestly. I’m sure we can think of something else. Something a little…”
Mike doesn’t finish his thought. “...Safer?” Will guesses. Mike nods apologetically. He knows Will is tired of hearing that. “Jesus. You sound just like my mom.”
Will chuckles, but he must see something concerning in Mike’s expression, because he quickly stops. He hesitates for a moment before grasping Mike’s shoulder firmly. “I’m going to do it, and I’m going to be okay. Okay?” Mike sighs, nodding again. It’s not a surprise to hear Will say that.
Will smiles encouragingly at Mike–like Mike’s the one who needs to be encouraged. Regardless, Mike can’t help but smile back.
Mike asking Will if he wanted to be his friend wasn’t only the best thing he has ever done; it was the easiest. It is inevitable that someone like Mike would work so well with someone like Will. Where Mike is loud and sometimes a little too rude, Will is quiet and endlessly considerate. Where Mike’s limited emotions rarely make themselves known to the outside world, Will can convey how he feels through his eyes alone.
What’s more, Will is one of the only people who can bring those emotions out of Mike. He couldn’t have said the word love to El if Will wasn’t right behind him, reminding Mike that he was the embodiment of that feeling. The Heart. It’s ironic: a heart that can’t figure out how to beat on its own.
At some point in 1985, Mike started malfunctioning. He should have known it had something to do with Will. Will was pulling away, and Mike couldn’t figure out why–to this day, Mike still struggles to understand why, except that it was definitely his fault. He’s tried to look back on everything that happened, on everything he did wrong that year, but he can’t pinpoint the exact moment his friendship with Will changed.
Then the Byers moved to California, and Mike didn’t know what to do with himself. He lost his best friend and his girlfriend in one fell swoop. And when he finally got to see them again–
Mike doesn’t like to think about all the weird, confusing things that happened.
The past 18 months weren’t easy, what with all the Upside-Down-invading-Earth stuff, but they gave Mike and Will the opportunity to mend their relationship. Living in the same house was just what they needed to go from Mike and Will back to MikeandWill. MikeandWill eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. MikeandWill biking to school together. MikeandWill sharing clothes because retail is currently nonexistent in Hawkins. MikeandWill being together literally all of the time.
Their relationship is finally back to normal. And for Mike to have Will back, to have Will trust him again–it means everything.
3 MONTHS AGO
When Holly sees Mike and Will heading down to the basement with popcorn and sodas and asks if she can join them, Mike can’t find it in himself to say no. When she shakes her head as he pulls Ghostbusters from the stack of VHS tapes and points expectantly at The Breakfast Club, he’s a little less willing to comply.
“What–The Breakfast Club, seriously? No, Holly.”
Holly pouts. “Please, Mike! You always watch Ghostbusters!”
“Because Ghostbusters is the perfect movie!” Mike defends himself. “And anyway, if you’re gonna crash mine and Will’s movie night and think you get to decide the movie, at least pick a good movie!”
“The Breakfast Club is a good movie!” Holly gasps.
“The Breakfast Club is bullshit.”
“I’m gonna tell Mom you said that.”
Mike scoffs. “You won’t.”
Holly frowns, because Mike is right. “Whatever.” Mike rolls his eyes and takes the cover off the tape. Just as he’s about to put the tape in the player, Holly perks up, grinning evilly as she comes up with a new plan to get her way. “Will, can you please tell Mike to put The Breakfast Club on?”
Will startles. He glances at Mike, who shakes his head in desperation. If Will chooses to side with Holly, Mike definitely won’t be able to say no. It’s a cruel card for Holly to play. “Um, well, Mike wants to watch Ghostbusters? So–”
It’s a weak argument, Mike knows that. It’s way too easy for Holly to retaliate. “I’ll be in high school so soon, Will! But you and Mike never tell me what it’s like there! So I have to watch the Breakfast Club to learn!” Then, in a diabolical turn of events, tears form in the corners of Holly’s eyes as she whispers, “I’m scared to go to high school.”
For a moment, Mike himself is close to breaking. Then he recognizes the ridiculousness of that statement. “No, wait a second. Holly, you’re not even in middle school yet.” He turns to Will, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Can’t you see what she’s doing? She’s using pathos. Don’t listen to her. Please don’t listen to her!”
“How can I use pathos if I don’t even know what that means?”
Will stares at Mike. His face goes a little red. What’s wrong with him? Mike is about to ask if he’s okay, when Will’s lips turn up into a small smile. “She kind of has a point, though,” he concedes. “And besides,” he looks to Holly as he says this, “I’ve seen Ghostbusters hundreds of times, but I’ve never seen The Breakfast Club. It could be nice for a change.”
Holly cheers in victory as Mike groans in defeat. “I hate you guys,” he mutters. Nevertheless, he puts the cover back on Ghostbusters and mentally prepares himself to watch The Breakfast Club.
Holly is asleep twenty minutes into the movie.
“I can’t believe her,” Mike grumbles. He should have known this would happen. “Now we’re stuck watching this stupid movie for no reason.”
“We can always change it back to Ghostbusters,” Will says, shaking his head as Bender says something insensitive.
Minutes pass, then they’ve been watching for almost an hour, and neither of them moves to change the movie. Holly continues to sleep, her body curled over the armrest of the couch.
The kids start smoking Bender’s pot in an unconventional moment of inter-clique unity. “High school is nothing like this,” Mike complains. “These characters are just two dimensional stereotypes, and they’re not even likeable.”
“You’re just mad no one’s offered you weed yet,” Will teases. Mike gasps in faux disbelief, smacking Will lightly on the shoulder. As they watch Andrew burst into the room, a haze of smoke following him, Will continues, “But some people in real life kind of are stereotypes. You know?”
“Are you saying an entire personality can be explained by a stereotype?”
“No,” Will hums. “I guess saying people are stereotypes isn’t accurate. Some people just… become stereotypes on purpose. As a form of self defense, maybe. If you’re a stereotype, you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. It’s already obvious who you are. But if you’re more complex than that… people might start to ask questions. Everyone has secrets.” Will pauses. Mike turns to look at him. For some reason, he looks nervous. “Some people have secrets that could destroy them if anyone found out. So maybe it’s safer to be a stereotype. Easier.”
“And maybe other people become them on accident,” Mike muses. “Maybe they’re not even aware of what they’re trying to hide.” Will looks at Mike incredulously, which doesn’t make sense to Mike. Wasn’t that a normal conclusion to come to?
“Yeah… I guess so,” Will replies. His expression turns from suspicion to something almost… hopeful. But hopeful of what? That people will continue to follow stereotypes forever? That’s not really something to be hopeful of.
The kids have finally calmed down, sitting together in a circle as they reach the reflective stage of their high. Mike hesitates before asking, “Wasn’t California different though? Like, aren’t people allowed to do whatever they want there?”
Will’s eyes widen slightly at the question. Mike never asks about California, he knows he doesn’t. It’s not that he doesn’t want to know about that portion of his best friend’s life–it was his first year of high school, after all. It is a significant gap to have in his knowledge of Will. Something about it, though, about the fact that there was a part of Will’s life that Mike wasn’t around for, makes Mike feel like it shouldn’t be asked about. Maybe he doesn’t want to know what Will is like without Mike there. That information isn't important anymore, anyway, because there will never be a Will without Mike ever again if Mike can help it.
“Maybe some parts are. But Lenora isn’t like Los Angeles or San Francisco, Mike.”
It’s not like Will wants to talk about it, either. He’s never told Mike anything about his time in Lenora. He’s never talked about what he did there or any friends he made. And Mike finds it impossible to believe that he didn’t make friends. There must have been tons of people who wanted to talk to him. A lot of girls probably wanted to go out with him. Why wouldn’t they?
For whatever reason, though, Will hasn’t thought it worthwhile to share any of that with Mike.
Usually, Mike doesn’t want to hear about California, and Will doesn’t want to talk about it. Usually, that works for both of them. So Mike doesn’t know what possesses him to say what he says next. Maybe it’s the late hour and the cover of darkness. Maybe it’s the background noise of the movie shifting to a more serious tone as Andrew reveals what he did to get detention.
Maybe, despite Mike’s belief that nothing good would come from talking about California, there’s one thing Mike is desperate to know about Will’s time across the country, and now is the first time he’s felt brave enough to ask.
“I called.”
Will’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”
There’s no backing out now. “I called a lot. You never answered,” Mike says, a little harsher than he means to. He tries to amend that with, “I’m not mad, I swear! It’s just… the line was always busy, and I know your mom was working, but the line was busy all the time. I mean, come on, was she really still working at midnight? I started getting it in my head that you… I don’t know, did something weird to the phone to make it seem like it was always busy?
“I know the summer before you left wasn’t great, but I didn’t think you wouldn’t want to talk to me. I thought about it a lot, actually. I tried to figure out what I did. Eventually, I kind of just convinced myself to forget it. But I guess if it was my fault, I should probably know. I’m ready to know if it was my fault. Because we’re good now, right? Whatever happened back then, I fixed it, right?”
“Mike…”
Mike is, in fact, not ready to know whether it was his fault or not. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if that is the case.
“Mom never worked at midnight. The latest she ever worked was 9:00 pm,” Will says. “Did you ever think about the time zone difference?”
As Will’s words sink in, Mike is hit by a wave of relief, followed by a wave of embarrassment. That makes way more sense. How did he never think about that? “I’m such an idiot,” he groans, covering his face with his hands. When he has the courage to look at Will again, his best friend is grinning. “It’s not funny!”
Will quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s not that!” His smile softens into something smaller, but still just as infectiously joyous. “The fact that you called. It just means a lot to me.”
Mike smiles back. “Of course I called.” Will thinking Mike never called hurts more than he can comprehend.
Hawkins really wasn’t the same without Will there. Mike remembers all the times someone would say something unbelievably stupid, and Mike would turn to see if Will was just as dumbfounded as he was. Of course, Will was never there.
Even in Hellfire Club, an environment so aesthetically different from Will that he isn’t sure Will would have enjoyed it–other than the fact they played DnD–Mike expected to see Will right beside him, just as enraptured by Eddie as he and Dustin were.
Mike is happy Will is back; he just wishes the circumstances were different.
“What are you going to do once all of this is over?” Mike asks. He doesn’t have to explain what this is. At some point, they all started referring to the Upside Down, the cracks in Hawkins, the quarantine, Vecna, everything, as this. That word doesn’t even begin to do justice to the enormity of what they’re facing. It gives the illusion that the potential end of the world really isn’t that bad. This softens the blow of the very real possibility that they’ll lose.
“I don’t know. How can I live without it after all this time?” Will says. Then, he lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Maybe I’ll become an alcoholic, just to cope.”
“My God, are we gonna be like our parents?”
Mike knows it’s a joke, but he can’t help but feel concerned at the idea. “Don’t say that. You won’t,” he asserts, shaking his head. When Will doesn’t give a real answer, Mike pushes a little. “Come on. If you could do anything you want, what would you do?”
“I’d…” Will starts, clearly struggling to think of the future when it’s so unclear. “I’d go to Chicago, or something. Maybe I’d stay there a few years. But…” he sighs, “I feel like no matter what I do, I’ll always get dragged back here. So I’ll come back, and I’ll… I don’t know. Maybe Mom could put in a good word for me at Melvald’s.”
“When you grow up, your heart dies.”
Mike is shaking his head again before Will finishes speaking. “No,” he says. “I’ll tell you what you’ll do. You’ll go to art school like you always wanted to. Not that you need it, you’re already amazing, but you’ll go. Then yeah, you’ll go to Chicago. It doesn’t matter where you end up, even if you stay in Hawkins all your life. You’ll get filthy rich from your art, so you could live anywhere you want.”
Will’s eyes shine with unshed tears as he asks, “And you? What will you do?”
Mike nudges Will’s foot with his own and keeps it there. “I’ll be finishing dinner just in time for it to still be hot when you get home from your art exhibition openings,” he jokes. For some reason, though, the words come out much more sincere than he means for them to.
“Uh, that sounds… pretty domestic of you,” Will stammers. The following awkward silence forces Mike to avert his eyes back to the TV. Why did he have to say all of that about making dinner? What did he even mean by it?
Suddenly, every point of contact between them becomes glaringly obvious. He can feel the side of Will’s socked foot against his. Their legs are touching all the way up to their knees, and even above that, there are only inches separating their thighs and arms. Mike doesn’t remember moving closer, but Will is pressed against the arm of the couch, and Holly seems to be a continent away on the other side of the couch.
He doesn’t even know why it matters to him. He and Will used to be like this all the time when they were younger. But some time between then and now, it started to mean something.
The movie goes on, but Mike doesn’t register a second of it.