Chapter Text
– December 10th, 1992. New York City.
It was once again a cold, winter day in Mike’s apartment room. Typically, the days would have been meshed together. He woke up, brewed a cup of coffee, and drank it on the way to class. But lately, a different ‘hobby’ has been occupying his time.
Crime.
Now hold your horses, he didn't do anything violent, per se. But to be quite frank, Michael needed money. He'd distanced himself from his friends and family after graduation, and thrown himself into a different form of suffering. University. Could Mike afford university? No, no he couldn't. In fact he was buried in mountains of debt. But anyone who knew Mike Wheeler knew that the last thing he would do is remain idle.
I know what you're thinking, and yes, he had a job. Two. But being a part time college student, part time cashier, and part time waiter didn't put much of a dent in his tuition, nor his water bill.
So on the side of his writing, Mike took up robbery. He invested in a ski mask, and thankfully he'd already had a gun for.. self defense reasons. It'd been only about two months since he'd taken up this new hobby of his, and he'd already made quite a bit of progress. He'd robbed a couple stores, and yes – he was riddled with guilt afterwards, but anything to keep him in school.
As was previously stated, Mike had only robbed a couple stores. Just stores. Which once again, wouldn't put much of a dent in his piles of debt.
But there was a house on a hill not so far from his dormitory. The guy who lived there was a total nepo baby, bought that fugly vintage mansion with his daddy’s money. He'd never considered robbing an actual house until he started paying more attention to that place. And that's when it clicked.
That rich guy could suffice without a couple thousand dollars. Mike needed it more.
So for the past week or so, Michael had been preparing.
He crept up onto the driveway of that godforsaken house and smashed one of the windows, climbing in. The lights were all off, there was no car in the driveway. Mr. Rich guy had left. No one was home.
Or so he thought.
“Shit-” Mike exclaimed, tripping over the shattered glass of the window which was now lodged into his ankle, startled by the ringing of the alarm. God, Michael, you didn't think the mansion on a hill would have an alarm?
“Hello??”
Came a vulnerable, but rather monotonous voice, from the staircase ahead of Mike.
Fuck.
Mike knew that voice.
Mike lifted his gaze to meet the perpetrator of said familiar voice. And there he was. Yup. Him. William Byers. His childhood best friend. The boy he distanced himself from the most. The boy who used to love him.
It'd been a few years since Mike had last seen him. He looked different. Older. More mature. Still fatally handsome, and to Michael’s dismay – he still had that gleam in his eyes that once upon a time – made Mike’s heart melt.
“Mike?! What the hell are you doing here??”
That snapped Mike back to reality.
“.... What am I doing here?? What are you doing here?! In some.. weird… mansion thing?!”
Will looked.. rather confused, a hint of vulnerability in both his voice and his expression. “Mike, I live here. This is my boyfriend's house.”
Boyfriend. Right.
Of course Will had moved on, Mike thought. He couldn't have expected Will to wait around for him forever, but he had to admit..
It still hurt. Knowing that Will – whom when they were kids, he'd secretly thought he'd marry someday - was going home to another man every night. Even worse, a rich man!
“Mike?? Why are you… breaking and entering? Did you not know I was here?”
“No, Will, I didn't! We haven't seen each other in years..!”
Will frowned. “Okay. You should probably go, my boyfriend is gonna be home soon.”
That felt like a punch in the gut. He couldn't necessarily blame Will for kicking him out, he had just broken in and all but.. It just enhanced the distance that had grown between them.
Mike noticed Will’s gaze shifting toward the wound on his ankle, he saw the way his expression softened, his eyebrows knitting together.
“.. We should get that cleaned up first. It'll get infected if not.” Will said, quietly.
“Are you sure-”
“I'm sure, Mike.. It's okay.”
Will led Mike over to the leather couch, before retreating into the bathroom, and then joining him again on the couch, this time with a small first aid kit in hand and began cleaning the wound.
“.. Is there a reason you're trying to rob my boyfriend, Mike?” He paused, feeling Mike wince under his hands. “Sorry if it stings.”
“Uh..” Mike hesitated. Even with how distant the two of them had gotten in recent years, Will still knew him.. Mike couldn't help but confide in him, right?
“Just.. struggling financially. Can barely afford rent.” He murmured, his gaze meeting Will’s.
“..You can't afford rent?”
“No. Not really. I'm sorta in debt. So I've been.. robbing stores and stuff. I didn't know this place was your boyfriend’s, really.”
He paused, his voice cracking a fraction.
“.. I'll get out of your hair, Will. I won't bother you after this. Swear.” The words ached in his throat.
A wave of silence washed over the pair, and Mike began to think about the past. How close they once were. He wondered if maybe Will was thinking about that too.
“I don't want you to get ‘out of my hair’, Mike. If you need a place to stay, the basement’s empty, but there's a mattress. You could.. crash there for a little while. Carlton probably won't mind.”
Huh? Carlton? What kind of name was Carlton? Mike pushed away the judgement from his brain, choosing to focus on the more important topic at hand.
“.. Will, are you sure?”
“Mhm. We're.. still friends, right, Mike? Just.. thought I should help.”
“You're not.. mad? That I broke in and stuff???” Mike exclaimed, dumbfounded at Will's everlasting kindness.
“I'm more confused than anything, Mike..”
Another wave of silence washed over them. They stared at each other. And then Will looked away, trying to avoid Mike’s gaze, probably trying to avoid talking too.
“Mike..” Will started. “If you needed help so badly, why didn't you just ask? I would've helped you sooner, and I bet Lucas or Dustin or even Max would've too..”
..
“Mike, seriously. Have you talked to any of them?” He said with a tilt of his head.
Mike gave a lopsided grin, nervously scratching the crook of his neck. “No.. Have you..?”
Will gave him a rather .. judgemental glance. The thought of Will being annoyed by him made his heart clench, but… A part of him felt like this was exactly what he needed.
“Not much. Everyone's kinda .. gone their separate ways and .. Everyone's kinda in school.” Will uttered.
Now, that got Mike’s attention. Everyone's kinda in school? Does that mean Will wasn't? Mike had always kinda imagined that Will would grow up to be a famous artist, or at least go to art school. Even from the first time they met all the way back in kindergarten, just one glance at Will's art and it was clear he was talented.
So why would he throw away his potential like that?
“What have you been up to? Are you.. not in school, Will?”
“No,” Will muttered, and Mike could've sworn he heard a bit of vulnerability in that voice of his.
“Why not? I always figured you'd go to school for art.”
“Just.. didn't work out.” Will said, looking down at his hands in his lap as he fidgeted with them.
Just didn't work out? Did that mean he didn't get in, or something? Clearly it wasn't a money thing considering the place they were in right now.. It wasn't like Will to just give up on his dream over one small failure, was it?
But then again.. Will must've changed a lot since the last time they'd seen each other.
“So like.. You didn't get in, or something? That's crazy-”
“Let's..” Will interjected. “Let's just talk about anything else. Please.”
Before Mike could even process the events of this conversation, the keyhole in the door turned. Fuck, was that Will’s boyfriend? What was his name again?..
“Oh, that's him..” Will murmured.
“Your boyfriend?” Just saying the word “boyfriend” in reference to Will made him shudder.
“Yeah. My boyfriend.” Will replied rather hesitantly, sharing a glance with Mike.
“Mike, I’ll convince him to let you stay, but you can’t stay here if you’re still gonna be.. robbing people. Just make sure you don’t have the police showing up at my house or something. I was doing perfectly fine before you showed here.”
That part stung. Mike figured that even after all of this time, he could tell when Will was lying – but.. He really couldn’t tell. Did Will actually mean that? Had he not thought of Mike at all?
“Will?”
Mike’s shifting gaze finds a standstill at the doorway. Where a man enters, calling out for Will. He wore work clothes and had black, curly-ish hair – and he held a briefcase.
Mike’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the man.
The man’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Mike.
“Will, who is this? And what happened to the window?”
The air suddenly felt extra thick. How would Will even explain the situation to him? “Hey, this is my childhood crush, he broke into our house and now he’s living with us” ?
Will’s gaze shifted between Mike and Carlton, before ultimately landing on Mike.
“Go downstairs. I’ll come check on you later.” Will mumbled.
Mike stood up, lingering for a moment like he might choose to stay, just to observe the tension between the couple. He doesn’t. He retreats downstairs.
The stairs creek below his feet. It was just like Will to buy some old house from the 1940’s or something instead of a modern place.
The sight he was met with surprised him a little. He’d imagined that the basement would be filled to the brim with Will’s portraits and paintings, and art supplies, or even just a pencil or something?
But.. nothing. It was totally empty besides a sofa and an old timey television. And clearly, Will didn’t spend much time down here, because it was cold. If Mike knew one thing that hadn’t changed about Will, it was that he hated the cold. He couldn’t stand it.
And then, the hurricane hit. Will and Carlton’s yelling. It was truly peculiar. It brought Mike back to a somewhat simpler time.
Suddenly, it was the 80s again. And a much younger Mike and Will resided in Will’s childhood bedroom, peering out of the doorway as Will’s parents argued in the kitchen.
Mike had never imagined that Will of all people would end up in a relationship like that.
He wondered if Will was thinking the same thing.
The yelling runs silent.
Mike lets out an exasperated sigh, as he pulls out the sleeper mechanism of the couch. He climbed onto the couch and lay flat on his back.
It’s quiet. Almost eerily quiet, like the silence that comes before something goes terribly wrong.
Mike drifts off into sleep with the help of his nostalgic memories of a different basement. Mike’s basement. A different Will and a different Mike. The Will and Mike that could stand to be around each other for more than a few minutes.