Chapter Text
Mike Wheeler always wondered what the first sign of the apocalypse would be.
The world agreed on the imminent new year being the closest to it for their generation. And Mike knew it wasn’t a big deal, but he couldn’t deny his sliver of paranoia.
Maybe it had to do with him only recently escaping a supernatural multidimensional monster in his own backyard. Or his dad's daily rambles at breakfast that were really repeated fear-mongering generalizations he'd hear from the news. It worried Mike slightly that his father hasn't really changed after being attacked by an eight-foot demogorgon. Even Holly knew to be practical.
Yet, even with countless of news segments about programmers promising to rectify their mistakes on time, Mike still felt on edge.
They had came dangerously close to an apocalypse with Vecna back then, so since its resolve, every other fanatic global catastrophe should seem nanoscopic. Computers unable to compute the year 2000? Dustin, minoring in computer science, explained the unlikelihood of such an event, while the rest of the Party laughed at the mass paranoia.
The group was together for the last time when the clock struck double zeroes. It was the first winter break of their freshman year of college. They spent some time upstairs with family at dinner before racing each other down the stairs, Lucas and Max on the couch, Dustin squeezed next to them, Jane in the rocking chair with Will at her knees, and Mike across from them, separated by a bar's worth of alcohol on the coffee table.
Cramped in their usual hotspot of Mike's basement, they begin to recount stories of their semesters under the influence of stolen liquor from each of their house's. "B.Y.O.B" Mike said into the walkie. He may have gotten caught with an empty beer can or two under his bed.
Everyone had moved away from Hawkins after graduation. Lucas and Max were a four-hour train ride to their state school, Dustin also nearby to stay close to friends but would end up transferring to Princeton in his second semester. Jane studied near her new home in Montauk with frequent stays with Will, who followed his brother's footsteps at NYU.
Whereas Mike, well, he decided to stay closer to home. And what’s closer than literally staying home?
He realized college was never on his radar after years of fighting off monsters conjured by his childhood RPG. It actually surprised him when the idea of it was brought up by his friends, who all seemed to have an idea of what their futures would look like.
It all began when Lucas received a basketball scholarship from Indiana State, which brought up the conversation with Max. She was undecided, but wanted to stay close to her support system. Little did they know Hopper and Joyce were already planning to move to Montauk to be closer to Jonathon, prompting Jane and Will's big and final move.
It wasn't like they all had it planned, to intentionally move out of Hawkins, but their transitions seemed to develop a lot more shapely than Mike's.
He always knew he wanted to be a writer. He was always the DM of their campaigns, always written short stories, and had good grades in English, so he didn't see a huge need for school to teach him how to write. Maybe thanks to Nancy and her successful career after dropping out, his parents allowed for Mike to take his time to consider his plans.
But as he sat at the lonely end of the coffee table hearing his friends' stories, he began to rethink his choices.
"The douchebag was totally hitting on her, so I got all up on his face and told him what's up!" Lucas recounted theatrically. Max held him back onto the couch.
"He means he grabbed me and got me the hell out of there," she corrected, not as inebriated as her boyfriend. "Which was what all I wanted all along cus I had a midterm that morning."
"Ugh yes, my sexy-brained girlfriend is so beautiful and smart--" Lucas went in for a kiss, which made the rest of the group grimace. Max pushed him off playfully.
"That's not as bad as the time I had to tell Steve that he was flirting with a freshman," Dustin added on. "I think he forgot he was on a college campus for a second. He immediately barfed and almost called the cops on himself. She was 19!"
The group erupted in laughs, feeling safe to do so as the house was empty. Nancy was at a New Years Party and his parents went with Holly to visit his grandparents (and quite frankly felt bad for their son who had been held up in his room for four months awaiting his friends' return).
"I went to my first frat party with Will," Jane quietly admitted next. She was always shy when it came to sharing new social experiences for some reason, like she hadn't been recruited to the lamest friend group in town who were late bloomers themselves. "New Yorkers are..."
"...Coked the hell up?" Dustin finished with a laugh.
"I don't think it was just coke," she said with a stifled laugh.
This surprised Mike, and it looked like it did to the rest of the party as their laughs became louder. Jane, who once didn't know the difference between a brother and a boyfriend, now joked about the vulgarity of college fraternities and the NYC drug scene.
Mike realized just how much four months actually can be for someone. Fighting Vecna lasted years, but somehow everyone seemed unrecognizable to Mike after four measly months. The same ones he spent hunched over the same table he had since he was eight.
"Did you guys... try it?" Lucas asked slowly, now much more alert, looking back and forth from Jane to Will.
Mike's eyes settled on Will, realizing he had been quiet for some time. He was the last to join them in the basement, saying he wanted to get some fresh air after dinner. Mike wanted to accompany him. After all these years of him having episodes -- the briefest chance of a vision or a slightest convulsion sent him into a spiral. But Will had asked Jane to join him. When she came back alone after a few minutes, she reassured Mike that "He's fine. He's right behind me."
The moment immediately made him uneasy; the idea of his best friend not needing him anymore, not pulling him aside to go on a walk. Not telling him a new part of his routine, if this even was routine. The group barely separated that week, but when it did, Mike would find the siblings to be missing from them.
Don't get him wrong, Mike loved Jane. He loved her as a friend, but also as a sister to Will. Jane's care was boundless, Mike knew with every ounce of his being that if he wanted anyone out of the group to take care of Will, it would be her.
He guessed he was feeling isolated. The wrong choice of not deciding to go to college with Lucas, Max, and Dustin lingered above his head everyday. He'd be third-wheeling with the first pair, and fifth whenever Steve would come over, but never stopped picturing being a part of it.
He’d imagine booking a ticket to New York City as he passed by the train station on his way home from work. He'd taken up a part-time job at Nancy's old firm as a bookkeeper, not having much experience outside of playing D&D and killing mind-controlling demons. He fantasized about using his monthly salary on a ticket and sharing a bed with Will in his small dorm, eating overpriced bagels and slobbering over pizza as they played video games until dawn.
But instead, Mike would continue walking and looking ahead, never crossing the street as he went back home to work on his newest chapter.
He had created an imaginary deadline for himself, a result of an accumulation of unresolved anxiety he possessed since childhood. He knew things changed, and everyone around him seemed to know that too, effortlessly adding on to the new anxieties and uncertainties he had from the week prior.
Would they want me there? No, they're all too busy. They all have new friends and they only reply to me out of pity.
Even when everyone had come back for the Winter break, clamoring at Mike's door the second they reached Hawkins territory, he still didn't think things were the same. This night was a perfect example: he had no story to tell, not even from his unfinished novel he promised himself he'd finish a first draft of by then. Only a lingering stare at his best friend that symbolized his genuine feeling of disconnect from a life moved-on.
"Earth to Will?" Max reached an arm out, waving in front of Will's face. "Don't tell me he's getting another vision."
Will seemed to be zoning out, best guess staring at one of the empty Heineken's on the table with a flushed and an apparent disinterest on his face. This didn't seem like the other times, especially because Mike could recall them vividly, sometimes replaying in his worst nightmares.
Still, he leaned forward.
But Will simultaneously snapped out of it when Jane's knee nudged his back from her seat. She looked unconcerned, like this was normal.
"Uh, sorry. What?"
"Dude, are you good?" Dustin questioned with more accuse than concern. "Did you like the taste of your NYU friends' lifestyle a little too much?"
Will crossed his eyebrows in confusion, and blinked. Delayed, he shook his head. "No... I'm just tired. Sorry. Mike kept me up with all his kicking."
Ah yes, the sleepover. After Christmas, Will and Jane took a trip back to Indiana on their own, allowing Joyce and Hopper a kid-free holiday. At first they objected for obvious reasons, but seeing how much they missed their friends, they allowed the trip so long they stayed at the Party's homes with their parents present.
They were at Lucas' the first two nights (Max was always there anyway), then Dustin's for another two. They only had a week in Hawkins, so they wanted to make the most out of it by spending time with everyone. They would all come together everyday regardless, the first night inevitably cramped in Lucas' living room.
Then it was Mike's turn to host.
On the morning of December 30th, right before a day at the arcade, Mike cleaned up his room. When he was finished, he was embarrassed of how little the room had changed.
It'd only been four months, but he'd seen pictures of his friends' dorms and bedrooms: new posters of celebrities, musicians, action figures of movies he hadn't seen. They were all probably new interests introduced by their college friends, friends he couldn't make because all of his co-workers were decades older than him and had families of their own. The only new thing about his room was the newest typewriter he bought himself with his own well-earned money. A typewriter with pages he made sure to store away in his deepest desk drawer.
Will and Jane barely made comments about it when they arrived, which also felt like an insult. He tried to ignore it, blamed it on the adrenaline of the competitive-driven day dying down and the satisfaction of finally being out of the cold. Will nearly passed out on the bed while Jane voiced needing a shower before promptly leaving the room. To them, it was the exact same bedroom as they had left it.
Same old Mike.
Even though they were teetering on adulthood, Ted Wheeler's conservative parenting style remained gendered. Nancy was there for some days for the holidays, but was absent when Jane and Will came over. Jane happily slept in her room with a free king-sized bed, only having a twin in Montauk. Too cold in the basement, Ted grumbled he guessed it was fine for the two boys to share a room.
Not much conversation happened that night, other than taking turns using the bathroom and making plans on the walkie with the others, the three said their good-nights and Mike took his usual side of the bed. He guessed he didn't sleep his best not knowing if his best friend even considered him to be his best friend anymore. They had barely spoken for the first time being alone in four months.
The morning of, Will was already downstairs helping with breakfast. If Mike didn't know any better, it was like he was trying to avoid him. Throughout the week, Will always made some sort of barrier between them. Whether it be a table, Lucas, Max, Jane, Dustin, hell, Holly separated them at the breakfast table, Mike couldn't tell him something in private without pulling him aside. Which he obviously couldn't bring himself to do.
He always searched for an answer in those past four months. Mike knew they were all busy with their new lives at school. He'd heard all about it from movies and Nancy's own short-lived college career: those long nights studying, partying, making new memories. He expected it, especially for Will who was in New York fucking City, and gave them all ample time to respond back to his mailed letters. He even started instant messaging per Dustin's request. "Everyone's on it!"
The only computer in the house was the one his dad bought from work. But Mike didn't love talking to his dad, who barely even knew how to operate the machine himself. It was a pain in the ass to learn without someone telling him what the program errors meant or where the wires went. But he still tried for his friends, sneaking downstairs at night while his parents were sleeping so he could connect to the dial-up without disturbing them.
Yet he was still lonely. And as much as he could give the others the benefit of the doubt, he always felt personally offended by Will's lack of reply. No matter how many times Jane signed off for the both of them in her letters, Mike always noticed her handwriting, never once Will's. Even Lucas and Max, who were joined at the hip, would send their own letters. Jane had messaged him once online it was because he was too busy in the studio.
jan1e_h00psx: he has strict deadlines. art school is no joke :(
Mike believed it. What else could he do? This was the coming-of-age story he grew up reading about in his comic books and in the movies he'd watch. People grow apart, your actions have consequences, and your best friend might not give a shit about you anymore after moving to a huge city where he can finally escape his pervasive trauma that basically outted him. Okay, maybe that was a lesson he needed to learn on his own.
It was 11:55. Five minutes until the new millennium.
Conversation about Mike's sleeping habits eventually and predictably landed focus on Mike and what he'd been up to.
"I told you guys. Just work at Nance's old firm and writing."
"And when can we read this amazing fantasy novel?" Max questioned.
"I never said it was amazing."
"You always say that," Lucas chimed in, arm wrapped around Max, mainly for stability. "Your campaigns were always amazing."
"A bit trite," Max critiqued jokingly. "But satisfying."
Mike bit on his lip, not loving the spotlight. It was a fair question, everyone was simply sharing their new lives post-grad, post-near-apocalypse, and soon post-millennium.
"I've been uh, Doomsdaying. Say, isn't it almost time?"
"Stop changing the subject!" Jane jumped in, throwing a popcorn at his direction. Mike failed to dodge it. "We want to hear your story! At least tell us what it's about."
Mike sighed, unable to avoid it much longer. "It's... an adventure book. About what we all went through."
"And when do we get to read this autobiography?" Max pressed again.
"Soon."
"You'll have to mail it to us! A chapter, or something!" Jane exclaimed excitedly.
"Ooh, what's my name in it?" Dustin repositions himself on the couch. "I don't love just being 'The Bard.'"
Mike took a swig of his third beer can he snagged from his dad's stash. "It's Dusty-bun, Bard."
Dustin flipped him off before Lucas sat up straight in his seat. He was looking at his watch, eyes suddenly going wide.
"Oh shit! Guys, it's 11:59."
Scurried and frantic, the six rush to take their places for... they're not quite sure either, they just get a little closer to each other out of excitement. Dustin leaned forward to reopen his miniature computer, typing in random code to open up a program.
"I have an accurate countdown. Let's see what awaits us for Y2K ladies and gents."
The New Years were always a little underwhelming for Mike. He'd always spend them in the arms of loved ones, but to Mike, it was just another night, another day passing with an excuse to drink wine.
He didn't quite believe in the "New Year, New Me" mantra and simply thought if you wanted to be a better person, to just start becoming one. Change doesn't come overnight. And from these past few months, he knew that was the truth. Change was a looming annoyance, existing and not existing at the same time, taking form in new wallpaper and in silences, pixels and abbreviated messages.
But this new millennium they were about to enter, it all excited him as much as it did frighten him. It felt like something was about to happen, maybe not anything supernatural, but something that felt like would matter. They'd be 19 soon, dictated by the end of the millennium. It wasn't the four-digit number, the foreseeable bank crashes, the technological miscomputations. It felt like an imminent, definitive marker of his life -- entering a cursed adulthood. And it felt like it would be a huge slap in the face right at midnight.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!"
Would he be stuck in the last millennium? Would he be left behind while his friends pursued bigger and better things?
"Seven! Six! Five!"
Will he have enough time? Will he get to say goodbye before his friends meet more worthwhile people in their lives?
"Four!"
Lucas and Max were standing, their arms wrapped against each other, ready to make out. He felt bad for their roommates.
"Three!"
Will and Jane held hands as they smiled at each other.
"Two!"
"Come here you big asshole!" Dustin practically threw himself at Mike, the only two not in their own pair.
"One!"
Mike braced for impact.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Screams erupted, a confetti popper is popped out of nowhere by Jane, and Dustin is quickly off of him to check his computer to see the date change.
"It says 2000!"
More screams erupt as Dustin grabbed at another popper and popped one himself, the confetti flying onto Lucas and Max who had begun their New Years kiss.
Mike's heart drum with the same feeling of love and adrenaline in the arms of his friends. Dustin and Jane rushed towards him, disgustingly kissing his cheeks.
In the midst of all the chaos, Mike thought he was silly for being so on-edge. He had to remind himself how young they still were. No one had it figured out at this age. This self-doubt was completely normal.
His worries felt nothing but futile in the embrace of his friends. He was with the same people this time last year, and the only thing that had changed was the number on a screen he didn't even own. Nothing catastrophic had happened to them for two years, so nothing would happen now.
His eyes followed Dustin who was now pulling Will into his open arms. Will held onto him with a big smile, only for it to dwindle when he caught Mike's eyes. As he quickly darted them away, Mike couldn't help but shake the feeling that he was completely and devastatingly wrong.
An hour later, a teary-Lucas had to be pulled off from Will by Max while saying how much they'll miss them, only to be reminded they'll be seeing them off later that day. Dustin similarly had trouble getting up the stairs without stumbling a few times. Erica, Lucas' sister who now had a driver's license, had to pick the three up, much to her dismay.
The Hopper-Byers were in Mike's room post-celebration, folding their forgotten clean laundry that had been sitting in the dryer for hours. It was mainly Mike and Jane joking around like they normally did, stupid things, like how Hopper's the new chief but still never catches her sneaking out, or how she'd use her powers to win at beer pong. Will gave the occasional chuckle. Mike didn't realize how much he missed the both of them until the storm in his head had calmed.
"I'm beat." Jane was the first to finish before standing up and lazily draping arms over Mike. A faint scent of beer lingered on her breath which Mike had to playfully move his head further away from. She was still a bit drunk, evident by the way her poor clothes stuck out of her bag. "Miiiikeee."
"Janeee...." Mike dragged, placing hands at her hips to stabilize her. Will glanced up at them but resumed with his folding.
"I'm gonna miss you so much," she slurred. but was earnest. She reached over so she could hug him properly, which he reciprocated with ease. "I'm gonna steal so many more postage stamps. I'll write you so much you'll get sick of me."
"No need for that. You need to focus on studying for what you wanna do with your life."
"I can just threaten people into hiring me."
"Don't make me call Hopper," he warned, lessening his grip so she releases her's. "You're gonna figure it out. And you're gonna be awesome in whatever you do."
"You're too sweet," she hummed. "Why haven't you dated anyone else? They'd be lucky to have you."
Mike flushed at the compliment, playfully shoving her. "Dude, you're drunk. Drink some water and go to sleep. You can't be hungover in front of my parents."
"Whatever..." Jane gave a heavy sigh, slowly moving towards the door. "Will..." Will looked up, and they exchanged some kind of knowing look. Mike had never seen it before, one of the new telepathic sibling thing they invented while he wasn't there. It annoyed him like an inside joke he wasn't part of. But all she said after was, "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Will returned.
Jane left the room, leaving the two alone. Mike's eyebrows softened, brushing it off as a weird drunkened exchange. Although Will didn't seem drunk at all. Whatever he was feeling earlier in the basement seemed to have went away, as he continued to fold his laundry.
Jane's presence was immediately missed, which was ironic. Usually it was the two of them that had the closest relationship. When they were younger it was him and Jane who felt awkward and out of place together. He wanted so badly with her what he had with Will. Now, she was the mutual friend who the two other people desperately needed to keep from the room being agonizingly silent.
"So..." Mike flipped over his duvet cover. "You're leaving tomorrow."
"Yeah," he replied dryly. "You gonna miss me?"
How could I? You were barely here.
Mike swallowed. "Yeah. Of course. I'm gonna miss everyone."
"You'll miss Jane, for sure."
His eyebrows crossed again. "What?"
Will only shook his head, zippering his luggage before moving Jane's over to fix.
"Nothing, never mind."
Mike set down his pillow. The three beers was warming his body but he no longer felt drunk, to his disappointment. Will didn't seem out of it, although he'd never really got to witness any of them inebriated. The alcohol was an addition to their hangouts, a natural progression for a group of friends coming home from their first semester of college. Now unsupervised and with a new taste of drunkened social gatherings, they held a sense of false maturity and amplified personalities that Mike immediately noticed.
So sober or not, he could sense the animosity.
"What's your problem?"
The reply was almost too quick. "I don't have a problem."
"You've been back six days, Will. You've barely spoken to me. And you're leaving tomorrow. And what did I get from you these past four months? No letter. One reply on IM every couple of days. So yes, you do have a problem and apparently it's with me."
"I've been busy."
"I know!" Mike bursted, he'd had this argument with himself for the longest time. He felt like he could win every angle of it. "I get it! But why can Jane write to me? And Dustin? Lucas and Max? Is New York so great that it makes you forget your best friend?"
Will stayed silent, aimlessly folding Jane's luggage. "You don't know the half of it."
"I don't know cus you don't write me!"
Mike approached closer now, kneeling down. It was the new millennium, a milestone in humankind. In a smaller scale, it's amazing how much they've accomplished in their fifteen years of friendship. He didn't want to start the new year off like this. But more importantly, he didn't want Will to leave tomorrow with an even greater distance between them, or for him to become a bleak memory from childhood.
Will stilled, holding Jane's gray sweater in his hand. Mike touched his wrist, signaling it to put it down. He was obviously upset, but he couldn't deduce if it was because of something he did, something he said, something he didn't say. Maybe all of the above.
Will dropped the sweater, but didn't say anything. Instead he got up, leaving Mike the one on the floor. He touched his back pant pocket as if to check if something was still there.
"I need a smoke."
Walking to his bedroom door, Mike just watched, unsure if he was welcome. Will turned back around when he opened the door.
"Are you coming?"
Hawkins was celebrating the New Years two hours late. The eventual firework would go off every few minutes, probably leftover from last year's less ominous celebration. They were in a neighborhood full of impressionable middle-upper class families who actually braced for falling airplanes and anarchy, so the silence on his street was expected.
The fireworks came closer from town square, where younger people often stayed out. He hoped they were having a better night than he was having at that moment.
It was cold, but manageable in Mike's backyard. They saw the door to Nancy's room was closed, so Jane had probably gone to bed. Mike's parents wouldn't be back til morning, so he knew he'd be fine accompanying Will light up a cigarette. Until he pulled out something different.
"Weed? Will, seriously? This isn't New York."
"It isn't legal there, either." He flickered the lighter open, illuminating his face for the briefest of seconds.
Mike could recognize the smell from anywhere; he worked on a block that was a hotspot for degenerates. He also smelled it potently that one year when Will had come back from California with Jonathon and his friend Argyle. They would always make fun of them behind their back, never suspecting that Will would ever follow in his brother's footsteps in that regard.
"Even more reason to put it out."
"I don't see you turning yourself in for underage drinking," he pointed out. "Relax. Everyone's at home."
Mike stayed silent, realizing he did start to sound like his parents.
"It calms me down," Will finally said after another hit, the familiar scent immediately hitting them back in the face. Mike's gonna have to incinerate these clothes. Will brought the spliff closer to him. "Here."
"I-" Mike looked at it, the tiny roll of paper. Mike hadn't explored his choice of drugs outside of the occasional beer or glass of wine, all taken from his parents or after begging Nancy to pick him up something whenever she'd come home. It wasn't the most elegant or dignified of escapes, but it was an escape nevertheless. He didn't have the excuse of being away from parents as his friends did, or the connections to a fake-ID or drug dealer, as it looked like Will had.
Will looked at him questioningly, waiting for an answer. He realized he was taking too long, and maybe out of peer-pressure but also realizing it might prompt Will to finally open up to him, he took the joint in between his own fingers.
The first inhale was bad. Unsure of how much to take in, he resorted to letting his lungs take in as much as he could, which seemed to be a mistake, by the growing grin on Will's face.
"Mike, oh my god-"
Mike immediately spluttered in coughs as he exhaled, stretching out his arm to get the lung destroyer as far away from him as possible. Will took it away from him, laughing his own lungs off.
"Holy--shit." He hacked up, jumping even more when another firework goes off.
Will had to take a moment to wipe the tears in his eyes before patting Mike's back supportively. "You're okay. Didn't Nance ever teach you how to smoke?"
"No! Are you--crazy?"
"Jonathon said she used to," Will shrugged. "Maybe she quit. Good for her."
"What? And you-- it's okay if you do it?"
Mike's throat finally calmed down, forced by swallowing his own spit to quell his throat. He wanted to go in to get a glass of water but is distracted by how easy it looked for Will. A quick inhale -- brief, barely two seconds, he observed -- and out. He was a natural.
"It helps me with... stuff."
"Yeah? Like telling your best friend why you've been avoiding him for months?" And oh, this stuff hit fast.
His hands were moving in the air in a funny way, he realized. He lifted them up in the air repeatedly, which made Will giggle.
He didn't hear a response though, and he realized so when he finally puts his hand down under his thigh to control himself.
"Hey. I asked you a question."
Will, still not there yet, took another hit and nodded.
"Yeah, that kind of stuff."
"Can you..." Mike took a cold breath in with closed eyes, enjoying feeling each and every air particle enter in and out his nose. "...elaborate?"
"You're a lightweight. Noted."
Mike opened his eyes, turning his head towards Will. Focus, Mike.
"Is it New York? Or me?"
There's a pause, but Mike was unsure if it's because weed can warp time or if Will took a while to respond. Mike almost forgot the question he asked.
"It's both."
"How?"
"New York?" Will sighed in the air, shutting his eyes. He felt looser. "It's not as amazing as the bustling city of Vallaki."
Mike snorted. "That's because it isn't Vallaki."
"You're right," he reclined back on the ground, laying on the grass. "Vallaki would've been better."
The whistling of the wind made Mike shudder. The first hit was awful, but he knew now the burning in his lungs wasn't supposed to be there. He liked the brief warmth, though.
"Can I get another?"
Will peeked at him through one eye. "Are you sure?"
Mike nodded, as Will moved the now half-smoked joint in between his middle and pointer finger. Too afraid of getting dizzy, Mike leaned his body forward and wrapped his lips around the joint from his hand. Will gazed at the sight in slow motion, in disbelief.
"Not too long..." He heard him whisper next to him. Slowly, he took an inhale. "One... two... that's good. You should hold it in."
Mike did, blocking his nose from exhalation.
"Shit. Breathe, Mike, breathe." Will rushed to say, realizing he wouldn't do it on his own.
He gasped for air, embarrassed by the cough that came with it, though that was the only one this time.
He breathed normally after that, collapsing to the grass next to Will afterwards. They caught each other's eyes as he returned the blunt, and for some reason it's the funniest thing in the world. Mike bursted out in laughter seeing Will unable to contain himself either, and before they know it they're laughing at a joke that was never made. Another firework goes off, which just made them cackle even harder.
"Fuuckk..." Mike drawled in fits of laughter, bringing his palms to his face. "What the hell is this?"
"Nature's greatest creation." Will grinned, chest rising and falling returning at a normal pace. "It's the only thing keeping me together."
Mike frowned at that. "Why? You're living on your own, aren't you? No more of Joyce coddling you. That's what you wanted. Wasn't it?"
"It's not what I imagined," he admitted. "That night of graduation... what you said, that's what I imagined for me."
"I don't even remember what I had for breakfast and I'm as high as that last firework."
Will exhaled. "About Vallaki. You said I'd travel far to a city different from the village I grew up in. You said I'd find deep happiness and acceptance."
Sober Mike remembered that. He planned to write it into fruition in the last chapter of his book, just as he imagined for all of his Party. For now, High Mike is amazed at how naive and imaginative he was six months ago.
"Jesus. Well that was a big promise to keep."
"Right?" Will laughed again. "I hated you again when that didn't happen."
Mike turned his head. "Again?"
Will looked away, aware of the weight of his words. He hated how attentive Mike was to them, always picking it apart like the writer he was. Meanwhile Mike was surprised he was even keeping up with the conversation himself, because at that moment his head was spinning in directions he didn't know were possible. His mouth was also beginning to feel a little dry. He tried not to think about it.
"I was sick of being angry at you Mike. But you didn't know everything. It was wrong of me."
It took a lot, but Mike felt the need to look at Will when talking to him. He forced himself to lie on his side, which took the effort equivalent of running a half marathon. Will was still looking away, so High Mike did what Sober Mike couldn't.
"Is this about the painting?" he asked without hesitation.
It was something he wanted to bring up sooner than later. He had known during graduation. He talked to Jane about it one night when they were alone. But each time just felt like bad timing, and he didn't know how he'd take it. He planned on bringing it up this week, but planned on otherwise seeing how further distant they'd become. It was jarring how easy he was able to say what was on his mind in this state. But it brought comfort knowing Will probably felt the same.
"If it is... I already know. I know you made it for me, Jane told me. I know you... liked me."
Will scoffed, looking away again. "I liked you, yeah."
This wasn't the reaction he imagined. Like he knew that he knew already. The crush, basically everyone had deduced that after coming out, but the painting was something much more personal. Jane and Mike were together at that point, and it wasn't a crazy idea for Jane to have commissioned her brother to paint him something. Knowing the truth, it was like an indirect confession, something sacred. It felt like a symbol of their friendship, but the fact Will never confessed made him wonder if his feelings were still unresolved. It was the main thing that frustrated him about being left in the dark for those four months.
"What?"
Another firework. But Mike barely heard it, now deeply entrenched in what Will had to say, like he'd miss it and he'd only say it once. When he didn't hear anything, he's scared he actually missed it.
"Will?"
"I fucking loved you Mike!" He heard loud and clear. "Love. Loved. Fuck! I don't know."
Mike's heartbeat slowed. He's unsure if that was an effect from the marijuana, because he could feel his heart lodging in his throat. The words hit sharper than any type of hit of weed or cigarette. It pierced at his skin, scarring it with red engravings of I'm a terrible friend right across his forehead. More importantly, it made his heart skip a beat, felt as he couldn't let any words escape past his throat.
"Stop looking at me like that."
Mike, apparently unable to speak but look, followed orders. He reverted his eyes to anywhere but at his best friend, then realized how stupid and asshole-ish that was to do.
"I… I- um-" he croaked out.
"You don't feel the same, and that's okay," Will completed for him, as if he'd gone through this conversation with himself multiple times. He inhaled another hit. "I didn't expect you to. I just -- I couldn't not tell you before I left again."
Mike did love Will. It had been written in the stars for them, the two of them together. Their first day on the swings, the first time he let him in Byers castle, the first game of D&D, Mike loved every waking moment he spent with Will. The only name for it he had was not friends, but best friends, two words that always felt right. Right and normal.
"You're my best friend," he finally let out. It was always true, and so this was also always true: "Of course I love you."
Will bit down on his lip, face turned away again. He looked as if he had been shot. Mike felt awful knowing he was hurting Will. Again. He brought out a hand to touch his cheek.
"Stop it, Mike." He heard a quivering in his voice. Mike retracted his hand while Will sat back up, wiping his eyes.
Mike watched intently, following suit, before tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder. Will didn't move.
Because that's what best friends would do. Comfort the other when they had hurt them. Apologize. It's what two boys would do when they spend every waking moment of their life thinking of each other, or of some remnant of them. Mike could look at a stone and think of skipping stones with Will. He could be watching a boring news broadcast and think about how much more fun it'd be to be reading comics with him. Mike would move mountains if Will would just look at him.
Mike's hand on his shoulder moved over doubtfully, but Will seemed to be occupied with hiding his tears that began to well in his eyes. The tip of the joint's flame had extinguished itself, with only smoke blowing in its place. He watched it float away, right as another firework goes off.
"Will..." he whispered, contrast to the detonation in the sky. His hand was at his wrist now, the other hand back on his shoulder, which he felt shaking. He moved in closer, knees brushed against the other's.
Will's hands came off from his face but he didn’t move, revealing a stain of tears on his cheek. Mike sadly extended his own hand to the other side of his chin, and gently moved it to look his way. The movement felt too light, as if he barely touched him. But as Will looked up at him with teary eyes, his head began to spin again. It was in this proximity that Mike felt high off of simply being this close to Will, the tethered string between them tangled up by the wrists as Mike rests his hand on top of his'.
Will could feel Mike's face burning, and a part of him wondered if this was wrong, having drawn Mike out here in the January cold to do something he'd never done before. To give him a taste of what had been burning at the back of his throat seven hundred miles away. A smoke, an incomplete confession. But Mike was always the type to do the same stupid shit he'd do, the only difference now was he was a couple of months behind.
He wanted nothing less than this for them, to catch him up on all the stupid things he'd gotten himself into without him. He wanted to tell him to come with him, to move to New York and write in his termite-infested dorm. They could do this forever, laugh at nothing and cry at what was never said. He could learn to love him as much as he loved him.
Their first kiss was just like the moment. Fleeting. Light. Panicked. Mike's lips didn't feel like how he imagined, and maybe it was the effect of the weed, but he felt coarse against his lips. Mike must've felt the same, his hands falling to his face to collect some dampness. He didn't register the roughness as he slid his tongue in Will's mouth to regain some moisture. Will opened, allowing himself to reciprocate. He let the roll fall out of his hands, falling somewhere around them.
Will had wanted this for too long, proven in the grip on his hair, the other roaming on his back. Mike felt dazed but also as if he was floating, moving his lips against Will's in a way he could only define as a balancing act. He held onto him like if he let go he'd fall, pressed together like two fresh chrysanthemums in a pressed journal. If any were to separate them, well, Mike might just fall apart.
The last firework would go off that night, startling the two apart. They were both flushed, salivated on, and absolutely drunk on it. Will smiled breathlessly at him.
And just like that, Mike's apocalypse had begun.