Chapter Text
21st December, 1996
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Mike was fucked. He was unsure if he meant that by how he fucked everything up or because he was legitimately fucked in the head. Or both.
Either way, as he sat at his boring desk writing his boring book, the painting hung upon his wall kept catching his eye. And all he could think was, he was fucked.
The painting. The one he had been given all the clues for to finally connect the puzzle pieces of his mediocre life, but chose to ignore because, well, he could face that truth later.
Whatever was causing the sudden spike in interest stumped the writing he was trying to do. Something, something, something, some kid fights monsters, what else? It was always the same. He felt like ripping his hair out.
Fine. Slamming a hand down on the table, he began to messily pile all the paper and books up in such a careless manner that it scattered the pens everywhere.
Great.
Yeah, okay. So his desired life had gone down the drain by the time he turned 20, so what? It’s not like he didn’t have time to get his life together right? He could…try?
Right then and there his fate for the next week was decided, he’s going back home. Checking his watch while simultaneously taking the collection of books over to his bed, 18:47pm, he knew what he had to do. Screw his half-assed attempt at a new sci-fi book. Screw the deadlines. Screw the overload of work.
It was official, a sudden shift in his gaze caused him to run over to the phone and make one last call before possibly screwing his life over again. Okay. Back to Hawkins. This will be…fine.
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His first stop in the road was the wave of nostalgia that hit him as he drove through the town. Oh. He knew what Will had meant with how everything felt…easier outside of Hawkins.
Will. Will, who he’d abandoned when things got too real. Will who had moved on, found somewhere to go in the big cities, stopped waiting by the phone for Mike’s calls, stopped pretending like the stupid dance the pair did between friendship and yearning did anything other than hurt. And Mike was fine with that, he was. But the longer he thought of the green eyes that slowly faded out of his life as if they couldn’t wait to leave, the more he missed the horrors of the town they grew up in. Which is stupid, to say the least, considering it was hell on earth for the whole party. But Will was there with him and everything was fine. Good, actually. Now he just felt numb, bland.
But if that’s what life had to be, then so be it.
Rows of scattered trees and untamed grass flew past his eyes as the taxi he sat in moved further into town. It all felt weird. Like the memories that existed around this place were being tugged and tugged until they snapped like an elastic band. Which, again, was fine. This was his childhood, this was how he was supposed to feel.
Supposed. A sensitive subject for someone like him. He barely knew what ‘like him’ was supposed to mean, but he didn’t want to think too hard on it.
The car making a sharp halt pulled him out of his thoughts, allowing a group of 6 kids to pass by on bikes. Funny. 10 years ago that would’ve been him. He wondered if his parents still kept the far too small bike, or if his mother’s obsession with cleanliness and order caused it to be thrown out with the rest of his bullshit.
Dragging his tired body out of the taxi, he pulled his bags from the seat next to him, thanked the driver, and just…stood.
There was no heart drop, no fear or joy or longing. Just the empty feeling of the place he once called home stood in front of him, waiting, just as he did. Well, it was either that or the cold air biting at his limbs that made him feel so…nothing.
Legs moving by their self, he made his way up to the door. Still badly painted and out of fashion, he thought. Everything around him look remotely the same, bushes, trees, even the goddamn car. A funny feeling swept over Mike’s face as he regained his composure.
As he lifted his empty hand to knock on the door, someone on the other side swung the door open.
Holly. She looked different, older. Well, obviously, but since last year she had shot up in height and begun to style her hair like how Nancy used to. She was still facing the other way, shouting something incoherent at presumably their mother.
As she turned her head back to the door, her eyes locked with Mike’s. Maintaining eye contact before shooting forward and pulling him into an embrace.
“Oh my god, Mike!” She said through an exhale, “Didn’t you say you were only coming for Christmas Day this year?”
She pulled back and looked at him expectantly.
”Yeah, well, change of plans I guess.” He shrugged as a smile spread across his face.
”Come in, its freezing,” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the door, immediately sinking into the familiar scent of spices that coated the house this time of year and the heat contrasting the bitter weather outside. “You said you’d tell Mom about the new book you were working on inspired by my last campaign.”
“About that-“ He began. “I don’t think now is a good time to-“
“Holly, honey, who is it?” His mom began, her voice echoing through the dimly lit walls of the house.
Mike slipped off his shoes and walked into the kitchen, smiling warmly at his mom before hugging her similarly to how Holly did minutes before. Wow, Hawkins really did something to him, huh?
“Mike, what happened to ‘I’m too busy to stay a whole week this year.’” She remarked, placing a hand on his frozen cheek.
“I needed… a change of scenery. Or a change of life.”
“I knew that writer job would be useless in the end-“ His father butted in from the living room. Some things never change.
“Ted! Its fine, sweetie, I get it…just, don’t get too carried away, okay?” His mother replied.
Mike simply nodded and turned to face Holly again, who was leant on the counter.
“When’s Nancy coming?” Mike inquired before shooting a look at the front door as if she were to come on timing.
Holly only answered with a shrug.
“Most likely tomorrow night, I wouldn’t hold it against her though” She chimed.
“Okay,” Mike muttered. “Well, I’m gonna unpack, I’ll see you later?”
The suggestion made him recoil. When did he get so awkward? Of course he’d see her here, it’s their house.
Holly nodded before returning her attention to the fruit bowl on the counter.
Making his way upstairs, the emptiness that once lingered in his chest had slowly begun to slip away into a pain only describable as missing. Missing the life he once had full control over.
Dustin had gone to some fancy science school where he excelled in his goals, Lucas and Max made a life in a town far enough away from Hawkins that no more fear was instilled, but close enough to stay friends with the rest of the party, the last he’d heard of Will, he was out in some large city, working as an art teacher. The point was, they all knew what they were doing. From what he knew, they all felt complete, and comfortable and happy. While all Mike could do was slip on his old-man glasses before bed and subject himself to 3 more hours of torture every night, attempting to write a coherent story that didn’t project him back into the horrors of his teenage years.
Maybe this was how it was always supposed to be from the start.
Reaching his room, he turned the door and nearly collapsed at the sight of his old stuff.
It just felt so…him. Well, him at 16 years old, more like.
It had obviously been redone after the incident where the Wheeler house was completely and utterly destroyed by a demogorgon, but other than that it felt like the exact same place he grew up in.
Mike collapsed on the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling and just…thinking. But not too much to cause him to spiral again.
Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. Somewhere, at some point in this godforsaken town, he would find something to do with himself. Or his next book for that matter.
And everything would be normal. Normal enough.
Mike checked his watch again, 21:35pm. 21st of December.
He had a lot to do and worry about, but all he could think about as he drifted off to sleep in today’s clothes was how much he missed this place.
How much he missed Will.