Chapter Text
The sound of increasing rain created a symphony of tapping on Mike’s bedroom window, accompanied by the occasional crash of thunder.
Mike laid on his bed, one earbud in, listening to his cassette tape, one out to hear the patter of the rain.
He spent his nights like this more often than not as of lately, when the thoughts became too loud and he needed a physical disruption to drown out the voice in his head.
Mostly the voice was his own, remembering the events that had led him to this cold January night, criticizing himself for everything done wrong, every word not said.
Because the truth was, Mike hadn’t been okay in a long time. He tried to push it down during the day; he woke up at a normal time, ate breakfast, drove to his community college for the writing classes he was taking, worked for a few hours at the local movie theatre, came home, ate dinner with his family, spent time with his sister, then excused himself to bed early most nights.
But the trouble came at night. He hadn’t slept normally since, what the party had started referring to as, “the upside down bullshit”, nobody very much liked to talk about it. The only acknowledgement came some nights when Mike heard screaming down the hall, coming from Holly’s room.
When this happened, Mike would usually sleep on her floor, reminding her that it was just a nightmare, and that she was safe at home. Holly always fell asleep after a few minutes of soothing, and he promised that he would always be there if she got scared.
The PTSD she experienced reminded Mike of what Will had gone through after coming home, and he kept meaning to call and get Will’s insight on how he could best help Holly deal with the episodes.
Every time Mike got close to dialing the phone, he stopped himself. He knew that he was living a lie to everyone at home, and he knew that he couldn’t do it to Will. He would be able to tell, Mike knew it. They had never been able to lie to each other, so instead, Mike stopped calling all together.
He tried to write instead, but every time he started a page, he had no idea what to write. A few attempts existed, now crumbled at the bottom of his trash can.
Hello Will. This is Mike. Obviously you knew that because you saw the address on the letter. This is so stupid.
Hey Will, how are you? I hope you are doing well, do you miss me? Hawkins? It’s pretty quiet here, nothing new to report. Jesus, I sound like a robot.
Will, how is New York? Do you have any good classes? I bet it’s great over there, but I miss you here
Will, please come home to me.
Yeah. Better to just not send anything at all.
— 4 months earlier —
The summer had been spent like any normal one; pool days, beach trips, Mike helping the party sneak into late showings of “Batman” or “Ghostbusters 2”
“You assholes are gonna get me fired”
“Shut up, you love us, Wheeler”
Mike spent most of his days that summer over at the Byers’ house, helping Will get everything packed to move out by the end of August. He liked it better over there. Even though Mike’s parents now shared the trauma of everything supernatural in Hawkins, they didn’t know how to carry on with their lives afterwards. Dinners were now spent in silence, and the lack of noise was suffocating.
At Will’s house, they had learned how to grieve through celebration, rather than ignoring the empty chair where Jane used to sit.
Mike still missed her, but not in the way that he used to. It was more of a hollow feeling, rather than a sharp stab, like it had been the months following her death. The Byers’ helped with that; they always kept purple flowers in the house, always ran Miami Vice on Fridays, and had a family breakfast complete with waffles every Sunday without fail.
They allowed themselves to talk about her, recalling old memories of their time in Lenora, playing old videos that Jonathan had recorded. The house was filled with sunlight and her favorite songs, and Mike found it easier to breathe when he was given the space to remember her alongside her family.
He wished that his family would be more like Will’s, acknowledging the pain instead of pretending it didn’t exist. But the Wheelers never excelled in communication, so after a while, he just stopped coming home at all. Instead, he spent his summer couch surfing in his friends houses, never allowing himself to be alone.
One day late August, Mike and Will spent the day searching every convenience store in Hawkins for command hooks and a vacuum for Will’s dorm. Usually, the whole party liked to go shopping together, but Max and Lucas were on a trip with his family, and Dustin was spending the day with Steve and Robin. Mike preferred it this way; not that there was anything wrong with the full party, but it was easier to breathe and be himself when there were less people around. He liked one on one time, going on bike rides with Lucas, swapping comics with Dustin, he even enjoyed the arcade with Max.
After they had driven to every store within a 15-mile radius with no luck, they settled on going back to Mike’s house to hang out for a bit before Will had to get home for Friday night Miami Vice with Joyce, Jonathan, and Hopper. He had invited Mike to come with, but he politely declined, not wanting to intrude on their family time.
None one was home, and Mike wouldn’t be there if there was. He stayed out of his room, hating how closed off it felt, preferring the open layout of the basement where he and his friends had grown up. He sprawled on the couch, playing a video game on the small TV down there, while Will sat on the floor next to it, leaned against the couch, sketchbook in hand.
Mike kept leaning over the side of the couch, trying to get a glimpse of Will’s sketch. This did not work; Will was perfectly positioned to where his back was covering the page entirely. He always liked watching Will draw, and usually begged Will to keep the drawings of DnD monsters or their characters to keep for his next campaign. He always said yes.
Mike watched as Will worked dutifully, flipping from pencil led to eraser, perfecting the details. He stared for so long that he forgot he was in the middle of a game, his character dying on screen. Mike didn’t even notice the screen flashing red as he craned his neck, just a little more, trying to catch a glimpse of-
CRASH
Mike fell to the floor, having leaned too far, gravity betraying him as he landed on his back. Will looked up, holding back a laugh as the other boy tried to regain his composure, now sliding on the floor next to Will.
He could now see the drawing, and it was one that Mike already knew. Staring at the page in front of him, he recognized the three headed dragon, and the party, as their DnD players, with Mike the Paladin leading them into battle.
The painting commissioned by Jane.
It had been so long since he thought of California, the road trip, the countless conversations between him and Will while they were trapped in a pizza van for hours at a time.
“I miss her, too.” Mike spoke softly, remembering how Will had recounted Jane’s feelings to him, giving him the strength and confidence to finally tell her that he loved her.
“Miss who?” Will replied, tilting his head to the side.
“Jane. Remember how she made that painting for me?”
He saw Will’s face change, like he looked guilty of something.
“Mike, I haven’t been honest with you…”
Now Mike was the one tilting his head with confusion, “What do you mean?”
“The painting… She had nothing to do with it. Now that she’s gone, I realized how messed up it was to lie, to put words in her mouth. At the time I thought I was helping… I thought that you needed to hear it. But it wasn’t up to me to decide that for her. I’m so sorry Mike.”
What? But it was the painting that made Mike realize that she still needed him, that she still wanted him. Their whole relationship since then was balanced on that one fact like a Jenga tower, and now that Will had ripped it away, Mike felt the whole tower start to collapse in on itself.
“Mike… please say something”
He snapped back to reality as he turned to look at Will’s face, his hazel eyes now heavy and filled with the beginnings of tears.
“You have every right to be furious with me, I’m so sorry.”
“Will… I’m not mad. I’m more confused. I mean, why lie? Why say all that stuff out of absolutely nowhere?”
With this, Will looked away from Mike, his voice getting small. “It wasn’t out of nowhere”
“What do you mean”
Will spoke so low, Mike could hardly hear the words, “It was all true, it just wasn’t Jane saying it”
Oh.
Mike’s head spun, trying to process, and before he could get a word out, Will was already on his feet headed for the door.
“Will, don’t go!”
Mike chased after him, almost tripping over his own feet from standing up so fast, grabbing Will’s wrist, feeling a spark of electricity when their skin made contact.
Oh.
He understood suddenly, years of stolen glances and silent wondering now contextualized. Of course it wasn't Jane. That was the premise of every argument between the two, every disconnection. She had never needed him, and he had never loved her. Well, she did need him, and he did love her, just not in the way that the other was expecting.
She hadn’t magically changed her mind overnight, she had stayed true to herself, up until the very end. The truth was, she didn’t need anyone. She was her own person, and Mike knew all along in the back of his mind that she would never be some damsel in distress, waiting for him to rescue her.
Mike hadn’t changed overnight either. He always knew that there was a reason he couldn’t say it back, even in her last moments, and this was why.
While Mike was processing, he hadn’t noticed that Will had slipped out the door, leaving him standing by himself in the basement.
— a few days later —
Mike was still reeling from the life altering shift going on in his head, and he had been sleeping at Dustin’s ever since Will left him alone. He had shown up at the door, sleeping bag in hand, and without speaking a word, Dustin let him in.
At first, he figured that it had something to do with Mike’s parents, so Dustin let him get away without talking about it. However, after 2 full days of not speaking, and Mike just sitting on his couch, hardly even getting up to eat, Dustin had enough.
“Dude, we have to talk about it”
Silence.
“Come on. I let you stay here for free, the least you can do is tell me what’s wrong”
Silence.
“Is it your parents”
Mike shook his head, at least showing some sign of recognition that he was being talked to.
“Jane?”
Mike finally made eye contact and shrugged before turning back to stare at the wall.
“Mike. If you don’t tell me what’s wrong with you, I’m calling in reinforcements.”
Mike looked back, tilting his head, as to ask What the hell does that mean?
Dustin, reading the signal, responded,
“I’ll call Will to help me”
“No!” Mike said, his voice rough from the lack of use.
“Oh, so you can speak. And why the hell don’t you want to see Will?”
“It’s… complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”
Dustin was having none of it. Crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, his voice had a loving yet forceful edge to it now.
“Oh, yeah? Try me.”
Mike, on the defensive, shot up his hands and was close to yelling now.
“No, it’s personal!”
Dustin retorted.
“I’ll kick you out”
Mike scoffed.
“You wouldn’t”
“Try me.”
Dustin had used his Trump card, and that was how Mike Wheeler ended up spilling his guts to Steve, Robin, and Dustin on the Sunday afternoon before Will left for college.
Steve and Robin had already been on their way to pick up Dustin when they stumbled across the scene, Mike had begged Dustin to shoo them away, but after hearing what he heard, Dustin needed some backup.
“Wait, so let me get this straight," Steve started, with an ever so confused expression fixed on his face.
“Will made this painting for you because he knew that Jane still loved you?”
“No dingus,” Robin took over,
“The painting never had anything to do with Jane. Will made it himself and then delivered it as if it were from her, but now we know that it’s from him.”
“Don’t forget about the speech!” Dustin interjected,
“The painting came with a long ass speech about how Mike makes Jane– I mean, Will, feel better for being different”
“Different? Different how? What the hell does that mean?” Steve said, now standing up and pacing the room
“You are so dumb, Steve. He’s in love with him!” Robin stood up, exasperated
“With who?”
“Mike, dumbass. You know, for as many girls as you’ve gone out with, you’re surprisingly dumb when it comes to love.” Dustin said, dragging the other two back down to the couch, where Mike was now losing his mind.
“Wait, wait, wait. Didn’t we already know that??” Steve said
“What the fuck does that mean?” Mike finally chimed in on the conversation.
“Yeah, back at WSQK last November, you were his Tammy” he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world
“What the fu-” “the hell is a Tammy??” Dustin and Mike said, speaking at the exact same time.
“Someone that you thought you liked but then realized you didn’t” Robin said, also as if this was obvious.
“Why?” Mike said, confused.
Robin was nervous now, speaking quickly.
“It’s- er, it’s from a show we all watch! Anyways that’s not important, what’s important is you, Mike. How are you feeling about this?”
“I… I’m confused.”
“Understandable” “Yeah” “Same” 3 voices came at the same time.
Robin tried again,
“Do you think you like him back? Or definitely not”
“I don’t know… and that’s what’s confusing me”
“Well are you… you know?” Steve said, lowering his voice
“You can say the word gay Steve, and stop whispering,” Robin lectured him.
“I mean, I haven’t really thought about it” Mike responded, getting quiet for a different reason.
“Okay now that’s a lie, he’s been staring at that wall for about two days now, I’m assuming doing nothing but thinking.”
Mike could have killed Dustin at that moment, not wanting to share his findings with those three, of all people.
“I feel like if I let myself like someone else, it’s not fair to Jane.” Mike said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Can I please go back to looking at the wall now?”
Dustin, Robin, and Steve shuffled out, muttering I’m sorry’s and Love you’s. Mike wasn’t mad at them, he was more scared, and didn’t want to face his feelings quite yet. In a few days, Will would be gone, and Mike wanted to enjoy the last few days of summer while he still could.