Chapter Text
In the summer of 1992, Mike Wheeler was very graciously offered a spot in a summer writing program that was held in New York City’s very own Columbia University. He was reluctant at first to accept the offer after struggling through his junior year at Indiana University and his first two years at Roane County Community College, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Staying in Indiana after the events that left his once peaceful town in shambles was never the plan. Staying in Indiana, surrounded by memories and being haunted by them, was something he couldn’t fathom doing. It was actually the very last option but quickly became the only one as he spent most of his junior and senior year of high school completely disregarding his grades. He still managed to graduate, but unfortunately didn’t manage to make it into any universities he wanted, so off to community college and staying in Indiana by transferring to the state school (per Mike’s cowardice to leave and his parent’s request that felt like a demand) it was for Mike.
So far, Mike Wheeler’s college life has been bleak. He fell into a boring routine he couldn’t break. Struggle to get out of bed, go to class, work his shitty part time job, write, go to sleep, then wake up to do the same thing all over again. It’s boring, it’s mundane, it’s agonizing, it’s Mike Wheeler’s every day. He didn’t often change this routine, eventually finding some odd sense of comfort in his insufferable and predictable life. Even writing he finds himself struggling with. Creativity doesn’t come as easily as it used to. He definitely couldn’t whip up 10 hour D&D campaigns anymore. His writing, once so imaginative and full of life, turned into something that could be described as a plain boiled potato. It’s a wonder he was even offered a spot in the program at all with how insincere his writing had become.
To say Mike Wheeler is depressed might be an understatement. Sure he had a few friends at school, and had even managed to go on a date or two, but he found himself struggling to make meaningful connections with people who were totally ignorant to the horrors of the world. Everyone seemed shallow and superficial. He often found himself looking down on those who had no idea about Vecna or the Upside Down, that had no idea he had helped to save their lives. No one could ever fully understand what he went through to do so and no relationships could ever compare to the ones he had with The Party. He still keeps kind of in touch with Lucas, calling every other month or so, Dustin every couple of months, and Max only in the background of his and Lucas’s phone calls. So without making any meaningful bonds with IU peers, Mike spent most of his free time in college locked up in his room listening to music and writing stories. Stories that darkened and lost their spark as he lost his.
One good thing about spending a large amount of time isolating yourself is that it gives you a lot of free time to recap your life and self-reflect. One bad thing about spending a large amount of time isolating yourself is that it gives you a lot of free time to recap your life and self-reflect. Which Mike Wheeler did constantly because he was always isolating himself. Definitely too much because it often led to Mike thinking about things he shouldn’t be thinking and remembering things he shouldn’t be remembering. Despite having all that time to think, he had no idea who he was as a person. He knew he liked The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Sonic Youth. He knew he liked Levi’s jeans and knitted sweaters. He knew he liked Silence of the Lambs and Gremlins 2. He didn’t, however, know what he wanted in life besides being a writer. And even that he was unsure of from time to time, not knowing what type of writing he’d be doing. The idea of graduating college, landing a well paying 9-5 job, getting married and having kids seems great in theory. It’s what a lot of people strive for. It’s what his parents want for him. It’s what he should want. But he can’t picture himself working a dead end 9-5 job (no matter how much it pays), he can’t visualize himself waiting at the altar for a veiled bride to walk down, and he can’t imagine looking down into the eyes of his first born child as he holds it for the first time. The only thing about that life that he could picture would be him watching the television on his La-Z-Boy miserable and unmoving for hours, the very spitting image of his father, whom he had always resented growing up but was now able to understand in a way. Maybe his father, much like him, had lost his spark and chose the path leading to a safe, yet boring and predictable life.
Needless to say Mike Wheeler was very much looking forward to getting out of Indiana, even if it was just for the summer. A change of scenery and a different view of things would definitely do him some good, maybe even snap him out of the slump he found himself in these past couple of years. He had never been to New York before, never had really been anywhere else besides California and the states in between on the road trip back to Hawkins. But however much grateful he was to escape Indiana for the summer, he found a tiny part of himself dreading it. Navigating a city as big as New York (largely on his own since he wasn’t too friendly with most of the other students in the program) made him a little nervous. What made him even more uneasy was the people. New York City was known for being extremely diverse. Now, Mike wasn’t a bigot or anything, but living his whole life in cushy Indiana left him with some opinions. He could say he wasn’t homophobic, but the idea of stumbling across the large gay population in New York left him with a feeling of unease that he couldn’t quite explain. He could say he was fine with being around openly out gay people, but the pit in his stomach and the tenseness in his body said otherwise. To Mike, people could be gay all they want! But just don’t be gay in public and definitely don’t be gay in front of Mike Wheeler. The idea of seeing an openly gay couple engaging in public displays of affection on the street made his heart race and his head reel. But yeah, Mike Wheeler was definitely not homophobic.
“Do I have to repeat myself again, Michael?”
Mike Wheeler looked down to see his creative writing Professor standing in front of him holding a brown wooden clipboard with an unamused look on her face. Pushing off the wall he was previously leaning on, Mike ran a hand over his face and through his hair as a slight attempt to wipe away the distractedness and erase the uncomfortable image in his head of two men embracing.
“I was telling you the rules for your dormitory for this summer. Might’ve been a good idea for you to pay attention.” The Professor said snarkily as she gripped the wooden clipboard tightly, casting Mike an annoyed look before handing him a key with a small plastic tag. “Your dorm number is on the tag, quiet hours start at 10.”
As the Professor walks away, probably to give more attitude to other jet-lagged college students, Mike flips the plastic tag on the key to see what dorm number is his, cringing upon seeing 43. Meaning he’s going to have to carry his heavy bags up 4 flights of stairs. He grips the key in his hand, feeling the cool metal as he braces himself for the tiny cramped dorm room and even tinier cramped twin XL bed he will be subject to for 2 long months.
“Hey Mike.” He turns to see one of the girls who was in his creative writing class last semester (Melissa, he thinks her name might be) approaching him with 4 sets of heavily packed bags. She smiles at him, friendly and hopeful mixed with a little bit of pity. “Do you mind helping me carry my bags up? I heard we are on the same floor.”
Mike internally groans at the thought but agrees nonetheless. “Yeah sure. I’m number 43. What are you?” He slings his two backpacks over his shoulders, his duffel bag in one hand and her duffel bag in the other as they start to make their way up the stairs, mentally kicking himself for saying yes, 1 for having to carry her bag as well as his own heavy ones, and 2 for having to make small talk. He remembers Melissa’s a nice girl from that one time they did a peer review in class, but that’s as far as their interactions went.
“Oh I’m in 40.” Melissa smiles at him as they pass the second floor going up the stairs. She’s a pretty girl conventionally, Mike would agree. She has all the classic features that men are attracted to: long hair, big eyes, and a womanly figure. But he also would agree that she’s definitely not his type without being able to name a single reason why. “Hey, since it’s a weekend and nothing is planned for the rest of the day or tomorrow morning, everyone was thinking about heading to some clubs later. I know you don’t really go out, but I thought you’d like to be invited at least.”
The last sentence makes him pause slightly. He knew he didn’t go out, especially to things like clubbing. But the fact that other people (whom he had barely a handful of conversations with) knew as well, took him slightly aback. He gripped the handles of his heavy blue duffle bag tightly as he chewed on his bottom lip.
Was he really that antisocial? He tried to remember the last time he actually accepted the few invitations he got to clubbing or partying. He blinked a couple of times when he realized that he hadn’t. “Uh- Thanks for the invite but I’m not sure. Gotta unpack and all that…” He raised his duffle bag awkwardly, to make his point. He let out a nervous laugh then went back to staring at the stone gray steps as they went up them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Melissa glance at him with a slight frown.
“Well” She starts as they pass the third floor, footsteps echoing in the silent stairwell- making the conversation just that much more uncomfortable for Mike. “We’re meeting outside the building at 10, if you change your mind.” Mike swallowed tensely and nodded. The walk up the steps was silent except for the small huffs and puffs he let out, largely due to him being out of shape. They make it up the final flight of stairs to their floor, stopping right before a pale gray door with white lettering labeling the door as room 40. He drops her pink duffle bag in front of her door before making a beeline for his own room, muttering a small ‘see ya’ and waving with his back turned when she calls out a thank you.
He unlocks the door to his room, taking a look around as he steps in. It’s a relatively nice dorm; definitely better than the ones at Indiana University. It’s pretty open, with white walls and soft brown wood flooring. A large square window facing one of the many courtyards lets in some warm light, painting the room in golden glow as the sun begins to set. The room has one crinkly mattress and twin XL bed in the corner, a large wooden desk and chair with a small lamp perched on it, a wooden wardrobe, a full length mirror mounted on the wall, and a tiny bathroom, much to his pleasant surprise. He really hated communal bathrooms. Something about being naked in front of other guys and vice versa, really set him on edge. The bathroom was small but very clean, much to his liking, complete with a small shower, toilet, and sink. The dorm room felt new, despite knowing that a different college student was living in here up until like two weeks ago.
He set his bags down on the twin XL, starting to unpack. He didn’t bring much despite the program being the whole summer. He had prioritized room in his luggage for his walkman and his large collection of cassettes instead of clothes, so unpacking was relatively quick. He didn’t have much to pack anyway; he wasn’t really the fashion type. A couple pairs of jeans and pants, two pairs of shorts, plain T-shirts and longsleeves, and a somewhat large collection of woollen sweaters was pretty much all he needed to survive. The writing program that brought Mike to New York runs for two months. Mike had thought it was an awfully long time to spend in a barren dorm room. Although he packed light, he did not forget to bring a memento of home to hang on the walls, a medium sized painting depicting The Party as their D&D characters fighting a red three-headed dragon hung on the wall next to his bed. Although Mike Wheeler and the painter of this picture were no longer in contact (their friendship fizzled out for some reason he couldn’t quite understand), Mike had always appreciated it and kept it up as a reminder to him of his and El's relationship.
He often finds his mind wandering to her. It has been several years since she passed, 5 to be exact. Her death had been something that struck him hard and left him full of regrets. He missed her of course, having cared for her for many years. But every time he tried to think about her and all the great memories that they shared throughout their long time as a couple, his mind always drifted to their shortcomings and he was left feeling guilty. Why couldn’t he say that he loved her? Even moments before her death, he couldn’t say it. He had spent a lot of time thinking about the road trip back to Hawkins in 1986, how he lied through his teeth to tell her that he loved her, thinking it was the only way she could push through to survive and be able to challenge Vecna in her mind. Mike had always felt grateful he convinced her, it being some of the reason they were able to save the world. However he had always felt ashamed that he was unable to convince himself. He never knew why he couldn’t love her, why he could never say it to her or bring himself to write ‘Love, Mike’. She loved him enough, and as much as he tried to tell himself that he did too, a small screaming voice in the back of his mind knew that he never did and never will, not like the way he was supposed to anyway. The kisses they shared that started off as sweet, innocent, and new turned into something that was awkward and out of sync. As their relationship went on, Mike realized he would never feel the ‘spark’, their kisses would never feel ‘electric’, and their love would never make him ‘crazy’. Looking back on their long and uneasy relationship, he wished he wasn’t a coward and he wished he was honest to El. She never deserved to have a relationship she would never know was mostly onesided. He hated himself for never being able to reciprocate romantically. Sure he loved her, they had a close bond for years. But he loved her like the other members of The Party and that was his problem. There was virtually nothing wrong with her, so he couldn’t understand what was so wrong with him that he couldn’t love her the way she wanted him to, the way she deserved to. What was so wrong with him?
It hadn’t really hit him that he’d be living in a whole new state and city (especially one as big as New York) when he had first stepped off the plane. It hadn’t hit him as he rode the subway to the university. It hadn’t even hit him as he passed classic New York City landmarks like Central Park (although he was extremely impressed seeing how it was exactly like the movies depicted). But standing in a small, mostly empty dorm room with a few of his belongings scattered around, it hits him that he did manage to get out of Indiana, even if it is just for the summer. There were no horrible memories in New York, there were no overbearing parents in New York. He was starting completely fresh in a city that he didn’t know, feeling rather excited to make new, non-tainted memories in. Mike let out a deep breath at this realization; one he didn’t even know he was holding in. His shoulders felt lighter now, the invisible weight of being surrounded by bad memories and experiences rolling off them. Breathing in, he notices the air doesn’t feel as thick and suffocating as it did in Indiana. Mike glances out the window and into the courtyard. The large oak trees in the courtyard seem to sway softly in the evening wind, somehow greener than he remembers trees looking. The sun slowly setting from behind another dorm building appears brighter and lets off more warmth. He never noticed how sweetly the birds sang, somehow creating a beautiful harmony with the loud sounds of the city; something completely foreign to him. Maybe he should’ve left Indiana sooner.
Pulling up the sleeve of his jacket to look down at the watch on his arm, Mike realized he should probably call his mother before she thinks the plane crashed or something. Making his way to the shared landline phone on his floor, he glanced at the shut door of room 40, Melissa’s words echoing in his head.
I know you don’t go out but I thought you’d like to be invited at least.
He gulped as the words repeated in his mind like a broken record. He does too go out. Maybe not to clubs and parties but he does have friends. He just went out for coffee with a classmate for chrissake!
He was nearing the landline phone when he froze, realizing that the coffee date was nearly 4 months ago and that he couldn’t seem to remember the name of the classmate nor anything they had talked about.
He shook the thoughts from his head as he punched in his home phone number and put the receiver to his ear, listening to the dialing tone of the phone.
The phone clicks a couple times before the sound of his mother’s voice fills his ear. “Hello?”
“Hey Mom, it’s Mike,” He says as he repositions himself more comfortably, preparing for how much his mother can talk.
“Michael, is that you? How was the flight? Did you make it to the college okay? Any troubles? Have you been mugged yet? Did you make any friends? How is the room? It’s not too small is it?”
Mike’s eyes widened, reeling from the slew of his mother’s questions. “The flight was good. It wasn’t too long. Yes I made it to the college okay, no I haven’t been mugged, and the room is nice.”
“Oh that’s good. I was so worried, you know. New York can be so dangerous! Liz was telling me- you remember Liz, right? My blonde friend with the big head and big hair? Well anyway, she was telling me that her husband Mark- oh you remember Mark, don’t you? We used to have dinner parties with them all the time!” Mike clenched his jaw at his mom’s rambling, muttering a small ‘Yeah’ despite having no recollection of any Mark or Liz. “Anyway, Liz told me that Mark went to New York on a business trip and was robbed! In broad daylight! They took his whole wallet, wedding ring, and his silver watch! Can you believe that? I’m pretty sure that watch was an old family heirloom too.”
As he opens his mouth to respond, he hears a door open. Craning his neck to see who it is, he makes direct eye contact with Melissa, who smiles with a little wave. Mike nods his head as a greeting, phone receiver in hand as he smiles slightly in return.
She looks down to Mike hunched over on the phone, pointing to her watch before whispering quietly. “Are you coming with us? It’s 45 till.” There’s an apprehensive look on her face as she says this.
Mike blinks at her, having momentarily forgotten about the invitation. He smiles flatly before whispering back a small ‘Maybe!’ as he pointed to the phone receiver in his hand.
She nodded, raising her hand in a thumbs up before retreating around the corner and down the stairs. Tense from the reminder of the invitation, Mike watches her go as his mom’s voice squawks his name from the receiver:
“Michael? Are you there? Are you being mugged? Michael?!”
“I’m here, Mom. No, I wasn't getting mugged.”
“Oh good. Anyways- what was I saying just now? Oh yeah! Mark was saying-” His mother’s voice faded away as he looked to his left and out of the large window that was pointing towards the city. His breath hitched in his throat as he took in the scenery. Scenery that was completely foreign and almost unimaginable to a small town kid like him.The sun had set over the city; the night sky was calm, lit up by a pale glow radiating from the large full moon that loomed brightly over buildings in the distance. A few stars littered the sky. There weren’t very many (compared to Hawkins at least) but they were nonetheless beautiful and bright and Mike was still able to recognize a vivid constellation or two. The light emanating from lamps and buildings lit up the street, giving Mike a perfect view of an outdoor patio of a restaurant on the other side of the road. As he looked closer, he saw people eating, smiling, talking, and laughing. Happily caught up in whatever it is that they're doing. Blissfully enjoying life and the company that they're in. They’re all living. Not just existing, but living. Seeing this made a small smile play on Mike’s lips and the usually harsh creases around his eyes softened. The whole scene reminded Mike of a painting; it didn’t seem real. The only reason he knew it was, was the trash that littered the street and the occasional homeless person that sat against a building. It was this one moment, this one view that made Mike really glad he had taken the opportunity to leave the state that was slowly poisoning him.
“-and 2 months is such a long time! I’m really going to miss you coming down from college for our weekly family dinners!” His mother’s voice faded back in, snapping him out of his captivated trance. He blinked a few times, processing her words.
“Yeah, I’ll miss you guys and family dinners too.” Mike said, shifting his weight to his other foot.
“Well, you could always come back early-” She paused, interrupted by something on her side. There were a few muffled words and a pause before she spoke again: “Listen, Mike. It’s getting late and Holly asked me to braid her hair before bed. But it was lovely to talk to you. I'm so happy you’re safe.”
“It’s okay, I’m probably going to head to bed soon. Say hi to Holly for me.”
“Yes, make sure you’re sleeping early. No going out late; you’re there for school, not vacation. And make sure you’re eating properly! Real balanced meals.” Mike rolls his eyes at this. Of course Karen Wheeler is policing her sweet baby boy like he’s not a 21 year old man who has had many, many dangerous and near death experiences. But god forbid he stays up late!
“Yes, yes I’ll remember. Goodnight now, I’ll call again soon. Say hi to Dad for me too.”
“Yes I will, goodnight Michael. I love you.” And with that Mike hangs up. He stretches, intertwining his fingers and lifting his arms above his head until there’s a small pop! He makes his way back to his dorm room, glancing at his watch that read 9:34.
He sits down on the now-made bed, glancing around the room. He thought back to Melissa and her invitation. If this summer was going to be anything like this past year at IU, he would be spending all his time in this small, mostly barren room. Not bothering to make friends, plans, or even conversations. The way he spent his junior year didn’t seem sad at the time, always in his room, barely making conversations with people. But now, he realizes how depressing it was. He looks up, making eye contact with himself in the mirror, noticing how he’s looking at himself with that same look of pity that Melissa gave him. It was seeing that look in his own eyes that urged him to change his ways.
There's no better time to start fresh than being in a new city, right?
Mustering up all his courage, Mike walked to the bathroom, gazing at himself in the mirror. His heart pounded softly, splashing water on his face to calm himself down. His skin was pale, save for the dark circles that sat under his big, tired eyes and his lips that always seemed to be a soft, rosy pink. He tidied his hair as best as he could; his dark, ear length curls sitting softly on his head. Anxiety and reason battled in his mind, trying to convince him to stay in.
You won't go. You know it and so do they. Why do you think she worded it like that? You’re the same old hermit Mike you’ll always be; they’d have more fun without your miserable ass there to bring down the mood. You know you want to stay, your parents would want you to stay. Your dad would stay. The devil on his shoulder hissed in his left ear.
You should go. They want you there. Why do you think she invited you? You won’t regret it and you might even end up having fun. Who cares what your parents would want or do. You’re a grown man, act like it! You’re not in Indiana anymore. Do you really want to waste this summer in New York wallowing like you always do? The angel’s silvery voice filled his right ear.
The angel did make a good point. He is in a new city. A beautiful new city that has already somewhat inspired him. Mike thought back to the beautiful scene he viewed from the hallway window, the happy people living in the moment and how he longed to join them. Despite his internal panic, he continued to get ready; heart fluttering and mouth dry. He puts on a simple black long sleeve top, his favorite blue Levi’s jeans, and a pair of slightly worn Converse, not willing to take his nicer shoes to dirty New York clubs.
Before he can give himself time to chicken out, he rushes out the door, slamming it behind himself. Mike leans his head against the shut door, taking a deep breath trying to prepare for the night and calm his pounding heart.
It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine. You‘ll have a great time. Go join the living!
Wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans, he walks down the hallway, knees feeling like they might buckle with any step. He reaches the stairs, peering down them. The stairwell seemed darker and ominous, with more steps than it looked like earlier. He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve, distracting himself from running right back up the stairs and into his room.
“Oh hey Mike! You’re coming with us?” He hears a voice from the top of the steps; it’s Melissa and two other girls. He didn’t recognize these other girls. One was short with dark skin and hair, a small smile etched on her face. The other was taller, tanner, and alternative-looking with long dark hair and a bull-ring piercing. Much like Melissa, these girls were objectively attractive but not Mike’s type.
He smiled nervously, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. Mike’s ever-monotonous voice surprisingly rose a few octaves as he responded: “Oh yeah! Decided I might as well go clubbing. We are in New York City after all.”
The three girls lit up at his words, silently celebrating. They joined him as they walked down the stairs and out the door. Joining the rest of the group, Mike stood awkwardly as Melissa introduced him.
“Hey guys, you know Mike, right? He’s coming with us!” She said excitedly. Mike could recognize a few faces in the group from classes they’d been in together. Looking around, he locks eyes with a tall, tan boy with an arrogant look to him. Mike quickly adverts his gaze to anywhere else but the boy, heart thumping slightly.
“Woah, you got Wheeler to come out? That’s a crazy feat.” The boy exclaims with wide eyes, crossing his big arms. Mike said nothing and chewed on his lip bottom; maybe the devil was right after all.
“Yeah, yeah Frank. Let’s get going.” The girl with the bull ring piercing (whom Mike later learned her name was Christa) waved the boy off and walked over to Mike. “Let’s get a move on, shall we?”
Mike felt a bit of relief at having at least someone to reassure he was wanted. Him and Christa followed slightly behind the large group of college students heading to clubs. They were silent for a bit; the sounds of the city and their footsteps being the only sounds until Christa breaks the silence.
“You don’t get out much, do you?” She asks, turning to look at him square in the face.
Mike, a little startled by that question, responds: “You can tell that much, huh?”
She smiles softly, turning back to look at the street in front of her. “A little. You just seem like a mega-introvert. There’s nothing wrong with that, though.”
“I guess I kinda am.” Mike admits, putting a hand into the pocket of his jeans. “I’m trying not to be. New city and all.” He looks up and gestures to the city by waving his hand in the air.
“Well, you’re out now. Progress is progress.” Mike nods at this as Christa continues. “So, have you gone clubbing or partying before?”
“No, not really. I never partied in high school either. Me and my friends weren’t really the type.”
“So what type were you?” She gives Mike a scrutinizing look, as if trying to figure everything out about him.
“We were super-nerds. Dungeons and Dragons, Star Wars, science-buffs and all that. Total losers.” Mike said playfully, fondly remembering the peaceful and non-life threatening moments that The Party had.
“Sounds like my kind of people. You’re looking at a level 15 Cleric right here.”
Mike's eyes light up at that. “No way, you played D&D, too? That’s crazy. My best fri-” Mike stops short. Not your best friend anymore. He cleared his throat. “I mean, one of the kids I used to play with was a Cleric too. I was a Paladin.”
Christa nods. “Maybe that’s why we got along quickly. Paladins and Clerics, their divine soul ties and all that.” She waves her hand in the air.
“Yeah…” Mike trailed off, his mind wandering to his Cleric.
It had been years since Mike had last talked to Will. Although Mike occasionally talked to the other members of the party, Will was not one of them. After they succeeded in killing Vecna, Will had grown distant from Mike, opting to hang out with Lucas and Max instead. Mike never knew why Will pulled away from him; maybe it had something to do with that Tammy guy that he had a crush on. Mike did feel Will slipping from him, but he was honestly too depressed to care and even though Mike was very supportive of Will being gay, there was always something that made him uncomfortable if he looked at Will for too long or if he thought about him for too long. After graduation, Will went off to college- funnily enough, in New York. Mike had originally forgotten about this fact, reason being they didn’t talk anymore. But remembering where Will went to school and finding out the program was in New York, a part of Mike hoped/wondered if he was going to run into Will. But there being millions of people in the city, he knew the odds were slim to none. Making peace with that fact, Mike pushed the idea from his head and was happily able to go to the city, not too worried about running into his ex-best friend.
Christa had stopped in front of a building and looked up. Mike followed her gaze to see a large neon side that read ‘Rush!’ “Well, this is it. You ready?” She turned to look at him, a playful grin on her face.
They stood in front of the building for a minute, staring at the sign. Mike gulped, trying to bury the last of his cowardice and calm his nerves. “As I’ll ever be…”