Chapter Text
Hi Mike,
How are you? How are the skateboarding lessons going? Are you and Max still driving each other crazy? It’s so weird asking a question and getting the answer days later ha-ha, like the words have been hit with a slow spell.
I really liked your last letter and that short story you wrote, it was so awesome. I can’t believe you don’t want to submit your essay for the school competition, you would totally win! You’re a really good writer, I would’ve loved to read a book written by you.
Okay, now you get to have your answer to the question you asked me last week. I’ve been good. Classes before the break are always hard and it’s sort of driving me crazy. El’s been driving me crazy also. Mom’s friend gifted her a karaoke machine and she’s been using it every waking second. Whenever I hear the opening note to “Don’t go breaking my heart” my pulse starts racing. She sings both parts by the way…
Have you watched aliens already? Jonathan, El and I stayed up all night watching horror movies last week. We were so tired the next morning and El kept falling asleep during breakfast, it was so funny. Anyways you should really watch aliens. Who knew that the sequel could be better than the first part? It was really cool, maybe we can watch it together when you visit.
Today a guy from school asked me the difference between a cleric and a wizard (he knows I’m into DnD) and I know it’s stupid but I immediately thought of you. Like, you’d know the difference, you know? I miss you rambling about DnD, I don’t really have anyone to talk with about this stuff here. I miss your voice, it sucks we can’t talk much on the phone. I miss you.
Anyways, hopefully we can talk on friday when mom will be out with Hopper on a date. Gross, by the way.
From, Will.
I miss your voice.
I miss you.
You’d think that after about a thousandth time rereading the letter, those words would lose their initial allure. But nope. Still there. Still absolutely magical. Still knocks the breath out of Mike Wheeler’s lungs and sends hot blush travel up to his ears.
Will misses his voice, Will misses him. Mike. Little old Mike. Surely it’s not that groundbreaking a revelation, but seeing the words written black and solid on paper still feels like a punch in the gut for Mike. A good kind though, a really good one.
“You’re gonna drill a hole in that letter if you don’t stop ogling it like that.” The sarcastic tone of Max’s voice brings Mike out of his daily indulgence in the romantic what ifs.
Mike rolls his eyes and quickly folds the letter, neatly tucking it into his backpack.
“Nice letter, huh?” Max asks with an evil smile. “I only ask because you’ve been reading it for the past three weeks straight.” She says, crossing her arms as she sits on a bench in the school driveway. “You do know that the letters aren’t going to magically rearrange themselves into “I’m in love with you, Mike. Let’s get married and drive into the sunset together”, right?”
Mike isn’t sure exactly how his eyes haven’t gotten stuck in his head from rolling them so much, but he tries his luck again. “Shut up.” He mumbles in a singy-song voice.
“You know…” Max trails off. “It’s not too late to accept my offer.” She says with a smile.
“Oh no.” Mike chuckles hysterically. “If I were you, I wouldn’t mention the “offer” ever again.” He spits out. The stress from school is getting to him lately and Max’s attempts at helping Mike do more damage than the opposite.
“Mike, come on.” She tries with a soft tone she saves for special occasions.
“No, you–” Mike yells before remembering where exactly they’re at right now. “No, you come on.” He whisper-yells at her. “You know why I've been reading this letter for the past three weeks?” He asks.
“Because you’re hopelessly in love with the person who wrote it?” She deadpans, ignoring the fact that it was a rhetorical question.
“No.” Mike grunts in frustration. “Because I haven’t gotten any more letters from him ever since.” He states, making Max’s gaze turn to the sidewalk and away from him. “Ever since I decided to be a complete idiot and follow your stupid advice!” He shrieks.
“Okay, let’s not be unreasonable here, Wheeler.” She holds a hand in his face. “My advice was great, it was you who decided to improvise for some reason only known to you and god.”
“Impr–impovise?” He yelps. “You told me specifically to be more affectionate, to subtly flirt with him! It was you!”
“Yeah, Mike, the key word here is subtle.” She scoffs lightly. “Confessing your love to him isn’t exactly toe–dipping territory.”
“I didn’t confess to him!” He yells at a low volume, aware of just how dead he would be if people from school heard the words Mike Wheeler, love and him in the same sentence. “I just signed my letter with a “love, Mike.” It’s not a confession, it’s just a formality. Friends say they love each other all the time, it’s normal. In fact, it would’ve been way weirder if I never said or signed that I love him.” He takes a quick breath in. “I mean, surely he didn't think of us as acquaintances, right? We’re best friends, we care for each other. Admitting that it’s love, no matter how platonic, isn’t weird!” He rambles, gesturing wildly with his hands.
“Okay, okay, Mike, I know.” Max says, gripping his shoulder. “Look, I don’t see why you worry so much. Clearly Will just saw the words “love” and “Mike” next to each other and combusted from happiness, that’s why he hasn’t sent you a letter yet.” She shrugs as if it’s obvious.
“Because he…perished?” Mike asks, confused.
“No…you–that’s not what I– forget it.” Max slumps against the back of the bench. “Look, my point is, for what it’s worth, I think you did great.” She smiles at him, almost earnestly. “Started off strong for sure, but we can use it to our advantage.” She reasons. “Be more direct, you know?”
He does not in fact know.
“No.” He huffs out.
“With the plan, Mike.” She explains.
“Oh, for fu– Max, forget about the plan, okay? I’m out. No more Mike Wheeler humiliation ritual, I’m done.” Mike yells, standing up from the bench, making his way to his skateboard.
The driveway this time of day is crowded with everyone going home or to the mall or somewhere else Mike doesn’t give a shit about. This town could split in four for all he cared.
“You know you’re going to regret it, right?” Max says, following after him. They do skateboard together after school, but today Mike just isn’t in the mood, forgive him.
“What?” He stops abruptly.
“If you give up on this, on him.” Max says. “You’re never going to forgive yourself for not finding out.”
Some guy on the bike passes by them, making Mike and Max shut their mouths quickly as if they’re talking about something illicit, which…yeah…guilty
“Finding out what?” Mike huffs out a strong breath, making his bangs lift into the air for a second.
“The what if.” Max sighs with a knowing smile.
He knows she’s right. He knows she’s so painfully goddamn right. And that mere fact pisses him off even more.
“Well.” Mike sighs, gripping his skateboard hard. “I’ll take my chances.” He spits out and gets on the board, swiftly driving away from Max and out of the school’s gate.
The wind fills him with relief and for one glorious second – peace, ruffling his hair and cooling his face, he feels almost…free. Mike is eternally grateful for Max teaching him how to skateboard, he’ll give her that one.
“I’m still coming over by the way!” He hears Max yell behind him, making Mike chuckle despite the frustration still lingering relentlessly.
He drives through the sunlight–filled street, late march air warm on his skin. He grips his backpack tight, checking the zippers, scared that the letter will fly away. Just like Will did…
Shit, he hates his brain sometimes, swear to god.
He supposes he should recap…
It’s been a year…okay, technically, it’s been 6 months, but you know how fast time flies, right? How’s a little rounding up gonna hurt if it feels like Mike hasn’t seen Will for at least five years? Max always nags him about the dramatics but he knows she feels just like him, she just hides it better.
The move hasn’t been easy, not on Will, not on Mike, not on everybody else. Of course, initially, all of their friends have been depressed over El and Will leaving. But time passed and seasons changed and eventually Lucas and Dustin returned to their regular selves. The absence of Will and El is still incredibly noticeable to everyone, the dynamic wasn’t the same and obviously Lucas and Dustin miss their friends like crazy. But Max and Mike’s situation is still a tad different.
El and Max have been dating since last summer and they also haven’t seen each other since last summer too. Max, as one might guess, is going crazy. Her pissy mood hasn’t gone unnoticed by their friends, who aren’t aware of the actual reason behind her sulkiness. Max says she needs more time. Mike fully gets it. He knows their friends will be supportive of Max and El, but it’s one thing to imagine telling everyone this secret and another one actually doing it.
So, yes, it’s been 6 months since Will and El packed their stuff up and moved to sunny California. It should’ve been less, way less, but it was Mike’s fault for thinking things would go smoothly and gods were on his side this time after all.
Over the course of the past year, Mike and Max have gone through hell and back together, or as one might call it, all stages of grief. He thought he was finally close to the acceptance part of the journey when on the gloomy day in November his mom said that the Byers got the flu which meant Mike and Max couldn’t visit them during the fall break. And no amount of pleading and begging with foam at his mouth convinced Karen or Joyce to let them come.
That sure set the mood for thanksgiving dinner.
The second blow came with winter break. When on a particularly snowy week leading up to Christmas as well as a wildly anticipated visit to California, all flights got cancelled. The biggest snowstorm in history, the reporters blabared, yada yada yada, 19 inches of snow yada yada yada. Who gives a shit?
If Mike Wheeler had a nickel for every time he was supposed to meet up with his best friend/crush/sort of the love of his life, who moved away to another side of the country but some things went wrong and all plans fell through, he’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s fucking pissing him off that it happened twice.
The point is, Mike now was a man on a mission and he does not intend to have tree nickels. He’s been monitoring the weather, not that the chance of a storm is particularly high in march, but Mike doesn't trust mother nature anymore either. He’s been unusually nice to his own mother too, knowing he can’t risk the fury of Karen Wheeler interfering with his plans. The plans at hand by the way are very…confusing to say the least.
See, Mike learned a lot of stuff over those 6 months. He learned that it takes approximately 6 days for a letter to travel the journey between Hawkins and Lenora, if he doesn’t offend the mailman that is. He learned that distance does indeed make the person’s heart grow fonder, however, perhaps that was bound to happen anyways when the said person is in love with Will Byers.
Another thing he learned is that Max Mayfield is a very, very, very, very stubborn person. Emphasis on “very”. It’s not newfound information by any means. He always knew she liked to get what she wanted, he just never anticipated the lengths she might go to.
It all officially started three weeks ago in detention, the details of how they found themselves there unimportant, when Max turned to Mike and handed him a notebook signed in glittery pink letters: “Operation matchmaker. How to get together with Will Byers in under one week? A detailed guide for Michael Theodore Wheeler.”
Mike wanted to snap the notebook shut immediately, away from their nosy, law–breaking classmates' eyes. But the curiosity didn’t let him.
So he read it.
And jesus fucking chri–
In all fairness, Max has been blabbering about getting Will and Mike together ever since last summer. Mike, bless his heart, always assumed that she was joking, just torturing him for shits and giggles. Little did Mike know just how dedicated she was to the idea in hand.
There were charts, tests, compatibility brochures, for fuck’s sake, there were diagrams. Truly fascinating, this girl.
In the notebook, Max went into excruciatingly embarrassing detail consisting of every proof why Will was in fact very much in love with Mike. It sort of changed Mike’s brain chemistry a little, and that was just the first chapter, mind you. The others contained tips, tricks and rules to get them to date, how to be boyfriend material, whatever the fuck that means, etc etc.
And while the plan was still…immense, impressive and downright terrifying, Mike could still see the risk in this little idea of hers, considering Max owed her cupid points all to the incredibly inaccurate “matchmaking for dummies 101” guidebook she took from the library and her mom’s Cosmopolitan. And that allowed him to use a small drop of self control he possessed and politely decline Max’s offer.
He went home that night and gave this thing a thought. And you know what?
It actually pissed him off just a little. Because it sounds so easy when she talks about Will and him like that. Like she has it all figured out. Like everything is great and it’s just a matter of time before they get together by the power of some cosmic force – Max, to be exact, who oh so generously volunteered to play cupid and get Will and Mike together before the end of spring break.
Ridiculous? Try never going to fucking happen. Mike would love to explain to Max why the idea of pursuing his best friend romantically didn’t seem so appealing to him. He would explain that Max acting like they’re simply in a bad romance movie where the main character will get the boy in just under an hour and a half didn’t fill Mike with hope or anything resembling it, in fact, just the opposite. It made Mike feel like a joke. All of those flirting guides and rules to confessing your love just reminded Mike of everything that was never meant to happen.
It was so like Max, to assume that it’d be that easy. But Mike knew better and he knew that he’d rather keep Will as a friend and forever hold his secret than tell the truth and lose him forever. He would…he really…he…nevermind, fuck it.
He cracked open the notebook Max left him and looked at it. Really looked at it. And the sight was…convincing, to say the least.
See, Mike has spent the entirety of the time he’s been aware of his feelings for Will, silently coping with the fact that they’re never going to be more than that. That they’ll always stay just his feelings, this crush that is hidden from the world and doesn’t get revealed ever, doesn’t get looked at, let alone reciprocated.
Because looking at this rationally, it was truly such a bad idea. Because if Will doesn’t feel the same…it’s over. The most important person in Mike’s life will disappear, and it’ll be his fault. Not telling Will how he feels doesn’t hurt anybody…well, except himself, but who cares about that? Now if he were to reveal his little secret, that could actually hurt a lot of people. Most importantly Will. Not only would that just creep him out in general but the truth will take this friendship away from him. And Mike could never do that, he could never be selfish when it came to Will.
That sort of speech went triple platinum in his head, it set roots there and the only thing it didn’t do was pay rent. Mike got so used to that speech, that when Max showed him her notes…well, his brain sort of…mailfunctioned.
It lagged for a second, a short second that allowed his brain to look at the situation from another angle. From a reckless, dangerous, stupid angle. And it also allowed Mike to form a thought.
What
If
Will
Liked
Him
Back
……….
Crazy, I know, right?
And Mike Wheeler from 6 months ago would probably lodge into a 5–hour monologue on how unrealistic this plan would be, how bad of an idea it was, how much damage it could do…which he did by the way. But Mike Wheeler circa march 1986 was truly, irrevocably…what’s the word? Desperate. He was desperate.
Because, as it turns out, silently in love Mike Wheeler didn’t have a particularly long life–span. Keeping my feelings to myself Mike Wheeler lasted as such for about…well...6 months.
What? It just simply isn’t in his nature. What part of quietly suffering inside with his feelings sounds like Mike to you?
So, yes, Mike was desperate. His emotions reached its peak and were just about to burst out of him any minute, which would have been embarrassing if Mike wasn’t so goddamn in love.
Mike from 6 months ago would punch now–Mike in the face for doing this, truly. But that’s the beauty of the lack of time travel, he can’t.
Therefore, now–Mike did another stupid thing he’ll probably regret later.
He agreed to Max’s plan.
He didn’t know what possessed him at the time. Maybe it was the spring in the air, maybe it was his overall recklessness or maybe it was the fact that everything aside, things with Will were actually…good. They sent letters to each other every week and they talked…as much as possible with Joyce always hogging the line. Their friendship was almost back to the way it used to be before Mike and El started dating…well, minus the distance. And things have been…good. Okay, wait, he said that already.
The point is, as always, in Mike’s life a good thing lasted for about as long as he didn’t realise how good it was.
And there it goes–the letter.
The letter.
The cursed 4–page letter he sent Will almost three weeks ago.
After thoroughly examining Max’s notes and charts, Mike came to the conclusion that she should pursue a career in sales or as a private detective, for that matter. Mike also realized that if by some miracle Will does feel the same, this plan could actually…work. Really well, as a matter of fact.
Therefore, the first stage of the plan had officially begun. Unfortunately, with Mike and Will being 2000 miles apart, the first part consisted of little things, like subtle flirty compliments for example.
Max told Mike to be more affectionate, more open about his feelings, to not hide behind the inattention anymore and just show Will that he cared.
So he did. He showed it. He signed his letter with “love” instead of “from”, thinking that it would be a subtle way to sort of...he doesn’t know exactly. He just thought it would do something, maybe serve as a hint that Will would pick up on if he felt the same and didn’t if he didn’t. Mike didn’t even really overthink it at the time.
He was overthinking it now alright…
It’s been almost three weeks since he sent that godforsaken letter and haven’t so much as gotten a phone call. Which he wouldn’t normally be that worried about, talking on the phone was always tricky ever since Joyce started her telemarketing job. Except the call did go through last week and it went…excrutiatingly bad.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌸⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִ
One week ago.
“Okay, so.” Max starts, sitting on Mike’s bed, elbows on her knees. “You’re in a movie theater. He yanks his wallet out and wants to pay for the tickets. What do you do? Go.”
“Max, come on, this is so stupid.” Mike groans into his pillows. “Let’s just take a break.” He pleads.
“There’s no break in love, Wheeler!” Max yells out, a little too loudly for his liking. “Come on, we’ve been over this.”
Ohmygodokay. There’s no use fighting with her when she gets like this anyways.
“Fine.” Mike grumbles again, sitting up. He takes a deep breath through his nose like he saw his mom do at yoga and says the memorised script in a monotone voice. “I softly place my hand on his wallet, look longingly into his eyes and smile in a flirty, but earnest–no, i’m serious, Michael, no more of your freaking rabid–dog grins that you have going on–” He mocks her, putting on his best Max impression, making her roll her eyes. “And I say : “don’t worry, I've got this.” and then pay for the tickets…and the popcorn…and the soda.”
Max has this expression on her face right now that makes her look like a proud mother who was finally able to teach her child to stop biting their nails. “A plus.” She breathes out with a bright smile.
Mike rolls his eyes. “Didn’t know I was being graded.” He deadpans and takes a bite of the mini–sandwiches his mom made for Max and him.
“Well, now you do.” Max says, turning a page of her weird ominous notebook. “Okaaaay, now let’s do a love calculator for soulmate compatibility."
“Jesus fucking christ.” Mike pinches the bridge of his nose. “Max, I don't need to take a pop quiz on how well I know Will.” Mike could teach the whole damn class if he wanted. “We’ve been best friends for 10 years.” He huffs out with frustration.
“Sure.” Max shrugs. “But it can’t hurt! You need to know your material, Wheeler.”
“Oh my god.” Mike groans as he falls back on the bed, looking at the star constellations glued to his ceiling he never bothered to scrape off.
“Fine, fine. If you keep whining about it.” Mike can practically hear Max roll her eyes. “Essay exam is up next. Come on, read it out to me. I want to know what all the fuss is about.”
Mike props himself on his elbows, lifting himself off the bed to look at Max properly. “You can’t be serious.” He says.
“What?” Max says with a confused expression, her face illuminated by the sunlight seeping through Mike’s bedroom window, highlighting every piece of dust flying in his room.
“I can’t read out Will’s letter” Mike shrieks. “It’s private.”
Max scoffs at him. “Oh, I’m suuure it is.”
“Shut up.” Mike rolls his eyes, the blush burning hot on his face.
“Oh, come on, Mike!” Max pleads. “Just the important stuff, just the highlights.” She says, placing her hands in a prayer motion. “Like…did he mention if he was seeing anyone?”
Mike exhales through his nose. “No.” Thank fucking god no. Mike wouldn’t be able to survive Will getting some pretty tan girlfriend in sunny California, let alone reading about it in vivid detail.
“Okay…” Max breathes out, writing something in her notebook. “Did he give you any compliments?”
Mike restrains himself from scoffing at her and opts for rolling his eyes instead. “No.” He sighs out before giving it a second thought. “I mean…actually, he told me he really liked my last letter. He said I was a good writer.” Mike says, not being able to fight the dorky smile on his face.
“Well…” Max looks Mike up and down with a judgmental look. “For you two I guess that can be considered juicy.” She says as she continues scribbling something on the page. “Did he at least flirt with you or something?” Max asks with an exasperated tone, clearly not loving the withholding of the details that don’t let her properly write a report on Mike Wheeler’s love life.
“Please.” Mike groans, lying sideways on the bed. “We don’t flirt. How many times do I have to tell you that?” He says, letting his head fall back on the mattress. “You know he’s not...like that.” He says a little quieter, not being able to let go of the hesitence just yet. Despite agreeing to Max’s “Romancing Will Byers” plan, he’s still a little wary of the consequences of it all.
“Wheeler.” Max says sternly, like she’s about to scold him for eating sand at recess. “How many times do I have to give you this speech? I know everything. And what I know is that I have read some stuff you two write to each other that made me want to wash my eyes with bleach.”
Mike huffs out a frustrated sigh at Max’s dramatics. “You two are basically pen-pal boyfriends.” She says, making Mike release a sound that can only be described as a yelp of a coyote.
“Oh, come on!” Mike yells. God forbid two guys are good friends. Surely one of them is in love with the other, but that doesn’t mean he can’t keep in touch with his friend!
“No, you come on, Mike.” Max shouts at him. “If you’re doing this, you need to be sure!” She yells out as if she’s training Mike for a wrestling match. “Are you sure, Michael?”
“Look–” Mike exhales loudly, standing up from the bed. He can’t prove it scientifically, but he’s pretty sure his brain can’t produce coherent thoughts unless he’s pacing around the room like a maniac. “I agreed to this suicide mission because I wanted to see if he feels something more than friendship towards me. But–but now he’s gone MIA and he doesn’t return my phone calls and I just–ugh.” Mike says, rambling. “I realized just how risky it truly is! All i did was change one stupid word in a letter and he already freaked out! He probably doesn’t even want to be my friend anymore!” Mike yells with his hands in the air. “So it is becoming incredibly clear that he doesn’t feel the same way–”
“Mike–” Max tries.
“I’m serious, Max.” Mike cuts her off. “What if I ruin everything with this? What if I already did?”
“Mike…” Max releases a sympathetic sigh. “I get it, I do, you know I do.” Max says with a smile. “But, Mike, that’s not ever going to happen…ever…ever…ever ever.” That’s a lot of evers.
“Well, we just don’t know that, do we?” Mike sighs, slumping against his desk, at which he spends more time writing letters to Will than doing his homework.
“I know enough.” Max chuckles. “I know that A: Will hasn’t been interested in any girl ever.”
“That’s not even–” Mike starts but gets cut off quickly.
“B: For six months you have been sending letters to each other every waking second as if you two are lovers separated by war or something“
“How on earth is that –” Max doesn’t let him finish that sentence either.
“C: I know that the day he moved away you almost kissed.”
“That is overstating it…a little–” Mike tries.
Okay, about that…
See, he would’ve explained it properly, but he’s as lost as the next person would be. What Mike knows is that they had a moment. When Will was moving away and they were hugging in his room, they…well, they might’ve lingered for a little longer than what could be considered as platonic. They were looking each other in the eyes, arms wrapped around each other and faces getting dangerously closer and closer together. And at one point, even Mike, who wasn’t so fond of indulging in sweet romantic fantasies, thought that maybe friends don’t hug this closely.
But there are a lot of explanations for that, truly. For starters, emotions were flying high that day, everybody was upset about the move and Will just needed a hug…well, so did Mike. So they found comfort in each other, that’s not weird! And sure, their faces were a tad closer than normal…okay, way closer than normal, but who knows, maybe Mike just had something on his face and Will wanted to wipe it off…with his lips…yeah, totally platonic.
The point is, Mike’s still pretty confused over that whole interaction, but one too–affectionate hug does not signal open operation romance Will Byers into being Mike Wheeler’s boyfriend.
“And D: ” Max starts. “I think that you focus too much on the “what if he doesn’t like me” option and not enough on the “he probably does like me” one” Max says with a soft smile and her arms crossed confidently.
Mike exhales roughly. “Max, I can’t afford that one.”
“Mike, come on. If you assume just for one second that Will likes you back, actually likes you back, that you two could have a future together…wouldn’t you not doing anything about it be worse?” She asks simply and easily.
“Max–” Mike tries.
“Wouldn’t it?”
It really would.
He nods.
Max chuckles. “So…meltdown averted?”
Mike releases a long sigh. “Yeah, meltdown averted.”
“Good.” Max beams at him and makes her way back to the bed to retrieve the notebook. “Because we’re not done yet.”
Mike’s blood turns cold in his veins. “Noooo, come on.” Mike groans, hiding his face in his hands as if it might make him invisible and save him from enduring another lecture.
“Next up: tips on how to make him think of you.” Max says in a chirpy, news–reporter voice. “Step one : spray your perfume on his clothes and bedsheets so that even when you’re not around he’ll always be reminded of you.”
“I’m going to kill myself.” Mike mumbles.
Max ignores him. “Hmmmm, well, that one’s tricky.” She says, lost in her thoughts. “Nevermind.” Max says as she crosses something off the page. “Step one : buy cologne for Mike…and deodorant.” She winces, looking him up and down.
“Thanks.” He deadpans.
“You’re always welcome, Mike.” She says sweetly, putting a hand on her heart. “Anyways, step two–”
The loud ring of the phone interrupts her, making Mike sprint on his feet at the speed of light in the direction of the phone.
Unfortunately, Max beats him to it. “Yes?” She asks, gripping his phone, mind you. “Oh, hiiiii.” Max beams, signaling that El is on the line. “Oh my god, you called my house and my mom answered? That must have been so funny.” Max giggles, twirling the phone cord.
“Max, hey–” Mike whispers, waiting for his turn impatiently. It is his house after all. “Max–”
“Get lost, Wheeler.” Max whisper–yells at him, swatting his hands away from the phone. “Oh yeah, did you get the book I sent you–go away” Max snickers at him. “No, not you, babe.” She laughs. “No, I know, it was crazy, oh come on–”
“Hey El!” Mike yelps after stealing the phone away from a now very angry Max. “How’s school? Are the classes good? Oh cool yeah, I ate pancakes today at the cafeteria, they were a bit soggy. Uh-huh. Yeah, I miss you too, can I talk to Will?” Mike rambles, not letting El get a word in.
“Uuuuh…” She makes a confused sound. “Sure?”
Mike sighs with relief, feeling giddy and excited over finally hearing Will’s voice.
“Oh, wait.” He hears El say through the light buzzy static of the phone. “He–no, I can’t say that!” She whispers, although not quietly enough for Mike to not hear her. “Ugh.” She groans. “Sorry, Will can’t come to the phone right now.”
What the fuck.
“Uh.” Mike says, his heart dropping. “Why?”
“He…is…” El starts. “…swimming? What?” El says with a confused tone. “Oh–wait, he’s…uh, he’s sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” Mike breathes out, feeling as if he might start crying right now.
“Yep.” El lies. “Sleeping.” She says, a tense smile notable in her voice.
Will is sleeping.
Well, that’s just great.
Remind him to never ever listen to Max’s advice ever again.
“Thanks, El.” Mike mutters absently and hands Max the phone.
“Sorry.” He hears the faint apologetic sound of her voice.
Yeah, he’s sorry too.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌸⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃
So, yeah…Will is avoiding him. Actively. And not very professionally.
Which is fine…it is…well, it isn’t fine by any means, but it’s salvageable. Mike is just going to come to California and act as if it didn’t mean anything. Yep, good idea. If they avoid talking about it, the problem will go away. Yes! Absolutely genius approach.
Letter? What letter? Oh, the one I signed with “love, Mike” ? Oh, well, you see, my hand slipped–nope, try again.
I actually meant it as a completely platonic sort of thing, if you interpreted it differently, then maybe you wished that it wasn’t so platoni–no, not that one either.
Will, I love and cherish you deeply as a friend, that doesn't mean anything, I have no unnatural desires for you. I value our friendship and hope that you do too…Well…that one might work.
Mike unlocks his front door and tries to quietly make his way upstairs to his room, avoiding particularly squeaky boards. Just halfway up the stairs when Mike thinks he might’ve gotten away with it, his mother’s voice kills the sweet hope.
“Mike?” She yells over the sound of the stove. “Is that you?”
Mike sighs in defeat and turns on the stairs, making his way down. “Yeah.” He chokes out.
“Oh!” His mom beams. “Well, tell me about your day, come on.” She says, gesturing wildly with a spatula. “Don’t just disappear into your room.”
“Um.” Shit. He’s really not in the mood for small talk with his mom right now, but he can’t afford to upset her either. “Sure.”
Karen smiles warmly as Mike comes up to the counter she’s cutting fruits on. “You know I miss you, Mike.” She says, lightly pushing the piece of his bangs away. “I don’t know, I feel like you don’t talk to me anymore.” Her soft tone making something twist in Mike’s chest.
“I–I don’t really have anything to talk about.” He lies. There’s so much, actually.
His mom hums quietly. “Well, how about we go to the barber and cut your hair? We can talk then.” What’s everybody’s deal with his hair, huh?
“My hair?” Mike shrieks, pulling away from her hands. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Oh, nothing, honey.” Karen shakes her head. “It’s just sort of…wild.” She shrugs with a smile. “I just thought you’d want to look nice for Will, that’s all.” She says, not mean, just…genuinely curious.
“For…Will?” Mike gapes at her. Surely she did not mean what he thinks she meant.
“Yeah, you guys haven’t seen each other in a long time. It’s normal to want to look nice, I get it.” She says with a smile Mike can't detect the meaning behind. It’s almost…knowing? God, he hopes not. “But if you want to keep your hair like that, it’s fine. It’s very…punk.”
Mike almost downright laughs at that. “Thanks?” He chuckles. “I–I’m actually busy, sorry.” He croaks out, scared that two more minutes in the kitchen will make his mom figure him out. “I’m gonna go study.”
“Okay.” Karen smiles warmly at him. “Oh, wait!” She yells, making Mike pause at the stairs.
“The mailman fell from the second floor two days ago, broke his leg and arm, god, it was a whole thing.” She gestures with her hands above her head, chewing a piece of an apple while talking wildly. “I had his wife over for lunch yesterday, she told me everything. You know, she’s actually so nice, people overlook it because of her tooth, but I think–”
“Mom.” Mike stops her. “Why are you telling me this exactly?”
“Oh, right.” Karen says with wide eyes and takes the pile of mail from the table. “Apparently, Trent, you know – the mailman, he lost like half of the letters because of his fall.” She takes a breath in. “And the other mailman – Sonny, sat on them and they got crumpled and then Virginia put some in the shredder for some rea–”
“Mom.” He tries again. Mike raises his eyebrows expectantly as in “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Right.” She shakes her head, finally getting to the point. “This was one of the few letters left unscathed.” She says with a proud smile on her face, handing him the paper. “California dreamin’” She says in a soft singy–song voice.
Mike immediately yanks the letter from her hands, gripping it like a lifeline. “Oh my god.” He breathes out in disbelief.
William Byers. Lenora hills. CA 9467– Holy shit.
“Mom, thank you.” Mike says, his face hurting deliciously from smiling. “Thank you, thank you, thank you–” He flings her into a hug, smelling the strong scent of hairspray and some rosey perfume on her.
“Oh.” He hears the bright smile in her voice. “You’re welcome, Mike.”
And just like that Mike was happy again.
Well, almost. He just needs to know what Will wrote in the letter, praying that it didn’t consist of the phrases like “Sorry, I’m just not into you like that.” and “I hope we can still be friends.” and “who the hell sends their friend a letter signed with “love”, did you hit your head when you fell off of your skateboard, Michael?”
Mike dashes upstairs, quickly closing and locking the door behind him. He doesn’t even bother to sit on his bed or at his desk, too nervous to move a muscle. His breathing is coming in ragged puffs and he feels dangerously close to fainting. He assumes that’s how people feel when they get their college acceptance letters. Well, Mike wouldn’t have to worry about that, cause any minute he might just die and college will be out the window for him.
He opens the letter as carefully as possible, avoiding ripping it from the sheer anticipation.
Okay, this is it.
Hi, Mike
How are you doing? Is it still raining in Hawkins or is it already sunny? Did you get the oceanarium postcard I sent you?
I’ve been really good. I’ve been working on this painting lately, had to kill time at night when I couldn’t sleep somehow. Anyways, this new cinema place opened up near my house, my friend works there and said he could sneak us into an R-rated movie! I have so many on my watchlist. Maybe we can go see Little shop of horrors together, it’s PG–13 but still sounds really cool. Tell me what you think, maybe you want to go to another one?
Ugh, why do letters always sound so formal? Letters suck.
Everyone’s really psyched about your visit! Even Hopper is looking chirpy these days. Jane’s been handmaking a gift for Max, some house made of popsicle sticks, it’s got flowers and glitter on it and stuff. It’s really cute. Jonathan asked me to ask you to ask Nancy if she’s coming or not. Apparently they haven't been talking much. Yikes.
Anyways, I can’t wait to see you next week. Pack some sunscreen.
Love, Will