Chapter Text
This wasn't supposed to happen, it was an accident. It was late, and Mike had been driving for what felt like a short blip in his day— but it was dark, and thick fog coated the streets as he sped off into the night towards his shared home, to get to Will.
He had been coming from a writing class at the local college, they had him as a special guest. Will had answered their home phone, in distress, and he excused himself from the class fifteen minutes early, just to get to him.
He didn’t see the other car in time.
The drunk driver didn’t see him.
And the most tragic part of it all, is that the asshole survived. He survived as he hit Mike’s little red Ford head on, the impact causing Mike’s head to rear back sharply, and then come to a bone-shattering halt as his head snapped forward again, smacking back down on the steering wheel. The airbags deployed in his car, but no airbag could fix his broken neck.
Police had arrived to the scene, and they were met with a slightly disheveled man, swaying on his feet, grabbing at his hair.
“I swear officers, I didn’t see. I didn’t know.” His speech was slurred and he looked shocked.
The chief, Jim Hopper, brushed the man to the side and immediately honed in on the other car, the 1993 red Ford Escort. His stomach immediately dropped, he knew that car.
He glanced at the man, who was pleading with another officer, being handcuffed. Jim shook his head and looked at the red car, deciding whether or not to look in. To confirm.
His pulse pounded loudly in his ears as he slowly walked towards the smashed vehicle, bits of glass and metal crunching under his boots. His palms were sweating so bad he had to wipe them off on his pants, and his throat was tight, knowing what was to come.
He approached the car and just stood in front of it. He shouldn’t have looked, he was on the job. He should have resigned from this case immediately, as soon as he recognized the vehicle. But he peered in anyway, and there in the front seat, was a head of unruly black curls, matted with blood. The face was covered, the body slumped over on the steering wheel, and the deflated airbags were smeared with blood.
He couldn’t see for sure, but he knew. He knew that under the mop of stained curls, now frizzy and pressed unevenly across the back of his head with thick liquid, there was the face of a man. A man with a contagious smile, freckles that dusted his cheeks, dark brown eyes and the most expressive eyebrows ever.
Jim Hopper had only cried a few times in his life, mostly around when he lost his daughter, Sara. Yet despite the rocky start to his and Mike’s relationship, this moment pulled on his tears just the same. He slowly backed away from the car, refusing to believe it.
“Chief! You okay?” One of his officers called out to him, and Jim shook his head.
“I uh- I can’t do this one fellas.” He finally backed over to the rest of the group, and pressed his palms into his eyes.
“What, why not?” A few of the officers exchanged worried glances.
“That’s my future son in law in that car.”
That wasn’t even the worst part for Jim. The worst part was going home to Joyce, who was making dinner, like nothing was wrong.
“Hi Hop.” She smiled in his direction upon hearing the door close.
Jim said nothing in return. He slipped off his boots, took off his hat, and walked over to Joyce. The kitchen smelt of spiced chicken and sweet potatoes, which, under any other circumstance would have made Jim’s stomach grumble.
“Will and Mike said they were coming for dinner tonight.” Joyce continued chatting, assuming the silence was because of another bad work day. “Will wanted to show us their engagement rings. It’s not like they can get married yet, but I think it’s very cute they’ve made the promise.” Jim felt bile rise in his throat, the heat from the oven beating at his temple.
“Joyce, I don’t think that’s happening anymore.” He tried to hold it together, for his wife.
“Why not?”
Jim Hopper would never forget the scream that left his wife’s mouth that evening. Nor could he imagine the one that left Will’s, when he was called around the same time that night.
He had gotten a call from the police station, sitting around waiting for Mike. Will had been visited by his father, which left him in a horrible mood, and he was excited to see Mike after his work day. He was supposed to meet Mike at the Hopper residence for dinner, but Mike called him from a pay phone during a break in his guest lecture, and Will had responded quietly, in tears after Lonnie left. He had asked him if they could drive to dinner together. Mike said yes immediately and told him his class just ended anyway. Will knew that was a lie, he called to tell him they were on a quick break.
There had been no sign of Mike, forty five minutes after he hung up the phone. It was a thirty minute drive from the college, so Will assumed he was just running late, that he forgot his jacket, or keys. The thought made him smile softly to himself.
The phone rang, and Will leapt up to answer. Maybe Mike had stopped somewhere first, and he was calling to check in.
“Hello?” Will answered excitedly, yearning to hear his fiancé’s voice even after forty five minutes.
“Will Byers?” The person on the other line spoke softly.
“Yes… that’s me.” Will felt his stomach drop. Something was wrong.
“We have a body here, at Hawkins regional, in need of identification.” The person sounded like they felt bad. “We believe it to be Michael James Wheeler.”
The world slowed to a screeching halt, and time stopped for Will Byers. A sharp ringing pierced his head, and a jagged pain shot through his body, slamming into every organ, and landing in his heart.
He didn’t remember the rest of the phone call, just something about a car accident, and that they had the man in custody. They had the man in custody, and Mike was gone.
All he could do was drop to his knees when he heard the click on the other end. The dial tone rang as Will screamed.
He screamed louder than when his dad got drunk and hit him as a kid.
He screamed louder than that time he fell off his bike, and scraped his knee.
He screamed louder than he did at any scary movie.
Will screamed until his throat was raw, until he was unable to speak. He choked on tears, which poured down his cheeks, wet and salty. He sobbed harder than he ever had, crying Mike’s name. Alternating between “Mike” and “No.” He sobbed until he felt boneless, just laying on his floor, hiccuping. He was gone.
The love of his life was really gone.
Joyce picked Will up, and they went to the hospital. It felt like something out of a horror film. The streets were thick with fog, the car lights reflecting it in the dark of night. Joyce held Will’s hand tightly in her own the entire drive, not wanting him to feel alone.
It didn’t feel real.
Will just sat and stared out of the windshield, choking on sobs. It couldn’t have been Mike, right? Maybe they misidentified the body. That’s why he was going.
Any hope of that slowly dissipated when Will walked into the hospital and saw Karen and Nancy Wheeler, holding onto each other tightly. Nancy and Will made eye contact, and he ran to her, feeling her arms wrap around him in a tight squeeze.
“I’m so sorry.” She whispered and rubbed Will’s back. “I’m so sorry Will.”
A doctor came into the waiting room and called the three of them by name. Joyce stayed and sat on a chair, unable to think clearly.
Will and Nancy clung to each other as they were led through hallway after hallway. The hospital walls were a faded blue, and the lights cast a harsh beam onto them, making the shadows on Will’s face stand out. The walls mocked him as he walked down the last corridor, with a sign labeled “Morgue” at the end of it. They were steered off into a separate room, just before the doors to the morgue, veering away from the comfort of the main corridor.
The room had a singular bed in it, which was occupied by a body, covered in a sheet. Karen and Nancy held hands, and Will stayed pressed to Nancy’s side, his head spinning.
“I just need you all to confirm the identity of the body as Michael.” The doctor said solemnly. “His drivers licence was found on his person, but we just need to make sure.”
Will’s stomach clenched and he covered his mouth with his hand.
The doctor approached the body and delicately lifted the sheet. The first things Will saw were black curls. Then his face.
His face was the worst.
It was battered and bruised, stained blood coated his lip and cheeks, and Will could tell a feeble attempt at wiping the blood away had been made. His eyes were closed, and his eyebrows were up, frozen in shock.
His beautiful nose, the one Will had kissed and rubbed against his own, was crooked. His complexion was a pale grey, which made his freckles drain, but the obvious couldn’t be ignored.
That was Mike.
Will didn’t remember much else, just the sharp ringing in his ears. He felt hands on him at one point, as the ground swayed under him. He stared at that face until he was forced out of the room. That was the man he loved. The man he grew up with.
That man was once a boy, on a swingset at recess.
He was their D&D Dungeon Master, he was Will’s best friend.
He had screamed and fought Will’s father for him, had rescued him from a car trunk with Jonathan.
He had rode his bike with him, yelling with their friends through the streets of their hometown, and had slept over with Will whenever he needed company.
He had planned Will’s sixteenth surprise birthday party with Will’s sister, Jane. He helped Will set Jane and their friend Dustin up on a date.
He kissed Will, just after their last day of junior year, under the same swings they met on, and asked him out officially a week later.
He moved with Will to New York, and while he signed his first book deal, Will painted in their shoebox apartment.
He took Will as his date, openly, to his dinner, when he was awarded the title of New York Times Bestselling Author. He kissed Will that night in front of a room of executives, and old men who didn’t approve, but they pretended to because he was a writing genius.
He wrote three more books, and made sure Will’s name was on that dedication page each time.
To my loving partner, Will Byers. They always started like that.
He proposed to Will, with two rings so it felt like a marriage, something they didn’t know if they could have, under the same swingset he kissed him on.
He moved with Will back to Hawkins to settle for a while, just until his writing break was over.
He was laying, grey and dead, outside the morgue at the Hawkins Regional Hospital.
Time moved in slow motion as Will felt another scream leave his raw throat, his body being pulled towards the man in the bed. He felt Nancy’s tight grip on his clothes as he was hauled out into the hall, straining for a glance as Mike’s body was covered with the sheet. The doctor in the room looked solemn, not making eye contact with Will.
Nancy yanked Will into the hall, but he didn’t make it easy. He was fighting and clawing, screaming that he needed to get to Mike. Karen had excused herself to the washroom ages ago, and Nancy was thankful she didn’t have to see this. Although, the entire hospital probably heard it.
She finally pulled Will back and held his shoulders down, pinning him to the wall. He slumped against her, his words incoherent as he sobbed. Nancy hugged Will and stroked her hand through his hair, her own body shaking with sobs.
“I’m sorry Will.” She whispered and held his head to her chest, never wanting to let him go. “I’m here. I’m here for you.”
Joyce and Will drove home in silence. His mom parked in his driveway, the one he used to share with Mike.
Joyce swallowed and sucked on her bottom lip, looking at her son.
“Honey, I can bring you back to Hop and I’s house. You shouldn’t be here alone.” She squeezed Will’s hand.
Will just stared out of the window, a blank expression on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it, tears welling in his eyes again. He looked at his mother and shook his head.
“I need to sleep in our bed. I need to smell him.” He choked on tears and leaned to open the car door. “Maybe tomorrow night mom. Thanks for the offer.”
Joyce watched with tears in her own eyes, as her youngest son opened the car door, and gave her a small wave before walking to their house. She waited until he was in the house before driving away.
There was no sense arguing, so she and Jim agreed to leave the back door open that night, just in case.
Will entered his house and dropped his keys, aiming for the entryway table, but they just hit the floor. He didn’t pick them up.
He slipped off his shoes and walked down the hall to their room, which was still lived in. He could feel Mike in that room. He stood in the middle of their room and just looked around. The air was chilly in this room, compared to the rest of the house. Will looked at their bed, which was rumpled from sleep, unmade in a hurry to get up for work that morning. He shivered and rubbed his arms, crossing to their dresser.
He opened Mike’s pyjama drawer and just stood, looking in with tears streaming down his face. Mike would never wear any of these clothes again.
Will pulled out pyjama pants and a soft hoodie. He held both pieces of clothes to his face and inhaled, his chest shaking, and tears soaked the fabric. Will hugged the clothes to his body and squeezed his eyes shut.
If he imagined, they could be Mike, standing with him. Another sharp chill went through his body and Will opened his eyes.
He walked to the bathroom and set Mike’s clothes down on the sink, having them ready for after a warm shower.
Will stood under the water as it pelted his skin, and he just stared into the shower head. What now…?
He and Mike had a plan. They had a life together, and now-
Now Will was alone.
He lost track of the minutes he spent in the shower and after some time, he sighed and turned off the water. He stepped into the steamed up bathroom, the air now thick with warmth. Will towelled himself off as he stared into the fogged up mirror. He looked like a blob.
He noticed a handprint that had appeared in the steam and smiled sadly, remembering how that got there.
He and Mike had showered together, and after, Mike had sat him on the counter and began kissing his neck. Will’s giggles had rung out in the bathroom, and his soft noises of approval followed.
He remembered Mike placing his hand on the mirror, behind his head, except the mirror was slippery from the steam. Mike had barely even registered before his hand slipped and he fell into Will.
It was silent, and then they both burst out laughing.
That was only yesterday.
Will’s smile faded as he realized all that was taken from him because of a stupid drunk driver.
He wanted that man dead. Why did that man get to survive and Mike didn’t?
He walked over to the mirror and gently placed his hand over the print that had appeared from Mike. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he just stood and stared into the mirror.
His eyes focused on the handprint, until he saw something move behind him, in the mirror. He squinted, and then his eyes widened.
It looked like there was someone behind him.
Will immediately whipped around, only to be met with nothing. He swallowed and looked back at the mirror, except next to the handprint, there remained a heart drawn on the foggy glass.
That wasn’t there before.
Will stared at the heart and gulped, his throat suddenly dry. He hesitantly reached out and drew a heart next to it on the glass. He smiled softly and stepped back.
“Oh, Mike.” He whispered and more tears formed and cascaded down his face. He sniffed and rubbed his cheeks, just staring at the mirror. Mike probably drew that after, and it just appeared then.
Will dropped his towel and pulled on Mike’s clothes before giving his blurry reflection one last look.
But next to the hearts, there was something else. A cold chill coursed down Will’s spine as he stared at Mike’s signature on the mirror. He knew it by heart, he saw it at every book signing, every birthday card.
He frantically looked around the room, pacing in a circle and searching for anything. The coldness he felt in their room returned, and Will felt it on his face. It was almost like the cold followed him as he spun around the bathroom, orbiting around him.
“Is…” Will’s voice caught in his throat. “Is someone here?”
Will couldn’t feel anything, until a sensation fell over his shoulders and arms. Like he had walked through a spiderweb, but he knew he didn’t.
Will froze and stared in front of him, searching for anything to explain what he was feeling.
What he couldn’t see, was that someone was staring back.