Chapter Text
Bloomington, Indiana
September 1990
Friday
If Mike Wheeler had to pick one word to describe Will Byers, it would be evasive. He’s spent most of his life with Will, in fact, does not remember his life before Will entered it. And yet, Will is a puzzle. He is evasive.
He’s pondering this as he sits on the couch across from Dustin, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure blaring on the TV in front of them. It’s dark in the living room, sometime after midnight, and Mike is wondering why Will isn’t home yet. The thing is, Mike didn’t know that Will was going out tonight. Will didn’t tell him. And it’s not like he’s Will’s keeper or anything. He knows that. But at the same time, he kind of is, kind of always has been. Will is his best friend and it throws Mike off of his equilibrium, fucks with his state of homeostasis when Mike has to worry about Will.
So why didn’t Will tell him? Why was Mike already on the couch, popcorn in hand, when Will was popping out of his room in a tight-fitting sweater at nearly nine to go to his “dinner plans” with an “art friend?” No, Mike thinks, homeostasis officially fucked, he doesn’t like this.
Mike’s not an idiot, contrary to what Max might believe. He knows what “dinner plans” mean. He’s had his fair share of “dinner plans” since arriving at IU. As it turns out, the girls of IU are much more interested in his poor posture and teenage-dirtbag-with-a-better-haircut thing he has going on than the girls of Hawkins were. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s really the premise of the situation that has Mike pondering Will’s evasiveness tonight. Why would Will not tell him? How is he supposed to know Will is safe?
Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is almost over when Will finally resurfaces from his “dinner plans.” “Oh!” Will is toeing off his shoes and glancing towards the TV. “I like this part.” Mike pulls his legs up and turns his body to face the TV, making room for Will to finish the movie on the middle cushion. Will sits and tucks his legs underneath himself, knees pressing against Mike’s thigh. The TV illuminates Will and Mike can finally see more than just his general outline in the darkness. His hair is slightly disheveled, like he tried to smooth it down after being in the wind, and the collar of his sweater looks stretched out. Will fiddles with his fingers as he settles in to watch the rest of the movie, a small smile on his face.
No, Mike thinks, as he’s hit with faint whiffs of a cologne that doesn’t belong to him or Will, equilibrium still utterly and completely fucked, he doesn’t like this.
--
Bloomington, Indiana
September 1990
Saturday
Lucas waves a hand in front of Mike’s face, punctuating the action with a few snaps, pulling Mike from his thoughts. Mike blinks and Lucas looks at him expectantly.
Mike shrugs, mouth open slightly as if to say huh? Lucas rolls his eyes. “I said,” Lucas starts restacking the free weights he was just using. “What the hell is up with you today?”
Mike follows his lead and begins sliding plates off of their barbell. “What d’you mean?”
“You’re just, like, not here right now. In your head. What’s up?”
“Oh, yeah.” Mike hums good-naturedly. “Yeah. Did you hear what time Will came home last night? Or, I guess it was this morning.”
Lucas gives him an incredulous look. “Why would I know that? I’m not his secretary. Max and I were probably already asleep.”
Lucas starts towards the gym doors and Mike follows behind, ignoring the secretary comment. “Yeah, well, it was after midnight. And he left at nine. Who leaves for dinner so late?”
“You’re joking.” Mike’s not sure what there is to joke about, that’s what happened. He tells Lucas this. “No, idiot, I know you’re not actually making a joke. What I don’t understand is why you give a shit.”
“Oh, well-” Mike says, unlocking his car for him and Lucas and clambering into the driver’s seat. That’s easy. “He didn’t tell me he was going out and it was late. What if something happened?”
“Mike, Will’s a big boy. I’m sure he was more than alright last night.” Mike can feel Lucas’s eyes focused on him as he navigates out of the parking lot. “When’s the last time you told Will you were leaving for a hook up?”
Mike scoffs. “That’s different.” Lucas prompts him to continue. “Well, I don’t know, what if some guy tries to take advantage of him?”
“Okay.” Lucas says slowly. “And what if some girl tries to take advantage of you? You’re holding Will to some weird, gay double standard right now.”
“What? No, I’m not.” Mike shoots Lucas a grimace and slows down, pulling into the drive thru. “I’m definitely not. I just-yeah, hi. Can I get, uh, four sausage, egg, and cheese McMuffins? Four. And then can I get one McMuffin with just egg and cheese? Yeah, just egg and cheese. Okay, thanks.” Mike pulls forward. “I just feel weird when-hey, how’s it going?” Mike holds a ten dollar bill out of the window. The cashier drops eight cents and a receipt into his hand and Mike tosses both into his cup holder before pulling forward. “I feel weird when I don’t know that Will is-awesome, thanks, have a good day.” Mike grabs the McDonald’s bags, rifling through to check for the singular egg and cheese McMuffin before handing the bags to Lucas and pulling away. “I just feel weird when I don’t know that he’s safe.”
Lucas lets out a dry laugh and Mike side-eyes him. “What if Dustin went out last night instead of Will?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, I just like to know that Will is safe. It’s a Will thing.”
“Yeah.” Lucas nods his head in agreement. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This is a weird double standard thing you’re doing. A fuckin’ ‘Will thing,’ give me a break. It’s like you want to wrap him in bubble wrap before he leaves the apartment.” Now, Mike thinks as he pulls into their apartment complex, that’s an idea. “Do me a favor, buddy. Do some self-reflection and get back to me.”
--
Mike is sitting on the floor at Will’s feet, his usual Saturday morning spot, attempting to do some self-reflection. He looks at Lucas sitting next to him at Max’s feet and at Dustin, slumped in the recliner, both of their eyes intently focused on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Mike furrows his brow. Can he not just be concerned for his friend’s, his best friend’s, safety? That’s it, Mike thinks. Will is his best friend. It’s not a double standard, because Will is gay, it’s a double standard because Will is his best friend.
Will stirs behind him, nudging Mike with his leg. Mike turns around and Will motions with his mug towards the kitchen, starting to lift off of the couch. “Oh.” Mike reaches out to grab Will’s mug. “I’ll get it. You can stay there.” Will gives him a grateful smile and settles back into Max. Mike plans to inform Lucas of his self-reflection later today, Mike thinks as he pours fresh coffee into Will’s mug, rather proud of himself for tackling this task in such a quick and productive manner.
Mike feels better as he walks out of the kitchen and back towards Will, internal imbalance slowly shifting towards equilibrium with every step.
And then, as Mike leans down to hand back Will’s coffee mug, he notices them. Two splotchy red marks, just barely starting to turn purple, at the base of Will’s neck. Mike must have missed these last night in the dark. Will reaches out and takes the coffee mug from Mike, murmuring a thank you as his fingers brush Mike’s.
Huh, Mike thinks, equilibrium once again utterly and completely fucked, he really doesn’t like this.
--
Bloomington, Indiana
October 1990
Wednesday, Halloween
Lucas does not accept Mike’s self-reflection and, if you ask Mike, was actually rather rude about it. So now he’s continued to pursue this quest of self-reflection in between game nights with Will and shitty astronomy lectures and in between movie nights with Will and even shittier astronomy labs. And it’s this line of thinking, this pursuit of self-reflection, that leads Mike to pick up The Picture of Dorian Gray.
It really doesn’t make Mike feel better, not only because it’s deeply sad and tragic, but because it lingers in his thoughts alongside flashes of Will’s disheveled hair and his stretched out collar and his hickies. Mike feels like he’s constantly on the verge of figuring something out, of reaching enlightenment and homeostasis and whatever, but it’s just right out of his reach, occupying his thoughts during moments like this, when a pretty girl dressed as a vampire is standing across from him so desperately trying to flirt and Mike is giving her nothing.
To be so honest, he’s not in the mood. Mike doesn’t date per say, but he has been known to leave a party with someone other than the Party, which is kind of what Mike originally thought he’d be doing tonight. But he’s just not feeling it, Dorian Gray quotes rattling around inside his head.
Mike feels like he knows this girl from somewhere-maybe from that psych class he took with Max their second semester when he was briefly considering becoming a psychology major? She’s leaning forward as she talks to him, brushing her hand against Mike’s arm whenever she laughs and smiling at him through sips of whatever is in her cup. And Mike really would go for it usually, would probably offer up his neck and ask if she’s hungry, maybe lean into flirtatious, if not terribly crude, quips about sucking blood among other things, but it’s just not happening tonight.
Mike shoots her a smile and makes some excuse about needing to find his friends, placating her with the brush of his hand against her arm when he tells her that he really does hope to see her around. Mike takes a long sip out of his cup, beer now room temperature, and wanders around whoever’s house they’re in to try to find someone he arrived with-maybe Will.
He doesn’t find Will, but does find the next best thing, and throws himself in between Lucas and Max, ruining whatever public display of drunken affection was sure to grace this poor homeowner’s couch cushions.
“Sure.” Max-Miss Scarlett-shoves an elbow into Mike’s side as she yanks her red dress out from under him. “You can sit here Mike, we weren’t doing anything.”
Mike flashes a grin between the two of them as Lucas-a lazy attempt at a gender-bent Mrs. White-scoots over to give him more room. “I still think you should have worn the maid’s bonnet. Woulda made it more realistic.”
“Realistic?” Lucas’s eyebrows raise as he gives Mike’s thrifted, too-baggy teal suit a onceover. “Because you’re such a convincing Mrs. Peacock.”
“I told you,” Mike takes a swig of beer, lying through his teeth. “I couldn’t find any feathers.”
“Liar.” Max mutters.
“Well it’s not like you had to do much.” Mike shoots at her. “All you did was put on a fucking red dress. Same with Professor Plum over there.” Mike jerks his head over to the dining room where El, donning a purple gown, and Dustin, wearing a green button up tucked into a pair of gray slacks, were so very clearly using El’s powers to cheat at beer pong.
“I resent that.” Max crosses her legs. “We also had to do our make-up.” Mike holds his hand up as if to say whoop de doo. “And you could’ve too. Colonel Mustard did.”
Mike hums, thinking about Will’s soft yellow sweater and beige slacks and the golden shimmer that Max graced his eyelids with. “Where is Colonel Mustard anyways?” He glances around the room.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sarcasm drips off of Max’s voice while Lucas hisses her name in a warning. Mike blinks at her. Yes, he would like to know. That’s why he asked. “Last I saw-” Lucas says her name again, louder. “-he was in the basement with a gentleman caller.”
“Oh.” Mike says, because suddenly he’s feeling very erratic, his equilibrium feeling very off balance. “Maybe I should, um, check on him?”
Max throws her head back and laughs. “How’s that self-reflection been going?” Mike furrows his brow and begins to tell Max that it’s actually none of her business when suddenly Will is stomping up from the basement, cheeks pink, and smiling when his eyes land on Max, Lucas, and Mike. Will gingerly sits on the coffee table across from where the three of them sit, foot brushing Mike’s legs as he crosses his own.
“What’re you guys talking about?”
Max smiles wide. “Oh, nothing, just-”
Lucas cuts her off. “Just talking about how we should grab the next round of beer pong.”
Will’s face lights up. “I’ll tell El to stop cheating.” He lifts himself off of the coffee table and glances at Mike. “Be on my team?”
Mike nods and makes his way to follow Will to the dining room. “You’re not going back downstairs?”
Will shakes his head and stops to fill his cup at the keg. “More fun up here with you-uh, you guys.” Will smiles and Mike’s chest blooms with heat.
And oh, Mike thinks, he gets it now. Self-reflection officially complete as Dorian Gray pops back up into his head, rattling around with thoughts of Will’s smile and Will’s laugh and Will’s shimmery eyelids and Will’s hickies and Will’s fitted slacks.
It is quite true that I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man usually gives to a friend.