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Mike really isn’t sure what he’s even doing here.
Sitting in his car, in the Hawkins Highschool parking lot, sweaty hands gripping onto the steering wheel in contrast to the dry lump in his throat, nerves pulsing through his whole body. It’s a feeling that’s not unfamiliar to him; the opposite actually. It’s the same nervous, uncomfortable feeling he’s had in his gut since he was 13.
And yet here he is, age 25, with the same exact same feeling.
He’s not completely sure why he’s so nervous about some random highschool reunion in the first place. Maybe it’s because he’s back in the place that made him feel so small his whole life. Being bullied and outcasted as early as he can remember.
Or maybe it’s just the weight of seeing all of his old friends and peers after so many years. Seeing Will after all these years.
Yeah right. As if will would come back to Hawkins for some shitty highschool reunion. If there was one person who hated Hawkins Highschool more than Mike it would be Will Byers, justifiably. The school—hell—the whole town had treated Will horribly, and not to mention all of the stuff with the upside down and Vecna.
Mike doesn’t blame him for being in such a rush to leave for New York after graduation.
Mike hasn’t spoken to Will since he had left. He wrote a few letters at first, but after one too many had gone without a reply from Will, he stopped writing. Mike had assumed Will didn’t write back because he was busy with his new life, but deep down Mike knew it was because Will didn’t need him anymore.
Mike closes his eyes and rests his head on the steering wheel, releasing a tight breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Get it together, Mike.” He mumbles to himself, sitting up from the steering wheel and staring at the building in front of him.
Stepping out of his car, cringing as he slams the door harder than intended, Mike walks up to the entrance of his old Highschool. He stands in front the large double-doors, hands shaking as he stares at the posters plastered on the doors and walls, pretending to be interested to prolong stepping inside.
Despite it being over seven years, Mike still feels small standing in front of his old highschool. It still makes him feel like the same confused, awkward, gangly teenager who would walk with his head down in the hallways, and get spat at with hateful words that deep down he knew were true. Maybe the reason he’s so uneasy is because nothing about the school changed. The same dead grass that probably hadn’t been tended for since he was in school, the same cracked bricks and gum stained pavement, littered with cigarettes he remembers being flicked and left there when he was in school.
But unlike his old highschool, Mike himself had changed. He wasn’t the same scrawny, angry, confused, angsty teenager. He was an adult now. He had time to reflect on the shitty things he had done as a teenager and grown from it. He had changed so much in seven years—it would be stupid for all of it to just be deflated by the look of his old highschool.
Mike takes another deep breath and pushes himself through the heavy metal doors. Despite the effort to push down all of the unwelcoming memories, he’s immediately hit with an intense wave of nostalgia. The orange and green stripes against the dirty off-white walls plastered with “go tigers” posters in bright green letters, the cold metal lockers he remembers being shoved against more times than he’d like to recall, and the scuffed white floors and beat-up classroom doors.
This place really hasn’t changed at all.
Mike slowly makes his way down the hallway, trying to mentally prepare himself to see all of his peers from highschool, trying to recite the script of what he’s going to say when someone inevitably asks him what he’s doing as an adult.
Mike finally makes his way to the sign-in table, where a curly haired woman with bright makeup sits behind twirling a pen in her hand and a bored look on her face. Mike walks up to the table and clears his throat. “Mike. Uh-Mike Wheeler.” The woman shifts through a few sheets of paper, stopping on one and quickly marking something down before jumbling the pages all back together and grabbing a bright green wristband. “You’re good to go! The main reunion is in the gym, but there’s free food and drinks in the cafeteria.” She says with a polite smile, flashing the wristband towards Mike. Mike nods and turns away back down the narrow hallway.
Mike finally makes his way into the cafeteria, inspecting the drink table where he finds a large bowl of fruit punch and various bottles of cheap alcohol. Nothing good. Mike begins scanning other nearby tables for anything else to drink when he hears someone shout his name.
“Mike? Holy shit!”
Mike turns around to see Dustin, Max, and Lucas, and notably a missing Will. Dustin pulls Mike in for a hug before resting his arm on his shoulders and shaking Mike. “Goddamn, you’re tall now.” Dustin says, and Mike lets out a chuckle. “How have you guys been?” Mike asks, shaking himself loose from Dustins hold. Lucas is the first one to answer. “Great! Max and I are actually engaged now so,” Lucas says, flashing a smile to Max, who grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers, two of which have shiny rings on them. “Wow, man. That’s awesome, I’m so happy for you two.” Mike says with a surprised smile.
His thought drift back to Will again for a moment. He wonders what he’s doing with his life right now. If he has a boyfriend.
He turns back to Dustin, who now has a large cup of fruit punch (probably mixed with the cheap alcohol) in his hand, swishing it side to side. “What about you, Dustin? You still dating that mormon girl, or what?” Mike smirks, earning a giggle from Lucas. Dustin rolls his eyes at Mike’s question and gives a fake-annoyed look. “Ha ha, asshole. And for your information—yes. I am actually! Our anniversary is in a few months!” Dustin protests, taking a large gulp of his drink. Mike lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he looks back down at his feet.
“What about you, Wheeler? Any hot chicks you’re seeing?” Max retorts with a smirk. Mike’s face falls for a moment before speaking again. “Oh…uhm—no, actually. Been focusing mainly on writing and stuff, you know?” He says with an awkward smile, fidgeting with a loose string of his sweater. The rest of the group nods, subtly sharing looks between each other, assuming Mike wouldn’t notice. He does. The awkward silence lingers in the air around them until Dustin speaks up. “Well, how about we all hit the dance floor, yeah? See if our dancing skills have improved over the last seven years!” He says, chugging the rest of his drink before crushing the cup and throwing it into a nearby trashcan. “Yeah sure, Dustin. We all know your dancing skills haven’t improved. If they were even good enough in the first place to say ‘improve’” Lucas says, pointing a finger towards Dustin. Dustin fakes an offended look and mumbles something before everyone starts walking towards the gym.
—
The gymnasium was way more crowded than the cafeteria. Moving bodies and faces of people he remembers seeing at seventeen, now with older, more mature faces. Loud music blaring off of the speakers with bright flashing lights lighting up the large crowd of drunken people. The gym hasn’t changed at all either. The same “go tiger” banners hanging from the ceiling with various competitive sport posters litter the walls. Mike doesn’t follow the rest of the group onto the dance floor, and instead breaks off to walk over to an empty wall, leaning against it with his hands shoved into his jean pockets.
Something twists in Mike’s gut as he sees the smiles of his friends as they’re freely dancing and laughing. He wishes that could be him. Mike’s thoughts drift back to Will for what feels like the millionth time in the last few hours. He thinks about how maybe if he had done things differently back then, Will would be here. That him and Mike would also be the ones drunkenly laughing and dancing with his best friends on their old Highschool’s scuffed gym floors. Or maybe he would be with Will in New York right now—sitting in their shared apartment, laughing at the thought of going back to their shitty hometown for some highschool reunion. Mike let’s out a heavy sigh before being pulled from his thoughts at the sound of a voice.
“Jesus, Wheeler. You look pathetic right now.”Mike quickly pulls his gaze up from the gym floor to Max, who’s standing in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest, and a smirk on her face. Mike thinks he can see a hint of worry on her face too.
Mike shrugs a response to her and instead drifts his eyes back down to the floor as she moves to lean on the wall beside him. He can feel her staring at him, waiting for him to say something but knowing he won’t. An uncomfortable silence falls on them for a few seconds, until Max shifts and hesitantly asks,
“Are you moping because Will’s not here?”
Mike’s chest tightens at the question. It’s not like he wasn’t expecting her to ask that, of course she was going to ask, but it still makes the same uneasy feeling spark up in Mike’s body. He shakes his head and looks up into the drunk crowd of people before turning to face Max. “No. It’s just…weird being back here, I guess.” Mike shrugs. She gives him an unimpressed look. “Come on Mike, I’m not buying that it’s just that. You’ve been zoning out since I saw you.” She says, poking his shoulder for emphasis. “Look it’s not—I’m just uneasy being back here, okay? Will has nothing to do with it. Bad memories from being a teenager and all that, you know?” Mike snaps back, staring anywhere but Max’s face because he doesn’t think he can handle staring at her when he knows she’s right. She shifts again beside him, arms falling from her chest and resting her hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Look, Mike, I get it’s weird being back here. I know highschool was rough for you, it was for all of us. But you can’t seriously say that your behavior is just about being back. I know you, we know you—and we know when you’re struggling with something.” Max says, her grip on Mike’s shoulder tightening. Mike doesn’t respond to her, doesn’t look at her. Instead he continues staring at his feet, gaze hardening and as feels the same lump from earlier crawl back up his throat.
“I’m fine, Max. Seriously.” Mike responds shortly. Complicated thoughts flash through Mike’s head, deciding what to say. “I guess I just—it’s weird being here without him too.” He finishes. Max’s grip on his shoulder loosens before offering Mike a gentle smile that he thinks looks somewhat disturbing on her, considering their dynamic was anything but gentle. Max opens her mouth to say something—probably pry more of Mike’s feelings out of him, but Mike doesn’t let her. Instead he shakes her hand from his shoulder and makes up the lame excuse he has to use the restroom before lifting from the wall and walking away.
—
Mike can still feel Max’s stare burning through the back of his head as he walks away from the wall he was just leaning on and pushes through the crowd of sweaty people. Mike thinks about what Max said. He thinks about how she was right. He was all mopey and moody because Will wasn’t here, and that no matter how much Mike told himself he had changed from his highschool self, he didn’t.
He finally makes his way out of the stuffy gym. Away from the loud music, flashing lights, laughing peers, and smell of shitty alcohol and makes his way through the narrow hallways of his old school. He might as well explore the place a little bit now that theres no rules or restrictions on where he’s allowed to go. No teachers yelling at him for roaming the hallways during class or sneaking off to the drama room to play dnd during lunch.
Mike continues to slowly walk down the dim hallways, stopping when he sees a classroom door slightly cracked open, and immediately recognizing it as the art room. He remembers Will always being busy in there working on some big art project he always had due in a week. Sometimes Mike would skip lunch or stay after school with Will to watch him paint or draw while Mike complained about his abundant amount of homework his teachers gave him, or about some stupid project that was due the next day that he hadn’t even started. He remembers the way Will’s face would scrunch when deciding what else needed to be added to a painting, or how his tongue would dart past his lips when he was focused on a drawing. Will would always ask him for critiquing on his art, in which Mike never gave because he thought all of Will’s art was perfect.
Being tempted by nostalgia, Mike pushes open the classroom door and steps inside. It’s dark inside; the dim glow of the streetlights outside pouring in through the window of the classroom, being the only source of light. Like the rest of the school, the art room wasn’t much different from when he had gone to school. Water cups, scuffed and stained with old paint, lay in the sink with dirty paintbrushes neatly placed inside of them and other art supplies Mike couldn’t name are scattered around counters and shelves.
Mike investigates the rest of the classroom. The same paint-stained desk Will would sit at everyday, the graffiti him and Mike had left still being there, though slightly faded. Mikes eyes land on the various different artwork on the classroom walls, one standing out more than the others. Mike recognizes it as Will’s. It’s a painting of primarily bright, sunny clouds. He remembers watching Will painting it once, asking Will why he was painting clouds out of all things, to which Will’s face flashed with a sad look before shaking his head and saying it was because he had missed the clouds when he lived in Lenora.
Mike stands there staring at the painting, the painting staring back at him, almost mocking him for even trying to push down the memories of Will before. A nauseating feeling rips through Mike’s gut as he remembers all of the memories between him and will, eyes welling up with tears.
He shakes the thoughts from his head and lifts his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes. Deciding he’s had enough nostalgia for one night, Mike takes a deep breath and turns on his heels to walk out of the classroom. However, just as Mike is about to grab the handle and walk out, the classroom door swings open with one solid motion. Mike stumbles backwards, apologies leaving his mouth faster than he can think.
“I’m so sorry, I probably shouldn’t be in here! I-I’ll leave now. I just thought—“
“Mike?”
Mike stops short of his rambling, heart dropping when be hears that voice.
That painfully familiar voice Mike had been trying to forget for the past seven years.
“…Will?” Mikes breath stops as he takes in the sight of his old best friend in front of him.
Will gawps in front of him, eyes widening as he stares at Mike. They stare at each other when Mike finally speaks up. “Wow—it’s really you! You’re here! Like actually here. I-I didn’t think you were coming back.” Mike rambles, not meeting Will’s eyes.
Will nods, still staring wide-eyed at Mike. Will clears his throat before saying, “Yeah—uh—I wasn’t really….though the others talked me into it. Mainly Max with threats, you know how she is.” Will smiles, face tinged pink with nervousness. Mike stares at him again. God, he was still so—Will. He was taller now, still not even close to being as tall as Mike, but his shaggy bowl-cut and mole on the left side of mouth were still the same. Will seemed to stand more confident now, had more pep in his appearance. He was so different—yet the exact same Will he remembered when he was just a kid.
Mike snorts at Wills response. “Yeah, she’s still really scary…” Mike says with a breathy laugh. “She’s not that scary.” Will smiles, rolling his eyes. “Maybe because she actually likes you! She hates me!” Mike cries out, earning a giggle from Will who shakes his head.
The two fall back into an awkward silence and Will steps into the classroom lightly shutting the door behind him. “So, uh-how have you been?” Will asks while fidgeting with his hands. Mike just stares at Will.
“I’ve been…”
Shit, what was the script again?
“Been great!” He finishes lamely. “How about you? How’s New York been?”
“It’s pretty good. Definitely way different than Hawkins, but it’s a great city for artists.” Will shrugs. Mike nods back.
“Have you talked to Max, Lucas, and Dustin yet?” Mike asks. Will nods and fidgets with a bracelet around his wrist before speaking. “Uh, yeah. I was actually talking to them before I came to hide out in here. Max actually said you had left before I got here.”
“Oh.” Mike nods and shoves his hands back into his pockets, his gaze finding it’s way back down to the floor. “I was going to, but decided to take a walk down memory lane and just found myself in here. I mean—it was also the only classroom door open.” Mike nervously laughs, looking back up to meet Will’s eyes. Will shakes his head again. “You haven’t changed a bit since highschool, you know that?” Will lets out a laugh, a genuine laugh. The same laugh always made Mike’s face hot and his stomach feel light.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mike asks with a fake-offended tone.
“Nothing, it’s just—let’s go somewhere. I’m kind of sick of being back here anyways.”
Mike stares at Will’s face, the same dull glow of the streetlight hitting his face and making his eyes look softer than before.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Good.” Will replies, turning to open the classroom door and leading mike outside.
—
This is not how Mike thought his night would go. It’s something he’d imagined a million times before. So much that he’d wreck his sleep schedule for weeks thinking about it. But there was a big part of him that convinced himself that Will was never coming back. Hell, Will had more trauma from this school—this town, more than anyone. He remembers hugging Will tightly when he’d get visions of the upside down. Holding him as tight as he could to stop Will’s shaking as he sobbed into Mike’s arms, which lead to Will apologizing to him because he got tears on Mike’s sweater. He remembers defending Will when jocks would bully him for being queer. Remembers how Will had told Mike to stop defending him because it also lead to Mike getting beat up and bullied.
That’s just how Will was. He was always too kind for this town, too kind to deserve anything he’d gone through. Yet somehow, despite everything Will had gone through, he never complained. Not as much as Mike. Will always got an earful from Mike about how much he hated this school. He’d wax poetics to Will about how their lives would be when they left, and how they’d live together, Will suggesting how he could illustrate Mike’s writings. Will would always contently go along with Mike’s plans, laughing and agreeing with him no matter how ambitious it sounded.
Mike still wonders where it all went wrong.
He continues to walk side-by-side with Will down the same haunted hallways they’d cursed a hundred times before.
Mike surges forward, leaving Will to follow behind him and leads him past the heavy metal doors he remembers standing in front of not even a few hours ago, his hands sweaty and body shaking with nerves. Mike leads Will to his car, unlocking the door and motioning Will to get in. Will settles himself into the passenger seat as Mike fumbles the keys into the ignition.
“Wait, you didn’t drink at all, did you?” Will asks, turning his body toward Mike with a concerned look.
“Wow Will, think I’m low enough to drunk drive?” Mike fakes an offended look at Will who pales. “Kidding. And no. I don’t drink cheap stuff, Will.” Mike laughs. Will shoves Mike’s shoulder and laughs to himself. “You didn’t mind at prom.”
“Hey, we didn’t have the privilege of choosing back then.” Mike laughs, finally starting the car and rolling out of the parking lot. “I still can’t believe you helped me sneak that in.”
“I still can’t believe Jonathan actually agreed to buying us some. Also no one suspected I’d do it.”
They both laugh and fall into a comfortable silence for a moment before Will asks, “Do you have any CDs?”
“Yeah, they’re in the glove compartment.“
Will reaches forward, opening the glove compartment and quickly flicking through the CDs before stopping on one that catches his eye.
“You listen to Radiohead?” Will laughs with a scoff and turns towards Mike, holding up the CD of Pablo Honey
Mike’s face flushes as he shrugs. “Yeah, well—kind of. Not really. I-I just got that ‘cause the album looked cool! They’re not that good.”
“Mike, relax. I like them too.”
“Oh.”
Will smiles to himself and shakes his head endearingly while shoving the CD into the stereo, Thinking About You starting to play as Will adjusts the volume.
They drive in silence for a few minutes. Mike taps his fingers against the steering wheel and Will stares outside the window at the blurred town he once lived in, unwelcoming memories flooding back to him.
“So where are we going?” Will asks, raising from the window to stare at the road in front of them.
“There’s this food truck nearby I want you to try. Their pizza is really good.”
“Hawkins has food trucks? I assumed they only had them in big cities.”
“Lots of food trucks in New York?”
“Yeah. Mainly just overpriced hotdog ones tourists go to, though.”
Mike snorts and Will giggles and they sit in a comfortable silence again. Mike’s missed this, missed Will.
—
They finally reach the food trucks, pulling into a parking spot and stepping out of Mike’s car.
Their footsteps crunch side-by-side against the rocky pavement. It’s weird how familiar this all feels to Mike; as if it hasn’t been over seven years since he’s last seen or even spoken to Will. He supposes that’s just how him and Will are. No matter how much time passes with them not interacting they somehow have the same dynamic they’ve had since they were kids.
Mike leads Will to a large, colourful, food truck sitting on the edge of the parking lot. They stop in front of the menu, Mike letting Will inspect it with an indecisive look on his face. “Any recommendations?” Will asks, looking up towards Mike. Mike stares at Will’s face for a moment, he looks soft against the fluorescent lights of the food truck. “Uh, the cheese pizza is pretty good. I don’t actually come here often enough to give any other recommendations.” Will smiles and nods as they walk up to the window where a young looking girl with wavy black hair slides the window open. “What can I get for you two?”
“Just two slices of cheese pizza, please.” Mike responds. The girl scribbles onto a piece of paper before looking back up and asking, “anything else?”, to which Mike shakes his head. “Alright, your total is $2.00” she smiles, ripping the piece of paper off the notepad and handing it to someone. Mike looks back and notices Will reaching for his wallet from his jean pockets. “Hey, Will, let me pay.” Mike says, already reaching for his wallet. “No way. It was my idea to go out—“ “But it was my idea to come here. I’ve got it.”
“Mike, seriously, it’s fine I can pay—“
“Just let me pay! It’s my treat.”
Will stares at Mike, glancing over at the black haired girl who is looking between them with an amused look on her face. “…You’re not going to give in, are you?” Will sighs at Mike, smiling. “Nope.” Mike smirks and reaches for the money in his wallet and hands it to the girl. Will just shakes his head and mumbles something Mike can’t hear. Just as Mike is about to retort something back at Will, the glass door slides open again and the black haired girl hands them their pizzas. “Thank you.” Mike says, turning to walk away but stops when the black haired girl speaks up. “You’re welcome. You guys are a cute couple, by the way.” She smiles warmly.
Mike’s face immediately flushes as he looks back to Will, whos face is also tinged pink. “Oh, uhm—we’re actually not together…” Mike stammers. A confused look flashes across the girls face before raising a brow and saying, “Right…uh—sorry then.” She laughs awkwardly.
Mike turns towards Will who is already walking ahead towards the large patch of grass, with warm lights strung above the wooden picnic tables.
Will is already sitting down eating when Mike gets to the picnic table, setting his pizza down and planting himself across from Will. “How’s the pizza?” Mike asks while taking a bite of his own. “Pretty good, actually. It’s similar to what they have in New York.”
Mike nods and takes another bite of his pizza. “So…uhm, have you been busy doing a lot of art?”
“Yeah. I’m actually working for this company, they’re pretty big. Professionals and what-not. They have a lot of pretty big artists who work there for a bunch of different things.”
Mike gapes proudly at Will and says, “That’s amazing, Will! I told you you’d be a famous artist someday.”
“I’m not famous Mike—“
“Yet. Not famous, yet.” Mike corrects.
Will rolls his eyes but smiles, face flushing.
“What about you? Have you published any books yet?”
“Uh…no. I’m working on it though. I actually almost have a book finished.”
“Well…let me know if you ever need me to be an illustrator for your books. My offer still stands, you know.”
Mike’s face flushes at Will remembering his proposal from so many years ago. “Of course.” Mike nods.
Mike stares down Will again. Taking his appearance in. Mike thinks younger Will would definitely be pleased with how he’s grown up. He’s taller, leaner, carrying himself with an easy confidence he’s grown into. He has two small, silver piercings in his ears, wearing a dark brown jacket with a pale yellow sweater underneath. Mike’s eyes land on his necklace—a small silver locket hanging off of his neck.
“Nice necklace.” Mike smiles, meeting Will’s eyes again.
Something unreadable crosses Will’s face. “Oh…uh, thanks. I’m actually matching with my boyfriend.” Will responds looking down at his pizza crust.
The word boyfriend hangs in the air bitterly. Mike’s stomach twists, feeling as if the world around him had just come crashing down at that one sentence.
“Oh. Cool.” Mike squeaks out. Will offers a weak smile. “I mean—cool. Yeah, that’s great Will. I’m really happy for you.”
Mike suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up the pizza he just ate.
“Thanks…” Will shifts in front of Mike and changes the conversation. “So uh, do you still live here?”
Mike swallows back his emotions, trying to push down all of his racing thoughts to switch back to the conversation. “Yeah. About fourty-five minutes away.” Will nods.
They slip back into an easy conversation, about work, life, friends. They talk about Lucas and Max’s engagement, and Will talks about his friends in New York—his boyfriend—and Mike has to act like his stomach doesn’t curl at that. But even when Will mentions some guy he met at his college, it’s easy for Mike to forget it with Will sitting right in front of him. Listening to him talk about his life in the pretty light, falling back into their past dynamic.
Falling back into him.
—
“So when do you leave for New York?”
“…Tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
Another awkward silence falls over the two and Mike grabs their plates, standing up and walking over to a nearby trashcan to throw them away.
When Mike walks back up to the table, he finds Will, calmly staring up at the moon, the moonlight reflecting off of his eyes. Mike thinks about how beautiful Will is.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Mike asks, stopping in front of the table.
Will blinks out of his thoughts and turns towards Mike with a gentle smile. “Nothing, just…it’s been nice catching up with you, Mike.”
Mike wishes he could stay in this moment forever.
Mike nods back at Will, giving him a warm smile of his own. “Yeah, it has. I’m glad Max convinced you to come back for some shitty highschool reunion.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Will stands from the bench, adjusting his jacket. “Mind taking me back to the school? My car’s still there.”
“Yeah, ‘course.” Mike feels his stomach twist, the realization sinking in that it’s over.
Will smiles and gestures his hand forwards. “After you.”
—
Neither of them speak on the ride back.
They don’t make any effort to strike up another conversation as Mike shoves his key into the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot. Mike is fine with it, honestly. It’s not an uncomfortable, awkward, tension-filled silence between them. It’s comfortable. Familiar. It gives Mike space to think, to reflect.
Him and Will had done practically everything together. Watching horror movies late at night on Mike’s basement couch, cheating on each other’s homework, Mike sneaking his parents’ alcohol and gagging at the taste to which Will would laugh at him, bickering to each other about music taste and CDs, sneaking away from the rest of the party when Mike knew Will was uncomfortable.
And now, here they are. Seven years later, mid 20s, Will sitting in Mike’s passenger seat, about to go back to his life that he isn’t a part of.
Mike thinks back every event that had lead to this very moment. About everything they went through together, every shared look, every thrilling moment filled with breathy laughter that lead down to dwindling conversations and unresponsive letters as they eventually grew up and started their own lives.
Their own seperate lives.
Mike remembers all the stupid things he had done growing up. Pointless fights, unwritten letters, unanswered calls, bitter words. He remembers being angry when Will had first left him for New York. His anger spiking even more when he woke up and saw Will’s painting hanging on his wall or heard The Clash or The Cure playing.
But Mike was older now. He wasn’t the same bratty, selfish teenager he was at 14. He had time to reflect, to grow. He and Will could actually work out. Mike could convince Will to break up with his boyfriend, to move somewhere else and live together, where Will would illustrate Mike’s comics and they could finally live comfortably. Mike had messed it up then, but not now. Not without all the growing he’d done while Will was gone. He wasn’t going to ruin it this time.
Mike can hear his heartbeat echo in his head as he pulls into the school’s parking lot. The reunion is over now, the lights are all off and the parking lot is empty apart from one car he assumes to be Will’s. He parks beside the car and twists the key, glancing over at Will, finally. “There you go.”
Will offers a smile at Mike, face lit from the warm glow of the streetlight in front of them. “Thanks, Mike.”
Will steps out of Mike’s car and walks around to his own. As Will is unlocking his car door, Mike rolls down his window and breathes in.
“Will, I’m—“
“Look Mike—“
They both stop short, Will stares at the ground, face shifting into something unreadable. Mike sucks in a shaky breath. “You first.”
Will hesitates, lost in thought. “Mike, I…” Will fidgets with his hands and shoves them into his pockets. His eyes meet Mike’s for a second before shifting back down to the concrete below him. “Have a nice life, okay?
Oh.
Mike’s chest tightens with a sharp pain.
“Yeah.” Mike hears himself say before he can think, voice thick and heavy with emotion. “You too, Will.”
Will offers Mike a final weak smile turning away and opening his car door. It hurts how familiar that smile is. How that simple expression is so burned into Mike’s mind he could see it when he closes his eyes.
Mike feels dizzy and numb as he hears Will’s car start beside him. He looks over to see Will’s car window down too, giving mike one last nod and smile. One last offering of what they could’ve been. And with the roar of the engine and a puff of thick smoke, Will peels off into the night.
Leaving Mike alone, sitting in his car, in his old highschool’s parking lot, the night ending far too familiarly how it started.
—
Mike leans back into his seat, eyes stinging with tears. The night air is cold. Freezing air seeping into his car, hitting his face through his still open window he was just talking to Will through. His face feels hot and angry with shame. The shame of still being in love with Will, the shame of thinking he had a second chance.
Mike ruefully thinks about how Will is happy now. About how he’s accepted himself, settled into his own skin and growing more confident because of it. He thinks about how Will is living the same life Mike had rambled to him about when he was sixteen—happy and free, away from all of the pain and restraints from the town he grew up in.
Mike thinks about how he hasn’t changed at all since he was a teenager. He was still a coward. Shameful and angry with himself for being the way he was. He still lied to himself and pushed down his struggles so deep inside of him so nobody would see or know the true him.
The haze of the smoke from Will’s car still lingers in the broken night air. Will’s laughter, breathy and genuine, still echos through Mike’s head, his warm smile imprinted into Mike’s eyes like the sun.
Mike wishes he’d done everything differently back then, wishes he’d actually changed.
Maybe if he’d done everything differently he would’ve followed Will.
Maybe if he did everything differently Will would’ve stayed.