Work Text:
It’s 1:39 in the morning and Mike can’t sleep.
It’s nothing unusual, not being able to sleep. It’s been years since he slept through the night, and even longer for him to have no nightmares. Maybe when he was a kid, and could sneak into Nancy’s room to keep the nightmares at bay. But he hasn’t been a kid for a long time, and he can’t sneak into Nancy’s room anymore.
Mike rotates the wine cup on the counter. There’s no red liquid in it, just empty, like the fridge and cupboards. There hasn’t been wine poured into these cups for awhile now, and the empty bottles have long been thrown away or smashed in a fit of rage. Rage that Mike can’t feel right now, can’t even begin to touch. Those emotions are distant, like everything else currently. But the movement of rotating the cup soothes an ache in his soul, reminding him of the older days when he would see his mom in the kitchen, drinking from these cups. Maybe she was trying to drown something out, like he is now. He always wondered why she would go through bottles and bottles, but never seemed to be drunk around the kids. She kept that part away, like the two sides of her life couldn’t intercede without repercussions. Sometimes, he’s grateful. And sometimes, like these, he wishes he could have a reason to be angry.
He can hear himself breathing, slow and meaningful through his nose. It takes a lot of strength to keep breathing, to keep awake, but it allows his body to settle more firmly into the kitchen stool, long legs tucking underneath the rungs. His back hurts from hunching over the counter like this, but unlike everything else in his life, he kept growing. He grew, while everything else became stagnant. He’s taller than his dad now, almost a good 3 inches. He doesn’t feel any wiser though.
Mike catches a look of himself in the window in front of him. A drawn, exhausted looking kid looks back at him. The dark circles underneath his eyes have turned purple, and his curly hair resembles less like curls and more like a bird’s nest. It reminds him of Nancy’s when they had the last battle. But it’s his eyes that really get Mike to look away quickly. There’s no life there, just eternal ruin. It’s like looking into a china doll, with the pale skin and the mess of curls and dead eyes.
He never thought he looked like his parents. His dad had the dark hair that he passed down to Mike, but the similarities end there. He has his mom’s complexion, but he can’t really tell most days because she wears such heavy makeup. She had always told him to be proud of his “model-worthy” looks, but covered up her own. Mike always thought he looked like Nancy, with the curls and the complexion and sharp angles on his face. It comforts him sometimes, knowing he looks like someone in the family. The only difference between them is that he grew like a weed and she stayed small. He doesn’t understand Holly’s genetics, has made far too many theories that could ruin his family, but he disregards them now. Regardless of how they look, they're connected in some way, and by God, do they need to be connected. Especially now.
He never had the personality of any of them, though. That’s the thing that gets to him sometimes. He never had his mom’s kindness, and he never had his dad’s apathetic nature. He doesn’t burn with anger like Nancy, and he certainly doesn’t have her drive to prove himself. Holly is a kid, but even now Mike can see the stark difference between the two of them. She’s going to grow better than he did; she won’t have to hide herself to make everything okay. He wishes he could have that chance, but that opportunity has long passed by. He lost it years ago, and it certainly won’t come back now, not with everything else that has happened in the last few months.
It's 1:54am, and Mike realizes, not for the first time, that his parents are gone.
It’s a thought that has crossed his mind before, in the dark nights and early mornings, when time and memories haven’t caught up to him. When his mind hasn’t realized that he and his siblings are the only ones left in this house, and then the process of remembering and aching starts over again. When he comes to the kitchen, it's empty, and the only thing he can grab Holly before biking her off to school is a pastry. When he realizes, with a quiet jolt, that his dad’s chair has remained alone for months and the tv has been shut off. He doesn’t even know if it works now. There have been things that slipped through the cracks when everything happened. He doesn’t care now.
At first, after the final battle, after everything was supposed to go back to normal, and his parents made it out of the hospital, Mike thought that his life could finally get back on track. He could go to Chicago and pursue his college education. He could become a normal kid with a normal life and he could stop looking over his shoulder every few seconds in fear of something happening. Nancy was heading off to New York for an internship at a journalism company, and Holly was recovering from being kidnapped. She made friends. Mike had his friends back. Things were good.
Then an eighteen-wheeler met the side of his mom’s station wagon.
The police claimed faulty brakes, and the slick streets from the storm that had passed through the night before. The truck’s company claimed bad driving, and gave money as if that would make all things right again. All Mike knew was that his mom didn’t stand a chance, and his dad died on the way to the hospital. His dad wasn’t even supposed to be in the car, but in a rare moment of consideration for his wife, chose to go with her to the grocery store. Mike just wanted orange juice, and he came back home after school to the police instead.
Nancy got thrown two siblings she now had to be the provider for. The person to be a sister and a mom and a dad all at once. Mike doesn’t discount all the choices she’s had to make in the last few months, and he doesn’t hate what he’s had to do to help. But he sometimes wishes it could’ve gone differently. He misses his mom, and her need to hug him, and her cooking. He doesn’t miss his dad, but he misses the constant normality he brought. Even if Mike had a shit day, his dad would be on the sofa, watching tv. He doesn’t have any of that now, and Nancy can’t replicate that.
Tomorrow, Mike will be helping Nancy move the last of their belongings to her own car and make the 13 hour drive to New York, where they’ll be moving into a 2 bedroom apartment in the city. In a few weeks, Mike will be attending NYU in January instead of Chicago for an English degree, and take care of Holly on the side while she goes to a new public school.
He doesn’t doubt for a second that if they hadn’t gotten those stipends after the final battle from the military, they wouldn’t be able to do this. His grades weren’t good enough for a scholarship, but they were enough to clench an acceptance letter last minute to NYU, and Mike is grateful for that. He doesn’t want to separate from his family, not while Holly is still learning to grieve and Nancy is figuring out to cook for just three people instead of 5.
It’s 2:13 in the morning, and Mike knows this is the last night in his childhood home. It held his friends close for years, and kept his family together, and now it got taken out by a driver who couldn’t stop in time.
He stops dragging the wine glass across the counter. Slipping from the seat, he drags himself to the phone, and rings a phone number that is as easy as breathing. It hasn’t been long since he last called his friends, but all of them are in different time-zones now, and Mike hasn’t been fully there in months. Their conversations are short, and none of them mention his life currently. If they don’t ask questions, Mike doesn’t offer up any information.
When it had all happened, all of them wanted to stay longer for him. They were willing to put off their own college plans to keep him up, and while Mike wanted them to stay, he knew it was selfish and greedy. They all deserved to go live their lives - Dustin to MIT, Lucas and Max to CSU, and Will to Chicago - and Mike wasn’t about to let them pause their lives. That already happened before, and there was nothing they could help him anyways. They all escaped Hawkins, which was the plan they had made back in May, when they were all ready to leave. Mike was ready to go to Chicago with Will, to get out of the town that was killing him, to experience things he hadn’t before and figure out who he was, but that got torn apart when he saw Nancy’s face. He had to stay - but they didn’t.
He calls Lucas first. Max and him live together in an apartment close to campus, with a dog they adopted shortly after moving out there. Last time Mike called, the dog was still being trained and Max was getting her ass kicked by reports. Lucas decided to study physical therapy, a choice driven by Max’s attack and subsequent coma a few years back. He plays basketball, second-string, but loves it. Max, not one to allow her physical conditions to stop her, is studying psychology. She doesn’t know if she wants to do anything with kids or not, but last time Mike heard, she volunteers at a shelter for kids that need a mentor, or just a listening ear. Apparently, she loves it. Mike genuinely hopes they're still doing okay.
As the phone rings, and the dial tone becomes a background noise, Mike tries to remember the last thing he had told them. He called a few weeks ago, to give the news he was going to NYU, and that the rest of his family was leaving too. Lucas had gone quiet, knowing the significance of the basement to all of them. “Just make sure to get your campaigns, okay? When we visit, we can play again,” Lucas had said, voice calm but serious. He didn’t say if, even knowing the drive was long and the flight would be expensive. Mike had given some sort of affirmative, but left it at that. He hasn’t felt like playing D&D for a long time, realizing that the world couldn’t be like the games he used to control.
The dial tone eventually beeps, signaling that the line was not picked up, and that Mike could leave a voicemail. He isn’t surprised. It’s almost 3am here, and California is nearing 1am. Nobody would be picking up, even with Max’s night owl tendencies.
“Hey,” Mike quietly says into the receiver, knowing his siblings are trying to sleep for the drive and move ahead. “I just.. I wanted to call you to let you know I’m moving tomorrow. To New York.” He stops, testing out the words before he speaks the rest. “I don’t know… what will change when I get there. I feel like I’m leaving everyone behind, even though I know you guys left first.” They were. Lucas and Max, after realizing that Mike wouldn’t allow them to stay, were the first to leave. Lucas had apologized even as he had hauled box after box into his truck. They wanted to leave, done with the comments everyone was making, and done with the memories that Hawkins had stained into their brain. He doesn’t blame them; he was going to leave as soon as he could after graduation, back then. “I think I’m mostly scared, which is funny, because I was supposed to be this brave knight. But I think our lives aren’t actually similar to the campaigns we had made, and that’s why we loved them so much. We got to play pretend and act as if the world couldn’t touch us. And the second it did, we ran. We ran, Lucas, and I think we should’ve ran faster.”
He breathes, lets it out. It echoes in the house, drifting past the empty walls. “I want to see you. I want to see all of you. But I think if we did, we’d realize how much has changed and how much memories have tainted us. You might see me, and remember Max’s attack. I think, if I saw you two, I’d remember… I would remember too much. So. I’m scared to leave, but I’m more scared to stay because I think I would eventually go insane here. I can’t do that to Holly. I can’t do that to anyone.” He breathes again. “I don’t know when I’ll call you when I get to New York. I don’t know when I can. If I can’t, not for a long time, just understand it’s not because of you. It’s because I need to separate myself from the memories and the person. I need to see you and not see… see my parents or see the bastard who tore our lives apart for years. I will call you. But probably not for a long time.” He feels his eyes growing hot. “I love you guys. Give Max a hug for me. Bye.”
Dustin is next. He won’t respond either, Mike knows that. He’s probably in a lab somewhere, or he’s making a new invention, so either way, he won’t leave the desk for a phone call for days. MIT is good for him; nobody was surprised when he got accepted besides Dustin himself. Dustin was always the smartest in their little party, creating things that Mike has only seen in comics and tv shows. He wouldn’t be surprised if someday Dustin creates something so cool that he becomes rich from it. The last Mike had heard, he was figuring out this thing called a computer and he was fascinated by it.
“Hey man,” Mike says, voice straining not to tremble. “I… I know it’s been awhile since I called. I’m sorry. And I know you won’t listen to this voicemail for another week, because you’re probably inventing something I’ve only seen in movies and you don’t have time to settle down. I get it. I’m the same way when I’m in the zone when I write.” He fidgets, eyes the clock. 3:30 am. “I think that’s how we cope, Dustin. I hide behind a typewriter and you hide behind gadgets. I leave the world for a fantasy land that only exists at my fingertips, while you invent a world that you can fix and upgrade. You find answers in math and physics and equations and I create questions that I can only solve by writing it out.
“I don’t know if this is something we ever wanted truly for us, but what we went through… I think we didn’t have a choice. We were kids, and we clenched our childhood so tightly until it got torn out. We never had a chance, did we? We have to recreate what we lost somehow, and I think this is how we did it. By creating things and by writing worlds. Either way, we’re in control for once. I don’t know if that’s something we should fear, because who tells us to stop when we can’t stop reaching for the control, or something we should be grateful for, because at least we still have something to use for our childhood.” He coughs away from the receiver, throat dry.
“I already called Lucas, and you were next on my list. I’m leaving for New York tomorrow. I know you’re closer than he is, but… I just wanted to let you know I don’t know when I’ll call you again. I can’t keep hanging onto the past, and I’m not saying you are the past. But you were a part of it, and I need to figure out what I am, who I am, without the memories always being attached. I need to have my own sort of memories that I can create without the past being dragged behind it. So, I’ll call you when I figure that out. I don’t know how long it will take, but hopefully when I call again, you pick up and I can answer without crying. Love you, dude. Continue being a genius.”
Mike feels his forehead hit the wall as he slowly dials the next number. It’s one he’s memorized as quickly as last time, the one that he holds close to his heart. The one he should’ve called more, but couldn’t figure out the words. He wrote letters, but he hasn’t called this one in almost a month. At first, he used excuses, but now he just knows he was terrified. He still is, but he has to get over it.
He dials Will’s number, the number he has in Chicago. He doubts Will is going to pick up. It’s late, and if he knows Will, he’s probably out painting or He knows Will is doing good from the letters he gets back. He’s flourishing at the art school, finally able to use his talent for something beautiful instead of his worst fears. He also knows Will has met people, people like him, who accept him, and created a community around him. He’s happy for Will, so happy that Will is safe, but he hates that it was at such a cost.
When the ringtone beeps, Mike lets himself just sit there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what he will say. Then slowly, he allows himself to just… talk. “Will,” he murmurs into the receiver. He sounds hoarse, and shaken, and he hates that Will will probably think he’s not okay, but he can’t make his voice sound like anything else. “I… I miss you. I’m so sorry for not calling you often. I figured writing letters would be enough, but I think you’re either busy or mad at me because the letters are shorter and you’re so positive in them that I know something is getting left out, but I guess we’re older now and we don’t need to know everything in each other’s lives. I knew that, even before all of this happened. And I knew that you left something out before you moved away in August. I know you wanted to tell me something, but I also realize it probably wasn’t a good idea. I don’t know whether what you wanted to tell me was the thing I wanted to tell you, but if it was, I…”
Here, Mike lets his eyes close. He knew, in some way, what Will wanted to tell him. He had figured it out after the final battle, after everything had settled. He wasn’t stupid. He has known how to read Will for a long time, grew up with his tells, and after Will had come out, everything had pieced together like a puzzle piece. And in a fairytale world, Mike would have told Will what he wanted to hear, in truth and honesty. Maybe they would have been able to complete their story for once, instead of side-quests and unfinished plot lines, but this world isn’t a fairytale and Mike needed time. He wasn’t a good friend to a lot of them, especially the one person who deserved it the most, and Mike didn’t want to hurt the other person he cared about by rushing something. Mike had plans, and he had ideas how to tell Will, but then his parents died and Nancy needed him and New York is now his future and Mike still needs time.
He finally finishes what he was about to say. “I’m glad we didn’t say anything. And that’s probably so hard and I’m probably being an asshole saying this, but. If we had said something, I think it would have gotten ruined in the months after. I still don’t know who I am, Will. You do. And I had plans, a lot of them, after we graduated. I knew that Chicago would have helped me figure my shit out, and I would have learned a lot and I could give you what you deserve the most, but that didn’t happen. I wish it had. But it didn’t. And now, I’m leaving for New York and I hate to say this but I don’t know when I’ll call, or write a letter. I need time. I kept telling myself this after it was finished, but then I never had time. I don’t know when I’ll figure myself out, or if I ever will, and I can’t allow you to hold yourself onto someone that can’t give you an answer. You don’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve that.” His voice cracks. “So what I’m saying is that hopefully, the next time I send you a letter, you’ve met someone who does know what they want. Hopefully you’ve gotten a contract for an art studio, because your work is gorgeous and you deserve that. I had to pick my favorite pieces of yours because we don’t have a lot of room, and it was so hard, and I hope you know your art saved me a lot back when it was fresh. I want to tell you when I’ll call again, but I can’t. It may be a few months, or it may be a few years.”
He sets the phone against his chest and lets himself just breathe before he picks it up again. “I can’t say I love you like I have done with the rest. Because the way I love you… it’s different but I can’t admit that completely to you because I am not ready. I was never taught how to say it. But I hope you know. I hope you let me go. I hope you wait for me. All of them contradict each other, but I want you to wait for me in a way that we can still be best friends. I want you to love someone other than me, and I want to still be a person you know in your life. But I don’t know if or when that will happen. Just know what I have tried to say, and keep painting, Will. Keep finding yourself and keep living. You deserve it. You owe it to yourself. Become that cleric we all know you are.”
He sets the phone back on the handle with a click, hands shaking. He can begin seeing dawn creep up the horizon, and he knows Holly will be up soon, begging Mike to do her hair. It’s one of their morning rituals now, the one thing they have made for themselves in this new part of their life. He doesn’t understand why Nancy doesn’t do her hair, but Mike doesn’t question it. It keeps him connected in a way, something to be responsible for.
He makes to head up the stairs, but he turns back on his heel. He still has one call to make, and it will be a short one. But he knows he needs to make it.
He dials a number that has long since been forgotten, to a cabin that doesn’t hold anyone anymore. He lets it ring, until he hears a familiar click. Mike doesn’t know how many voicemails he’s left to this number in the aftermath, doesn’t know if somewhere, she hears them. But he still keeps leaving voicemails, partially from guilt and partially from hoping that he would eventually hear her voice again.
“I know you’re gone,” he says eventually. “I know you were washed away and forgotten except for us. And I know you aren’t out there, trying to find the three waterfalls we talked about. I know when I said that, it was a way to cope and to move on. You were our mage, and I tried to honor your story but there was no honor in your death. It was just a way to keep things from happening again, from new numbers popping up, and I can respect that. It doesn’t mean we have moved on.” He hears water running upstairs. “I wish you were actually here. Maybe if you were, I could have chosen a different path, and maybe my parents would still be alive and maybe all of this wouldn’t have happened. But if that was the case, then I would have put you as a superhero again, and you don’t need that. You were just a girl, and you deserved to actually live for yourself, not for anyone else, and I am so fucking sorry for forcing you in that spotlight. I should have stopped, I should have listened to you.” He feels the flush of embarrassment, knowing he’s talking to a dead girl.
“I won’t call this number again. I can’t. You deserve to be remembered but you don’t deserve being dragged into my future like this. You deserve rest, and honor. Not whatever I have been doing for the last few months, forcing you to listen to me repeatedly about the same stuff all the time.” He finally says the words he couldn’t have said back then, when she truly deserved it. But if he had said it back then, then she would’ve heard a lie and that’s even worse. “I love you, but not in the way you deserved and I’m sorry for never admitting that. I hope, in another universe, you got someone who did tell you that and meant it. I did love you, but not in the way everyone else thought I did. Not in the way I thought I did. I realize that now. I wish I had realized it sooner. Maybe you would have still been here.” Mike hesitates. “If I do call you again, it will be to tell you I found the waterfalls. I miss you.” He smiles, a tiny tug of his lips, bittersweet and a sharp ache of guilt settling between his ribs like a knife. “Goodbye, Jane. See you in the next life.”
When Mike finally leaves the phone on the hook, and goes to head upstairs where he knows Holly is waiting for him, he doesn’t bother looking back. He said what he wanted too, and said too much at the same time. He leaves the house at 8:38am, napping in the front seat while Nancy drives the rest of their family to New York. He doesn’t know that in the following hours as they drive to New York, his house phone rings incessantly. He doesn’t realize that his friends try to find out if he’s left, or he’s playing a prank on them. Mike won’t know that Dustin tries to drive up to New York, but turns around halfway when he realizes he doesn’t even know where the apartment will be. He doesn’t know Lucas tries to book tickets to New York, but knows that Mike won’t be happy if he did that, so he hangs up the phone and waits. He also won’t know that Will will repeat that voicemail for hours, and hours, and miss his classes for two days while trying to figure out how to contact Mike. It won’t be, for another few months of hoping and praying, that the party realizes Mike was serious. That he won’t be calling them until he figures out what he is without Hawkins looming over him like a cloud.
They wait, patiently, for a call that will restore their party whole again: the knight, the cleric, the bard, the ranger, and the zoomer. They pray that they won’t lose him like they lost their mage to the darkness. So as the knight makes his journey alone, the rest of his party settles in at their respective villages, and waits for him to reach their towns so they can meet again. They do not care if it takes months or years; they took a vow to follow him, and they will complete it. The knight, unaware of that promise, continues his journey, experiencing new lands and new challenges, but always remembering his promise to those who he loves.