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Mike sat hunched over his desk, reading and rereading the letter he had written last night during a two am panic attack. He had been having a lot of those recently, and honestly just couldn’t take another early morning with zero sleep and enough coffee to make his hands too shaky to write. He had remembered Max mentioning how her counselor had recommended she write her thoughts down in a journal, as if she were addressing Billy. While Mike wasn’t exactly grieving his dead brother, he had decided to give it a try anyway. Although it didn’t completely alleviate his worries, it did calm his mind enough to finally fall asleep. Having the thoughts which disgusted him so on the paper instead of crowding around inside his brain was a huge weight off his chest, and he felt like he could breathe easier.
“Michael!” His mother yelled. “You’re going to be late for school. What are you doing up there?”
“Writing a letter to Will!” He shouted. Glancing at the clock, he bolted up from his chair and grabbed his bag, running downstairs.
“Make sure to mail it now, or else he won’t get it in time for Christmas,” his mother reminded him.
“Sure thing,” he said, fully intending to burn it when he got home.
Upon seeing a letter addressed to him from Mike in his mailbox, Will was completely livid.
It was the first letter he had gotten from him since moving to Lenora, and he’d only received a small handful of phone calls in all that time. Compared to El, who received letters regularly, Will had begun to feel ignored. Stupid. He knew that, since El was Mike’s girlfriend, she would logically get more letters, more phone calls. But he was Mike’s best friend. Will felt ridiculous. He hated himself for ever believing their friendship could survive half the country, when it couldn’t even really survive one girl.
The righteous part of him wanted to throw it out without reading it, and send no reply. However, the handwriting on the envelope didn’t look like Mike’s. Which made him curious.
After dropping off the rest of the mail on the counter and heading up to his room, he sat on his bed and steeled himself for whatever mess of excuses and halfhearted apologies was to come. If last summer was of any indication.
The letter was Mike’s handwriting. But there was no way the words could be his.
Dear Will
Why does your stupid line always have to be busy? I’ve tried calling you every single day, and I’ve only gotten through like three times. I know your mom is a telemarketer now, but seriously? I want to talk to you. I miss your voice I want to hear about your new life from you, not El. But I can’t write you, either. It’s way too personal. I’m worried I’ll slip up and say something wrong. Something I could never take back.
Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’ll never send this letter. It’s just a dumb idea from Max’s counselor. It probably won’t even work. But I’m kinda getting desperate.
Mike had tried calling him every single day? Why hadn’t he mentioned that when they spoke? And—desperate for what? What did he need a counselor for? Will’s heart tightened at the thought of Mike struggling, without him there to help.
Why did Mike change his mind about sending the letter?
Every time El writes me, she signs it as love, El. But I just can’t bring myself to say it back. At first I could fool myself. I was just nervous, I’d never been in a relationship before, it was the distance talking. But I really can’t deny it. I miss you so much more than I miss her. I dont—I don’t think I love her the way I love you I’m supposed to. Fuck. I just want to be normal. Why can't I like girls be like everyone else? I can’t get you out of my head my head on straight. I feel like I’m actually just going crazy. Dustin and Lucas have totally noticed. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like you would. I thought you were like me you used to give all your art to me why are you making a painting for a girl Why did you have to move to California? Why did I have to be such an asshole over the summer? I should’ve tried to convince your mom to stay. I miss my friend my best friend you. I wish I could call.i I just want to hear your voice.
Love,
Mike
Will’s thoughts were static, punctuated only by his rapid, pounding heart.
“You should call Will and make sure he got your letter,” Mike's mom said from the kitchen. At the dining table, Mike’s heart froze in his chest.
“What?” He spluttered.
“Remember, you wrote him a letter last week, but you forgot to mail it, so when I saw it on your desk I just sent it to make sure he’d get it in time.”
Mike’s thoughts ran a mile a minute. His mom wasn’t treating him any differently, so clearly she either didn’t read the letter or magically had a change of heart—but this isn’t important, Mike realized, heart sinking into his stomach. Will Byers, the last person Mike ever wanted to tell, now knew his deepest darkest secret.
He bolted up from the table. Nancy gave him a funny look while his father sighed.
“Manners,” Ted said lazily, not even bothering to look up at his son.
“Sorry, I…” Mike trailed off, failing to come up with an excuse. He hurried out to the living room to grab the phone. He was better to call Will now while his family was all busy eating—it wouldn’t do to have one of them listen in from the other phone. Although he had a feeling Nancy, at least, wouldn’t be too bothered. This thought barely offered any comfort, however, in the face of the conversation he knew was to come. He frantically tried to line up excuses and explanations in his mind while shakily dialling Will’s number.
Since it was Christmas, Will’s mom was off, and the line was free. The phone rang.
“Nancy?”
“Oh, Jonathan. Hi,” Mike said. “Listen, I’ll tell Nancy to call you back after dinner, okay? Can you put Will on for me?”
“Hey, Mike,” Jonathan said. He sounded a little disappointed. “I can try, but he hasn’t really come out of his room much the past couple days. Gimme a sec.”
Mike stood anxiously, waiting. Just when he started to believe Jonathan would return with news that Will hated his guts and never wanted to hear from him again, Will picked up the phone.
“Mike?” He asked cautiously.
“Hey, Will, long time no see.” Mike tugged nervously on the hem of his shirt. “You didn’t happen to get any letters, recently, did you?”
Will breathed in sharply. “Mike, what you said, is it—”
“You were never meant to see that!” Mike interrupted. “I—my mom just assumed—she wanted you to have it in time for Christmas, but when I couldn’t find it when I came home I just figured I already threw it out—listen, just forget about it, it’s not important, I don’t even really know what I was saying, I was in a bad place and, y'know sometimes when your emotions run high you say all kinds of things—”
“Mike,” Will said. His voice was soft. Gentle. It caught Mike off guard; he had expected Will to be angry. “Did you mean it?”
Maybe this was desperation talking, but Mike could’ve swore there was a hint of hope in his voice.
“I…”
“Because if you did, then… well, you should know that—” Mike heard Will gulp hard. His breathing grew shaky. “I mean, what the town always said about me, how I’m—different—they weren’t exactly wrong.” By the end of the sentence, his voice had become barely more than a whisper. Mike’s heart beat so loudly, he worried Will could hear it through the phone.
“I guess I didn’t not mean it.”
The line went silent. Then Mike heard shaky breathing from the other end.
“Will?” He asked. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I mean, you’re my best friend, that doesn’t have to change—or I mean, if you don’t want to be anymore, I understand—”
“Of course I don’t want to be,” Will said. Mike’s heart dropped, the chaos in his brain finally going silent, replaced by an instant wave of self-directed disgust. His own best friend hated him.
“Wait, Will, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
Will laughed. “Mike, that’s not what I meant.”
It took him a second to piece it together. But he couldn’t possibly believe it. “I–I don’t understand.”
“Mike,” Will said gently. “Is there any chance someone’s listening through your other phone?”
“No, it’s dinner right now.”
Will took a deep breath. “I have loved you since we were kids. But with El, I thought—”
Mike cut him off with a sharp laugh. He kept laughing, joyously, uncontrollably. “I thought so too!” He shouted. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. He’d gone into this conversation expecting to get brutally cut off! And now Will was saying that he loved him? Holy shit! “I really thought so, I thought I could convince myself, but I can’t, not anymore. I really—” He swallowed painfully. “I feel the same way.”
He could practically feel Will’s smile through the phone. “Come visit during March break. Please.”
“Count on it,” Mike promised.
He made a mental note to send El a letter, explain himself the best he could, and hopefully beg for her forgiveness enough that they could still be friends. But not now. Now, he was on cloud nine, and he wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as he possibly could.