Chapter Text
⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚☀️ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆
MIKE
January, 1991
Mike was sitting facing the old desk in his room. The lamp cast a yellowish circle of light over a blank sheet of paper. He stared at it like the words were going to appear on their own. The pen spun between his fingers before stopping, the tip tapping rhythmically against the wood.
Click. Click. Click.
That sound was like a timer for all the time he had already wasted without managing to write a single line.
Mike ran a hand through his hair, messing up the dark strands, and let out a long sigh. He blinked before reading the printed title on the sheet: Personal Essay.
That was the only thing left. The envelope with his school transcript, the filled-out forms, and Mr. Clark’s recommendation letter were already carefully stored away. Almost everything was ready to be mailed the next day.
But the essay was still missing… The hardest part for him. Which sounded ironic since Mike spent most of his days in front of his typewriter.
Writing wasn’t supposed to be difficult for him. But today it was.
He had written a personal essay before. He remembered not having any trouble talking about himself and his expectations for the future.
He remembered going to the post office with Will and mailing his envelope along with Will’s.
He remembered waking up on a Wednesday morning and checking the mailbox.
He remembered walking into the house with an envelope in his hands and rushing upstairs to his room.
He remembered sitting on the bed and pulling out the paper with trembling fingers and reading the sentence that could change the course of his life forever.
Dear Mr. Wheeler,
We are pleased to offer you admission to the College of Arts and Sciences at New York University for the Fall 1989 semester. You have been accepted into the Creative Writing Program within the Department of English.
He remembered being accepted.
He remembered hearing footsteps heading toward his room, which made him hide the envelope under the bed.
He remembered seeing Jane walk into the room, crying because she had argued with Hopper that morning.
He remembered comforting her, listening to her, spending the rest of the morning hearing Jane talk about how misunderstood she felt and how Mike seemed to be the only person who understood her.
He remembered when she said, “I don’t know what I would do without you, Mike. I wouldn’t survive a single day.”
Mike remembered the sharp, silent pain he felt in his chest for the rest of the day.
He remembered that after that day he never touched his NYU admission letter again. It was still there, abandoned under the bed like a physical version of what the last few months of his life could have been.
He remembered lying to Will that he hadn’t gotten accepted.
He remembered watching him leave with Jonathan for New York and never seeing him again.
He remembered why he had decided to stay.
He had all of it memorized.
He stayed for Jane.
That had been his decision, and honestly, he hadn’t thought it would be so bad to stay one more year in Hawkins. But Mike was already twenty, living with his parents and still getting an allowance from them. He hadn’t even managed to get a steady job during that time.
While he dealt with that feeling of uselessness, Lucas and Max were building their lives in California, Dustin was still one of the most impressive students at MIT, and Will… Well, he was out there living his best life.
A heavy sigh escaped Mike’s mouth when his eyes drifted to the corner of the desk, where a letter envelope was hidden among the mess of books.
Mike picked up the slightly crumpled envelope and stared at it. In the top right corner was the New York City address written in Will’s familiar handwriting and a city stamp.
His fingers slid into the envelope, and from it he pulled out the letter paper and a polaroid.
He looked at the photo first. There was Will’s face posing for a selfie and a caption written right below the image in pen:
This is me in the last few days. Have I changed much? I don’t think so. NYC 07/10/1990
Mike smiled at the photo, the way he always did every time he looked at it. He had already memorized every detail.
He opened the letter next, even though he already knew exactly what it said. Those words, too, were memorized and tattooed in his brain.
November 4th, 1990
I know it’s been a while since I last wrote, and I’m sorry about that. Things here have been… a lot. Not in a bad way, just busy. I didn’t realize how much time college would take until I was actually here. Some days it feels like there aren’t enough hours for everything I’m supposed to do.
But I think I like it that way.
New York is still overwhelming sometimes. It’s loud, and fast, and nothing like Hawkins, but I’m getting used to it. I’ve been meeting new people, which is… weird, but good. I don’t feel as out of place as I thought I would.
Jonathan’s doing okay. He’s barely home, though. Ever since he and Nancy got back together, it’s like he just disappears for days. I guess that means I kind of live alone now. It’s strange, but I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. It actually feels nice, sometimes.
I can stay up as late as I want, leave my sketches all over the apartment, play music too loud without anyone complaining. I even tried cooking a few times, which… didn’t go great, but I’m getting better. Probably.
I went to see Madonna live last month. I didn’t think I’d ever do something like that, but it was… really good. And a few weeks ago, I saw a Broadway musical. I don’t know if I understood everything, but it didn’t really matter. It was still amazing.
I think you would’ve liked it here. Actually, I know you would.
I wish you were here with me sometimes. There are a lot of things I see that make me think of you, and it’s kind of frustrating that I can’t just turn around and show you.
I miss you.
Anyway, I’ll be back in Hawkins for the summer. It feels strange to think about going back, but I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again. Especially you.
Write back if you can. Or call. Either one works.
— Will the Wise.
Mike stared at the last line longer than he had at the rest.
He hadn’t sent a letter back, hadn’t even called. He was scared to do it and he didn’t exactly understand why. Maybe the answer was somewhere between those words he had memorized.
“I wish you were here with me.” “I miss you.”
That sentence left a bitter taste on Mike’s tongue, a need to cry like a baby in his mother’s arms. Will missed him. Will wished he was there.
It scared him, because at the end of the day he felt the exact same way.
His fingers tightened slightly on the paper before he slipped it back into the envelope, except for the photo. He stood the polaroid up, facing him, and stared at it for a few seconds before picking the pen up again.
And then, almost without realizing it, Mike pulled his chair closer, looked down at the paper, and started to write.
Personal Essay – Mike Wheeler
I was accepted in 1989.
For a long time, I thought that was the end of the story — that getting in was the hard part. That everything else would fall into place once I had the letter in my hands. I remember holding the envelope and feeling like my entire future was inside it.
And then I chose not to go.
At the time, it felt like the right decision. Or at least, the easier one to explain. Staying in Hawkins meant staying close to the people I cared about. It meant not having to leave behind something familiar for something uncertain. I told myself that there would be other chances, that one year wouldn’t make a difference.
But it did.
This past year has not been impressive in the way applications usually want to be. I didn’t travel, I didn’t achieve anything remarkable, and I didn’t suddenly become the kind of person who has everything figured out. What I did instead was stay — and in staying, I was forced to confront the reasons why I was afraid to leave in the first place.
Hawkins is a small town, and it has a way of making you feel like your world is smaller than it actually is. It’s easy to confuse comfort with happiness. I think I did that for a long time.
Over last year, I’ve realized that caring about people doesn’t have to mean holding yourself back. That staying isn’t always the same thing as choosing. Sometimes, it’s just not deciding at all.
I’m not applying again because I think this path will be easy. I’m applying because I know now that not trying would be worse.
There are parts of myself I haven’t explored yet, questions I haven’t answered, and a future I almost walked away from once already. I don’t want to do that again.
If I’m given another chance, I won’t take it for granted.
Because now I understand that the hardest part isn’t getting in.
It’s being willing to go.
When he finished, Mike didn’t notice right away. His hand was still holding the pen, stopped at the bottom of the page, as if waiting for something more to come out. But nothing did.
He read the text once.
Then again.
It wasn’t perfect. It probably wasn’t even what they wanted to read. But it was… true.
Mike let the pen drop onto the desk and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. His eyes went back to the photo of Will and automatically all the guilt that threatened to circle his thoughts in the next few seconds disappeared into the air.
He had no doubts now. If Mike got accepted this time, he wouldn’t think twice before leaving everything behind.
That included his family.
That included Hawkins.
That included Jane.
And he had all of it memorized.
The next day he woke up late. It was already noon when he took a shower, had lunch, and left the house with the envelope in hand, driving toward the post office.
His hand trembled slightly as he wrote the recipient’s address. That envelope would be sent directly to the NYU undergraduate admissions department. A shiver ran down his spine when he finally dropped the letter into the mailbox and walked away. He practically ran back to the car as if he had just rung someone’s doorbell and fled before getting caught.
He was so nervous. But that wasn’t even the biggest monster he would have to face that day. The next step was to confront Jane face to face, talk to her like adults, and tell her everything. It didn’t matter whether she would support him or not.
He needed to tell her.
April, 1991
Mike didn’t tell Jane. He couldn’t do it. Not yet.
He wasn’t optimistic about receiving his acceptance letter, but even so, every morning he watched from his bedroom window as the mail truck passed by. Whenever he saw the mailman putting letters into the Wheelers’ mailbox, he would rush outside to check.
One of those days, he nearly lost his balance when he saw a large yellow envelope being placed inside the box. He waited for the mailman to leave, then ran over, almost tripping over his own feet, and pulled the thick envelope out.
NEW YORK UNIVERSITY
Office of Undergraduate Admissions
Washington Square
New York, NY 10003
His throat went dry the moment he read the return address. Mike clutched the envelope tightly and hurried back inside the house, climbed the stairs to his room, and sat on the edge of the bed. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.
His heart nearly jumped into his throat as he read the text.
April 10, 1991
Mr. Michael Wheeler
Hawkins, Indiana
Dear Mr. Wheeler,
On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is our pleasure to offer you admission to the undergraduate program in Creative Writing at New York University for the Fall 1991 semester.
We reviewed your application with great care, and your personal essay stood out to us for its clarity, honesty, and depth of reflection. Your willingness to confront uncertainty, and to articulate the difference between comfort and choice, reflects a level of self-awareness that we value deeply in our students. It is evident that the past year has been one of meaningful growth for you.
New York University seeks students who are not only academically capable, but also intellectually curious and prepared to engage with a world that is complex, challenging, and constantly changing. Your application suggests that you are ready to take that step, particularly within a field that demands both discipline and imagination.
We understand that returning to the admissions process requires both courage and conviction. Your decision to apply again speaks to a seriousness of purpose that we believe will serve you well in your academic journey.
You have been admitted to begin your studies in the Fall of 1991. Additional information regarding enrollment procedures, housing, and orientation will be enclosed with your official admission packet.
Please confirm your intention to enroll by May 1, 1991.
We look forward to the possibility of welcoming you to our community in Greenwich Village.
Sincerely,
Office of Undergraduate Admissions
New York University
He had done it again. He had another chance — and maybe this would be his last.
In that moment, he decided he would go to New York in the fall. He confirmed his enrollment the next day and told no one.
July, 1991
“Mike! Dinner’s ready! Come down before it gets cold.” He heard Karen’s voice coming from downstairs.
Mike adjusted his reading glasses on his face before typing the final line of the text he was writing. He had already spent several hours in front of the typewriter, putting down everything that came to his mind. He was inspired that day, but also starving.
He slipped the sheet of paper into his folder before heading downstairs. The smell of lasagna and garlic bread filled the house, making his stomach growl.
At the dining room table, Ted Wheeler was already sitting at the head, wearing the same bored expression as always. Holly, now twelve, was filling her glass with apple juice. Karen was serving the plates, focused on not letting the melted cheese from the lasagna stain the tablecloth.
Mike sat down across from his mom and took a bite of the bread. He didn’t say anything for long minutes. He just listened to Holly talk about the summer camp she was going to the next day.
“I’m gonna swim every day and make friendship bracelets!” She smiled from ear to ear, swinging her legs under the table.
“It’s going to be so much fun, sweetheart.” Karen said, wiping the corner of her mouth that was smeared with tomato sauce. “And what about you, Mike? Everything set for the camping trip? Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”
Oh, yes… The trip. He had been avoiding thinking about it too much. Partly because he was way too excited and partly because he was terrified.
Mike forced a smile before answering.“Yeah. I think we’re just going for the weekend, but who knows… Max might suddenly change her mind and make us all stay the rest of the month in the middle of the woods.”
“That would be great,” Ted said, lifting the fork to his mouth.
Karen shook her head at her husband’s comment and turned her attention back to her son.
“No matter how long you end up staying, remember to use plenty of bug spray and sunscreen. Taking care of your skin this summer is essential.”
Mike nodded, going back to focusing on his plate.
“And Jane? It’s been a while since she’s been around. Is everything okay between you two?”
Mike swallowed a piece of bread like he had just swallowed a rock. He lowered his eyes to his plate, poking at the food with his fork.
“She’s been really busy helping Joyce at the store. They’ve been short-staffed and she’s been working extra shifts. You know how it is.”
Internally, though, the truth was very different. The image of their last fight flashed clearly in his mind. They were in her room. Mike had suggested watching an old movie on the VCR, something light to relax. Jane had agreed at first, but soon started complaining that he’d rather do anything with her except talk. Which Mike considered a huge lie. He always talked to her, always listened to her.
The argument escalated quickly. She cried, accusing him of not loving her. Mike admitted he was tired, which only made things worse. In the end, she shut down, turning her back on the bed and saying maybe it was better if he left. Mike stormed out and drove home under the rain. He felt exhausted.
He hated lying to his mother. He wished he could tell her everything that was happening between him and Jane, about the fact that in a few months he would be moving to New York City and starting college. Karen had no idea what was really going on with Mike.
“Well, tell her we miss her. And that she’s always welcome here.”
“Yeah… I will.”
The conversation quickly changed topics. Ted muttered something about gas prices going up again. Karen and Holly went back to talking about the summer camp preparations. And within minutes, Mike had finished his dinner and already felt full.
At the end of dinner, he offered to do the dishes. The hot water running from the faucet while he washed the plates served as a distraction. When he finished drying the last plate, he went upstairs, brushed his teeth, and locked himself in his room.
The shirt he was wearing was tossed into a corner as soon as he walked in. He threw himself onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow. When Mike turned his head to the side, he saw the framed photo of Jane in a small heart-shaped picture frame on the nightstand, lit by the lamp. She stared back at him, smiling.
Lately, every time he looked at that photo, he felt nothing but sadness. He felt guilty for not being able to be the boyfriend she needed, but he was also frustrated that she couldn’t be the partner he wanted.
He sat on the edge of the bed and looked away from Jane’s photo, then pulled open the drawer of his nightstand. From inside, he took out a picture. The polaroid of Will — the same one that had come with that letter in November 1990.
He had received other letters from Will since then, but none of them had come with a polaroid. For a moment, while writing his own letters to send back, he had thought about asking for one, but decided it would sound too strange, so he gave up.
That polaroid was still the only recent picture of Will that Mike had.
And he looked at it every night.
He held the photograph between his fingers and let out a heavy sigh before sliding his other hand down to the waistband of his pajama pants.
His breathing picked up slightly as his hand slipped inside and wrapped around his cock, which was slowly hardening. He gasped, eyes fixed on Will’s delicate face, as he began moving his hand slowly.
This wasn’t the first time Mike had jerked off looking at that photo. He had done it other times, and every single one left him with a mix of feelings that were hard to control.
It was like his mind was split between wanting to feel guilt and wanting to feel pleasure. Like there was a little devil on one shoulder encouraging him to keep imagining Will’s lips, his laugh, his body just for him while he played with himself until he came. While a little angel on the other shoulder screamed in his ear to stop having such dirty thoughts about his best friend, about his girlfriend’s brother.
His girlfriend.
Mike feared his dick would go soft in his hand the second Jane’s image flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes and pictured Will in her place, lying underneath him, moaning his name.
Mike let out a low moan as he sped up the movement of his hand. He opened his eyes again because he knew that the moment he met Will’s eyes in that photo once more, he would reach his peak.
And then Mike came. Jets of semen soaked his underwear, forcing him to sit up and pull them off. He cleaned himself with tissues and put the Polaroid away on his nightstand.
Maybe he should burn it so he wouldn’t risk doing this again. But he didn’t want to.
Mike fell asleep so fast he didn’t even have time to think.
The next day, he woke up certain that he needed to talk to Jane. It had been days since they had really spoken. And they had a trip planned in the next few days. They needed to sort things out before their friends returned to Hawkins.
He drove to Joyce’s convenience store. A cozy place right at the entrance to town. The bell above the door rang when Mike walked in. Jane was behind the counter, organizing packs of cigarettes.
When she saw him, she stopped immediately.
“Hey,” Mike said, approaching.
“What do you want?” she asked dryly, going back to her task.
“I just want to talk, El. We haven’t spoken in what? Five days?”
“Seven.” She corrected, tucking a loose strand of her ponytail behind her ear.
“You didn’t answer any of my calls. I was worried about you.”
“If you were really worried, you would have come looking for me. You know where I live, you know where I work.” She still kept the dry tone in her voice, avoiding his eyes.
“That’s what I’m doing now. I want…” Mike took a deep breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I want to apologize.”
Jane looked up at him. The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds. Mike swallowed hard.
“It’s okay, Mike. It wasn’t your fault, I was the one acting like a needy idiot that day, not you.”
Mike frowned, confused. “If you say so… Then why are you still mad at me?”
“Because I thought you’d come looking for me again, but you only called me three days later. You managed to go three days without contacting me.”
“I could have gone even longer,” Mike thought.
“So… I’m sorry for that. I needed time to… to think and…” Before Mike could continue, the bell on the door rang, making him turn.
He saw two girls from town — Jane’s new friends, who Mike vaguely recognized from previous conversations — walk in. They were laughing loudly and carrying cups of iced coffee in their hands.
“We brought you that iced latte you like,” one of them said, holding out the cup to Jane.
The other, who had a pair of sunglasses on her nose, smiled at Mike.
“Hey, Mike. Do you mind if we steal Jane from you for a minute?”
Mike took a step back, forcing a polite smile. “No problem. I’ll wait.”
He moved over to the magazine aisle, pretending to flip through one while the three of them talked. Jane was laughing with them; he couldn’t tell exactly what the conversation was about because the sound of their voices mixed with Mariah Carey singing “Vision of Love” coming from the speakers scattered around the store.
Mike grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge and drank it while he waited patiently. On one hand, it was good to see Jane socializing so well, but a part of him wondered why she seemed lighter with her new friends than with him lately.
He saw positivity in that. Maybe it would make Jane realize there was a life beyond Mike.
Joyce walked in through the door just before the girls left. She hugged Mike when she saw him and wouldn’t let him pay for the soda. It was around 3:00 P.M when she and Jane switched shifts.
“Want to go to my place?” Jane asked and Mike nodded.
She seemed calmer now. On the way to her house, they talked about the girls. Apparently they were planning a big themed party for that summer and wanted Jane’s help with it. She seemed excited about the idea and agreed to be one of the organizers. Mike supported her decision, wondering if at some point she would support him in the decision he had made — the one he still hadn’t found the time to tell her about.
When they got to the house, Jane made some sandwiches and they sat on the living room couch, eating while they watched TV. They stayed in silence for a short moment until Mike asked the question he had been anxious to ask since he saw her.
“So… When are Will and Jonathan coming back?” he asked, avoiding her eyes.
“Tomorrow,” she answered with her mouth full. “Hopper’s picking them up at the airport in the morning.”
Mike felt a shiver in his stomach just thinking about the possibility of seeing Will in the next few hours. It was the first time in over a year that he would see him again.
“That’s great. I’m looking forward to the camping trip,” he said, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin.
“Yeah, me too. I’m excited to be with everyone again.” She said it cheerfully. “I want to sleep looking at the stars and make s’mores… It’s going to be fun.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Mike smiled without showing his teeth.
Jane got up just to grab the plates and take them back to the kitchen.
“I think I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be quick. Can you wait for me in the bedroom?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Jane went into the bathroom and Mike went into her room, seeing the bed still unmade. He straightened it before taking off his shoes and lying down on the soft mattress. He hugged one of the pillows and stared at the ceiling.
While he listened to the sound of the running water in the bathroom, flashbacks from one of the nights he had slept there invaded his mind.
Their first attempt at having sex had happened months ago.
“It feels weird,” she said, shifting her body under him, wearing a pink nightgown. He had never actually seen her fully naked.
Jane had a lot of resistance when it came to sex with Mike, and he had his own issues when it came to staying hard. It took a few minutes of masturbation and total concentration for him to keep his dick up.
Jane was a little scared of Mike’s cock. She had never touched him down there and had never let him actually penetrate her because… it was too big.
“I can’t… I’m sorry,” she would say every time he tried to fit.
He understood and never pushed. They just wanted to experience sex like every couple did, but they still hadn’t found the right way to do it.
Mike wanted to have sexual experiences. And even though he was already twenty, he didn’t feel as much pressure to lose his virginity as he thought he would, but he still felt the hunger of discovery.
Jane, on the other hand, said she needed time. And it didn’t matter if that time lasted months or years, because for her, she and Mike had all the time in the world.
When Jane came back from the shower, wearing a loose shirt and sleep shorts, she lay down beside him again. Mike pulled her into his arms, feeling her body relax against his. They stayed there, talking quietly, as if they hadn’t gone seven whole days without speaking to each other.
While Mike was telling her about a book he had just finished reading, Jane fell asleep quickly, the way she always did when he started talking about something he liked. She didn’t even manage to stay awake until the end of the story.
Mike stayed there, trying not to move so he wouldn’t wake her. Little by little, listening to her soft sighs, Mike fell asleep too, taking a nap.
He woke up hours later to the sound of the truck that had just parked in front of the house. The familiar voices of Hopper and Joyce coming home from work made him carefully slide out of bed. He covered Jane with the sheet, gave her a light kiss on the forehead, and left the room quietly, closing the door behind him.
In the living room, Hopper was taking off his holster belt while Joyce set some bags down on the kitchen counter. The two of them looked at Mike when he appeared.
“Look who showed up. I thought I’d never see you again,” Hopper said as he pulled off his boots. “Where’s Jane?”
“She fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her.”
Joyce smiled fondly. “She’s been working a lot lately. Poor thing.”
Mike nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was something he really wanted to ask, but he was scared of the answer, even though his relationship with Hopper had gotten a lot better in the last few months.
“So… I was wondering if I could go with you tomorrow to pick up Will and Jonathan at the airport.” He let it out, trying to keep his voice light so he wouldn’t sound nervous.
Hopper raised an eyebrow but didn’t look surprised. He scratched his stubble and shrugged.
“Sure, kid. I’ll swing by your house. Be ready by seven-thirty.”
“Thanks, Hop.”
Joyce walked over and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Tell your mom we said hi. And drive safe.”
Mike murmured a “goodnight” and left the cabin. The cool night air hit his face as soon as he got into the car.
He drove home in silence. When he arrived, he went straight up to his room, changed clothes, and lay down on the bed.
He wasn’t sleepy because he had napped for a few hours in the afternoon. He could spend the whole night writing or reading a book. Maybe he would.
But first, he opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out the polaroid.