Chapter Text
The basement smells like microwave popcorn and dust.
Someone left the space heater on too long, so the air is warm and sleepy. The buzz of the fluorescent bulb above them is the only real sound for a while.
They’ve all gone quiet.
Robin is half asleep on the couch, her hair sticking up in every possible direction. Max and Lucas sit cross legged on the carpet, their heads resting together with a half played round of cards forgotten between them. Steve’s in the armchair with his eyes closed, holding an empty soda can against his temple like it’s a cold compress.
Jonathan’s in the corner, rolling a cigarette he’s definitely not going to smoke. Nancy’s been flipping through one of Mike’s old yearbooks, not really reading it. Erica’s sprawled upside-down on the couch, looking bored out of her mind.
And then there’s Dustin. Dustin who can’t stay still even when the world’s ended twice.
He’s been poking around the shelves for ten minutes already. That particular kind of boredom, the one that settles in after too much adrenaline, too little sleep, and almost losing Eddie forever for the Upside Down. He moves a blanket, then he sees a stack of old comic books, and then–
“Huh.” Dustin mutters, frowning slightly. “What’s this?”
A small cardboard box is wedged in the back of the shelf, half-hidden behind a pile of tangled extension cords. There’s a piece of duct tape across the top with the words California Stuff scribbled in black marker.
“Dustin, don’t snoop.” Nancy says automatically, but she doesn’t even look up.
“I’m not snooping, I’m… investigating.” Dustin nods to himself while picking up the box.
“That’s literally what snooping is.” Max mumbles, shaking her head softly.
Dustin pulls it out anyway and sits cross legged on the rug. The box is heavier than it looks. When he peels back the tape, the top layer is just some random things: a few crumpled postcards, a couple of D&D dice that don’t match any existing set, and a folded piece of paper with a little doodle in pencil, a drawing of a cleric and a paladin. Will’s style.
“Aw.” Robin says, peering over with a sleepy voice. “That’s adorable.”
“Looks like baby Byers drew that.” Eddie says from the beanbag, his voice hoarse from disuse. “He’s got that… sketchy lines thing. I’ve seen it before.”
Then Dustin sees them.
A stack of envelopes, at least thirty of them, bound together with a piece of string. Every one of them is addressed in Mike’s handwriting.
To Will Byers
Lenora Hills, CA
“Oh my god.” Max whispers, sitting up straight. “That’s a lot of letters.”
“There’s more.” Lucas says, getting closer to the box and pulling out a smaller stack. “These say El. Only two, though.”
Erica sits up suddenly, making a weird face. “Wait. Are those, like, love letters? Ew.”
“No way.” Dustin says quickly, though he looks unconvinced. “Mike probably just… didn’t get around to mailing them.”
“He did mail letters.” Robin points out, frowning. “I remember Will saying he got some, he told me.”
Nancy finally sets the yearbook aside, curiosity blooming in her face. “Then why keep all of these?”
They all stare at the piles of envelopes. The room feels smaller now.
“We should read them.” Jonathan says flatly, with an annoyed look. He couldn’t stand the Wheeler boy any longer, he knew how much he was hurting Will.
“Yes, we absolutely should.” Robin counters, a slow grin taking up her lips.
“What?!” Steve asks, not sure of intruding on Mike's privacy.
“Come on.” She says, shrugging. “We’re all stuck here. Mike’s gone with Eleven and Will testing their theory about Will’s connection to who-knows-what. The letters are probably just nerd stuff– D&D updates or something.”
“Or gross stuff.” Max adds, pointing at the ones labeled El. “So maybe not those.”
“We make a pact.” Dustin says suddenly, the excitement in his voice cutting through the quiet. “We read one. Just one. And nobody tells Mike, Will, or El. Ever.”
Steve groans from the chair. “This is gonna end terribly.”
“Yeah, but, like… what doesn’t?” Robin mutters, rolling her eyes.
The decision makes itself after that. Dustin unties the string carefully, trying not to tear the paper. He pulls out the first envelope, the oldest date, written in a shaky scrawl. He unfolds the page.
Nancy leans forward. Everyone else shifts closer. Dustin clears his throat and starts to read.
January 10, 1986
Hey Will,
I don’t know if you’ll even read this, but it’s weird not having you here. Everyone keeps asking about D&D, and I keep saying I’ll start a new campaign, but it doesn’t feel right without you.
Anyway, Lucas and Dustin keep arguing about the rules again. Typical. You’d probably be the only one who could fix it. I keep thinking about the way you always used to roll that stupid lucky die and somehow win. I found it under the couch today. Guess it didn’t want to go to California either.
— From Mike.
When Dustin finishes, there’s a beat of silence.
“Okay.” Max says, looking confused. “That’s not bad. That’s, like… normal.”
“See?” Dustin says. “Harmless.”
But Robin’s eyes flicker toward the dice in the box, the one that doesn’t belong to any set. The one that looks suspiciously like it might be Will’s.
“Yeah but why didn't he send it?” Eddie suddenly asked, looking suspiciously at the huge stack of letters.
Nancy exhales softly, watching the envelope in Dustin’s hand. “Keep reading.” She says firmly.
And they do.