Chapter Text
Spring Break, 1986
A five-hour flight was a hell of a long time to stew over some flowers.
The large man sputtering and snoring next to him sure wasn’t helping, either. Each clipped staccato of a breath distracted Mike just enough from his overanalyzing that he was forced to start all over again. More than once, he adjusted his arms a little too aggressively, letting his pointed elbow jut into the man’s bicep and jolt him awake. A few minutes of quiet relief… before he was right back to it.
Mike rolled his eyes, gripping the bouquet even tighter. They’re just flowers. Girls like flowers—El likes flowers! Quit freaking out.
But then again, maybe it was a bit too much yellow. Shit. He knew he should’ve gone for a 40/30/30 ratio. He should’ve listened to Dustin, or bothered asking Nancy her opinion. Though he’d never admit that.
Whatever. In just a few minutes, they’d be landing, anyway. He wouldn’t be stuck in this musty airplane pretending to read a comic book while he stared at the bouquet balanced on his lap. He’d be reunited with El—finally—after almost a year. They’d hug and kiss, and everything would go right back to the way it was between them. They’d be inseparable.
And, he hoped desperately, he’d stop feeling so damn… weird.
Because that’s all it was. He missed his girlfriend. That’s why he’d reread her most recent letter about a bajillion times. ‘I am so excited to see you it is hard to breathe.’ That part had made him smile like an idiot. He liked that about El; she could make him feel like the most important person in the universe with just a few simple words. It was great, feeling so needed, so wanted. Especially by someone as special as Eleven. It should be all Mike could ever want.
It should be.
Mike pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, focusing his eyes out the window, scanning the breaks in the blanket of billowing white clouds. They’d begun their descent, and California grew closer and closer with each passing moment. The houses were less like specks and more like actual rooftops.
He hadn’t let himself think too much about the other part of El’s letter that had affected him most. Because, dammit, why had it? ‘I think there is someone he likes, because he has been acting weird.’
Will.
Mike had felt a sour pitch in his stomach when he’d read that. Who could Will possibly like that much in California? He’d said he wouldn’t find another party—besides, did teenagers even play DnD in California? Weren’t they all too busy surfing, or whatever? Will wasn’t into that kind of stuff now, was he?
Though, Mike supposed, cheeks warming, he wouldn’t exactly know what Will was into as of late, would he? Or who, for that matter.
No, they’d hardly spoken at all since Will moved to California with El. Mike had called a couple of times in the first few weeks, but then Will would be pulled away to help unpack, or Joyce would be hogging the phone with her work. Then, after a while, the idea of calling felt awkward. And then it felt even more awkward that Mike hadn’t called, which made calling feel damn near impossible, and… yeah. Mike had decided that not calling at all was the easiest solution. Besides, anything of note was mentioned by El in her letters, anyway.
Which meant if she was mentioning Will having feelings for someone… it had to be legit.
Mike almost yelped—the tires skidding on the asphalt runway. He hadn’t noticed they were landing, though he was grateful to have that as an excuse for why he felt nauseous all of a sudden. Yeah, it was definitely that. Or the stale scent of cigarettes wafting from the smoking section finally catching up with him.
It certainly wasn’t because Will Byers had feelings for someone. That wouldn’t even make sense. Dustin and Lucas both had girlfriends, and Mike couldn’t give a rat’s ass. Hell, he had a girlfriend, too. It was just what guys did when they were fifteen—they got girlfriends. But Will? Did he even like girls?
Mike flinched a little at the memory of their fight last year. Of course Will liked girls. He was a boy. All that shit those assholes in school said about Will being… not into girls—it was bullshit. Mike couldn’t go around even considering that himself, could he? How did that make him any better?
The passengers around him began to stand and stretch as the stewardess popped open the luggage compartments. Mike frowned at the man beside him, still sound asleep.
“Hey, man,” Mike muttered irritably. “We’ve landed.”
He didn’t stir. Mike frowned, yanking his bag from underneath the seat, letting it whack the man on the side of the head as he hoisted it onto his shoulder.
“Huh?” the man grumbled, wiping away a bead of drool from the corner of his mouth.
“We’ve landed.”
“Oh—oh!” The man nodded furiously, gathering his things as he went to stand. “Hope my snoring wasn’t too much, kiddo. Best sleep of my life is on airplanes.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Mike said, watching as the man shuffled into the aisle.
Just a couple of minutes and he’d be reunited with El. Just the length of the aisle and the jet bridge. Once he saw her, he’d stop feeling like this. He’d give her the flowers—she’ll love the flowers—and everything would be fine. Just fine. Hell, this was California, the Sunshine State! It was statistically impossible for Mike to have a bad time when you combined the California sun with his girlfriend and his best friend.
He pulled down his sunglasses and planted a grin on his face. This was going to be the best Spring Break ever.
Mike exited the jet bridge, scanning the sea of people reuniting with their loved ones at the gate. He found El right away, face alight, arms wide open for him.
I am so excited to see you it is hard to breathe.
It was becoming a bit hard for Mike to breathe himself as his eyes locked like a magnet on the other person beaming at the sight of him.
Will.
He knew then, with a terrifying certainty, that the feeling in his stomach wasn’t nausea—and it didn’t have shit to do with the plane ride.