Chapter Text
March 27, 1992
The café always felt different when there was no one else there.
The soft hum of the espresso machine was gone, the air felt still and heavy without it - no chatter, no clinking of paint brushes against trays, no music spilling through the space.
It was a chilly night in the East Village, one where Will wanted nothing more than to curl up next to his mom’s fireplace with hot chocolate in the mug he had painted as a kid. Hot chocolate. he thought, wishing he had some right now.
He stayed for a second longer than he needed to, hands resting on the counter, glanced at the clock. 8:16 p.m. already.
It was dark, other than the street lights glowing in from the window. It wasn’t like he didn’t mind closing - It was a simple act: wipe the tables, put the chairs up, set the art supplies back on their carts, shut off the lights and lock the doors.
It was a routine, He’s good with routines. Every day had turned into one.
As a junior at NYU, Will was used to balancing things - classes, shifts, routines that stacked neatly on top of each other when he let them.
His routines made him feel stable, secure-something he hadn’t felt much during childhood. Even after his breakup with Carlton, he had still kept most of them the same.
Will stayed still for another moment, like if he gave the room enough time, it might hold onto him a little longer.
Then he moved.
He locked the door behind him, his keys jingling as the lock clicked. Not looking back at the café, he started his journey home, exactly two blocks, the two blocks he walked 4 days a week, he felt as if he knew them like the back of his hand.
His body practically drifted home on autopilot, before he even realized it he was back at his apartment building. It wasn’t the worst complex in East Village. Six stories of faded red brick, worn down just enough to show its age.
He unlocked the front door of the building. A sign for a vacant unit hung beside it.
The smell hit him as soon as he stepped inside. Cigarettes.
*Great.* He thought to himself. He hated the smell of cigarettes.
The building was quiet, it always was.
He headed toward the stairs, they were narrow and worn. The metal railing had white paint chipping off of it from presumably years of hands gripping it on late nights like this.
He took the stairs one at a time, not rushing, he felt no need to.
By the time he had reached the third floor, the cigarette smell from downstairs had already faded into something distant and forgotten.
The hallway was quiet, not empty- just settled, like it had learned how to hold its breath.
Will stopped in front of his door at the end of the hall. Unit 3D.
He stared at it a second longer than he meant to.
Then he reached into his bag for his keys. The metal was cold, familiar, grounding.
The lock turned.
The door opened.
And the quiet followed him inside.
The door shut softly behind him as he reached for the light switch to the left of the door, flipping it on.
The overhead light flickered to life, illuminating his apartment.
It was a one bedroom apartment - small kitchen, decent sized living room, and a livable sized bedroom with a questionably sized closet.
Will’s eyes glanced over the apartment. Everything was right where he left it this morning before heading out the door - the empty mug on his end table beside his orange couch, a pulled out stool at the kitchen counter, Mr. Beans, the coffee plant in his window that had seen better days.
Mr. Beans’ had once been Carlton’s before he moved out and didn’t bother packing it up with him.
His eyes landed on the framed photo near the coffee plant. The party - Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and him - squeezed together in their orange graduation gowns smiling.
His gaze lingered on Mike.
He hadn’t heard from him since the end of summer after Will left Hawkins for the start of the semester.
Will broke his eye contact with the picture and walked into the kitchen, setting his bag on a stool.
He opened the fridge and grabbed the jug of 2% milk and placing it on the counter before grabbing a bowl, setting it beside the milk.
The cupboard door creaked open as he stared at his cereal choices - Honey Nut Cheerios, Froot Loops, Cinnamon Toast Crunch - he looked at them like it actually mattered for a moment, before reaching for the Froot Loops.
After pouring himself a bowl, he walked over to his couch, settling down with a soft sigh and the bowl in his hands.
The room was silent other than the crunch of the cereal and the muffled sounds of the city outside.
The sound of the city used to overwhelm him when he first moved here from Hawkins. Hawkins had been quiet, other than the monsters, the town practically went to bed at 8 p.m.
New York City on the other hand, didn’t sleep. The sound was constant, never stopped. It had become a background white noise for him now, something that he didn’t notice anymore unless he was searching for it.
The silence of the apartment felt different than Hawkins ever had - heavier, more contained.
Will barely noticed how long he had been sitting there until the bowl was half empty.
Somewhere between one bite and the next, his phone rang.
Will jolted slightly at the sound, his eyes snapping toward the phone, then to the clock. 10:58 p.m. *Why is someone calling me at this hour?* he thought to himself.
He debated ignoring it, but decided against it standing up, heading towards the phone.
He picked the phone up, bringing it to his ear. “Hello?” he said into the speaker
“Will?” a familiar voice came through the phone
There was a small pause.
Will’s grip tightened on the phone “Mike?”
There was a brief silence on the line.
“Hey,” Mike said finally, like he wasn’t sure what version of the word fit anymore. “It’s.. it’s been awhile.”
“Yeah,” Will said carefully.
“How’ve you been?” Mike asked, his voice was cautious.
Will glanced down at the counter without realizing it
“Good, Busy.. NYU, and work stuff-“
“Right, yeah,” Mike said quickly
A beat.
“So…” Mike hesitated “How’s everything with you and.. him?”
“Him?” Will questioned confused.
“Carlton,” Mike clarified.
“Oh,”
The word came out softer than he meant it to, almost like a breath.
Will glanced around his apartment. almost every trace of Carlton was gone - except the coffee plant.
“Good,” he paused “Everything’s been good,”
A lie he didn’t correct.
There was another small silence on the line
“So…” Mike started then stopped “i- uh.. there’s something kind of weird I’ve been meaning to ask you,”
Will frowned slightly, shifting his weight against the counter “Okay..”
Mike exhaled through the phone “I got a job” he paused before clarifying “In New York”
Will blinked. *What.* he thought to himself
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Mike continued quickly, like he was trying to not give himself time to second guess it, “I’m looking for an apartment right now, but I don’t have anything lined up yet, so I was wondering if- just for a week.. I could stay with you?” he paused “While I look for an apartment,”
Will went quiet for a second.
“When?” he asked carefully, his voice careful.
“The 29th.”
“Of March?” Will said, a little surprised and sharper than he meant to.
“Yeah,” Mike sheepishly replied.
“Mike,” Will said slowly “That’s in two days.”
“I know,” Mike admitted.
Will looked down at the counter again, like it might give him an answer.
He should say no.
He didn’t.
“Okay,” he said instead, softer. “Yeah. That’s… fine.”
Even as he said it, his stomach dropped.
There was a click on the other end once the call ended.
Will stayed still for a second, the phone still pressed against his ear even though there was nothing there anymore.
Slowly, he lowered it.
The apartment was quiet again.
It felt different now.