mike created the upside down. that’s why everyone has a perfect role to play that perfectly lines up with their assigned dnd roles in mike’s mind. because stranger things is about mike getting over his internalised homophobia and accepting his feelings, accepting himself. ‘the upside down’ is a coping mechanism of mike’s. he loves dnd so much he uses the world of dnd to escape his true self. he plays ‘dungeon master’ to portray the illusion of control over his narrative, but dnd is not his reality - so, he makes sense of everything through the sense of dnd in order to cope better. stranger things is about acceptance.
twice in stranger things, along with the ‘paladin’ role, mike is also assigned the role of a ‘halfling’. they’re known for big hands and big feet - hands and feet are quintessential to the actions we make, and actions are oftentimes rooted in feeling. feeling -> decision. brain decision -> physical action/manifestation.
comedically large hands and feet may indicate that every action taken by this character is loud and amplified. but if that’s true, why is mike wheeler so goddamn surpressed and hidden? everything mike does passes as passive, but when you look with a magnifying glass, you can see his truth bleeding through. mike, at heart, is someone who’s actions are meant to be loud, and his actions are driven by feeling; emotion; HEART. when putting this together, we determine that feeling and emotion is what drives mike, even when he thinks it’s the very thing he’s pushed the furthest away. he’s not being true to himself, and that physically presents itself so often and simply that it’s actually hard to see even in plain sight.
Relationships: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, The Party (Stranger Things)
Additional Tags: Character Study, Character Rewrite, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Internalized Homophobia, Dead Mike Wheeler, Mike Wheeler is a Mess, Mike Wheeler Loves Will Byers, Mike Wheeler Centric
Type: Whump
Read one AO3 or here on tumblr.
The desk was barren and empty. It used to have open notebooks and a shit ton of pens and pencils covering it, but Mike finally tidied it up. He had woken up in the middle of the night from a night terror. El was standing at the gate again as everything from the wormhole got vacuumed into nothing. Mike ran to her and ended up in her mind again. It went like it did before. Mike pleaded with El to live, to not abandon the hope of a better life. She only smiled at him and shook her head. Just like she did in the past, she told him that she needs him to tell the others her choice. When she cupped his face and brought him down to her level, the story had changed. Instead of kissing him and telling him that she loved him, she looked dead in his eyes and said,
"I know you don't love me, Mike. You never have..."
Her arms wrap around him instead of her lips meeting his. "I wish I could have been your friend, not your girlfriend." The hug was loose, not comforting or grounding. "You should not have kissed me. I needed friendship, Michael. Not you trying to fix yourself." When El finally pulled away from him, she didn't look at peace. She had the same face that he'd have every time he spiraled too hard while looking at her; she yearned for a different life than what she actually lived.
El's expression was burned right into his brain when he woke up. He was disgustingly covered in sweat and his face was smothered with tears and snot. He weakly threw his blanket off of his gross body and stumbled out of bed. Mike didn't feel alive, he felt like he was still in his nightmare— unable to fully feel and grasp anything—. He hazily set his bed to the best of his ability and lumbered over to his desk.
The stories that were laid out and written for campaigns seemed so jumbled and incomprehensible even though they’ve forever been engrained into his being. He shuffled papers and closed notebooks, hiding them away in drawers so his childhood cannot haunt him. Mike had forgotten that his desk was an actual desk, not a big mountain of paper with hundreds and thousands of stories he had written. It was starting to get eerie from staring at the piece of empty furniture. That desk had helped him write a part of who he was, a storyteller. Creating stories that he shared with his friends, his party. Weaving tales of heroes saving the day and enemies being defeated.
Mike's spiraling again, hard. He forces the aching muscles in his neck to turn his head away from the desk, letting his eyes land on his closet. Instead of being a distraction, the fucking closet felt like it was taunting him as well. The doors were closed so he couldn't see the mess inside, but he still felt like it was tormenting him. His own room felt like some sick joke that Troy Walsh would've jabbed him with in middle school. Michael needed to get out of here. The air in his room started to feel too damp and thick, just like the Upside Down. He needs to clear his head because every time he closes his eyes all he can see is Eleven yearning for a different life than what she experienced.
He grabbed some shitty outfit off of his floor and clambered into them. Mike thinks that he snuck down into his garage quite well, but he still felt dazed so he might've stumbled too loudly. He stares at his bike leaning against the cold wall and then at his mother's car that she lets him drive around occasionally. What's left of the logical part of his brain debated with itself to either take the car or the bike. If he took the car, then he'd be warm and faster but if he didn't return home soon then his mom was going to go crazy. If he took his bike, he'd be cold but they probably wouldn't notice until a few hours before Graduation. Mike just needed to get some fresh air in his lungs, it's not like he's going to skip his graduation day. He just needs to... meditate.
Being in the heart of downtown Hawkins at night is uncanny. Mike didn't know why his head brought him here, but it did. He let his bike lose momentum as he wheels closer to the memorial for the "Great Earthquake" victims. He tossed his bike to the ground and walked up to the memorial. Call him inconsiderate, but he never really saw this sculpture as a memorial for the people that died when Hawkins got split into two. He only saw it as a gravestone for Eleven. Mike stared blindly at the text engraved into its metal sign. His thoughts started to clear, so he sat down on the bench and just stared at the memorial.
Jesus, Michael. He's such a fucking ass. It's been a year and a half after her death, and he still can't move on from it. Mike didn’t even say it back, he couldn’t. He couldn’t say “I love you” to the girl who sacrificed herself so no one could ever try to recreate the events that reshaped his life. He kept telling himself that the pool of dark, bubbling guilt which was hidden away in his stomach had nothing to do with his failure to be a good boyfriend. Michael didn’t tell El that he loves her because he didn’t need his last words to her to be a lie focused only on him.
Mike kept the memorial company for hours. He stared at the marble until its shape was perfectly engraved into his head, right next to El’s burdened face. The face on his watch read that it was 4 something in the morning. There was a lot of time before Graduation, so he finally made up his mind. He’ll be Sir Mike the Brave.
His bike lays in the cold, wet grass by the basement. Mike doesn’t bother with sneaking anymore, Joyce and Will had moved in with Hopper after Jonathan left for NYU. Still, even if they continued to reside with his family, he wouldn’t mind it if he had accidentally woken up Will. Maybe he could’ve talked him out of it... That doesn’t matter now anyways, Mike had already chosen what door to go through. He can already envision The Party with futures that will be good for them. The Ranger and the Zoomer getting married, the Bard becoming some famous scientist or astro-physicist, and the Sorcerer… moving on. Finding someonething that’ll bring him happiness in some big city far away from Hawkins. Now, for the Paladin? He’ll die in his armor in his hometown.
3 pieces of paper lay in front of him. Will, His Family, The Party… Why does Will get one addressed to only him? Mike doesn’t like the answer. His favorite pen is already in his shaking hands as he’s staring down at the paper. He tries to keep his handwriting as nice as he can; he needs to be brave. For just one last time, he wants to show them that he has no fear. Michael wrote words that he could never say out loud, no matter how much he clawed at his throat to speak. He thanked his mother for her overbearing love, care, and everything good that she had given him. Nance got a paragraph addressed to her as well, Mike spewed about how much he loved having her as his older sister. They’ve always had their ups and downs, but Michael could never hate her. When he got to Holly’s paragraph, he froze. He couldn’t do this to her; to write her his goodbye.
Words on paper were always how he could let himself bleed. He couldn’t mess up if they were on paper, his heart always made him write his truth. Mike pushed himself, writing his paragraph for Holly. He wrote about how proud of her he was, how heroic she’s been, and how to be strong for everyone after… Michael had to turn away from the paper to avoid dripping tears onto it.
He only mentioned his father in his P.S, having declared his hatred for making him feel trapped; he shouldn’t feel trapped, but he does. Mike carefully folded it up and placed it in an envelope, writing “My Family” on the back. He drags the second piece of paper over to him, mentally steeling himself again to write the Party’s letter. Thinking about the fact that these are his final words to his party breaks him inside, but he promised to be strong one last time. There isn’t hope for a person like him, burdened by the guilt and the shame… He’ll do one last brave thing.
The Party’s letter hit him as hard as the last one did. He told Max to not be as hung up on him as she was on Billy. They both had their own ups and downs with each other, but Max is still one of his closest friends. Sometimes, he thinks that they act too alike which is why they’re always bickering. Mike hopes that she won’t change; he asked her to stay as that fiery redhead he’s always known her as, even with his…
In Mike’s paragraph to Dustin, he told him to reach for the stars. Dustin was always smarter than all of them combined, he probably has the most potential out of all of them. He’ll forever be sorry for adding onto Dustin’s guilt, but he knows that he’ll get over it with everyone’s help. Realistically, he had the one of the brightest futures out of the bunch.
The last paragraph was for his first friend. Hell, he hadn’t even started it. Mike’s composure had crumbled bit by bit since he had started the letter. Now he’s sitting with his knees pressed up against chest, his whole body trembling as he tries to put his final words on paper. Lucas has been there for all of his lows and his highs, they know each other almost as much as he and Will knew each other.
He’s at peace with his decision, he really is.. but he didn’t think about how he’d tell everyone. Now that he’s dealing with it, it’s making him almost reconsider. All he wants to do with them is hang out and play D&D just like how they did before everything went to shit, he just wants things to just go back to how they used to be. To be 12 years old again, 10 hours into a campaign or secretly talking on their walkies late at night; mess with Nancy about her shitty boyfriend, Steve, and rock Lucas’s butt at street fighter; Look at El’s face and think about how much she looks like Will or even wish she was Will think about her beauty.
Mike had found that he had already written his last wishes to Lucas during his reminiscing haze about the childhood he misses. He wanted Lucas to hold them all together, to be the heart he couldn’t be when he was alive. Frankly, he believed that Lucas had more heart than he ever did. Lucas probably cares about everyone more than Michael could ever show. He wasn’t afraid of his own emotions, his own thoughts. He loved everyone like it was second nature. The only thing that Mike could do as the heart was put them into cardiac arrest.
He folds the paper gently and seals it in an envelope, scribbling “The Party” on the back of it and leaving it next to the one dedicated to his family. Mike knows whose letter is next, and it makes it harder to really follow his plan through. Maybe this will wreck Will as much as it wrecks him. He knows that Will deserves someone better than him as a best friend a possibly reciprocated crush. Michael had already caused him so much trouble. He knew Will was talking about him, he also knew that he felt the same he shouldn’t feel the same.
Whilst in his hysteria, Mike managed to fill both sides of the paper. He could vocally lie to Will, but he could never write him a fib. Friends don’t lie, especially best friends… Are they best friends? His words that will grace paper for the final time are filled with honesty, love, and regret. Michael wrote words that he could never say straight to Will’s face. He told him the god honest truth he’s buried for years; he’ll always love him. Michael Wheeler will always love William Byers, even till the end of his life.
Ever since meeting him, Mike will always love Will. No matter what words or mindset Ted would force unto Michael, there will always be a piece of him who will always be in love with his best friend. His father’s hate may taint his love, but it will always remain no matter what. Mike did try to be normal— he tried so terribly hard—, but it ends up with both Eleven and him in a loveless relationship. She didn’t deserve what he could give her at all, and Mike can’t help but wonder if everything between him would’ve been better if they had just stayed friends.
With his final letter done, he slides over another envelope and writes “Will” on the back. Mike goes to grass the letter, but finds himself unable to move his hands. He stares at it, knowing that that would be the last time Will would ever hear from him. What was the last time he talked to him? Did they have some mundane conversation? Was he crying about El’s sacrifice? Would that conversation be the last time he spoke to him? Some stupid comment he made about the clouds that day would be the last time Will would hear his voice, and that made his heart twinge.
Mike pushed his chair far back and dug through his drawers to find the blank cassettes he bought during his guitar era. He grabbed one and it slipped out of his hand into the air, his other hand flew to catch it but ultimately just pushed it onto the desk. He frantically shoved it into his cassette player-recorder and let his eyes burn a hole into the “Record” button. Can he go through this? He already has trouble with vocalizing what he really means, but reading out his own writing can’t be too hard.
His finger finally pressed down on the button, after hesitating for a beat or two he finally read from off of the paper. “Dear Will…” His own voice scared him, he didn’t think he’d be this worked up over saying goodbye. He didn’t expect to sound like he was crying the entire Lover’s Lake. Mike wiped his tears and cleared his throat, trying to sound more put together for Will.
“Dear Will,
I hope that this letter doesn’t find you. I truly do, but I also hope that this letter does find you. Either way, I’m sorry I won’t be there to see the outcome.
I’m sorry, god, Will. I am so, truly sorry. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t live like everyone else does. No matter what I do, all I’m reminded of is the MAC-Z. Every time I look at downtown Hawkins, the only damn small town I’ve ever known, I’m just burdened by guilt and regret. Will, I’m sorry that this will be the only time you’ll hear it. I’m sorry that I couldn’t just cry on your shoulder and tell you everything, but if I really could then I don’t know if we’d still be friends.
I love you, William Byers, and I am really, truly sorry that it took me ages to realize. I wish I could’ve said something then, like one the radio tower or during the first MAC-Z battle because you were beautiful as you killed those demogorgons. You’re beautiful everyday, Will. I really should’ve said something, even if you’ve moved on from me, I still should’ve said at least… one thing. I didn’t want us to end as just- Just best friends… I… I hope you can forgive me, after all I’ve done to you. Frankly, I wouldn’t forgive myself.. haha… “ He tried to soften the bludgeon with incredibly stupid humor.
“I wish I didn’t try to be normal. I wish I didn’t let my father’s words get to me, but I did… And, god, what a horrible person I’ve become. Will, I’ve never truly loved El like I was supposed to… Of course- I love El as a close friend, but I don’t think that I’ll love her as a girlfriend… Today, I woke up from a nightmare. I was in El’s mind again at the MAC-Z. Everything went just like last time… but at the end, she said something different. She told me that she knew I never loved her, I never have… and- and that she wished we could’ve just been friends… Then.. she looked at me. She looked at me with this look in her eyes… she wanted a different life than what she lived… and I can’t help but also yearn for that other life.
Remember in the van? When you gave me that painting. You lied. You lied two times. You told me that El commissioned the painting for me… But, she didn’t commission it. After those first 17 months you’ve spent with me, I found out the truth. Me and El were in my room and she asked me about it… that was when I realized that El wasn’t even involved in the painting. She doesn’t know a lick about D&D. She told me that made it for a “girl” you like… but you gave it to me. It was always for me, wasn’t it? It was always your gift for me, and I never realized until it was too late.
Then, you lied for the second time. You told me that I was the heart… Will, I’ve never been the heart. The only thing that I’ve ever led the party to is danger and harm. Out of everyone… either you or- Lucas can be a better heart than I was… All that I’ve done is hurt everyone. I hurt you, I hurt El, and- You get the gist… I just… It’s all I can ever do.
So.. I’m tired of hurting everyone… I’m finally doing something that Sir Mike the Brave would do, you know?... I’m ending it all before Graduation… I’m sorry, Will. Look, I know that I’ve said- “I’m sorry” so many times already, but I really am… I’m sorry that we’ll never walk that stage together, grab our diplomas, and run off to some stupid university together like we planned… Even if I did, I don’t think I could ever leave Hawkins…” Mike fought through shaky sobs to get the rest of it out.
“Will, I know you can move on without me. You’ll find someone nice at Columbia. Just please don’t ever forget that I… I love you, Will. I could never hate or move on from you.”
He puts the letter back down on the desk and stares at the cassette tape spinning. He lets out a shaky exhale that evolves into a sob and stops recording. Mike folds the letter neatly and packs it in the envelope with the cassette. He stares at the three goodbyes he left for everyone near and dear to him. Mike gathers them and brings them down to the basement, placing them on the table that The Party used to play D&D on. He steps back and stares at the letters, taking a mental picture of the scene. The way he wrote Will‘s name on his letter started to make his heart hurt again, so he went upstairs to retrieve his salvation.
Nancy trusted him with her gun safe code. “Just in case something Upside-Down or government happens” she had said. She could never expect him to do something like this. Nancy had taken her Rifle and Sawed-Off to Emerson with her, but she left two pistols for them. Wrapping his hands around one of the gun‘s cold grip, Mike studied the firearm. It felt nice in his hand, the weight wasn’t too heavy and it wasn’t too big. It was just right in his hold. Mike checked the safety and then shoved it into a pocket. He swiftly went back down to the basement and reunited with his bike.
The sun was rising, and the cold morning had returned a sense of peace that Michael had lost since he was a boy. Instead of feeling like everything was being thrown at him rapidly, his life finally started to slow. The gun weighed heavy in his pocket, his bike traveled at a comfortable pace, and Mike was finally content. Though, he‘ll never be fully content. In the perfect life, everyone lives happily ever after and he‘s dating his best friend. But, no one gets what they really want, not in Hawkins.
As his wheels slowed to a stop, he got off his bile and dropped it to the ground. It was only a few paces to that edge of the quarry. Each step he took, he was reminded of all the good memories he had. Meeting Will, discovering D&D with him, introducing the rest of the Party to the game, his mother stitching up his favorite sweater, him and younger Nancy riding bikes, teaching Holly how to play D&D before she goes back to playing with her dolls, and all the times he and Will have hugged like they‘d die in a minute.
Down below, the water laps against the rock.
The fall down would be long.
Good thing he didn’t plan to jump.
Michael sat down on the ledge and continued to reminisce.
Will smiling at him.
Lucas and him laughing so hard they snorted out their cokes.
Dustin arguing that his bard was far more superior than Mike‘s paladin.
The first time he rode on Max‘s skateboard and absolutely ate shit.
Him and El hanging around Starcourt, spending the money that Hopper gave her and the money that Karen, Ted, and Nancy gave him.
Will beaming at him.
He brought the barrel out of his pocket and to the side of his head.
Him and Will going as their D&D characters one Halloween
The safety switch had been flicked off.
The first sleep over he had with Will and how little him woke up to them cuddling.
His finger pulling the trigger.
The day he met Will on the swings. Little Mike went up to him and sat down next to him. He looked into little Will‘s eyes and asked “Do you want to be my friend?”
