@willbyerstm rolled the dice ;; 🎁 ›» ( spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song or 🎁 for a shuffled one )
⸻ cornelia street by taylor swift
The city never sleep, and Mike seemed to follow suit on that pattern, not that was such unusual thing for him. Except he found himself dreading his current predicament, as legs aimlessly dragged him around a city that should be unfamiliar to him, after all he had been here for just short of a handful of months ( for the cases, always his excuse ), and yet, he felt like he couldn’t look around without being reminded of him, utterly bewildered by the way his own mind so easily etched the thought of Will in every single part of the town.
Perhaps San Diego was going to be written down in his imaginary list alongside Hawkins of cities he’d rather not step foot in for as long as he could. The packed bags waiting for him on his motel room’s bed were a rather indicator of that being his plan. A reiteration of what he did years and years ago, leaving without saying a word; leaving before he ever knew.
However there was a rather loud part of him that didn’t allow Mike to do such thing, and he knew exactly why. It wasn’t like it used to be, perhaps it never would, but being allowed near Will for such extended period of time ? Had Mike’s resolve cracking; had him wishing for his time here to never end, to not lose the other all over again, despite it all being Mike’s own doing and his stupid cruise to keep the other safe without his knownledge. Perhaps, that was why, as stupid, nonsensical and silly it might have sounded, he had looked for a place, even found one. His own selfishness holding onto the possibility of a new beginning, one that scared him.
Feet stopped, head lifting from the cracked sidewalk, and a snort slipped past cold lips, of course he ended up in front of the same building it all started again. A shake of his head, and mere minutes later he was sitting on the roof of the building. The cheap bottle of wine he got at the bar earlier sitting almost untouched next to him, finger hovering above the SEND button on his phone screen for a second longer, the text already having hung in there for the hours.
‹ want to keep me company on my last day in that shitty motel? i have wine and not that ugly of a view to offer. if you feel like it, i’m where it all began, mr. detective. ›
Even through written words there was the hint of humor, his way of covering up his inner turmoil. He was gambling with fate, with luck, the outcome of his own decision of going or staying, put in the hand of the outcome of that single message. And send, now he only had to wait and perhaps. . . hope.
