Chapter Text
Mike
New York City
1993
Tonight had been Lucas’ idea. He was in town from Philly for work, some sort of dinner with a client or an agent or something. Mike didn’t know and he didn’t really care; his friends’ lives all seemed so foreign to him now. He had a vague idea of what each of them did for work, and that was enough for him.
Mike took the train from Queens to Tribeca right after work. He hated the subway at rush hour; he hated the subway always. He’d never wanted to live here.
The bar where they had agreed to meet was one of Will’s favorites. He’d dragged Mike there on a few occasions. Mike hated it. It was a dive bar, or at least it was meant to be. It was so much like everything else in Tribeca, swathed in money but desperately trying not to look like it. Every patron there was always the same—cosplaying poverty and class consciousness while tossing Daddy’s AmEx across the counter without even glancing at the bill. Will liked those types, though.
Mike arrived later than Will and Lucas. His job kept odd hours, but he never minded. His two friends were already sitting at the bar, the only available barstool left directly between them. Mike sighed as he approached. This wouldn’t have been his preference. If he had it his way, he’d have sat down on Will’s right side, furthest from Lucas. He felt guilty for feeling this way. He loved them both equally, but they treated him so differently. He’d been living in a small apartment with Will and Jonathan for three years now, and Will had come to understand what Mike needed. Lucas, a train ride away (albeit a short one), still treated Mike as if he were a package marked “fragile.” Mike hated that.
He took the seat between them, and as expected, Lucas’ hand immediately landed heavy on his shoulder. It lingered too long.
“How are you, man?” Lucas asked, his tone overly sympathetic, cautious even.
“Fine,” Mike said, looking away.
“Really?” Lucas asked carefully. “Because Will said you were—”
“Just Coke,” Mike interrupted. The bartender had caught his eye and raised her eyebrows, wordlessly asking for his order.
“Coke?” Lucas laughed. “Mike, come on. Get a real drink!”
Mike felt Will stiffen uncomfortably on the other side of him. “I don’t want one,” he said. “Coke is fine.” He took off his heavy winter coat, and without anywhere to put it, dropped it to the floor. There was an uncomfortable silence. “I gotta pee,” he told his friends.
The bar was crowded, and Mike had to move slowly once he stood up. Even though they tried to hush their voices, he heard their conversation as he walked away.
“He doesn’t want one?” Lucas asked Will in a low voice.
“I think he wants one very badly,” Will mumbled back. “I think that’s the problem.”
Once in the bathroom, Mike made his way to the biggest stall in the back. He fumbled with the creaky lock and let his back fall against the door, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. It had already been a long day, and he knew that right now Will was out there telling Lucas about The Dreams. And Lucas wouldn’t let that go, he would make Mike answer for it.
And what was Mike supposed to say? Yeah, I’m still dreaming about her. Yeah, I’m still half convinced it might be real.
The Dreams had started about a year and a half after she disappeared. Others, still to this day, would say she died, but Mike never could. It was always she disappeared for him. He couldn’t face it otherwise. Before The Dreams started, he’d only dreamt of her twice. Once, they were just kids again. Normal kids, though. No lab, no monsters. They were just kids and they just understood each other. Once, they were much, much older, sitting quietly on a rocky lakeshore. And they just understood each other. Mike couldn’t breathe right for days after both of those dreams.
The day after high school graduation, the dreams he still thought of as The Dreams began. For the first time, he’d dreamed that he was back in the void with her. She looked the same, but also different. Different enough that Mike believed it could have been real. And he remembered it, every detail of it, in a way he’d never been able to remember his dreams before.
*
Mike had opened his eyes into the darkness, sat up slowly on the wet floor, and there she was. She was sitting right in front of him, legs crossed at the ankles, chin resting on one of the knees that was pulled against her chest. Her arms circled her legs loosely, and her face. Her face. He hadn’t seen her face in eighteen months, hadn’t even realized how much of it had already been lost in his memory. “El?” he whispered, disbelieving, automatically reaching for her. She flinched away from him and shook her head frantically, not speaking. Mike realized then that she was crying. Her arms tightened around her knees and she pressed her forehead against her jeans, weeping quietly. “El?” Mike croaked again, scrambling to his knees, moving toward her. She flicked her wrist once, and suddenly Mike could come no closer, held back by one of her invisible forces. He struggled helplessly anyway, as desperate as he’d ever been. El finally looked up at him. A sad smile crossed her tearstained face, and she just watched him for a minute. She blinked slowly, another tear or two tracing the line down her cheek. Finally, finally, she spoke.
“I just wanted to see you,” she whispered. Her voice, even in a whisper, made Mike’s knees go weak. He finally stopped struggling and just gazed back at her.
“El,” he said, and it came out as a sob. “Please, El, let me—"
But before he could finish, she had flicked both wrists and suddenly Mike’s eyes were flying open to see only his bedroom ceiling. He sat up in bed wildly, his entire body shaking, drenched in sweat. “El?” he croaked into the darkness, feeling wildly around in his bed. He felt frantic, panicky. She had just been there. She was just there.
Had that been real?
*
Mike took a few deep breaths in the bathroom stall. Even the memory of it made his hands shake and his chest feel tight. He unlocked the door and crossed over to the sink, splashing a little cold water on his face. Mike glanced up at his reflection in the mirror. He looked exhausted. “I miss you,” he whispered to no one.
When Mike rejoined Will and Lucas, he knew immediately that he had been right. Will had told Lucas, Mike could see it in the cautious expression Lucas wore as he approached the bar. “So,” Lucas said heavily, once Mike sat down. “These dreams.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Lucas,” Mike mumbled.
“I thought it stopped,” Lucas said flatly, disapprovingly.
“It did,” Mike said, rattling the ice in his drink just for something to do. “For a really long time, it did.”
“But it’s happening again?”
“Yeah.”
“How often?” Lucas’ questions were so sharp.
Mike shrugged, eyes following the bartender so he wouldn’t have to look at Lucas. “Couple times a month, maybe.”
Will shifted in his seat. “Mike,” he murmured. There was a knowing sympathy in Will’s voice that Mike wanted no part of.
“What?” he snapped at Will.
Mike could feel Will’s apologetic gaze on his face and knew what he was going to say. “It’s been almost every night, Mike.”
“Every night?” Lucas asked incredulously. “Mike, that’s—that’s—” He trailed off, at a loss for words.
“It’s concerning,” Will supplied. Mike’s head snapped around to glare at Will. “Sorry,” Will mumbled.
“Mike,” Lucas began. He paused, taking a sip of his beer. “Mike, you have to stop.”
“Stop?” Mike almost laughed. “I’m not the one doing it, Lucas!”
Lucas’ eyes narrowed. “Doing what?” He asked.
Mike realized his mistake too late and tried to cover his tracks. “D-deciding,” he mumbled. “Deciding what to dream.”
Lucas saw right through him. “You still think it’s El, don’t you?” he asked, his tone flat and exhausted. “You think it’s El doing it?”
“I think it could be,” Mike answered. The silence that followed was heavy.
“Will,” Lucas said, looking across Mike. “Will, do you think it’s El?”
Will froze. He looked between Lucas’ face and Mike’s, stuttering. “I-I mean, I d-don’t really…” He trailed off and looked apologetically at Mike, the answer in his eyes cancelling out the non-answer he’d just given. Mike looked away.
“Mike, you don’t think maybe it’s all just coming up in your subconscious because of the Iceland thing?” Lucas offered. “Maybe all these memories are surfacing because you’re finally doing it. You’re probably thinking about El more now than you have in years.”
“I always think about El,” Mike snapped. “Unlike the rest of you, I never stopped.” Lucas flinched at the words, and Mike regretted them. “I’m sorry,” Mike mumbled. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” said Will quietly from his other side.
They all drank quietly for a moment, then Lucas finally changed the subject.
The rest of the evening went smoothly, but Mike was distracted. Because Will had been right, The Dreams had been coming almost every night. He’d begun to look forward to them, and if he woke up in the morning without having had one, the day ahead was sure to be a terrible one.
When the three of them left the bar, Lucas turned to face Mike as Will stepped to the curb to hail a taxi for him. “Max is talking about wanting kids, you know?”
“Oh shit, really?” Mike raised his eyebrows. “Are you, like… ready for that?”
Lucas shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s ever ready. But she wants one of each, a daughter and a son. A daughter first, if she gets her way.”
“Sounds nice, I guess. That’s like what I had, before Holly.”
“Yeah. Max wants a daughter named Elle.”
Mike stared at him.
“Extra L, extra E,” Lucas said. “Elle. Just… you know. For the next time you think no one else thinks about her.” He clapped a stunned Mike on the back as he turned, grabbed Will’s shoulders and gave him a dramatic, grandiose kiss on the forehead. Will barked a loud laugh and swatted him away, and Mike remembered, for the first time that night, how much he loved them both.