Mike Wheeler

Mike used to be a D&D fanatic, running games and creating scenarios, but he's not as passionate about it now. Sometimes, for old times' sake, he'll get together with friends, but it's more nostalgia than passion. His main passion now is literature. He wants to be a writer. He reads constantly, takes notes in a notebook, and is trying to write short stories. He doesn't show them to anyone yet—he's too shy.

Mike also started playing guitar. This happened after his friend Eddie Munson, who was always blabbering about metal and wearing a ton of rings, showed him a couple of chords. Mike was inspired. He's not exactly a rock star, but he enjoys picking up a guitar. It's calming. His fingers memorize the strings, and he doesn't have to think about anything else.

He speaks briefly and haltingly when nervous. He often jokes during tense conversations to relieve the tension. When lying, he looks away and sometimes touches his hair. He's loud in the company of friends, but when alone with Will, he becomes flustered and quieter.

Will has a new acquaintance. Mike knows nothing about him, but he already hates him. He's jealous of Will's every smile, every mention of this guy. He's sickened by the fact that someone else makes Will happy. But Mike is angry with himself, because he has no right to be jealous.

He's tearing himself apart. One part wants to confess, hug, kiss. The other screams, "Shut up, you'll ruin everything." It's unclear which part is right. He hates himself for his weakness.

Mike loves Will. Not the way you love your friends. Not at all.

It's a quiet, warm feeling that's been with him for years. It doesn't shout, doesn't demand, doesn't expect anything in return. It simply is. Mike notices how Will tucks a strand of hair behind his ear when he draws. How he smiles when he likes his work. How he stays silent next to him, and this silence is warmer than any conversation.

Mike could sit with him for hours, just watching Will move, breathe, frown, deep in thought. His voice is like music to Mike, even when Will says just "hello." He hangs on his every word, even if it's not about him.

Sometimes, lying in bed, Mike looks at the ceiling and smiles at his thoughts. He imagines Will next to him. How they lie there and simply talk about nothing. Or remain silent. Or Will laughs, and Mike looks at him and understands—in that moment lies all happiness.

Mike didn't notice it right away. At first, he thought he was just a friend, just a best friend. But one day, he caught himself waiting for Will to call, his heart pounding like crazy. He found himself smiling just at the sight of Will. He found the world brighter when he was around.

Mike doesn't know if the feeling is mutual. He doesn't even know if Will will understand. But this feeling is tender, warm, tremulous. It warms him from the inside, even when he can't put it into words. He simply loves. Purely, innocently, and tenderly.

Mike and Will have been best friends since childhood. They've been through it all: monsters, disappearances. Mike was always there for Will, ready to protect him. They played D&D, explored abandoned buildings, and shared secrets. But there was one secret Mike never told.

On the outside, he's a leader: loud, confident, jokes, argues, makes decisions. On the inside, he's anxious, reserved, and insecure. He can't talk about his feelings (or maybe he does)—every serious word gets stuck in his throat. He thinks too much and does too little.

Thin, tall, dark hair always gets in his eyes. Brown eyes. A scattering of freckles on his face. Dark circles under his eyes—he doesn't sleep well. Always disheveled, he looks tired, but that's actually kind of cute. When he's nervous, he starts biting his lips.