Chapter Text
It was nearly like the world was, sort of normal again. Well, if you exclude the fact that Hawkins had become the boundary between the deepest depths of hell from the arms of an inter-dimensional plane led by a psycho magician man turned freaky mutant monster intent on wiping out the human race and the serene plains and rolling hills of the Midwest.
But in Mike’s somewhat childish mind attached to the memories of nostalgia, it was sort of normal again. The party was fully reunited after his best friend had left him for nearly a year and even in the midst of the end of the world, they had to worry about the workload that came with being in their junior year of high school.
Pretty much a year from college if they were still alive – hopefully. He was intent on majoring in English and becoming a writer – however, he worried that his family wouldn’t be supportive. He had a gut feeling his father would say something along the lines of but son, you’re a man, You need a reputable job in finance or accounting. He could almost hear his indifferent voice drawling in his head.
“Young man, you are holding up the line!” A bellowing voice broke through Mike’s recollection of events in his mind. “Huh?” His eyebrows had furrowed and mouth had curled into a very surly stereotypical Mike Wheeler-esque face. He managed to look in the direction of where the voice had come from; it had been yelled by the clearly exhausted and likely enraged lunch lady who was waiting to dump some unhealthy concoction of fats and oils and deep-fried shit onto his plate.
“You are holding the goddamn line up. Pick. Something.” she said through gritted teeth, her face turning red. Mike was unsure whether that was from her pure anger or the complete heat of an unventilated and dilapidated high school kitchen. Probably both.
“Uhhh.” He looked over to his left and saw his best friend, Will, glaring at him with a slight hint of annoyance in his eyes. He had completely forgotten they had gone up to get lunch together. Mike parted his lips and rolled his eyes in pure irritation. “I’ll just have whatever he’s having.” he muttered, gesturing towards Will. “Thank the Lord. You kids only seem to grow more slow the older you get. Jesus Christ.” Mike desperately bit back the bile at the back of his throat to prevent any sort of barrage of insults from coming out of his unpredictable mouth.
Even Will seemed to understand this, having nudged him and staring at Mike with a look completely embodying Stop. Keep your mouth shut. Mike glared back. At least I’m not the one who ended up at a goddamn high school cafeteria serving gross ass food to teenagers for a living below minimum wage at the peak age of 62. He snapped his head back, thrusting his empty tray towards the lunch lady, where she then shoved a spoonful of fried chicken and mac and cheese down onto it. “Thanks.” he muttered indignantly.
As they were about to go further down the line for the “healthy” supplements of milk and fruits, a barrage of snickering and giggling overwhelmed the air. How embarrassing. What a loser. He managed to make out. It was these two random girls in front of him and Will in line. Mike looked down in an attempt to hide his anger, testily hitting his foot on the wall of the buffet line.
Will sighed as he nudged his friend’s shoe that had suddenly started banging the block with his own in a way to say It’s okay. Breathe. His eyes nearly felt like they were blinking involuntarily, so aggressively to the point it felt like he was giving himself a migraine.
As they continued to shuffle so slowly to the left that it felt like their legs were being dragged in tar, Mike could make out that the giggling had not ceased. Instead, it had grown louder. As soon as Mike was truly going to let all hell loose on these Angela carbon copies, they had turned around to look at him and Will. He barely shifted his head to make sense of the stupid sneers on their stupid faces. Nevermind. All eyes were on William Byers.
The two girls whispered something to one another before giggling once more. “Hey Zombie Boy, can we ask you something?” Eugh. He was brought back to the moment all those years ago at the Snowball Dance where Will exuberantly agreed to dance with the girl that had used the same awful name. But of course, now it was endearing. Why wouldn’t it be? Will was probably the most endearing person he had ever known, Frog Face would never evolve in that sort of way; its poisonous intent would always infinitely remain, especially since it wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Um, sure. What’s up?” Will puzzledly asked. Another giggle. “Why do you keep hanging out with that guy? He’s so weird and such a freak.” At the uttering of those words, the world felt like it had collapsed in on his lungs and choked him in a dark ocean, dragging him down further, further, further, into the impenetrable darkness. “He’s not weird and he’s not a freak.” Will spat, immediately turning away from them to angrily swipe at an apple in the refrigerated area of the line.
“You’re just saying that ‘cause you feel bad. I mean, look at him,” one of the girls giggled. “And look at us. We’re not freaks that waste your time. We’d never waste your time.” They giggled again to the point that Mike wished his eardrums would self-implode so he’d never have to hear their grating nail-on-chalk voices again. “At least-” Will had started to retaliate. But he’d be completely cut off.
An arm had flung itself protectively over him and another on Mike, tugging them closer to the body that these limbs belonged to. “Hey. You two. Leave my boys alone.” What would seem like a harmless tease on paper to these girls, was dripping as a hostile reprisal.
But he wasn’t exactly happy with this supposed “savior.” The heavy scent of cologne, white jacket sleeve embroidered with the Hawkin’s tiger and jersey number explained everything Mike needed to know. This was a senior on the basketball team who would not stop berating Will in the hope that he’d take on a game or two with him and even maybe try-out. “Whatever, Chance. You’re just upset you missed out on the chance to take us out on a date and now that you see that we’ve got our eyes on someone else, you’re all nervous and jealous!” one of the girls shrieked.
Chance nodded, snickering to himself. “Heh, yeah. That’s definitely the reason. You girls read me like a book.” His arms remained still on Mike and Will, though he couldn’t quite tell from across over to his best friend if his hand was getting closer to Will. “Whatever.” the other girl scoffed. “Let’s get out of here.” The two mouthbreathers grabbed their trays with their heads high up into the air, walking into a separate area of the cafeteria.
“Hey, thanks Chance.” Will voiced, looking up at the senior with a small smile. Chance grinned back. “Anything for Will Byers and his friend over here.” Friend. That word embodied a particular sting to Mike’s chest.
Chance had brought Will suspiciously closer to his torso, with his arm much nearer to Will’s, having released his other on Mike’s shoulder to ruffle his hair. Oh that fucking did it. It reminded him of the very incredibly awfully awkward moment when Argyle brought him into an uncomfortable hug. Only three people were reserved to mess with his hair, and they were, written and signed, Nancy, Jonathan, and Hopper. Not this fucking kid who was practically the same age as them and had no sort of familial or platonic connection to him. Just some asshole who’s gotten way too close to Will for his liking.
He pushed himself away from Chance with a shove into his arm, leaving it suspended in midair and two faces of dark eyes staring at him bewildered.. “Y’know what Will? I’m gonna find us a table. Care to join. But only if you care! If you don’t care I don’t care hahahaaaa….! Continue with I don’t know, with talking about shooting balls?? I don’t fucking know. See you??? Soon. Bye.” He flashed them the most sickeningly sweet smile he could muster and stormed off from the line before grabbing a black cherry drink to refresh the desert his mouth had become.
Mike managed to take a deep breath and found himself at an empty table. Many students had evacuated with their families months prior, leaving the schools rather quiet and bare. Quite the opposite of Michael Wheeler’s current state of mind, however. The previous interactions raced through his infinitely loud thoughts, made no better as Mike continuously stabbed the fried chicken with his spork. It felt like he had delved into hours of pure insanity before Will made his way to the table two minutes later, waking him up from his spiral of madness with a light thud of his tray across from him. “Hey.” he said firmly, with a hint of what the hell was that?
“Hi.” Mike mumbled. He couldn’t bear to look up at his best friend’s hazel eyes. He felt Will sit down in his chair and pull closer to the table with a loud screech. His gaze shot up and down between the soft irises contemplating him and the mutilated food on his messy tray.
Will always knew when something was troubling Mike and he could never prevent himself from opening his mouth and spilling out every little silly thing that held a nuisance weight in his mind. Simply from the soft, pleading expression of I’m here to listen, he couldn’t help himself from revealing the troubles in his soul to Will. He had an understanding of Mike no other singular person could comprehend; the way his best friend weaved his words so intricately and ethereally to him made him feel seen, that someone held that hand on his that everything will be okay. No one else had that brilliance that emitted so radiantly off of Will, leaving him desperate to let it kindle and flourish in an environment where its beauty only remained with the two of them.
So that’s when he started complaining like a toddler to his best friend.
“Too many people like you.” Mike blurted loudly. This sentence must have screwed up Will’s senses so badly that he had squinted his eyes so deeply at something that can only be heard. “What?” he demanded.
His heart started racing. In typical Mike Wheeler fashion, he had worded his anger in a way that was likely to deeply insult Will, just as he had all those years ago in his garage in the rain. Through desperation, tears welled up in his eyes, forcing himself to look up and burn his tears in the piercing light of the lamps of the fluorescent panels.
“It’s just. You’re getting this stupid – incredibly freaking superficial – attention from the same people who were so happy you had gone missing all those years ago and its so – so fucking – “ the spork in he had been gripping so tightly moments prior had fallen to the ground, his hands instantly running through his black curls back and forth through complete rage and apprehension.
His hands had made way to his eyes, rubbing back and forth to the point he could feel them burning and mutating into an unnatural crimson color. “ – so fucking two-faced. You and I both know why they all wanna cozy up to you. Like those three buffoons in line.”
Will’s arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and eyebrow raised. “No, I don’t.” he shrugged bluntly. Mike’s mouth dropped. “C-c’mon Will.” He coughed an awkward laugh. “Don’t make me say it. Please.” He buried his face in his palms, his cheeks blossoming into a hotness of scarlet that was implausible to deny.
“No, Michael. I don’t know. Tell me. Enlighten me.” Shit. Shit shit shit. How am I supposed to straight up say to his face ‘everyone is goggling over you because you’ve grown very large – not in the bad way the very healthy good way and that your voice is deeper than all our voices in the party combined and I couldn’t help but notice that you try to hide your arms in your flannels and jackets but I could very well tell when we were out in the desert all those months ago digging in the suffocating heat?’ God help me.
He lifted his eyes from his hands slowly and couldn’t help himself from his gaze darting to Will’s shoulders, his biceps, his forearms, in his sternly crossed arms. He looked up a little bit higher. His best friend’s hazel eyes were slightly displeased, but the way the light caught them, transforming his irises into breathtaking colors of green and even yellow, brought Mike back to that intimate memory the two of them shared in the Surfer Boy Pizza van.
“So?” Will demanded, breaking Mike out of the stare he had committed to his auburn eyes. “OH! Uhm – you’re … not as small as everyone would have expected you to grow to be,” he barely squeaked, shoving his face back into his hands once more, his cheeks and forehead so warm one could have been able to crack an egg on his face and it would have started sizzling.
He heard Will laughing quietly to himself, guaranteeing Mike a single tiny peek out of the tight gaps between his fingers. “You’re joking, Mike.” Will had his typical Will Byers smile beaming on his face, one corner of his mouth slightly more upturned than the other, allowing for his adorable front teeth to peek through - reminding Mike of the softness, innocence, and daintiness of a little bunny rabbit.
Mike’s breath hitched, forcing himself to rub his hands over his cheeks in an attempt to hide the crimson in his face – if anything, he was making it levels worse. “I’M NOT! That’s why Chance is so like – freaking obsessed with you. Because you’re um. So muscley and. Stuff.” he coughed awkwardly, reaching over to the floor to pick up the spork and continue stabbing at the food on his tray. “AND UM.” Mike realized what an awkward way he ended the sentence so bluntly. Even though he had a feeling that it was the complete truth. “That’s why he wants you so so so” – with a little hint of bitterness – “badly on the basketball team. You’d just um. Be, that great!” Mike exclaimed, nodding so enthusiastically that it felt like his head would fly off and explode from its lightheadedness.
Will let out a teasingly exasperated sigh, closing his eyes briefly before uncrossing his arms to set them atop each other on the table, leaning a little bit closer with a gleam in his bright, hazel eyes. “You’re helpless, Mike. You know that? Can’t believe you haven’t lost your head or anything.” He blinked gently, breathing in and sighing out once more, but in a longer, more tender manner.
And once again, it felt like Mike’s breath was giving out and that his heart had taken a trampoline trip to his throat. “Yeah, but that’s why I need you. Here with me especially.” It was hard to notice how close their feet had gotten to one another, nearly intertwined, like the locks of a gentle braid. “If I lose my head, you’re here to screw it back on.” So softly, Mike had expressed this.
Will’s smile grew larger. “Yeah?” Mike pulled his hands from cheeks down to his lap to prevent himself from pushing his best friend’s silky bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah.” he whispered breathlessly to his best friend. The two of them remained in such a moment that felt like it was lost to all of time; no one else was there, they remained, floating, suspended in the comfort of space and a thousand stars staring back at them. Not a single word was said. Before something came to Mike’s mind, something that had been clawing away in the deepest corners of his thoughts and memories.
Taking a breath, Mike whispered “Hey, Will I –” Before he could even comprehend how to formulate his note to his best friend, two familiar faces had smashed their trays next to Mike, jolting him from the quiet state of euphoria he had shared with Will, their bodies and feet pulling several inches away from the other.
“Mike, what the hell did you do to your chicken tenders?” Dustin looked down at him with what seemed like genuine terror. “Oh, y’know. This shit is fried terribly and burnt to a crisp, just like One. So why not pretend that I was stabbing One with my spork, y'know?” He proudly put his spork on exhibit to Lucas and Dustin.
“Ooookay…” Lucas would say uncomfortably, furrowing his eyebrows towards Will, who only shrugged and rolled his eyes, amused. “Personally, Mike, I can’t tell if that’s pure psychopath behavior or actual motivation to kill this guy. There’s this like, weird grey area that you’ve got.” Dustin hit him in the back of the head, causing Mike to wince and throw his arms in defense towards him. “Okay, okay! Lay off me, alright?”
Dustin let out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever man, me and Lucas have something to show you guys. Lucas, you got the radio?” “Yep, right here.” he quipped, setting it down on Mike’s left side before the two of them sat down. However, as Dustin went on to explain something about the radio station Robin and Steve worked at, Mike felt incredibly dejected. Any time he and Will shared a moment where it felt like magic was manifested in their singular memories together, something always had to interrupt them.
He looked up at his best friend, who gave him a weak smile, giving him the word that he likely felt the same way about these nearly scheduled interruptions. Mike was determined to understand the electricity that kindled whenever him and Will caught the eye of the other and when they stood mere inches away from a touch that felt like a fire would flourish. But for now, it would remain in radio silence.
“Hey Will, come up here on our side so you can see the map better.”
He nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He made his way over to the other side, leaning over Lucas and Mike as Dustin unraveled a map.
Mike furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, looking over to his right to state the obvious to Dustin. “Dude, this is just a map of Hawkins. What importance does this have??” he demanded, an edge of annoyance in his voice.
“Son of a bitch, Mike. Are you blind?” He hit Mike on the back of his head again. “Quit that!” he yelled at his friend. “Not before you stop acting like a complete dumbass! Look!” Mike rolled his eyes and looked down at the map, examined it for a moment, before seeing that Lovers Lake was circled.
He looked between Dustin and Lucas. “Why is Lovers Lake circled?”
A beat.
“That’s where Holly and her friends go everyday. They refuse to tell us why but Robin and Steve always hear them through a lot of channel skimming where they eventually catch their walkie talkie channels. It’s weird. I think we need to follow them one time when they leave.” Lucas explained.
Mike swallowed nervously. Hearing his sister being so secretive when Hawkins was so vulnerable left him shook to his core, his body shivering nearly like his blood had transformed into ice.
”I-Is there any reason as to why she’s doing this with her friends?” he questioned, looking up to Dustin and Lucas, before catching a nervous glance from Will. He hated himself for not noticing this behavior in his younger sister. He was always supposed to be the protective older brother and friend, but let himself get too carried away while being trapped in his thoughts.
Dustin took a breath. “We think that, Henry is trying to lure them in. He- he’s weak, but not weak enough to catch some 8 year olds to bring back some of his old strength, y’know?”
Mike looked down, nodding. He couldn’t bear to lift his head out of the true fear running through the course of his veins.
He felt a gentle hand squeeze his shoulder, letting him relieve some of the dread that had built up in every singular corner of his body. Hoping it had been Will’s hand, it was truly Lucas’s instead. “Don’t worry, Mike. We’re not gonna let anything like this ever happen again. Trust me. Okay?”
He managed to nod back to his friend. “Okay. Thanks guys.” Mike would say, still feeling a slight chill and shake within his torso.
”But … we’ve got one question. Those being stalked by One always had some sort of warning signs. Nosebleeds, headaches, nightmares and … eventually seeing a grandfather clock but I don’t think he’s nearly at that point or she … “ Lucas trailed off, parting his lips before looking down to the ground. It was clear what he was thinking of.
Mike furrowed his eyebrows. “No, no. No, not really. She’s honestly been very happy and energized lately. And when we come back from school, she almost always immediately draws with Will, right?” He looked up to his best friend for his confirmation.
Will seemed like he was lost in the processing of several thoughts in his mind, before opening his mouth as if to say something. “Yeah. But um. Now that you mention it, every time I draw with her, she draws this … guy. This guy she calls Mr. Whatsit. Every single time I sit down with her, and ask her what she’s drawing, she sits in silence until I see it’s some man in a brown suit and fedora. ‘Mr. Whatsit, my friend!’ she’ll tell me. While it’s obviously not too detailed, it’s always the same general concept. And I can’t believe it took me so long to realize but it’s — it’s reminding me of how I’d always draw the Mind Flayer when — it had possessed me,” he barely managed to choke out.
The entire party had gone silent while the clamor of the cafeteria filled the air around them. “He — he’s got to be visiting her or something. In some seemingly harmless form. He has to be.” Will uttered, his voice heavy and ever so slightly, trembling.
In replacement of his fear, Mike had a form of newfound anger rushing up into his head. He wasn’t gonna let that Henry - son of a bitch - Creel get his fucking grasp on any one else he cared about. That is when he started formulating a plan just as he started speaking.
“We are going to go out tonight to follow Holly. Me and Will will be with her since she won’t suspect anything since we live with her and take her everywhere on our bikes, while you guys will follow from a distance if she tries to slip away to whatever thing she wants to sneak off to at Lovers Lake with her friends. Also, keep an eye out for them, we need to get an idea as to why they're sneaking off intoo these weird gatherings. We’ll keep each other at the ready on our walkies. Okay?” He looked to all three of his friends for confirmation, with specific emphasis on Will.
Lucas looked back to nod. “Okay.”
Dustin followed suit with his nod. “Okay.”
Now, he looked up at Will, who was still leaning over him, with a particular gentleness in his gaze. Closing his eyes, his best friend finally nodded, opening his hazel irises to even capture Mike in a hitch of a breath in such a dire moment. “Okay.” he voiced, confidence creeping out of his singular word of affirmation.
Mike grinned, before setting his hand in the middle of the table to start a collective hand stack. One by one, his friends followed suit, before Will gently placed his on top.
“To the death of Vecna.” Mike announced.
”To the death of Vecna!” the others quipped, lifting their hands triumphantly into the air.
Mike could feel the rage behind his eyes flourish as the lunch bell finally rang, a cacophony announcing that students needed now to run their way back to class.
Just as Henry had his particular chimes of the Grandfather Clock, this one represented an intense feeling Mike had digging in his chest; the fury he had felt seeing how vulnerable and panic-stricken Will had been in Hopper’s cabin all those months ago as a result of rediscovering his resurrected perception of One had become so extreme he nearly felt like lashing out at the nearest mouthbreather.
One thing was for certain: Mike was going to kill that fucking bastard whether he liked it or not.