Chapter Text
Karen Wheeler smells like smoke and alcohol. This was a fact. A bad one, at that. She’d smelt like that for weeks. And it was making Mike nauseous. It wasn’t like he could really get away from the smell either, since he and his mom now lived in a small trailer less than half the size of Mike’s old house. And, yeah, Mike was glad he at least had a house in the first place, but it took some getting used to.
His bed was cold when he woke up, and Mike had a pounding headache, he’d been having them for a good week. His room wasn’t as stunk up as the rest of the house, but it still had the faint scent of cigarettes and beer. Dragging himself to the bathroom, Mike grabs the small bottle of ibuprofen he leaves on top of the sink. Uncapping it, Mike takes a couple (or more, he’s stopped counting) and cups a handful of water from the faucet, swallowing it in one thick gulp. He drags his still wet hands across his face, trying to wake himself up a little more.
There are still notable dark circles under his eyes, but Mike doesn’t care. His hair is long, reaching his nape. It hadn’t been cut in months. Despite being skinnier, Mike was a lot taller than he’d been last summer, lankier too. His limbs looked awkward and gangly, too bony and jagged. Mike swore he could even see bits of rib poking out from underneath the thin, white t-shirt he wore as pj’s. He sighed, leaving the bathroom and heading back to his room. He pulls out a random shirt and pair of jeans from his closet, glances at the clock. 7:30, it blinks at him. The bus would arrive in ten minutes. Mike hurries out, grabbing a jacket that hangs from the top of the closet door.
The kitchen and living room had no separation, so Mike wastes no time opening the fridge and looking for a decent breakfast. There’s some cold waffles in the fridge, and he supposes it’s better than nothing.
Ten minutes later, Mike is rushing out the door, loosely pulling his backpack over his shoulder. The bus is waiting for him outside, doors propped open. Mike steps in, shoving into his usual seat in the front.
The sounds of other kids are drowned out by Mike’s Walkman, which was on a loop of Smalltown Boy, his favorite song. He wasn’t dumb, Mike knew what the song was getting at. Knew what it meant for him to be listening to it, but Mike was beyond caring about what other people thought about him. His sister was dead. His parents were divorced. Ted had taken Holly to fuck knows where, Ohio. They were basically broke. So yeah, there wasn’t exactly much for Mike to look forward to anymore.
-
Mike is the first to get off the bus, music still blaring in his ears, not expecting the tap on his shoulder. He startles, turning around with probably way too much force, nearly knocking into the shorter figure behind him.
“Mike, hey,” It’s Miss Kelley. Mike muffles a groan. He was sure he’d made it obvious that he didn’t want to come back to her stupid “chats”. “I don’t think you came in last week?” She phrases it like a question. As if she didn’t know. Mike thought skipping would be enough for her to get the hint, but apparently not.
“Oh um, yeah, sorry, had to go home early,” he lied.
She smiles. “Well then, would today after lunch sound okay for you?”
Mike shrugs. “Sure,” he says.
“Great!” she beams. Finally, she walks off, leaving Mike to his peace. Sadly, it wouldn’t last much longer, considering that there was a pep rally in the gym today for the basketball game later tonight.
Mike decides that he might as well go now, not really feeling like getting stuck at the bottom of the bleachers.
-
Despite having been one of the first students at the pep rally, Mike still ends up right next to Dustin and Max. Of course, this was by no means an accident. Dustin, for all his good intentions, always managed to snag a seat next to Mike whenever he could. And look, Mike knows he's been distant, he knows, but surely Dustin would take a hint and leave him be?
He can hear the two talking pretty clearly, and he hears Dustin mention his girlfriend Suzie, something about an A in Latin? Mike isn’t sure. He doesn’t get the chance to find out either, because the pep rally’s starting, and Mike can see the basketball team running out into the gym, waving enthusiastically. He spots Lucas easily, because he’s waving straight at Max with lovey-dovey eyes and a mushy expression on his face. If things were different, Mike might’ve teased Max about it, but things were still fucked up, ever since July, and it's been going downhill ever since p, so Mike watched with what he assumed was an emotionless expression.
He’s not even paying attention, honestly. Jason Carver is a douche and Mike had no respect for him. But something must turn Mike’s head right before Jason uses his dead sister as motivation for winning a stupid sports game, because it sure as hell wasn’t because he wanted to listen.
At one point, he hears Dustin go, "Tonight? How is that possible?"
Dustin starts ranting to Max about a DND game he had later until the end of the rally.
Afterwards, he notices Dustin’s attempt to talk to him. Watches him try to catch his eye multiple times, but Mike can’t, won’t, oblige under any circumstances. He even notices Max giving him a pitying look, and god does that piss him off. Mike and Max didn't like each other, were barely friends. But even she cared, it seemed.
He’s not in a great mood after that.
-
After lunch, Mike trudges through the school halls, headphones crooning the breathy voices of Bronski Beat on repeat.
He ignores the kissy couples and the gaggles of other rambunctious high school teenagers in favor of his solitude. His mind wasn't as quiet, though. The music helped.
He notices Lucas and Max a bit too late. They're hanging out with Lucas' basketball friends, Lucas' arm around Max's shoulder, though Max doesn't seem very happy to be there. Mike supposes Lucas did a lot of convincing to get her to come. He passes by them, and Lucas meets his eyes, smile fading off his face, replaced by a look of concern. Max follows his gaze, brows furrowed, but Mike doesn't stay long enough to find out what she's thinking.
As he gets to Miss Kelley's door, another figure exits. Chrissy Cunningham. Her usual cheerful expression is replaced by an upset look, a hand placed protectively on her own chest. Mike can't help but look back as she passes, wondering what pretty, popular, Chrissy Cunningham could possibly be so troubled by.
Pushing open the door to the counselor's office, Mike begrudgingly sits in the chair, his hair falling onto his face. Mike pushes it back restlessly, a lone curl falling into his field of vision.
“Mike, can you-“ Miss Kelley points at his headphones, and Mike yanks them off. “Sorry."
“It’s fine, Mike."
Mike nods wordlessly, wondering how many more hints this woman needed.
She opens a folder, flipping silently through it.
"A C in Spanish and Algebra," she states.
Mike expects her to go on, but she just stares at him. Well, if he's here to just be patronized.
"Uh, yeah," he replies coolly.
"Well, that's unlike you. You're usually an A+ student."
Mike grips the wires of his Walkman, steadying himself.
"I guess," he murmurs.
“And how’s everything been going at home? Your mom ok?”
His mom worked about 12 hours a day and spent the other 12 drunk or asleep. Mike didn’t think that was exactly the definition of “ok.” But since he didn’t want to be put in a boy’s home, Mike kept his mouth shut.
“Great. A little tired, maybe.”
Again, Miss Kelley smiles, but it seems more strained now. Her patience is probably wearing thin. Mike probably wouldn’t be too happy himself if his only job was to talk to kids and they only responded with a vague, three word sentence. Mike wasn’t in the mood to be pleasant, though. Miss Kelley had basically dragged him here herself, so Mike didn’t have to say jack shit.
"So she's been dealing with her grief?" She asks.
Why was his mother so important here? Wasn't the counselor supposed to be helping him?
"I mean, yeah. She's just taking it a day at a time," Mike says measuredly.
"So not as much smoking?"
"Well, I- a little bit, but she's been stressed."
Mike doesn't really care if his mother hasn't as much said more than one sentence to him in the past few months, she was still his mother, and this woman had no right to judge her.
"Ok," Miss Kelley smiles. "And how about you? Been missing your father and your little sister?"
"My sister, I guess," Mike replies drily.
Mike couldn't give a rat's ass about his dad, it's not like he'd ever cared about Mike either, but his sister had been important to him. Especially after he'd lost his other one.
"Not your dad?" Miss Kelley questions.
"Why would I? He never cared about me, or any of us for that matter. Probably just Holly, to be honest," He said.
Miss Kelley nods. "Ok. So I see you don't want to talk about him?"
"No." Mike states.
"That's ok," she says. "So, have you been sleeping better?"
Mike nods.
"No more headaches?" She asks.
"Nope."
"Nightmares?"
His breath catches.
Blood, there was so much blood, why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he help his sister? Nancy!
"No," but his voice wavers.
Miss Kelley sighs and pins him with a concerned look.
"Mike, what you're going through, it's hard for anyone to deal with. It's ok if you're struggling. And I want to help you. But I can't if you don't talk to me. You have to be honest," she says, placing a hand on her chest and giving him a grin.
Mike pins his hands to his sides and says, "I am being honest."
Miss Kelley gives him a look.
"I am!" he repeats.
Miss Kelley gives him one last smile. "Ok."
Mike decides he isn’t going back.
His headache is also back, worse than ever, so Mike pulls his headphones back on and heads for the bathrooms. For whatever odd reason, though, Lucas is right outside.
“Hey, Mike,” Lucas says, offering him an easy smile.
Unfortunately, Lucas doesn't keep his stalking matters to just Max.
“No,” he says, already knowing what Lucas wants.
“I haven’t even said anything!” Lucas exclaims.
Mike quickly walks away, his long legs giving him and advantage, but Max appears in the next hallway.
"What is this, a goddamn ambush?" Mike asks.
"Screw you, Wheeler," Max replies.
In Mike's distraction, Lucas has caught up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Mike, just listen-"
“You have a big game tonight so you want me to cover for you at Hellfire tonight,” Mike questions, raising an eyebrow.
“Um, well yeah,” Lucas says, looking a little shocked. “So could you-“
“I said no,” Mike says, turning towards the bathrooms.
“Oh, come on Wheeler. It’s just one game. And it’s not like you don’t know how to play,” Max speaks up, casting him an annoyed glance. But there was something else too, a bit of sympathy behind her eyes. It was how everyone had been looking at him for months. And it made something involuntarily snap within Mike.
“I said no, alright? Now, can you just leave me alone,” he snaps.
Max and Lucas looked at each other, wearing matching expressions of surprise and, from Lucas, a flash of hurt. And Mike feels bad, he does, but there was just too much for him to handle at the moment.
He sighs, before giving the two what he hoped was an apologetic look. "Sorry."
"It's fine, Mike, but," Lucas sighs, and it seems like the dnd game isn't the only thing he wanted to talk about.
"Mike, me and the others, we're…we're worried about you."
Mike gives him a long look. "Worried?"
"Yeah! I mean, it's just, you've seemed kind of…different, these past few months," Lucas explains carefully.
"Different? Different how?" Mike asks, a warning tone in his voice.
"Uh, you know, just, it's like you've been, I don't know, avoiding us?" Lucas tries. He turns to Max, who's shaking her head.
"Jesus, Lucas," she says. "Look, Wheeler, the point my idiot boyfriend is trying to make here is that something is wrong. We can all tell. Even Will and El can tell, and they're halfway across the goddamn country!"
Mike winces. The topic of Will and El had been pretty muddy with him for months.
"El's been concerned about you for a while now. I know you two aren't dating anymore, and honestly, that's probably better for the both of you, but that's not the point. The point is you've barely sent her as much as a few letter the entire time she's been gone and she worried."
Lucas puts a hesitant hand on Max's shoulder. "Max-"
"And look, I don't really write to Will that much but Lucas and Dustin do, and he's been worried sick about you! You two are best friends and you've barely talked to him since he's moved! He's fucking concerned about you, Mike!"
Mike's chest hurts. He'd kill to speak to his friends like a normal person. Kill to manage the courage to speak to Will again. But Mike had never been very brave. Mike the Brave would be disappointed.
Mike sighs. All he could really do is push them away.
"Look, things are different now, all right? You were right, Lucas. I'm different. That's it. Ok?" Mike says.
"Wait, Mike, come on, we know something's wrong," Lucas tries again, but Mike is already slinking into the bathrooms.
The mirrors are dirty, looking like something straight out of a horror movie. Mike can almost see a clawed hand reaching out for him, monstrous and deadly. He takes out his ibuprofen, downing another couple of pills and gulping down another cupful of water. He’s just about to leave when suddenly-
Retching. From a stall at the end of the bathroom. “Hello?” Mike asks, hesitant.
“Huh?” A girl's voice questions softly. It sounds obvious she’s been crying. She hiccups. “Wh-what are you doing in here?”
“Um, this is the boy’s bathroom,” Mike says.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, uh, do you want me to get the nurse or something?” Mike asks.
“No. Please just go away,” she says.
“Oh, uh, yeah sure, whatever.” Mike says. He thinks the voice is familiar, but doesn’t take the time to dwell on it.
-
Later, Dustin comes up to him again.
"Hey, Mike," he smiles. "I have a favor to ask."
"If this is about DND, then no," Mike replies.
"But I-"
"No!"
He feels bad.
-
That night, Mike lays carelessly on his bed, Bronski Beat blasting in his ears. Will’s coming tomorrow. Not El. Just Will. Staying at his house. If you could call this piece of shit a house. He supposed Ms. Byers had made the mistake of assuming that Mike and Will were still (good) friends. And Will would have no reason to say no to that. Why would he? Will was too nice to tell Ms. Byers that he and Will had barely spoken this entire year.
Again, he hadn’t called, talked, or written to either of them in weeks. Whatever friendship he had with either of them was probably long gone.
Though, there was something. A shoebox, kept in the back of his closet, filled to the brim with letters. Letters he wished were for El. But Mike knew plenty well who they were for. It was obvious wasn’t it? They were for-
A loud bark interrupted Mike’s thoughts, startling him to nearly jumping off the bed. “Shit, I’m coming,” Mike said, rolling his eyes.
In the living room, Mike's mom was passed out on the couch, the stench of cigarette smoke filling the air. An almost empty bottle of wine sat on the coffee table, a red stained glass positioned next to it. Mike sighed and threw out the cigarettes and put the wine and glass away.
He opens the fridge as the dog continues yipping and yapping for scraps. Mike grabs some leftovers from a container and goes outside, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling of the silent atmosphere.
The neighbor's dog was a tiny thing, barely a lump of white fur, but Mike was attached, so he always made sure to give the poor thing a few treats, knowing the owners sure as hell didn’t.
Mike happily dangled a piece of meat above the furball, enjoying the little jumps he pulled off to try and get ahold of the treat. “There you go, pup,” Mike whispers.
Suddenly, a van pulls up at Eddie's trailer, making Mike turn. The DND game must be over. Eddie gets out, speaking loud enough for Mike to hear but not enough for him to understand what he's saying. He wonders who he's talking to. God, he hopes it's not Dustin.
A girl appears behind Eddie, and - Mike doesn't have the best vision, ok? Sue him, he'd spent way too much time writing campaigns in the dark - but he was pretty sure he recognized the cheerleader outfit and bright red hair. Chrissy Cunningham. That girl really kept showing up in places Mike didn't expect.
The duo was…odd, but if you're hanging out with Eddie Munson alone after dark, it usually meant you were after drugs.
Mike shook his head and went back inside, ignoring the feeling of being watched.