Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mike loved music. He loved when he went to the grocery store with his mom and she let him turn up the radio to a decibel that elementary school Mike’s ears definitely should not have been exposed to at that age. He loved going over to Will’s house and taking the radio outside where his friend could show him all the tapes his brother had given him. They used to sit outside for hours listening and talking until the sun disappeared over the horizon. He loved to sing, even though he knew he was bad at it, but usually when nobody was around. Well, he sang around Will sometimes when they listened to the tapes together. And El that one time during the summer of 1985. 

The only problem with music for Mike was that he didn’t know what his favorite song was. He knew the stuff he definitely didn’t like: anything classical or big band, because his dad would always play it in long stuffy car rides, avant-garde or punk music just didn’t make too much sense to him, and heavy metal was alright, but he mostly listened to that stuff because Eddie did, or Eddie had recommended it. Most everything else he could tolerate and enjoy. 

Yet as the Hawkins crew sat in Hopper’s cabin, settling on their favorite songs with ease, Mike was left with no clear answer. Mike sat in front of the pile of cassette tapes, holding an empty, open Walkman and a cheap pair of orange-cushioned headphones. The selection of music was overwhelming to him. He glanced at Will, who sat to his right and was already inserting a tape into his own Walkman. 

“Should I Stay Or Should I Go?” Mike asked. Will smiled and nodded. 

“I can’t believe you remember that. Yeah, this song- it’s got me through a lot.” He held out the Walkman towards Mike so the other boy could read the tape. 

“I remember the day Jonathan showed it to me. I-my dad-Lonnie was still with us. He was fighting with my mom in the other room, a-and I don’t know. The song-” Will took in a sharp breath, then exhaled slowly. Mike tried not to glance at his lips as he did so. He failed twice. “The song, I guess, it feels like growing up. Wondering if everything is worth it, and if anything will carry to the future. There’s something about it that just- I don’t know, speaks to me.” Will lowered his head and Mike could see a bit of pink coloring his cheeks. “That’s probably really corny and stupid, but-”

“No, no! I think- that’s great. It's great that you have that with a song,” Mike reassured Will, dropping his Walkman and headphones to grab Will’s forearm. The contact with Will made his palm heat instantly. Mike’s stomach twisted and all his insides felt strange. Like someone had rearranged his organs and expected him to figure out how his new system worked. He felt like that a lot around Will these days. 

Will lifted his head to meet Mike’s eyes, but not before glancing down at Mike’s hand, which still gripped his forearm. Mike pulled away like Will’s arm had been a burning log in a fireplace. His face certainly felt as though he had been standing next to flames. The two boys looked away quickly from each other, both of them clearing their throats loudly. 

When Mike was recomposed he turned back to Will to find him clicking the Walkman closed. Will gestured to the pile of tapes in front of them. 

“Have you found your song yet?” Will asked. Mike shook his head and exhaled sharply.

“I just- I don’t know what song would protect me, I guess. There’s nothing that really, I don’t know, like what you said- speaks to me. I mean, I like music. I love a bunch of different songs, but I can’t find the one that I need.” Will shot him a sympathetic look. 

“I’m sure you’ll find something. Maybe-maybe you don’t have to love it for it to work. Maybe it can just be a song you like to listen to.” His tone was hopeful, but Mike knew his words weren’t true. It had to be the perfect song for him. 

The two of them sat in silence for a moment staring at the tapes before Joyce yelled from outside for Will. He sent Mike a quick smile before he got up, taking his Walkman with him. Mike was then left alone in the living room, sitting on the floor, a sea of decisions in front of him. 

The front door of the cabin slammed open, causing him to jump and grab a homemade torch and a lighter that were placed throughout the cabin. There was no need to worry, however, as it was Robin and Vickie, each gripping a bag of canned food in their hands. 

“Woah, little Wheeler, don’t shoot!” Robin exclaimed. Mike rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t call me that,” Mike groaned. Robin shrugged her shoulders and went over to the kitchen area to set down the food, Vickie following close behind her. They began to unpack before Robin glanced at the tapes in front of Mike. 

“Oooh, looking for your song?” she questioned. She came out from the kitchen and went over to Mike while Vickie sorted and put away the food. She sat across from him and began to shift through the tapes. 

“Yeah,” Mike responded, unable to keep the dejected tone from his voice. 

“What’s gotcha down? Can’t find a song?” Mike wasn’t used to so many questions from one person, so he just shrugged. Robin picked up a few tapes before putting them down almost immediately. 

“Do you want help?” Mike met her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“No offense, but how can you help me? You don’t even know me.” His tone is a bit snappier than he knew it should have been, but he couldn’t help it. He was getting more frustrated by the second. 

“Well, maybe I can’t help you, but we can get someone who can, like maybe Will-”

“I-I just talked with Will, he-I-he can’t help. It’s- he’s got his song, and-and I can’t even-ugh!” His words got all jumbled in his mouth, mixing together like ingredients in a bad salad. He felt his face flush and he didn’t even know why. He didn’t know much of anything at this point. 

“Okay,” Robin said, drawing out the word. She stared at him, her expression blank. It was weird, because Mike was used to seeing her with an expression that revealed all of her emotion, like she couldn’t keep her thoughts on the inside. Mike knew he was the same way, the way he was unable to squish down the emotions he wanted to keep hidden. After a few moments of intense staring, her face brightened!

“Hmm- I’ll be right back! Stay right there!” She exclaimed, jumping up and running off to the bedroom. It was no longer just El’s room, but a shared space for the girls to all stay. Mike listened to her rustle through bags and unzipper packs, a wave of confusion washing over him. He turned to Vickie, who was almost done unpacking the food. 

“Do you have any idea what she’s doing?” he asked. Vickie seemed to understand what Robin was thinking. Unfortunately, Vickie shrugged her shoulders, her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. 

“Dunno. Sometimes she does that with me- she’ll associate something I said with another thing, or solve a problem from another time in the middle of a conversation.” A shy smile bloomed on her face. “Other people think its annoying, but I-”

Robin chose that moment to burst back into the living room. Mike turned to see a tape clutched in her hand. 

“I thought I had grabbed them all,” he said, gesturing to the cassette tape. Robin shrugged, her face turning a light pink. 

“This tape was… personal, I guess? I-I didn’t really know how people would feel about it.” Now Mike was truly lost. What could possibly be on that tape that people would disagree with? How bad was the music? If anything, Mike needed to know what she was holding. 

“Well, I’ll try anything.” Mike held out his hand and moved towards Robin to take the tape, but she flinched and went back a step. Mike froze in place. 

“Is… something wrong?” Mike questioned. Robin shook her head, but she gripped the tape in her hand and made no move to hand it over to Mike. He heard bags rustle behind him and footsteps; Vickie entered his line of sight and came to stand next to Robin. They made eye contact, and, in a conversation spoken entirely without words, Robin handed her the tape. Vickie then presented it to Mike, who took it cautiously, slightly afraid Robin would rip it from his hand. 

Mike went back to the pile of cassettes and resumed his earlier seated position on the floor in front of them. He turned over the tape in his hands and took in the cover. Atop a black background was the words Age of Consent in blocky, white letters. Below that was the band name, Bronski Beat. They sounded familiar to Mike, but he couldn’t really remember if he had heard any of their songs. 

“Okay, it might be a stretch-just don’t-don’t hate me! If you hate it. But I’ve-I’ve got a sense about these things. ‘Cause I’m in band! Yep. I’m in band, that’s why, hah. I know about music.” Mike saw her glance at Vickie, an incomprehensible look in her eyes. Mike felt as though he should be able to pick up on what they were conveying to each other, but he just couldn’t parse it. He opened the case and placed the tape inside his Walkman. He sighed, prepared to be disappointed again. 

As he was about to place the headphones over his ears, Robin stopped him.

“May-maybe you should go in this room! Yeah, in this room.” She pointed to El’s old room. “You know, so you can get the-the full effect. Of the music. That might help, right?” Her voice cracked on the last word. She still looked nervous, as though Mike was going to bash her for her music taste. 

He was willing to try anything to get a song, so maybe she had a point about being in a closed room. He shrugged. 

“Alright. I’ll let you know how it sounds,” he told the two girls. Robin shot him an awkward thumbs up while Vickie smiled encouragingly. He went into the room and closed the door behind him. He heard footsteps moving away from the door and the hushed voices of the two girls talking. He didn’t bother to try and eavesdrop, mostly just wanting to get the song over with. Not that he disliked Robin’s music taste, but… his luck was out with songs. Nothing felt right . Not to mention Robin’s strange behavior regarding the tape as well as her wordless conversation with Vickie. It was like they could read each other’s minds. Mike sat down on the bed edge of the bed and slipped the headphones over his ears. There’s only a few people he knew that could do that- Hopper and Joyce, and his sister and Jonathan, and they were both-

No , Mike thought, abruptly shutting that line of thinking down. They couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be …

Right? Another part of his brain piped up, uninvited to the conversation with himself. Or would it be dangerous? Would you be afraid that if they could be together, that you could be -

“No,” Mike muttered firmly out loud. He placed his thumb over the play button of the Walkman. “Just play the damn song.” He pressed down on the button. 

Synths immediately began to rhythmically beat in his ears, surrounding himself in a pulsing cavern of sound. A voice- male, he was pretty sure- riffed impressively high over the synths, which soon added drums into the mix of melody. Soon, the first verse began:

You leave in the morning with everything you own in a little black case

Alone on a platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face

The singer’s voice was incredibly haunting, filled with a melancholy that struck Mike in the chest with such an intensity that he had to prop himself up by putting his hands behind him. 

Mother will never understand why you had to leave

But the answers you seek will never be found at home

The love that you need will never be found at home

There was no breath left in Mike’s lungs. There was a tingling in the back of his brain, as though neurons that had been dormant suddenly became activated. His arms shook to support his upper body as the chorus rang in his ears. 

Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away

Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away

The repeated synth and the singer’s hypnotizing vocals made it impossible for Mike to rip off his headphones, even though that is exactly what he wanted to do. 

Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy

You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down

A sudden wave of nausea rolled through Mike’s stomach. Good thing he was holding himself up, because Mike now felt incredibly unbalanced. He wanted so desperately to make the music stop, to throw the tape onto the ground and grind it under his heel. Yet he sat on the edge of the bed, completely frozen, the song not releasing its hook on him. 

And as hard as they would try they'd hurt to make you cry

But you never cried to them, just to your soul

No, you never cried to them, just to your soul

At some point during the verse, Mike’s arms gave out and he fell backwards onto the mattress. His arms splayed out on either side, his feet barely resting flat on the ground. He closed his eyes, thinking that perhaps the darkness would hide him from the melody. No such luck, for better or worse. 

Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away (Crying to your soul)

Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away (Crying to your soul)

Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away (Crying to your soul)

Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away

It was as if someone had entered his brain and placed a projector in it, because the instrumental break was a montage of nearly every memory of hatred and loathing Mike had about himself. He remembered one time after a conversation with his father, he had packed his duffel bag in the dead of night. A storm rattled the foundations of his house, flinging pellets of rain against the windows so hard it threatened to break the glass. That’s how Mike had felt- a restless tempest inside his chest.

The conversation had been about Will, and it was about three months before the night he disappeared. His mother had been out with Holly and his sister was doing something or other, but he was planning on going to Will’s house. The other boy had invited him over for a sleepover, and since it was a Saturday, he assumed his parents wouldn’t mind. Mike thought about waiting until his mother got home from the store, but he figured his father would just roll his eyes and agree passively, like he always did. Mike approached his father in the living room, where the man was perched on his La Z Boy recliner like an apathetic king on his throne. 

“Hey dad, mind if I go to Will’s tonight? We’re gonna play this new Atari game Jonathan got,” Mike explained. Ted Wheeler didn’t remove his eyes from the television screen, but he sighed heavily. 

“Ask your mother when she gets back, but… I don’t see why not,” he said with as much enthusiasm as someone who was about to drink room temperature milk. Yet Mike lit up at his father’s words. 

“Aw, thanks, Dad! I will, but thank you!” Mike exclaimed. He started towards the stairs to head to his room to start packing, but his father’s voice stopped him in his movements. 

“Don’t know why you would want to hang out with that queer, but whatever.”

His father hadn’t even said the words with any sort of malice, but rather as though he was stating a fact. There was no anger, just… a statement. Yet Mike felt the floor shift beneath him, as though an avalanche was preparing to crumble under his feet. 

He went up to his room, all previous enthusiasm having left his body. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor, his entire body numb. In his head, there was one word that was screamed by a voice that wasn’t his own, but by many who have used the word before against him. 

Mike had no idea why the word had affected him so much. Bullies and even adults have hurled the word at him and his friends (well, namely Will), and it had never bothered him. Now, however, the word clanged in his head like alarm bells. His stomach turned as though he was about to be sick. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but his mother knocked on his door and came into his room. He looked up at her as she appeared in the doorway, smiling. 

“Dad says Will invited you over? What time should I drive you?”

Mike wanted to say three o’clock, as was their usual time, so they could spend as much time as possible together. He wanted to grin and tell his mother about the game Jonathan had brought home. Instead, his eyes welled up with tears. 

“I… I think I’m gonna stay home. I, I don’t feel well.” Karen’s smile flipped into a frown. She entered his room and knelt beside his bed and reached up to feel his forehead. Mike grimaced, knowing he was about to be caught in a lie. His mother didn’t yell at him or call him out, however. She just smiled sadly at him. 

“Alright, hon. Did you want me to bring dinner to your room, or do you think you could stand to come down?” Mike sniffed and shook his head. He didn’t want to see anyone at all. His mother nodded and stood up, moving out of his room. Before she closed the door, she informed him that she would leave the plate outside his bedroom door, so as to not disturb him if he wanted to get some rest. Mike couldn't even say thank you, instead returning his gaze to the floor. 

Hours passed. The sky outside dissolved from a miserable gray into an inky black. Rain began to fall. Wind shook the branches outside Mike’s window. Yet the boy sat in his bed, curled up under the covers, a deep sadness taking root in the pit of his stomach. 

At one point he heard his mother place a tray of food outside his door. He didn’t get up to retrieve it. The sounds of his family doing their nightly routine traveled into his ears, but Mike did not fall asleep. He couldn’t, as he was chained to his bed by an invisible string of links. 

As he was caught between the state of waking and sleep, a crash of thunder boomed outside. He bolted out of bed, his chest heaving. The adrenaline coursing through his veins sent him into a crazed state of mind, and he began packing. He grabbed his duffel bag from his closet and ripped it open. He started going through his drawers, not caring if he slammed them. His family probably wouldn’t notice because the noises matched the storm raging outside. 

He threw clothes in the bag carelessly, not even bothering to attempt to fold them. He tossed a few comic books and toys in, and zipped the bag closed. He sat next to the bag, panting, every high intensity emotion flashing in his head like the world’s fastest traffic light. He turned his head towards the window and watched the storm for a minute. For some reason, the intensity out there evened his own storm inside his head. His breathing slowed to a normal pace and his anger and haggardness lessened. Exhaustion fell on him like the sheets of rain coming down on his house. He had woken up the next morning, curled up on his duffle bag, a comic book that Will had given him clutched in his hand. 

Mike still felt like that kid- hotheaded, reckless, quick to jump to conclusions. As he sat on the bed, the song long since ended, he knew that there was at least one difference between him and that kid from years ago: that word meant something to him, because it was him.

Chapter Text

Mike didn’t want to move ever again. Nope. He was going to die on this bed, in Hopper’s cabin in the woods, his body decayed and to be taken by the earth as everything around him became shrouded in nature. 

Ok, perhaps that was a bit of a dramatic reaction. Mike willed his limbs to move, although they had become stiff from his long stasis. He gradually made his way into a seated position, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit up straight. He curled in on himself, a defensive position saved for animals about to be attacked by their predator. The black haired boy certainly felt that way; now that he was aware of the total things that badgered him from the dark corners of his mind, he found himself glancing at the corners of the room, as though somehow his revelation could be heard throughout the world. 

Mike realized that he was still wearing the headphones. He ripped them from his ears, and a small swell of satisfaction rose within him as he heard the ear coverings clatter on the ground. The tape and case, however, remained unmoved next to him. He glared down at the object, the satisfaction melting into rage. He can’t believe he had been reduced to a motionless ragdoll forced to relive suppressed memories because of a fucking song . 

At least now he understood what people meant by a song changing their life. Although he wished that his experience would have been more positive, he had found his song. As much as he resented the feelings it gave him, pulling from the very depths of himself, he could admit that the song was indeed the song he would need to defend himself against Vecna. 

He stood up, but immediately had to sit back down in order to center himself. He really had been in an uncomfortable position for a while. He wondered if he should yell to make sure Vickie and Robin knew he was still alive. 

“Mike? You alright in there?” The voice was distinctly male. Shit. He forced himself on his feet, heading over the wall to brace his body in case it decided to collapse. 

“Yeah, Will, I’m-I’m all good,” Mike replied, wincing at the cracks in his voice. He took a deep breath and made his way out of the bedroom. He opened the door and nearly ran right into Will, who had his fist raised, poised to knock. Their near collision caused Mike to trip over nothing, and all of a sudden, his body weight was being held up by Will. The brown haired boy supported him by gripping his forearms with a surprising amount of strength. Not that Mike had ever thought about how strong or weak Will was. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Will asked in a teasing tone. Mike flitted his eyes over Will’s face, which held a combination of concern and amusement. The taller boy’s instinct reaction was to blush, yet all of his insides felt as though someone had let loose a bunch of cockroaches to crawl along the wet and slimy organs. He pulled away from Will’s grasp harshly, which caused any amusement Will had to be eclipsed by concern. 

“I’m fine. Geez, you just startled me, alright?” Mike spat. It was unnecessarily brutish, yet Mike couldn’t stop his tone or words from attacking Will. Said boy took a step back, arms raised in defense. No amusement or concern lingered, just a mask of mild annoyance. 

“Ok. Sorry. Just checking in,” Will muttered. The blush that had been on Mike’s face burned with a new emotion- embarrassment. The two boys stood across from each other in a tense, awkward silence, not looking at each other, the inches between them a yawning cavern they had no idea how to cross. 

“How did you like the song?” Robin’s voice yanked Mike out of his reverie. He looked past Will and found her and Vickie standing near the kitchen. He was sure they had seen his and Will’s… uncomfortable interaction, and now Mike knew his face would have a permanent rosy stain from all the red-hot emotions he was feeling. 

“Uh.” Mike found himself temporarily at a loss for words. Could he simply say, Yeah, no, the song changed my life forever, I discovered I was queer and in love with my best friend, and it has great synths too ? He decided on something simpler and less drastic. 

“It was- it was good. I really like it. Can I keep the tape?” Mike directed the question at Robin. She brightened, and gave him a double thumbs up. 

“Glad it was helpful- I mean good! Glad you, uh, liked the song!” Her stuttering set off alarm bells in his head; she knew. Yet he wasn’t scared. She had given him the tape, so she likely knew what the song had been implying. She and Vickie were- well, they were Robin and Vickie . Nobody in their group really said anything, because there was nothing to be said. They all seemed to have this agreement to just leave their relationship alone, whether out of fear of exposing them to the town or as to not disturb a budding relationship. In any respect, nobody bothered them, so at least they were left alone.

“Oh, what song?” Will walked past him and picked up the tape on the bed. An unreadable expression crossed his face, but Mike thought a twitch of surprise in his eyebrow. There was a bucket of ice water dowsed on Mike’s head at the slight shift of muscle. Could Will possibly know what the song meant? If he did, does that mean he knows why Mike was picking it? Mike tried to rationalize with his brain, saying that he hadn’t been outwardly homophobic towards Robin and Vickie (or anyone) nor said anything behind their back, so it was probably fine. Then again, maybe if it was a closer friend that was queer like Mike was, maybe it would make him feel disgusted. Disgusted at having been lied to for so long, disgusted at having been friends with someone like him for so long, disgusted at-

“Mike?” Will was closer now and had a hand reached out towards him. Mike blinked a few times, staring at the outstretched hand. He had a dichotomous thought; one with the urge to smack the hand away and the other to intertwine his fingers with it. He chose a safe middle ground and stiffly patted the hand with his own in a weak attempt at reassurance. 

“What were you saying?” Mike asked. Will’s eyes darted to their hands for a second, and Mike jerked his back once he noticed that he was still touching Will. Luckily, Will brushed past this without difficulty. 

“I was just asking if you had ever heard of Bronski Beat. You know, before now.” Mike shook his head. 

“Nah. I mean, I think I heard of them in passing, but I’ve never… sat down and listened to them.” Mike was proud of himself for not stalling too much during his answer. Will nodded slowly, like he was digesting the information Mike had just given him. 

“But you… like them?” Will asked. This was the first time Mike had heard uncertainty in Will’s voice during this conversation. The ground shifted a bit; what was he really trying to ask Mike? Did Mike want to push? He weighed his options. He could confess his big, gay feelings and get the rejection over with, or he could… not. 

“I do. Yeah, it’s a good song. I think it could work for me. Against Vecna, I mean.” So he opted for the not option. Very cool, very brave. Will nodded again, this time more sure. 

“Awesome. Glad you found one.” Will smiled at him, and the genuineness of it caused Mike’s heart to knock against his ribcage. He needed to get himself under control. Mike tried to return his smile, but he knew it probably came across as more of a watery grimace. 

“Yeah. Me too.” All of a sudden, he couldn’t stand being in the cabin anymore; he had to get away. He met Will’s eyes briefly, letting himself have one moment of contact before rushing out the door, ignoring the calls of his friends.

Chapter Text

Bits of sunlight filtered through the trees. Along with that there were particles from the Upside Down, ruining the illusion of a beautiful summer’s day. Maybe a beautiful summer’s day would never surface again for Mike Wheeler. The young boy’s thoughts raced down this depressing track as he stumbled through the woods, desperately trying to hold back tears he didn’t even know he still had in him. 

Once his lungs were blistering from running and his stomach was close to expelling its contents from exertion, Mike allowed his knees to give out, and his back hit a large oak. He slid down it, coughing so much he could feel his organs squeezing the oxygen from his body. He couldn’t form a single thought until the coughing died down, and when it finally did, he stared up at the sky and thought about El.

He wasn’t sure why his thoughts went there, but he was so overtired from the emotional storm he went through that he let his thoughts wander down this particular track. He thought about the night he met El; the early autumn downpour, the starless night, the feeling of terror that he wouldn’t ever see his friend again. All of a sudden, a girl appears. She’s roughly Will’s height, so he knew why his heart leapt at the sight of her. It wasn’t love that he felt- it was relief. For a brief moment of suspended time, he stared at her and thought, That’s Will. That’s my friend. He’s okay. I can bring him home.  

That moment was shattered by the realization of the little features on the person’s face, the clothes, the hair, and then the words that’s not Will tumbled from his lips. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. The uneasiness of the appearance of a child in their neighborhood that he had never seen before mixed with the disappearance of his childhood best friend pulled Mike’s mind like an elastic band about to snap. 

He never wanted to be mean, though. He knew what it was like to be bullied by others, to be cast aside by people you want to be liked by. He came up with plans that involved his parents, then the police, before finally realizing that this was all too big for them. Which is crazy, because when he was really young, like many kids, nothing seemed too big for an adult to handle. They had the right ideas, perfect plans, and plenty of right words to say. Yet Mike knew his situation was different; in this case, you couldn’t trust adults until they could prove that you can. 

In a way, his father had shown him that. 

He thought about that night when he offered his basement to El. Before he had decided to let her stay, he had thought about the abrupt stopping and restarting of his heart at his father’s words that one night, the drowning sickly feeling that overcame him for hours and melded him to his bed. He looked at her and realized he couldn’t let her face that rejection, so Mike decided that he could take care of her himself. 

He just didn’t realize that meant dating her. 

There was a feeling of obligation that he couldn’t shake when he first kissed her. He liked her, sure, she was nice and cool (I mean, she had powers, just like in all his comics, so she was pretty awesome in that sense), but Mike took a second to remember all the things he had seen on TV and in movie and his parents and decided that yeah, he should probably kiss her.

That kiss held promises; promises of more kisses, a dance, a future . Then she was gone for a while, and those promises slowly faded in the presence of a suffering Will. Everything returned to what it had before (with the exception of a whole new terrifying reality to battle against), but Mike was back to being Will’s… everything. Protector, friend- no, best friend. He was the one who came to Will’s house to check on him. He was the one who went with Will to the hospital in order to be there with him. He was the one who came up with the idea to “defeat” the Mindflayer and still have Will survive. No one questioned Mike’s devotion to saving his friend, because it was understood by everyone that he would do it no matter what. 

All of that would come to a screeching halt when El returned. His promises shot up from inside him like vines and wrapped around his heart; his stupid, caring, too-big heart that always got in the way of itself. Those vines caged him in those promises, and he went to the dance with El. Which led to dating El. 

Dating El was…fine. Well, he knew how he really wanted dating a girl to feel: normal. He knew he was being annoying to his friends when he would spend hours of his time with El, but that’s what you should do with your girlfriend: focus your attention on her. With that attitude, a shell formed. The shell was prickly, spiked with hateful words and annoying jabs at anyone it could touch. The shell was large enough to cover his heart that had been pulled and swelled and gripped with vines. Soon, he forgot to take care of his heart, and it shuddered alone in the darkness, afraid to breach the walls he had built. 

His shell hurt one person most of all: Will. He dragged himself physically and emotionally further and further from his friend (his best friend) as he did his best impression of what he knew to be right. He did what he saw the boys in high school do with their friends and girlfriends, what his parents were like when they lied to each other, and knew what he was resigning himself to for the future. He was doing his best impression of a grade-A asshole and he couldn’t stop himself. 

He remembered the rain. Well, specifically Will and him in the rain, a full divide between them and Mike’s shell projecting itself full force.

It’s not my fault you don’t like girls. 

If there is anything from that summer that Mike wishes he could take back, it was that moment. He wouldn’t take back saying that he loved El, because he did, just not like that. He wouldn’t take back the moments he spent with her that summer, although he knew he could have been kinder to his friends. Yet that moment in the rain, the eye of the storm centered around two boys, soaked in blue and yellow clothing, forcing themselves apart- that was something Mike would deeply regret for a long time to come. 

Then the move came. Off to California the Byers went, taking El with them. The little family left a big hole in Mike’s life, but as they say, life must go on. High school descended upon all of them like vultures to an abandoned feast. Sure, he still had a circle of friends, but it wasn’t the same. He still had to pretend, through letters and spoken words, that he had a girlfriend. He was miserable in more ways than one. 

The arrival of Vecna threw a large wrench into all of his petty high school problems, but for some reason, he could not escape the situation of having a girlfriend. Sure, he had said that he loved her. Of course he did, they all did, El was family. Yet even though this is what he would say to himself under covers and in twilight hours when he was unable to find rest, Mike knew that he could not shed the shell he had crafted nor tear off the facade of him being El’s boyfriend.

Mike lost time, sitting in the forest, going through all his memories as the particles from the Upside Down danced around his head in the sunlight. He closed his eyes at some point, and when they opened, he found the sun gone. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered to himself. He must have fallen asleep. He made a move to stand up, but since he had been in a sitting position for so long, he stumbled forward and nearly smashed his nose into the ground. He caught himself on his hands-

No, he was falling. Falling fast through a void, surrounding him on all sides, suffocating his senses. He reached for something to hold onto, anything, but he just kept falling, he screamed for help, help, somebody help -

His body crashed onto a pile of wet leaves. He took a moment to catch his breath and stop his limbs from flailing. He laid his hands flat on the ground and pushed himself to a sitting position. He looked from side to side, noting the trees and darkness surrounding him. As he looked up, a giant raindrop splattered on his face. Then another. 

Mike quickly looked back down and shook out his head, but it was no use. The rain was a downpour, and in no time at all he was soaked through all the way to his skin. He went to stand up, but found that he was unable to move his arms or legs. He attempted to kick and pull, but something was holding him down. He looked down and found that all the leaves had disappeared, and in turn revealed the thick, slimy, black vines curling around Mike’s body. 

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t yell, he couldn’t think. For a moment, he just let the vines creep tighter and thicker around him, before his body jerked against the grim vegetation. A hoarse cry leapt from his lips, but the rain poured and the trees stayed silent. True terror shot through him when a vine began to wrap itself around his neck. His mouth opened to scream, but rainwater choked him. He tried to cough but the vine prevented air from entering him, so he was in limbo, his breath suspended as his vision began to blur and blacken around the edges. He was about to let unconsciousness take him when a voice caused all movement to stop. 

“Michael Wheeler.”

Mike knew that voice; he recognized the gravelly tone and the sharpness of the consonants. He picked out the raw undercurrent of power that ran through the words. Vecna . 

Raindrops froze in midair, the vines locked themselves in place around his body, although they were not as tight as they had been just a moment ago. Even the air around him seemed to be still, every atom holding its breath in the presence of Vecna. 

“I have been watching you. Very closely.” He spoke at a frustratingly slow pace, so Mike was forced to hang onto every word. At that moment, he could not see him, just the sky and trees above him, but he knew that the man- no, the monster was near. 

“Wha…” His breath was still regaining its place in his body, so it took Mike a moment to form a full sentence. “What… What's happening? Where am I?” His voice was terribly weak in his ears. 

Vecna’s footsteps squelched on the wet ground. He was somewhere off to the right of Mike. The younger man tried to turn his head, but the vine’s bulk prevented him from doing so. The footsteps stopped just outside of Mike’s eyeline. 

“You’re in your mind. Much like dear Maxine had been, you are in a place no one but you or I can reach.” Vecna paused, as though he was considering his next words extremely carefully. “I needed somewhere where I could talk to you without interruption.”

Any thought of movement or escape vanished from Mike’s thoughts. So he wasn’t really where he was. All of the aching pain he was feeling in his body was trapped in his head. He shut his eyes tight, hoping on the smallest of whims to just blink this all away, and maybe he’d wake up in the forest. Maybe he’d wake up in the cabin, last night, before this day had ever happened. Maybe that song wasn’t even real, and he would just have to keep searching. 

“The song is real, Michael,” Vecna said, his commanding voice snatching him out of his hopeless wishes. He kept his eyes shut as Vecna’s footsteps drew closer. A cold similar to that of opening a freezer emanated from the monster and went straight to his bones. He heard the scaly skin move as Vecna bent down close to Mike’s head. The monster whispered into his ear and sent an icy rod into his body. 

“But it can’t save you. Not here. Yes, this place is similar to Maxine’s prison, but with one difference. You cannot escape with help on the outside because your hate is inside. It is all on you. In you. Your hurt and feelings are trapped within you, and you will not be able to leave. You will not be able to leave, because Michael Wheeler, you cannot admit who you are .”

Chapter Text

Mike Wheeler had only accepted his death once. 

He remembered standing on the edge of the rock quarry. He had stared down at the water as its deep blue depths brushed against the shoreline below him. He can still hear the jeering from Troy, but his voice, even in the moment, was as though Mike was listening to it underwater. Like he was already under the waves where Will was (or where he had thought he was). 

His body did not shake nor did his heart race. However, his stomach rolled and tears dripped from his eyes. The longer he stared at the water, the more logical it was to him to jump. Will was down there. His ultimate goal, the one that had consumed his mind for so many hours, was to find Will. If he could not bring him home, Mike would go to him. 

He doesn’t really remember the fall, but he remembered when El caught him. Maybe his mind had already accepted that he was going to die, so he blocked out his rapid descent into the water. But that moment while he was suspended in the air was like he was reborn, as though his body somehow already knew that Will was still alive before El had even told him. A new rush of life entered into his body. 

After that moment, he had no thoughts of death or dying. Sure, he had plenty of moments of self-hatred and moping, but no real wishes for death. He had no plans, no urges to cross the line between life and death. 

As he lay trapped under vines, in a place with no physics or reason, with a monster whispering his fears in his ear so accurately they pinched his heart, he had a fleeting moment of giving in to whatever was coming. That brief moment froze him in time much like Vecna had frozen the scene around him, and that moment scared him. Deep down, he knew he wanted to live. He had to live. Yet there was something- maybe it was Vecna, maybe it was all that self-loathing teenage angst coming to a head, maybe it was just intrusive- that said softly, Maybe you should just die.  

The moment melted immediately, and the feeling of giving in was replaced with anger and defiance. How does this monster know anything about him? 

“What- What the hell does that mean? What are you talking about?” Mike spat. He couldn’t turn his head, but in Vecna’s next words, he could hear the grin curling his cracked lizard lips. 

“This is what I mean. You know, but you will never admit it. You will deny, repress, ignore all of those feelings until they are so buried you convince yourself that they do not exist.” Mike heard the squelching footsteps begin to move around him, and the young man had the creeping feeling of prey being stalked by a hunter. 

“I-” Mike tried to formulate a response, a scathing rebuttal to Vecna’s words. He could not, however, ignore the searing burn those words created on his heart. He felt very similar to when he was standing on the rock quarry; heavy, queasy stomach and tears escaping his eyes. 

“Those feelings… They tell you that they are wrong. They call you horrible names, and cast you aside to the edges of society. Yet when you don your mask, you can fit in with the rest of them. Sure, a little out of sorts, uncanny you may seem, but the mask works. Everyone is fooled.” A whoosh of putrid breath swooped into his nostrils and the booming voice became something else entirely: quiet. Vecna’s lips spilled his words directly into Mike’s ear. 

“You can even fool yourself. That buried feeling is wrapped so tightly that even you are fooled by the mask. But Michael, the truth still exists, and I can see it laid bare.”

The vines tightened around him once more and Mike began to struggle. He thrashed in the grip of the thick plant, but the rough surface scraped his skin and cut off circulation. Every limb began to tingle and the boy could feel nothing. Until a reptilian hand pressed its fingers to his forehead. 

He was on a playground. A small yellow slide and a swing set attached. He was sitting on one of those swings, not holding the chains, just sitting there still. He looked down on his hands; they were small, pale, unlike his hands now: awkwardly long and knuckle-prominent digits and pen marks littering the skin. He looked back up and saw someone coming towards him. A small boy, no older than six, a choppy bowl cut framing a happy face. Mike’s stomach lurched. 

“Hi I’m Will!” His voice was so cheerful, so young. Sometimes Mike forgot that they were all just children when this started (They still were. They still were ). Young Will stuck out his hand. “Do you want to be my friend?”

Mike was not in control of his body. He was stuck in his mind, forced to watch the scene behind his eyes like a puppet. He reached out his own hand and shook Will’s.

“I’m Mike! And yeah! Do you want to swing?” Will nodded at Mike’s excited statement and jumped on the swing to his left. Mike felt the floor shake and when he looked down, the floor shifted from sand to carpet. He lifted his head and found a slightly older Will sitting across from him. His eyes darted around the room- he was in his room, the way he had it set up just before he started middle school. The sun was setting out the window, and a selection of comics was spread out in between the two boys. 

“My dad called me a bad word today,” Will said softly. Mike’s mouth moved. 

“What did he say? What did he call you?” Mike felt a combination of the confusion and anger of the moment they had this conversation, but also the sick, sinking feeling of knowing what word was to come. 

“He… he called- he called me a faggot.” The word was whispered, like it was the name of a ghost of something dark from the past. Mike couldn’t move his body, but his soul shivered. His present self was exposed, vulnerable, the word striking through him like a hot knife.

Young Mike didn’t have the same knowledge or tact, however. The words split from his mouth while his mind cringed. 

“Oh,” Mike said. “I’ve heard that word. I hear it a lot on TV- they won’t say it on the news, but sometimes when my dad falls asleep and I get water from the kitchen at night, the late night shows like to say it.” Young Mike moved his eyes to meet Will’s face. His friend’s eyes were downcast. 

“So… you know what it means?” Mike’s head nodded. His conscience begged to be let out from this conversation, rattling the bars on the cage of his mind. 

“Yeah. I-” Mike huffed, pausing his sentence. His hand reached out, much like Will had reached out on that first day of kindergarten. Will’s head lifted, his eyes filled with unshed tears. His eyes glanced down at Mike’s outstretched hand. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mike stated. A sudden shield of coldness flashed in Will’s eyes. 

“It’s not true.” His words were bitter. Young Mike had an inkling, but Mike knew all the signs now. He saw the hunched shoulders, the biting defenses, the shaking closed fists. Mike’s heart broke for his friend. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mike told him again. His hand was still outstretched. “True or not.”

Will slowly raised his eyes to meet Mike’s. His shields had fallen- he was exposed, vulnerable. Exactly how Mike felt in the present. All he wanted to do was pull him into an embrace and never let go. 

“Promise?” Will asked, voice wavering. 

“Promise,” Mike said firmly. Will let a weak smile slip through, and their hands met in a tight handshake. 

The scene shifted again, this time to a rain soaked night in the forest. Dustin and Lucas flank his sides, shouting into the tree-line horizon. 

“Will!”

“Will, where are you?”

“Will, it’s us! Come on!”

There was a wave of panic rising in his throat before he’s on the field at the middle school, watching his friend shake uncontrollably. He can do nothing. He watched frozen in horror. He can do nothing. 

Another night flashed in his view, the rain pouring yet again pounding on his head, but this time he stood in his driveway, a lanky thirteen year old with as much control over himself as he does in this changing vision. 

“El’s not stupid! It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

The expression on Will’s face was one of betrayal. Mike had never seen that look on his friend before, and it was practically lethal for that look to be directed at him; because of him. He tried in vain to call him back as Will drove away, but the howling wind and thunder drowned out his voice. 

The scenes passed by faster now, like he was being spun on a carnival carousel way too fast. He was in his first week of high school, watching Lucas walk to basketball tryouts. He was at Eddie’s after school, crafting a new character sheet and trying to forget the paladin collecting dust under math worksheets and science reports. All of a sudden, he was flung into Rink O Mania, dressed in cheap airline store clothes, trying to convince himself, not Will, that he really did love El like that. The back of the van was hot, but the sun soaked Will in a glow as he poured his heart out to Mike as the dark haired boy pretended not to know, deep down, exactly what he was talking about. Surfer Boy’s pizza was cold, but not as cold as the ice creeping into his veins was as he spoke words that bury the truth in his heart, the truth sitting to his right. 

His stomach was turning, the world was spinning fast, too fast, he’s back in kindergarten, he’s in middle school, words are hurled at his back, he’s a fairy, he’s a fa-

Mike gasped for air, his lungs taking in the sharp pungent air of the strange lair of Vecna. He blinked rapidly as his body twitched in the grip of the vines. His heart was doing its best to leap from his chest and get as far away from him as he could. 

“Hmmm.” Vecna’s voice lingered by his ears like a bad cold. “You cannot be buried anymore Michael. With me, you can be free of this mask, of this grave you have dug for yourself. You can live your truth.”

“You’re not living,” Mike barked, his words garbled by his sore throat. The vines gripped him in a tight hug. “I won’t- I won’t be free.”

“Oh, but you will. You will live through me. And Michael, I cannot lie. So you can’t either. I will-”

MIKE!

Mike’s heart leapt, but this time for another reason entirely. He knew that voice. 

Will was there.