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In the quiet moments at the radio station, Mike felt useless. He couldn’t find Henry like El or sense him like Will. Hell, he couldn’t even fight Henry if he tried.
In moments like this, Mike liked to go off on his own. He took his bike and rode around the town he’d known his whole life, now a shell of what it used to be.
Today, Mike decided, was a good day for a bike ride. He didn’t necessarily do it to clear his head; there was far too much happening up there for anything to really ease the thoughts that constantly raced through his brain.
He ended up at Hawkins Memorial. He didn’t intend to; he just arrived here. The twists and turns of Hawkins were deeply ingrained in his head, and he could go anywhere within town limits without even thinking about it.
He hadn’t been here in a long time.
Too long.
He used to come with El and Lucas and sit in the waiting area outside her room. He couldn’t ever look at her.
He felt guilty whenever he did.
It was even harder going with Lucas and El. They were with her before she fell into a coma. Lucas held her lifeless body, and El put the life back into her. They were there, with her.
What did Mike do?
He didn’t do much with Max after she and Lucas broke up. They sat together at lunch sometimes, but they barely spoke. He didn’t invite her to Hellfire or to hang out with her at all, really. They sat next to each other in math, but she was out the door as soon as the bell rang. He should’ve been paying more attention to her, especially after the nosebleed incident. Even if it was any old nosebleed—which, in their friend group, was highly unlikely—he should have shown more concern.
After all, she helped his girlfriend become more confident in herself, even if it meant a temporary breakup.
After the Byers moved to California, Max really shut them out. She broke up with Lucas a few weeks later and almost completely detached herself from everyone she had come to know in Hawkins.
Mike shouldn’t have let that happen. It’s hard to think of Will’s words of him being “the heart” when he all but ignored Max and all she was going through.
Even before she lost Billy, he could’ve tried to become closer to her. He was all wrapped up in his relationship with El that he didn’t even notice the distance forming in the group.
He didn’t know if Max would ever wake up. And he never apologized to her. Lucas and El had more hope than he did, and that’s part of the reason he didn’t visit anymore. He couldn’t tell his best friend that the girl he loved might never wake up. He knew Lucas would never do that if it came to El.
At some point, El even stopped coming to the hospital after several failed attempts at finding Max’s mind in the void. Mike remembered the last time she tried, about three months ago. She came back and sobbed in his arms for what felt like hours.
He liked El and Lucas’ relationship. He appreciated how they were able to move on from being kids scared of each other to developing a close relationship. Deep down, Mike regretted not being for Max what Lucas was for El.
Obviously, Mike’s regrets and guilt weren’t the most important issue in the world, but in moments like these, when he felt useless, he thought it was the least he could do.
He made it up to Max’s room. There wasn’t much resistance, as the staff was almost entirely bare.
Mike always knew how small Max was. If their relationship had been different, he liked to think he’d playfully make fun of her for how short she was. But now, she looked small. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was much younger. Her eyes and cheeks were sunken in, her arms and legs having so little muscle that her elbows and knees looked sharp. Her skin was paler than his.
Mike pulled up a chair on her right side, knowing that Lucas liked to sit on her left side, and wanted to make sure that seat was open in case he was coming by too. Sitting here also allowed him to get out faster, as he wouldn’t want to intrude on Lucas.
What did he say to her? Does he say anything at all? How does he fit in all he wants to say to her?
“Hey, Max.” Well, it was a start. He looked at his backpack, filled with his Supercomm and supplies in case he ran into a Demogorgon. He also had a book in there, and Max’s letter. He figured it would be really weird to read to her. That’s Lucas’ thing to do with her. He hadn’t touched, let alone read, the note Max left for him. That made everything feel so final. Like she was truly gone. Mike was skeptical of her waking up, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want her to.
He looked all around the empty room, and his eyes landed on the drawing of Max and Lucas at the movies. Mike knew Lucas held onto the promise of a movie date with Max, just like he had held onto a promise of going to the Snowball with El. Mike knew that promise was part of the reason he didn’t give up on El, on top of everything else. He knew it held the same weight to Lucas for Max.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady the thoughts swirling in his head. "I don't really know what to say. Maybe it's because we never really... talked much. I mean, you and me. But I know how much you mean to Lucas. And I guess, after everything that's happened, I should've been there more for you. I don't know... I don't know if you can hear me, or if you ever will, but I'm sorry, Max."
The words felt too heavy. They settled in the space between them, suffocating and unfinished. He thought about the promise Lucas had held onto, that movie date. And Max’s final words to him, the letter she’d left. So much unsaid, so many things left behind.
As he sat there, the guilt gnawed at him. He wished things were different, that he had been there for her, that he could’ve said more or done more. But there was no rewinding time. The past couldn’t be undone, and in this moment, Mike realized he couldn’t fix everything.
Mike sat there for a long time, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his chair. His thoughts kept racing, looping around the same feeling of helplessness. He wished there was something he could do to undo the past; to be there for Max when she needed someone. But as the silence dragged on, Mike realized that all he could do now was be present. Be here, even if it wasn’t enough.
“I’m so sorry, Max,” he whispered to her again. The words hung in the air like a fragile thread, something he wasn’t sure would ever be strong enough to fix anything. Maybe it wasn’t about fixing it. Maybe it was just about showing up.
He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time in a long while. Her pale face, the steady rhythm of her breath, the small movements of her fingers, so tiny and delicate now. He thought about what he should’ve said, what he could’ve done differently, but in the end, he knew it wouldn’t change anything.
It felt like he was finally seeing the truth of it all. Max wasn’t just someone else’s problem. She wasn’t just Lucas’s responsibility or El’s friend to protect. She was his too, in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to understand before. And right now, he would do everything he could to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone.
The door creaked open, slow and cautious. Mike didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He could already hear the familiar shuffle of footsteps, and the hesitant pause before the door fully opened. He had no doubt who it was, but he couldn’t stop the tightness in his chest when he saw Lucas standing there, frozen in the doorway.
Lucas’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of Mike sitting there, in the hospital room. Lucas remembered Mike coming in with El sometimes but not staying in the room too long. The surprise in his expression was impossible to miss.
“You’re here?” Lucas said, the words slipping out before he could stop them, his voice barely above a whisper. He stepped inside cautiously, like he wasn’t sure if Mike was actually real or if his tired eyes were playing tricks on him.
Mike shifted awkwardly in the chair, feeling the weight of Lucas’s surprise. He hadn’t been to see Max in months, not since things started feeling like they were spinning out of control, and not since the guilt started choking him every time he thought about her.
“Yeah, I-” Mike cleared his throat. “I didn’t know if I should be here, but I... I figured I should at least come. I mean, I haven’t come here much. If you want me to leave so you can be alone with her, I mean, I don't... I don't want to get in the way." He stands, just about ready to grab his backpack and leave.
Lucas’s expression softened, a mix of disbelief and something like hurt flickering in his eyes. “No... no worries, man. You can stay if you want.”
Mike looks at his best friend. His face has long since healed since his fight with Jason.
They weren't boys anymore.
Mike’s eyes met Lucas’s, and for a second, neither of them spoke. It felt weird, different. Everything had changed. They weren’t the same kids who ran around together fighting monsters and saving the day. They’d seen too much, lost too much, and the weight of it all hung between them like a wall.
Lucas looked at Max, his gaze soft but full of that familiar pain. Mike could see it, the exhaustion in his shoulders, the heaviness in his eyes. It was the same look Mike had been carrying around, too. Tired. Just... tired. Tired of the chaos. Tired of feeling like nothing was ever enough.
Mike swallowed, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t know what you need, Lucas, but I’m not going anywhere. I... I know I’ve messed up, but I’m here. I should’ve been here before, and I didn’t... I didn’t show up for you or Max. But I’m here now.”
Lucas didn’t look up at first, still focused on Max. His voice came out small, like he wasn’t sure if he even had the strength to say it. “I don’t really know what I need either. It just feels like... like maybe if I stay here long enough, she’ll wake up, and everything will just be okay again.”
Mike’s chest tightened. He understood that feeling all too well. “I think about that, too. But... we can’t keep waiting for things to go back to how they were. We can’t change what happened, Lucas.”
Lucas’s shoulders shook, just the slightest movement, but it was enough to make Mike freeze. He watched his friend struggle, like there was something inside Lucas he was trying to hold in, something too big to keep buried anymore.
And then it happened. It wasn’t a sob or a cry — it was more like a crack, deep inside him, finally breaking open. His breath hitched, and Mike could see Lucas’s hands ball into fists, his body trembling with the weight of everything he’d been holding.
Mike didn’t know what to say. He reached out instinctively, his hand resting on Lucas’s shoulder, not sure if it was the right thing to do, but knowing that he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.
And then Lucas finally looked at him—really looked at him. His face crumpled, and everything that had been buried under the weight of loss, guilt, and fear spilled out all at once. “I can’t do this anymore, Mike. I can’t... I can’t keep pretending like it’s gonna be okay. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt, that I’m not... so tired.”
Before Lucas could say anything more, Mike pulled Lucas into his grasp. He held his friend tight, feeling the heat of Lucas’s tears soaking into his shirt, feeling his body shake as the grief he had been carrying finally found a way out.
Mike just held on, trying to swallow his own emotions as he kept his arms around Lucas. He didn’t have answers. He didn’t know how to fix things. But right now, all he could do was be there, like he should have been before. He didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t need to make it better. He just needed to hold his best friend, let him cry, and remind him that he wasn’t alone.
Lucas’s sobs were broken and raw, but they slowly became quieter, more like soft gasps. Mike kept his arms around him, whispering over and over, “It’s okay. It’s okay, man, I’m here. I’m here.”
When the tears finally stopped, Lucas pulled back, his face streaked with wetness, his eyes red and tired. He didn’t say anything at first, but his hands gripped Mike’s arms, like he was trying to steady himself, like he was trying to put the pieces back together. Mike held his best friend's face. His brother.
Mike looked at him, and for a brief moment, there was something like understanding between them. Neither of them could fix what had happened, but they could still be here for each other. No words were necessary. The silence that stretched between them wasn’t uncomfortable; it was the kind of quiet that made them feel a little less alone.
Then, out of nowhere, Mike said, “I’m sorry, Lucas... for, y’know, not supporting you with the basketball thing. I was... a jerk about it. I didn’t get it then. I was just... worried, I guess, but I should’ve just been there for you. I’m sorry.”
Lucas blinked, and for a second, Mike was sure he wasn’t going to say anything. But then a sad, hollow laugh escaped his lips. “Yeah... you were kinda a dick about that,” he said, voice thick. He wiped his eyes, but the laugh quickly turned into a heavy sigh. “But... I appreciate you saying that. I do. It... it means a lot. I wasn’t really looking for an apology, Mike, but you know... I’ll take it.”
He paused, looking at Max, and his face twisted again with that sadness, that deep, gnawing ache. “But the world is literally ending, man. We’re talking about something that happened like a year and a half ago when we should be figuring out how to, like... survive what’s coming next.”
Mike shifted his weight, glancing over at Lucas. His best friend stood there, staring at the floor, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. It was the same silence they'd shared a thousand times before, just... heavier now.
Mike wanted to say something, anything, but it all felt too small, too pointless. So he stayed quiet, his hands shifting from his pockets to his side, tapping out a nervous rhythm.
Lucas breathed out slowly, his shoulders sagging just slightly. He didn’t look up, but Mike could tell he was there, really there.
Neither of them moved, standing side by side, letting the silence take its time.