Chapter Text
Mike POV
June 1986
Mike spends an embarrassing amount of time holding Will’s painting in his hands.
It’s the only birthday present he received this year, because he refused to celebrate his 15th without Will.
On April 7th, his parents had tried to coax him out of his room, but he refused. It was about a 2 hour stand off that Mike eventually won.
He knows his parents don’t understand. He doesn’t think they suspect his relationship with Will, but…they are concerned with how he’s coping. Or lack thereof.
About a month ago his mom tried to have a talk with him. Be there for him. But she didn’t understand. Even when Mike said to her, “I was there mom. I was right there and I couldn’t do anything.”
She had no response to that, besides sending him to grief counseling.
He runs a gentle finger down the red acrylic strokes that make up the dragon. He traces around the little Will the Wise figure and hovers over his own character.
He’s a little surprised the paint hasn’t worn off yet, with how much time he spends doing this.
Most of his time really.
“Mike! You’re going to be late for school!” His mother shouts from the main floor, causing Mike to jump as he startles.
“Coming!” Mike yells back at her. Mike looks back at the canvas and his breath catches in his throat.
He ripped it.
He ripped the corner when he jumped. Mike feels his breath come in quick gasps. He ripped it. The last thing Will gave him.
Mike quickly drops the painting on his bed, scared to wreck it further.
It's getting harder for him to breathe. He knows this is stupid, he shouldn’t be having a fucking panic attack over a painting.
But it's Will’s painting.
He failed to save Will and now he wrecks the best thing he’s ever given him.
Mike presses the back of his hand to his mouth, trying to be silent.
Mike hears his bedroom door slowly creak open.
Mike looks up and sees Nancy standing in the doorway, she has one hip leaning against the doorframe.
“Mike?” She says softly. He looks up at her, tears welling in his eyes, his breaths come in shakily.
She moves to his side instantly. She wraps one arm around his shoulders.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He says around the hiccups. “I never would’ve cried over a painting before.”
Nancy glances at the painting on the bed, she fiddles with the ripped corner. Mike makes a small whine and bats her hand away.
“It’s okay Mike. I know these last few months have been hard on you.” Nancy says soothingly. “It’s normal for you to be….uh…easily triggered.” She finishes.
Mike shakes his head angrily. “I shouldn’t be. Will’s alive. I know he is. I just have to find him again. Save him again.”
Nancy puts a comforting hand on Mike’s shoulder. Mike bristles at the contact, it feels too close to pity. “We’re going to find him, Nance.” He snaps at her. She just looks at him sympathetically.
“I know. I know, but it’s okay to be sad about it now.”
Mike shakes his head again. “No. No, it's not helpful. I should be coming up with a plan, not…” Mike makes an aborted motion to the painting. His bottom lip trembles.
Nancy looks back at the painting and then at Mike.
“Ok. I’m driving you to school. Hurry up and Mike…you can talk to me.” She gives his arm one more pat. She watches from the doorway as Mike very carefully puts the painting back on his dresser. He uses more care with the painting than anything else he’s ever owned.
He hovers one hand above it, before following Nancy out the door.
_____________________________
Mike moves through the school halls like a ghost haunting Hawkins High.
He weaves in and out of the crowd, not acknowledging anyone or anything.
Mike sees Will everywhere; around every corner, every shadow, every musical laugh. He misses him so much his heart aches. He can’t sleep, can’t eat. Every consuming thought he has is of Will.
The school agrees with his parents. They also try to push him into grief counseling, but he’s stubborn.
They schedule it into his school day to make sure he ‘gets the help he needs’.
He goes, but refuses the lesson they're trying to teach. They want him to give up.
Give Will up.
Mike arrives at the counselor’s office and pushes through the door at his mandated time. She smiles warmly at him, but he doesn’t acknowledge her.
Mike sits down in front of the counselor. She has a plush puke-green couch across from her gaudy desk that Mike sinks into. Mike picks absently at a fraying thread on the cushion beside him.
He waits for her to start her bullshit.
“How are you today, Michael?” She starts softly. Mike refuses to look up, continuing to play with the thread on the cushion.
“Would you like to talk about anything today?” She asks gently. Mike, for the life of him, couldn’t tell you her name.
“Nothing to talk to you about.” Mike mumbles.
“Why is that?” She asks in her ‘sympathetic pity’ voice that Mike despises.
“You think he’s dead. You want me to move on. I can’t do that.” Mike hisses.
The therapist sighs.
“Mike..” She starts, but Mike interrupts her.
“He’s not dead! He’s just missing! We’ll find him. Just like last time!” Mike snaps at her.
There is the root of her problem. She refuses the possibility that Will is still out there, and thinks Mike is in ‘the denial stage’.
What do they know?
They still think this was an earthquake.
Mike knows Will is alive.
He knows, just like he did when he first disappeared. Just like with the meatflayer.
Mike has never been wrong. Not once. And Mike will never be the one to give up on him.
“I’m here to help Mike, but this isn’t healthy. You’re acting out in school, several of your teachers have expressed concern.”
Mike crosses his arms and scoffs. Must be nice for them to live in such ignorance, Mike thinks bitterly. If their biggest concern in life is Mike’s attitude. They never have to know about the monster holding his best friend (-boyfriend?) captive.
The scowl forming on Mike’s face deepens. The counselor sighs again.
“I understand why you're holding on to hope, Michael, given the…history. But I don’t think Will would want you to throw your life away in grief.” She tries gently. Mike stands up abruptly. How dare she?
“Can I go?” He says harshly. She sighs again, but nods. She scribbles some notes down in his file as he slams the door in his exit.
Now he moves through the halls like a poltergeist, all righteous fury and vengeful rage. She doesn’t even know the whole story.
Mike pushes past a group of jocks huddled around one of the other members of the disbanded Hellfire club. Gareth. Mike scoffs, not even on their last day of school can the jocks leave them in peace.
Mike meets the gaze of Jason, who apparently witnessed the whole ordeal with Max in the Creel house. Jason has yet to approach any of them for an explanation.
Ignorance is bliss I guess, Mike thinks. Or blaming all your problems on a satanic cult is bliss.
Jason says nothing, but Andy smirks at Mike.
“Hey there Wheeler.” He nudges Mike’s shoulder harshly. Mike towers over Andy, using his height to his advantage.
Gareth takes the distraction as an opportunity to run. He flashes Mike an apologetic smile, but Mike is focused on Andy. He feels his baseline anger simmering underneath his skin. Singing at the opportunity to let it out on this asshole.
“Mike.” Lucas says from somewhere behind him. Lucas places a hand on his shoulder. Mike turns to see Dustin, Lucas and Max standing behind him.
Lucas pulls on him gently, “They aren’t worth it.”
Dustin smirks beside him, displaying his Hellfire shirt proudly. The sight enrages Andy.
“Take that shit off Henderson, no one wants to see that.” Andy grabs harshly onto Dustin’s shirt.
“Get your hands off me, asshole! If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked.” Dustin quips.
Lucas holds his head in his hands and lets out a long suffering sigh. Mike feels a flicker of guilt at the sight, between him and Dustin, Lucas sure has his hands full. Mike feels his shoulders relax slightly, no reason to make this harder for Lucas.
Andy scowls angrily at Dustin before his mouth twists into a smirk, “You guys probably sacrificed that queer to summon the devil, huh? That’s why your fairy friend is missing?” Andy spits out. “Needed queer blood to do it.”
Mike punches him.
_____________________________________________
Mike bounces his leg up and down as he sits outside the principal’s office. He runs a hand over bloodied knuckles on his right hand.
Across from him, sits Andy, whose nose is bloody and swollen. Beside him is Dustin, whose lip looks just as bloody.
Mike knows his face probably matches them. He can feel his eye swelling and blood crusting around his nose.
His parents are in the office right now, probably discussing what a hard time he’s going through right now.
How they will correct his behaviour at home.
Or some other bullshit. It’s the last day of school anyway.
Mike crosses his arms as Andy catches his eye. Andy scowls at him, holding an ice pack to his nose.
All Mike knows is he doesn’t regret it. Andy deserved it.
Andy was talking shit about Will. Grabbing onto Dustin.
The secretary clears her throat and gives them a pointed look. She points at them with her pen, as if the gesture will get them to behave.
Andy scoffs and looks away from Mike.
Mike wanted to rip his throat out. Mouthbreathers.
Mike looks down at his hands. Beside him Dustin shifts an ice pack back to his face.
It’s been 3 months. Three months since Will was taken. Three months that Mike’s been hearing Vecna’s voice on repeat.
“Beautiful, isn’t he Michael?”
Mike’s hands shake in his lap.
Behind him, the door to the principal's office opens.
His dad steps through, shaking hands with the principal.
He gives a good ‘don’t worry we’ll straighten him out at home’ speech before turning a sharp look at Mike.
“Michael.” His father calls gruffly. Mike stands, collecting his backpack off the floor. He nods in acknowledgment to Dustin, before heading out. He sees Dustin’s mother enter the principal’s office next.
He follows his parents, walking silently behind them.
His mom and dad round on him as soon as they get in the car.
“Mike, I have had it up to here -” his dad lifts his hand up to his shoulder, “with your behaviour.”
“We’ve been patient Michael.” His mom adds gently.
Mike crosses his arms. An action that does not win him any favors from his parents.
“I just don’t understand where this little rebellious streak came from! You know we had to beg the principal to let this go! He recommended that we send you to a camp for troubled teens. Troubled teens! I can’t imagine what the neighbours would think if they heard that.” His father rants at him. “You are going to cut this out, now, Michael.”
His father turns back to look out the front window. He starts the car and starts to pull out of the parking lot.
Mike turns to look out the window. His mother sighs from the front passenger seat, but doesn’t push the matter.
He watches the trees and other cars pass by as his dad drives them back home. He doesn’t see any other teenagers in the parking lot, as the trio had to stay after school to deal with the principal.
When they pull up to his house on Maple St, his parents shoot him one last look of disappointment.
Mike rushes back to his bedroom. He doesn’t care, none of it matters.
He opens the door to his room and closes it with a harsh bang.
He stops short.
Nancy is sitting on his bed, waiting for him. Which is unusual in itself, but it's what is beside her that gives him pause.
The painting, the three headed dragon, is hanging on the wall in a glass protective case. Surrounding it are pictures of Will and Mike together, looking happy and so -secretly- in love.
On the table in front of the glass case is Will’s stuffed tiger wearing a yellow hat that Mike had stolen from his room.
It’s essentially a shrine to Will.
Mike looks back over at Nancy.
“I thought…you could keep the painting in here, until he gets back. You can keep all your most precious memories in this case, protected, until you can make more with him. I know you’re in pain Mike. I know. But I never doubt for a second -look at me Mike-” She says gently while hooking a finger under his chin, “not for a second that we will get him back.”
Mike clings to her, hugs are rare for the two of them, and nuzzles into her shoulder.
“Thank you.” He whispers into her shoulder.
Mike feels tears leaking out of his eyes.
“I have your back Mike. I love you, you're my baby brother and I will always love you. Even if you're a right asshole most of the time.” She whispers back to him.
Mike lets out a wet chuckle. She squeezes him tightly for one second before pulling away.
She strokes a thumb against his cheek before exiting the bedroom. She gives him one last look before Mike hears her footsteps clicking down the hall.
Mike lets out a breath. He grabs the stuffed tiger sitting under the ‘Will shrine’.
Mike clutches it to his chest as he sits heavily onto his bed. He stares up at the painting, now safe behind glass, and lets a few tears fall down his cheeks.
He can’t wait to make more memories with Will.
And he will get him back. He will.
Even if it's the last thing he does.