“okay, first of all—” dustin yanked his arm back like mike had just accused him of high treason. “—it wasn’t a love letter. it was a scientifically charming correspondence that just so happened to also maybe imply i’m the best boyfriend from lover’s lake to the great salt lake. totally different category.”
he clutched the photos to his chest like they were classified documents, glancing down at them before he remembered to keep talking. “and secondly, copper sulfate can do all those things, yes, but also - hello - it can grow blue crystals, which is both romantic and educational. you’re telling me suzie wouldn’t be impressed if she opened a package and immediately thought, ‘wow, he’s handsome, smart and he understands chemical saturation rates’? please.”
he adjusted his cap, glancing back toward the post office like he was leaving a fallen comrade behind. “also, thanks for just … throwing my genius into the trash like it’s last week’s meatloaf. that’s fine. totally fine. i’ll just, y’know, reinvent the entire gift from scratch.”
the thing was… he wasn’t even sure what the gift was for. he and suzie didn’t talk as much anymore, not since she’d gotten buried in school and he’d gotten even busier and well, maybe some part of him worried they didn’t even like each other the same way they used to. but she’d been there for him when things got scary and she’d made him feel like all the weird science stuff in his head wasn’t something to hide. he wanted to give her something that said thank you and i remember and hey, i still want you to think i’m cool.
dustin blinked, realising mike was still standing there despite being in a little trance. “what even counts as a ‘real gift’ to you, anyway? like, a sweater? chocolates? that’s basic, mike. we’re not basic people. suzie and i are … a power couple of intellect. i can’t just send her … a candle.”
he tried to keep his voice light, like this was all hypothetical but it came out a little sharper than he meant. the words hung there for a second, pressing against that sore spot in his chest he never really knew what to do with - the one that showed up whenever he realised someone was still… here. still keeping pace with him, even when he was being impossible. it ached in a way that was almost nice, the kind that made you want to say something honest and then immediately hide under a table for doing it.
dustin huffed out a laugh and shoved the photos into his jacket. “fine. but when i come up with something so perfect she proposes to me, i’m gonna tell her you doubted me, just so you know.” he didn’t say thanks for dragging me out before i got arrested for mail fraud. he didn’t need to - mike had been looking out for him since forever, even if he complained the whole way. and, yeah, maybe it was nice knowing someone still would.
to be fair on dustin's behalf, mike wasn't exactly the leading expert in romance. the only romantic relationship he'd ever had was one that had sort of blown up and then fizzled out, like a really bad firework. since then, he had put exactly zero effort toward finding a new significant other. for multiple reasons, but mostly because he was trying to avoid it altogether. but dustin didn't need to know that right now, and he was more taken aback at the realization that what he thought made great gift ideas could also be considered basic.
it was true, though. sweaters, chocolate, even candles could all be labeled rather so-so in the category of cool gifts. "well, first of all, that sounds a hell of a lot like a love letter to me. take it from someone who's never written one but has read a lot of shakespeare: if you're sitting down penning your feelings to another person, it's not out of boredom or mere friendship," he pointed out. the only question was whether or not dustin and suzie's relationship was a comedy or a tragedy, he supposed.
"i find it hard to believe that you're a power couple at all. you never talk about her anymore," he pointed out, brows furrowed. perhaps it was tactless, but he was simply being honest. the last time he really remembered hearing dustin talk about suzie was ages ago, and even then he seemed less enthused than that first summer he'd met her. "sometimes things don't work out, you know? have you considered just being friends with her? with you guys being so far apart, i'm sure she'd understand," he said, reaching out to pat dustin's shoulder placatingly.
he wasn't trying to stick his nose in where it didn't belong, or be condescending, and it was only a suggestion. if dustin wanted to keep his long distance girlfriend, who was he to deny him of such a thing?
"i was supposed to buy stamps for my mom, but i was in line for forever. long enough to not even realize you'd been in front of me the whole time," he shrugged. he would tell her later that he got caught up doing something much more important - helping dustin out with his girlfriendly woes. besides, it was hawkins. how fast could limited edition stamps really run out?
he tugged on dustin's arm again, all but dragging him in the direction of the nearest general store. "look, i may be basic but i did grow up in a house full of girls. holly, nancy, my mom - the number one thing they all like the most? stuff from the heart," he pointed out. it made him shiver even saying something so sappy, but it was the truth. "if we can find you a gift worth sending to suzie that actually, genuinely comes from your heart, and not from your mind, then it'll be perfect. nothing could win her over more than that."
dustin had been in line at the post office long enough for the clerk to develop the thousand-yard stare of someone questioning all their life choices.
the package on the counter was only half-taped, the flaps bending and popping open every time he nudged it. inside: a roll of black and white film from the disposable camera he’d used for his latest experiment, a tiny glass vial of harmless (probably) blue powder and a letter to suzie that had so many cross-outs it looked like a map. he’d been rearranging those three items for ten solid minutes, as if a different angle might suddenly make the box feel complete.
“you can’t send liquids,” the clerk said flatly. “and it’s not a liquid,” dustin shot back. “it’s powdered copper sulfate. totally safe. unless you eat, like, a pound of it. which - why would anyon— look, it’s fine.”
the clerk’s reply was a slow blink which only made dustin exhale hard through his nose, slapping the tape dispenser onto the counter and yanking the box back toward himself. “y’know what? forget it. i’m taking this on the road before i commit a federal crime.”
two steps from the counter, still muttering something about 'people who wouldn’t know science if it hit them in the face', he spotted the first person in range and practically shoved the box into their hands. “alright, so here’s the deal. i need something for suzie. it’s gotta be something she’ll think is cool but not, you know, suspicious to a federal agency if they open the box. like, imagine you’re sending a care package to the smartest person you know and you want them to open it and immediately think, ‘wow, i should probably marry this guy’ — not that i want to marry her, i mean, we’re teenagers, relax. but hypothetically.”
he gestured at the open flaps, then back over his shoulder toward the counter. “because apparently powdered copper sulfate is ‘dangerous’ now and my other idea is bubble wrap and a cassette of me singing the periodic table. which, by the way, would absolutely kill at any science fair.”
mike didn't really like being at the post office - did anybody? - but sometimes a boy had to run an errand for his mother. god forbid, right? all that to say that he was entirely checked out as he waited in line. he was only there to buy a special edition of stamps and had subsequently gotten caught up in looking at the postcards. who the hell bought (and sent!) a postcard from hawkins, indiana? did anyone ever want to visit, like, on purpose?
he was brought out of his thoughts as a familiar voice invaded his ears, a box being shoved into his arms as he quite literally shook his head to bring himself back to the present moment. he caught the tail end of dustin's speech, if one could call that a speech (it was more like a diatribe), and looked down at the mess of tape and cardboard that was now occupying his hands.
"what exactly were you expecting her to do with copper sulfate, anyway? clean a pond, kill some snails, or grow crystals? honestly, i'm not even sure that i actually want to know the answer," he muttered, looking down into the box. basically none of it was anything that would inspire suzie to marry dustin, or want to marry dustin, and he reached in to grab the photos before tossing the whole box and its remaining contents into the nearest trash can.
he took hold of dustin's arm before he could even try to fish them back out, herding him out of the post office and onto the sidewalk before the hawkins pd was called about a bomb threat. it was just some innocent powder, but by the time the cops arrived it would have turned into something completely different.
"first of all, was that a love letter?" he asked, one eyebrow raised as he handed dustin his developed pictures back. "because it looked like the first draft of an english paper. how about rewriting it without so many things scratched out if you really want to impress the girl?" he asked. that was a basic fix, in his opinion. "secondly, if you're trying to wow her, maybe get her a real gift. suzie may be the queen genius of your dreams, but she's still a human being. she probably wants something meaningful, not just...loose chemicals, dude."
Eddie's blank stare flipped to an amused grin when he recognized the voice on the other side of the line. "Ah, come on Mike. If someone decided to call the cops because of how I answered the phone, that would already make my night a little more entertaining. Unfortunately, the movers and shakers are few and far between this evening. Although I did see Jason Carver's pop and man oh man did that take me back. You know that man ordered a red beer? That's beer with tomato juice, Mike. That's psychotic behavior, right there. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, I'll tell ya..." he trailed off, realizing Mike probably didn't call to hear the drink orders of their former classmates' parents. Still, the theatrical side of him couldn't help but divulge. Without warning, Eddie noticed a non-paying customer stepping behind the bar to grab a beer. "Hey, no one goes behind the counter but me or my bar backs, got it? You want something, you ask, okay sticky fingers? Mike, hey hold on a sec..." The cord to the phone could only stretch so far, so he clumsily placed the headset down on the wooden bar as he moved to grab cash from the beer thief. After placing the bottle down in front of them, Eddie returned to the phone with a huff.
"Wait...you're asking me for advice? The same person who took three tries to graduate?" He kept his mouth clenched then, giving Mike the opportunity to get through the specifics of what he was asking. Thankfully, most of the information he sought was fairly easy to answer.
If you’re picking electives this year, let me save you some trouble. The easiest class you’ll ever take is Ms. Kelley’s Child Development. Yeah, you have to carry around an egg for a whole week, pretending it’s a baby, but honestly? That’s way less stressful than Speech and Debate. In that class, they’ll bury you in essays, making you write and present arguments for and against everything. Ms. Kelley only asks for one essay a quarter, and she’s way more understanding than most of the other senior teachers. Now, Algebra II? Stay far away from Mr. Jones. If you get the chance, take it with Mr. Himbry instead. He’s zones out half the class and probably has Irish coffee hidden in that thermos he always carries. The rest of your classes are pretty standard. Just do your work and keep your head down. By senior year, most students have completely checked out, so if you actually show any interest in what they’re teaching, they might just cream their pants and beg you to take their extra credit.
Locker section, locker section... truth be told I only used one my last year because I didn't study before then. No books to carry, no locker. But if I can remember right, stick to the area in the academic wing. That's where the majority of your Senior classes are going to be, so you won't be scurrying around like a rat on butter half the time. And I'll have you know, smartass, the best place to study is the library. I wouldn't know, but that's what I've been told. I think your brainiac sister should be able to help you with other spots though. How is she, by the way?" he asked nonchalantly.
The purpose of Mike calling him for school advice was made clearer when he mentioned being nervous. Ah. Now this made more sense to Eddie. This he could help with.
"Mike... senior year? Besides the pressure to pass and figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life, it’s smooth sailing. You’ve clawed your way from the bottom all the way up to the top of the totem pole. You’re already one foot out the door while the freshmen are still struggling just to find their footing. It’s only natural to be nervous. Hell, you’ve got a lot more going for you after graduation than I ever did.”
A sharp pang of bittersweet nostalgia tightened in Eddie’s chest, quick and fierce, before fading away like a wisp of cigarette smoke. How he wished he could be a senior again, full of that raw hope, that burning belief he could finally kick the dust of Hawkins off his boots and never look back. But reality had other plans, and in the end, it was reality that made Eddie’s choice for him.
"Talk to me. What are you nervous about?" he urged, shifting the phone to his other ear as he made a Tequila Sunrise for the Hawkins librarian.
mike knew that it was...unlikely, for anyone else to hit up eddie munson for school advice. on other people's lists he was probably as far down as one could think, but on mike's list? it went nancy, then eddie, then his mother, then joyce. everyone else paled in comparison to those four in his life, at least in terms of life advice, and that's exactly how he liked it. he tuned back in to the conversation somewhere around the time he heard the words "egg" and "baby" in the same sentence.
far be it from him to turn away an easy A, but he didn't think he was cut out for home economics. or child development. or anything where he had to be in charge of another living being (or a stand-in for a living being, such as an egg). he quickly grabbed a notebook nearby and a pen, writing everything eddie said down. regardless of whether or not he actually took him up on his advice, he still wanted to keep a record of all of it. he'd likely forget half of it by the time they hung up.
"i wouldn't say that i am anywhere near the top of the totem pole," he argued, though there was no bite behind it. he was still fairly certain that he was around the lower end of the pole, if he had to guess. maybe the middle, but only when lucas was around. having a jock friend had added some cool points to his roster, but not enough to make him cool on his own. if anything he felt more or less invisible now by most people's standards - including from the people he wanted to notice him. but that was another thing entirely.
still, he considered the question that eddie posed to him. "what are you nervous about?" there was so fucking much to be nervous about. school, in general, always seemed to make his anxiety spike. even the last couple of years where things had seemingly died down in terms of the weirdness in his life, he still felt like he was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. he was always expecting something, anything else, to happen. when nothing did, it was a relief, but he still felt like he was in a waiting room in limbo. a consistent, living purgatory with heaven on one side and hell on the other; but which way was his life heading? he had no clue.
"everything," he answered finally. "everything about senior year is making me want to climb the walls of my bedroom. i don't have anything figured out. college, a career, a...love life, so to speak. i'm supposed to know what i want but i really don't have a single idea. and i know that no one really has their life figured out at any age, but i thought i'd have at least a small inkling of what i want for myself. as it turns out, i know squat about squat."
he assumed that everyone, at one point or another, felt like that. but it was different when you were supposed to be a leader. not that anyone ever said that about him; rather it was a label he'd imposed onto himself, but he couldn't help it. "what am i supposed to do if i don't have anything figured out by graduation? i'd rather jump into the quarry than go to the community college here." it wasn't even that he wanted to go to somewhere major, like harvard or mit. he just knew good and damn well that he wanted to go anywhere other than the college in hawkins.
Despite how many times he's heard a similar sentiment from Mike specifically, his best friend's words make Will's ears hot. He can't help the smile that splits onto his face at Mike's praise, even if Will thinks he's maybe, definitely looking at Will's art through rose-colored glasses. He couldn't bear to deny Mike-- about anything really-- but certainly not when he was being so earnest, so Will simply pressed his lips together and shook his head once. "That's... I don't know about that." Will didn't really care that much about being famous or anything, he just wanted to keep making art, whenever and however he could. His next words are quieter, but much more certain, "I'd never forget about you. Impossible."
Mike's explanation made Will sit up straighter, lean in just a little bit closer-- because whatever he was going to confess, it was obviously important. Everything Mike said was important to Will. The idea of Mike willingly attending a dance was... definitely shocking. But Will smiled encouragingly, nodding as Mike elaborated. "I don't think that's lame," he said. "A little... surprising, I guess," Will confessed in turn. He'd never known Mike to be someone who particularly liked spending time in a suit, or having his picture taken, or being around anyone who wasn't part of their already-established friend group. But maybe Mike was changing, embracing senior year.
The idea of a brand-new Mike, a Mike who wanted to take someone to a dance set a bloom of anxiety loose in Will's chest. He immediately felt like he was behind. The voice in the back of his head telling Will that he was different and he was always destined to be was loud, but he muscled through it. Mike didn't deserve for Will's insecurities, the pang of jealousy in his gut, to detract from his plans. "Yeah, that would be-- maybe it'd be fun. It's like, the biggest night of the year or whatever. Plus, your mom would be really happy," Will said, with a breathy laugh. "Do already you have someone in mind?"
He tried to play his question off as casual curiosity, as if Will's entire body wasn't tense, waiting for Mike's answer. Will responded to Mike's downplaying reflexively, putting a hand on his knee and shaking his head, "You're not stupid and it's not embarrassing." He shrugged, "It's like... the most normal thing you could do. And normal is good, right?"
for a moment, mike was silent. it would be so, so easy for him to tell the truth right then and there. do you already have someone in mind? of course he did. of course he had thought about asking that person to a dance before already, and of course he was thinking about whether or not he could ask them to one during their senior year. he wanted to be honest, to lay it all on the line, to say exactly what he was thinking and then some.
suddenly, though, he remembered where they were. the desire to be honest slowly slipped away until all that remained was a desire to be seen as not different. his smile faltered and then fell, and he swallowed thickly as he looked away so as not to meet will's gaze. hadn't he caught on? didn't he know, inherently, everything that was going on in mike's mind? evidently not. the din of the noise from the crowds around them filtered back into his ears as he was reminded of how alone they weren't, and he finally shook his head.
"no, i—no. there's no one i specifically want to go with," he answered. a lie. he couldn't meet will's eyes because if anyone could tell he was lying through sight alone, it was him. if that was the case, however, couldn't will also see other things in his eyes? couldn't he see the desperation and the pining and the need to be understood by the one person in the world who meant the most to him? if their eyes did meet, what would he see reflected back to him?
probably not the same sentiments, if he had to guess. here will was telling him that normal was good, so leave it to him to be thinking and feeling the most non-normal things in the world. well, non-normal by society's standards, at least. certainly by hawkins' standards.
instead of trying to find comfort in will's eyes, he looked down at the hand on his knee. it wasn't like he ever shied away from physical touch when it came to will, but something about it seemed so caring and intimate that it almost made his skin crawl. not because he was disgusted by it, but rather because it soothed him in a way that he knew no one else had ever been able to do. no one got through to him the way that will did, and he wondered if the same was true in reverse.
"do you want to go?" he asked, glancing up at will again once and for all. "i mean. do you want to go to a dance this year? not—not do you wanna go with me. not that i think that wouldn't be fun, i'm sure it would be fun, but i'm saying in general. are dances on your list of things to do this year?" he asked, fumbling through his words like a football player in a ballet class. what the fuck was that?
pink dusted his cheeks as he blushed and took a deep breath. "i'm just saying; i don't think i could get through prom or homecoming or whatever without my best friend around. someone needs to be there to keep me from making a fool of myself," he said, recovering (hopefully) some of his lost dignity.
El’s nose crinkled at the question, and for a second, she just looked at him. That blank, borderline too long of a stare that made people nervous if they didn’t know her well, but Mike did. Eventually, her face pulled into a small smile as she folded her arms across the tabletop as if she were settling in for a stakeout.
"It’s not the sweat," she pointed out. "It’s more... your posture. And the look on your face," she explained as her eyes flicked over him, forehead creased in mock-concern. The truth was, she didn’t think he looked bad. He just looked Mike — perpetually out of place, a little over it, trying not to care. It was almost comforting, how some things didn’t change. She hoped he never would.
El tapped her fingers against the edge of the donation box as she watched him lean back and seemingly attempt to vanish into his chair. She could almost see the thoughts turning in his head, and for once, she didn’t push to know what they were.
"I get why you signed up," her voice was a little softer when she said it. Not only did it seem pretty easy to El, which meant that probably any shmuck could do it and it just seemed safe. Minimal amount of socialization, there wasn't anyone keeping an eye on whether or not they were doing a good job, and it's not like they were held all that accountable for what people put in the box.
She leaned in slightly to him. "Plus, you get to judge everyone’s snack choices," she reached into the donation box and held up a dented can of green beans she was sure someone had dropped off earlier and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Healthy, but who likes this crap?"
Then, like the thought just occurred to her. "Thanks for not making it weird," she pointed out. "Me being here." She wasn’t just talking about the booth. She was talking about being back in Hawkins High, in public, in her skin. There were moments she still felt like a science project walking around.
And sometimes she still felt like a burden. As soon as she wasn't saving the world anymore, there was always the thought that maybe it was fleeting. Like her friendships were bound to all go away at any moment.
"Do you think Will'll be okay?" El asked, out of her own curiosity. She had no idea what life had for her at school. She had never made friends outside of the party and she had certainly never sat in a desk before, but Will had. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to reassurance from someone else that Will would be fine.
there was once a time where el looking at him like she could see right through him would have made him squirm, or given him cause for concern. but years had passed since the first time she had ever done that and, similarly, years had passed since he'd stopped feeling freaked out by it. he simply waited for her to grasp onto whatever it was she wanted to say, often gaining insight from her that not a lot of other people could give him.
...that sounded nice and all, but they were literally discussing whether or not he smelled bad. so. sometimes it wasn't very insightful at the end of the day.
thankfully, the conversation moved on. he watched as she moved to look through the dropped off snacks, feeling a slight pull of irritation on the inside that the can of beans was dented. he was definitely his mother's child, much as he was loathe to admit it. wouldn't any teenage boy hate agreeing to a fact like that? "green beans are good sometimes. my grandma puts sugar in them," he said with a shrug. on the opposite end of the spectrum, green bean casserole was the last dish he reached for when it came time for thanksgiving dinner.
he gave her a bit of a smile at her thanks, shaking his head to signify that she really didn't need to thank him for anything. "it's not weird," he replied, though maybe it was a tiny bit weird. her whole vibe was weird, but that wasn't a bad thing. if anything, he felt it should be celebrated. "i know you feel like a fish out of water sometimes, but you don't stick out as much as you think you do." there were far stranger people hanging out around hawkins, and he didn't think that most of the other students were going to care about her presence all that much. no more than they cared about his, or the party's in general.
as the topic switched to will, he gave his answer some thought before he spoke again. he couldn't say for sure whether or not will would be alright when it came to attending hawkins high, but he'd be surrounded by his friends. and mike, god knew, wouldn't let anything bad happen to him if he could help it. "i think will is going to be fine," he admitted. he couldn't see the future so he obviously didn't know that to be a one hundred percent fact, but he was hoping that it would be. "i think you're both going to be fine. one more year and then we're all free."
who: Eddie & @dietmike
where: phone call with Eddie, who's working his Wednesday shift at The Hideout
Eddie threw his shoulder against the front door of the Hideout, making a mental note for the third time that he needed to replace it. Age, humidity swell, and bad hinges all contributed to its tendency toward sticking. His procrastination surrounding repair at least ensured he learned a trick to opening it successfully. Flipping on the overhead lighting, Eddie squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. "Another day, another dollar... another drunk," he mumbled to himself, beginning preparations for his shift.
If someone told twenty-year-old Eddie Munson that four years after graduation, he'd still be in Hawkins... he would've laughed, offered his typical smug smirk, and accused the claimant of unoriginality.
It started out the way most "failure to launch" stories do. First, adding weekday shows at the Hideout as opportunities to earn and save more money to move. After the new factory brought in some transplants to Hawkins, The bar finally thrummed a pulse. It became the go-to place in their tiny town; a town where the most thrilling activities involved balls, baskets, or boats.
The owner of the Hideout was Ray, a childhood friend of Uncle Wayne's. Through playing at The Hideout more, they formed a close friendship. When Ray came to him last summer, fresh out of his first chemotherapy session, he asked Eddie to take over for him. He couldn't exactly say no. He knew there would be no other seamless transition unless he took the reins.
A year in, and Eddie had a feeling he'd be here longer than intended.. It made every shift a little less sweet as the bitterness took over. Eddie did all he could to entertain himself and stimulate the part of his brain that craved the abnormal. Which is why, when Mike called that night, Eddie answered the phone with the following greeting.
"Hideout, where we'll hide a body for the right price, this is Eddie."
mike was more than happy with his small circle of friends. he had a best friend, he had close friends, and he had some acquaintances that weren't really friends but they weren't strangers, either. somewhere in the middle of all of them was eddie - a guy he looked up to maybe a little more than he should have. having met during his own freshman year at hawkins high, no one else had bothered to take him under his wing like eddie had. with all of the weird shit that had taken place in his life, it was nice having a...semi-normal person to latch onto. eddie was anything but normal, but given the weirdness that plagued the rest of mike's history, he was as normal as it got.
"that's not how you should answer the phone," he said, and his statement had more than one meaning. it sounded bad, and he already knew how the town looked at eddie. like a bad mistake waiting to happen. despite that, there was a grin to the tone of his voice. "regardless, i actually called to get some advice from you."
eddie was probably not the first person he should have been going to for advice. he should have been farther down on the list, in all honesty, but he was closer to the top of it. he truly believed the things that eddie told him. he never doubted that he wasn't bullshitting him like most adults did, telling him something nice that went in one ear and out the other. instead, getting advice from him meant knowing that whatever was going to be said was also going to be real. that was important to him.
"i was wondering if you could give me any pointers for my first day back to school," he admitted, the grin disappearing from his voice and being replaced with something more genuine and almost shy. he didn't like being vulnerable with almost anybody, and he liked it even less when it came to things as dull as school. "you know what i mean - senior teachers to avoid, which locker section i should hope for, the best study spots...scratch that last one," he teased. "were you ever nervous for school?"
it was grating on his nerves, really. the whirr of the ventilation system. the cold metal chair that got more and more uncomfortable the longer he sat in it. the urge to give the finger to the one-way mirror that he knew no one was likely staring through. he'd been interrogated more times than he probably should have at eighteen, but now he knew that he didn't have to answer anything he didn't want to. or so he assumed.
STATE YOUR FULL LEGAL NAME FOR THE RECORD.
mike blinked. "i think you know my full legal name. for the record," he muttered. chief powell simply stared at him. he rolled his eyes. "michael theodore wheeler."
WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT ADDRESS?
"2350 maple street." he considered answering with 'hell, fifth layer', but he didn't think the chief would find it as funny as he did.
WHAT IS YOUR DATE OF BIRTH?
"april 7th, 1971. you guys already know all of this stuff about me. it's not like i'm some out-of-towner," he muttered. hawkins never really got out-of-towners...excluding max.
WHAT IS YOUR PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT AND JOB TITLE?
mike scoffed. "if you consider being a senior at hawkins high school a job and a title, then there ya go," he answered. he probably should have gotten a job over the last summer, but it was the last year of his life that he would truly be free from the rat race of adulthood, so. he'd skipped out on that. chief powell didn't need to hear any of that, though.
WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO THE WHEELER FAMILY?
"i am the wheeler family," he said. "middle child, only son."
WERE YOU FORMALLY INVITED TO THE BBQ?
he couldn't help but laugh. "do you think my mom wrote up a formal invitation to my sister and i? dude, we live there. we're always at the barbecue whether we want to be or not."
WHAT TIME DID YOU ARRIVE AT THE BBQ?
he shrugged. "i don't know. not on time. not that late." he wasn't keeping track of things like that, and that was in spite of the watch he wore on his left wrist.
HOW DID YOU GET TO THE BBQ?
"i came with my friends. lucas drove us," he answered truthfully. the fact of the matter was that he'd had to leave his house just to go back to it for the barbecue, but again, chief powell wasn't asking about that so he wasn't volunteering that information up.
CAN ANYONE VERIFY YOUR LOCATION THROUGHOUT THE BBQ?
"jesus christ." he couldn't help but be annoyed at the unnecessary thoroughness of the investigation here. "ask my mom, my friends. i was sitting around the campfire for at least half of the thing, toasting marshmallows and trying to avoid my dad."
HOW LONG WERE YOU AT THE WHEELER BBQ, APPROXIMATELY?
again, mike shrugged. "i think we've established that i don't keep time very well."
HOW DID YOU LEAVE THE BBQ? WITH WHOM?
"i left in a cop car. ask your cop lackies." quite literally living at the house where the murder took place meant that the wheelers were questioned first - and immediately. as annoying as that was to him, did he really look like the type of person who could kill a man armed with a gun? scratch that; he didn't want to know.
ARE YOU CURRENTLY UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ANY SUBSTANCES THAT MAY AFFECT YOUR MEMORY OR BEHAVIOUR DURING THE COURSE OF THIS WITNESS INTERROGATION?
mike took a good, long moment to think about it. was he under the influence of anything? alcohol, maybe, what little bit remained in his system...but it wasn't enough for him to have answered any differently than if he hadn't partaken in the keg activities in the basement.
DID YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE OR UNSAFE AT ANY POINT DURING THE BBQ?
he took a moment to think about that. to really think about it. the only time he had felt unsafe was when ted arrived. but ted had ended up leaving, hadn't he? at some point? he couldn't really remember, seeing as how he was trying to pay him as little attention as possible. "no," he lied. familial drama wasn't the same as crime drama. he didn't think his dad had murdered sgt. sully, so why bother bringing it up? still, his eyes shifted away from officer powell's when he'd said it. perhaps he had a tell after all.
HAVE YOU EVER KNOWN MRS. KAREN WHEELER TO LOSE HER TEMPER?
"she's a mom. all moms lose their temper at some point, i imagine, but she's always been pretty cool, calm, and collected. even at the barbecue when she should have lost her shit, she was pretty chill," he answered. if the chief ever told his mom he'd said any of that, he'd deny it...but he was telling the truth.
THERE ARE REPORTS OF “ACAB” GRAFFITI AT ELMORE SKATE PARK. DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT?
"good. bite me."
"can i go home now? i need to make sure there's no blood anywhere near my bedroom," mike asks earnestly, but chief powell says nothing as he gets up and leaves. "come on, man! you can't keep me here if i'm not under arrest! i know my rights!" he continues, but by that point he was yelling at the metal door as it shut behind the chief. oh, well. he turned to the mirror, instead. "and bring me the coke i asked for!"
"Okay, well, cool," Will agreed easily. It's not that he wanted Mike to leave, but Will felt the need to be clear that it was okay if he wanted to hang out with their other friends. Or Mike's other friends. Since kindergarten, Will has been distinctly aware of his unique claim on Mike-- how their friendship had always been just a little bit different-- and while it was, most days, a point of pride for Will... sometimes he felt guilty about it. Like his neediness or the never-ending drama of his life had stunted Mike in some way. He knew that wasn't true, and that this guilt was misplaced, but he just had to check sometimes.
He laughed, shaking his head at the idea of laying down the law at the school supplies drive. "Mike," he groaned, rolling his eyes even while a fond smile played at his lips. "Serious business to who? Are we going to get audited?" he teased, though his best friend definitely had a point. If it was up to Will, he'd let people take whatever they wanted-- whatever they needed-- and then they'd be left with nothing for the unfortunate few who didn't get here early.
"It was always a big deal to me. Like, it just felt different to pick something out instead of some random high schooler giving you a bag full of generic stuff," Will said with a shrug. He didn't want to belabor the point, but he hoped his influence would make the whole process a little bit nicer for at least a couple of kids. He wasn't trying to, like, save the world or anything. He'd leave that to El. "I always hated these colored pencils, they broke so easily," he mused, picking up a box of the off-brand pencils. Thankfully, Mom cared enough to buy him the real deal-- the Crayola 150 pack that he still had somewhere.
Nothing you say is stupid. Mike threw it out so easily, like it was a given, but Will's face flushed with heat at the sentiment. It meant more coming from Mike, who didn't exactly shy away from telling it like it is. "Yeah, it's like... they want us to be adults or whatever, and make these huge decisions, but they're still treating us like kids." Will was maybe talking about the way people treated him, but he thought it had some merit for the broader population of 17-and-18-year-old Hawkins seniors. He shrugged, looking to Mike with a curious smile, "What's one thing you absolutely have to do this year?"
mike had always admired will's art. for goodness' sake, he had a whole binder of it filled with drawings and sketches from their years of growing up together. he used to keep it in the basement, but he had moved it up to his bedroom sometime in the last couple of years. it was safe there, away from anyone else potentially finding it and throwing away all of the priceless work within it. "my mom bought all of us crayola too, but we never did anything cool with it. we don't have talents like the great will byers," he grinned, and it sounded like sarcasm but he meant it genuinely. "you'll be a famous artist one day. just don't forget the little people, such as myself, when you're taking the art world by storm."
it was so much easier for him to talk about how well he thought will would do in life than it was to talk about the upcoming schoolyear. as much as he was excited to get it over and done with, he still had to crawl his way through the torturous months ahead. he was looking less forward to that part; to the homework and late nights spent studying and the stressing out about exams and SATs. he tried to focus on the stuff that wasn't intimidating - the fun stuff that he could do when he needed an escape. there had to be something to take the edge off of being a senior at hawkins high.
"i think what i'm about to say is so unbelievably lame, and if you ever repeat it to anyone else then i will deny it until i'm blue in the face, but i think i'd actually like to go to one of the formal dances this year," he said. he'd been to them before, but mostly out of peer pressure. he wanted to do it on his own, this time. "i want to officially ask someone out and bring them a flower and have our pictures taken by my mom, as every bit embarrassing as that will be." he shrugged a bit, trying to play off his words although the blush on his face denied his inner feelings. the thought did excite him.
all too late, once he was done speaking, he realized that he never referred to his date as a she, or as a girl. was he supposed to? did it matter? would will even notice? and if he did, would he care? if there was anyone in the world that he didn't think would judge him for absolutely anything, it was will. after all they had been through together after so many years, he didn't think that something like that could keep them apart. ironically that was sort of the problem here, but he obviously couldn't say that.
"now i'm the one that's sounding stupid. i never thought i'd be excited to hit up a hawkins dance under the influence of my own free will," he said, almost having to laugh at how wild it sounded. house parties, weed, and bad beer were all things he thought he would willingly endure, but a high school formal hadn't ever made the bucket list before. there was a first time for everything, he supposed.
El practically lingered by as she stared down at Mike from behind the curtain of her bangs. "I know," she replied. "But... still." Honestly, winning the game had made El feel more normal, so to speak. She didn’t always win things. She didn’t always understand the rules of board games. In fact, she couldn't imagine anyone who grew up with them would understand them, either. It had made her weirdly happy that maybe all of the weird Operation: Make El Normal lessons had paid off.
"I liked that game night," El said after a quiet pause. "Even if you lost," her voice was slightly hesitant, almost like she was unsure if she was allowed to say that part completely out loud. Then, because sincerity made her itchy at times, she was quick to add in a, “you still look like a wet sock.”
El let her gaze trail over the folding table, then the line of melting backpacks behind it, before pointing her chin toward his chair. "You want me to cover for you?" She asked. "I can pretend to be you. Say things like… 'Please do not crush the cans. If you crush the cans, I will be deeply annoyed,'" her voice dipped into a lower register, doing her very best tortured Mike Wheeler impression.
She stepped behind the booth, with or without his permission - or invitation, really. Maybe it was just El recognizing a familiar face in the sea of people, or some type of exposure therapy she needed, but she quickly found herself a chair and slid it over. "Scooch your booch," a term she had picked up on from someone, somewhere. Once settled next to him, her gaze flicked over to his. "So, we're donation collecting?"
"is that what i sound like to you?" mike asked, but it wasn't directed toward el. it wasn't really directed toward anyone, more of a muttering beneath his breath type of deal. he always wondered how others perceived him...and as soon as he got onto that line of thinking, he nipped it in the bud real fast. he didn't want to know what others thought of him. he didn't want to be perceived at all, but he kind of let that feeling fall to the wayside when it came to her. she was a literal pair of fresh eyes to the world, unmarred by any bias that the rest of the town probably had for him. not that he thought he was somebody to the rest of hawkins; he definitely wasn't.
when prompted, he scooted over so that she could sit down next to him. there was plenty of room but he didn't mind sharing his space. they'd shared space many times in the past, and he didn't think anything of allowing her to sit by him now. "we're donation collecting," he confirmed, letting her take over as she'd offered, though he didn't leave. he wasn't worried about her messing anything up because there was absolutely nothing to mess up. the information that needed to be written down would all be written down by the people who signed up. they were just there to make sure the cans didn't get squished, or so he liked to tell himself.
"it's an easy gig. it's the best booth to run every year because there's nothing to it. that's why all of the slots to man it get taken up so quickly," he explained as if she cared in the slightest. "not that i was all excited to get here, or whatever. i'd rather be anywhere else, but at least now i have some company right?" he said, looking over at el and offering her a small smile. that was more than most people got when it came to him, but she was a special case.
he sat back in his chair, positive that she had things covered. she certainly didn't need him there to instruct her on the oh so difficult task of how to hand over a clipboard, and he was about to go back to attempting his nap when he recalled something she'd said. "what do you mean by you think i look like a wet sock? am i sweating that badly?"
Mike? Excited? About both of them? Noted. Wheeler had preempted her protest which made Max frown. She seriously doubted whatever spots he had picked out constituted as cool. Curious now, she asked, "What spots?" And as she continued, she watched Mike's expression carefully, "I just gave Will a similar offer, don't want to accidentally take him to the same places, you know."
'Other than you.' Mike's words flung at her like a ball to the face. It wasn't all that unfair granted her extended absence, but it was another reminder that Mike still considered her as different, other, separate from them. His opinion rarely held so much weight, but it made Max wonder if he was right at all, if she didn't belong with the party.
She retaliated loudly, "I think if El wanted to join Hellfire she would tell you. Let her make her own choices about things before you say anything, Mike. Like, have you ever even tried asking her if she likes Dungeons and Dragons?" Max's ranting didn't end there, and she continued, "I was planning on showing her around, actually. So you can just focus on Will." She wasn't having a discussion about it!
"Seriously? Why would it be weird for you?" Leave it to Mike to be so obtuse she had to literally spell it out. "You're always weird about Will." Smiley around him, nicer to him than anyone else, and extremely protective. Yeah. Max had noticed. She didn't want Mike to feel too backed into a corner though, not about something like that. She amended her sentence, "And El." He was protective of her too. It seemed everyone, other than Max, had that luxury. It was only when he got righteous about El it pissed her off. "What? It's a fair question."
though he wasn't sure they had the same definition of what the best spots to show will would be, he figured he could still indulge her. "the hellfire club room, for starters. i mean, i know he'll be in there for club stuff anyway, but when we're not in there playing then it's a pretty nice spot to chill out. still at school but technically away from all of the hustle and bustle. it'll be cool to have him around, finally," he said. the club room wasn't all that interesting. it was just the a/v room that they decorated during campaigns, and when all the lights were on it actually looked sort of nerdy. but they were all a bunch of nerds, so. that was fitting.
he didn't feel like delving into any other spots, too hung up on the way max lambasted him for daring to try and introduce el to anything he was interested in. he knew that he had been a little overbearing toward her in the past, but that's because he'd been trying to force a connection that wasn't there. when you're grasping at any little thread to try and put together a puzzle that isn't meant to be, eventually things are going to unravel and fall apart. hence why he and el had split up.
"now that we're not dating anymore, i don't feel like we have to like the same things as much. she can't know that she doesn't like dungeons and dragons until she tries it, because it's not the kind of game that you can simply explain to someone and they'll immediately understand what it's like to play it. it's more complex than that, but if she ever does try it and decides that she has no interest, then i won't really care all that much. it isn't for everyone, obviously," he explained, knowing that max had never been into it either. it was hard for mike to understand her; to understand girls in general. they seemed so full of secrets that he would never quite be privy to.
max's next words caught him by surprise. he was weird about will, and so much so that she had noticed it? he wondered what she could have meant by that, but he would be lying to himself if he pretended not to know. he didn't answer her on that front. he didn't want it brought up, at least not right now, and he didn't want to talk about it with her of all people. the universe only knew what she'd think. "it won't be weird for me," he admitted after a moment of silence. "i'm happy they'll be there. having all of my best friends in one place again makes me feel like the year is actually going to go right for once."
El had been watching Mike from a few booths down for the last minute or two with squinted eyes. He looked like he was melting through the summer heat. He even had a dramatic slump to his shoulders that said this might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me - which, for Mike Wheeler, meant apparently being in the sun for thirty minutes without a fan.
Eventually, she walked over. No rush. Just appeared in front of him like a very unimpressed summer ghost. Her arms were crossed, holding a half-empty iced tea she’d gotten from the vending machine near the gym, the condensation dripping onto her wrist. It was probably watered down by now, but it was cold and that counted for something.
When Mike did his little speech, she just stared at him for a beat longer than was socially normal. Then she raised one brow and said, "I’m not here for a donation." Although, when she did start to look around, she thought about taking the clipboard. As grateful as she often was for Joyce, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of her head that always said she was eating too much out of the fridge or getting too many clothes.
A pause. Then she added, "you look like you might pass out." With a hand, she dug into the bag that was slung over her shoulder and pulled out a half-eaten bag of chips she’d been saving for later. "It's like a good gesture. For beating you at Monopoly last week."
her voice caught him off guard more than her surprise presence did. he looked up, eyes adjusting to the light as he glanced up at her face. "no, i guess you're not," he said, a soft laugh falling from his mouth as he straightened up his posture. he didn't want this to be awkward, but something about talking to her made him want to sit up straight and look mildly presentable. his old feelings for her had died down, but the desire to ensure she didn't think he was a loser had not.
"i might pass out," he admitted, the day's heat getting to him more than he would like to say. what had happened to that younger version of himself that could run around in the sun all summer and never give a damn if he was sweaty and gross? dead and buried with the passage of time, if he had to guess.
he looked at the chips in her extended hand, noting that it was halfway empty before reaching out to take it. a half-full bag of chips was better than no bag of chips at all, which is what he currently had. he stuck his hand in and plucked one out, popping it into his mouth as he gestured up at el.
"you don't have to give 'good gesture' gifts when you beat people at board games, by the way. or any kind of games for that matter," he told her. it was only a game, and if he was that upset by it then he really would be a dweeb. "that doesn't mean you shouldn't randomly walk up to me and give me chips, though. i will always accept food if you're willing to share," he grinned.
"It's okay," Will reassured him, gentle smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. When they were together, sometimes Will felt like there was a protective bubble around the two of them; like an invisible force field or something, a rippling undercurrent of safety. Mike had always been that for Will. Other than his family, he was Will's home away from home.
Will would be lying if he said he didn't notice how Mike talked to him versus... everyone else, really. The harsh edge of his voice was missing, the furrowing of his brow gone. It was a testament to their years of friendship, to the time and effort they'd each put into knowing each other better than their own selves, sometimes.
"No," he laughed, pulling out his own water bottle and taking a swig. "It's not like you leave much up to the imagination, Mike," Will teased, leaning back in the chair and pretending to snore with his head bobbing. Mike sufficiently mocked, Will took the clipboard and skimmed the list. He felt a little bad about his selfish relief for not being on the list this year.
"Yeah?" Will asked, tone betraying his hope, "But you don't have to do that." He knew hanging out here all day wasn't exactly Mike's idea of fun. Was it anyone's? Nodding along, Will flipped the sheet on the clipboard over to see the end of the list, "That's really good. Maybe kids can even pick some of their own stuff this year, you know?" He always felt bad about the one-size-fits-all nature of charity like this-- half the fun of going back to school was getting to pick out your supplies and all, like when he was going into the sixth grade and all he wanted was a mustard yellow pencil pouch, but the only color they had at the supply drive was this greyish burgundy.
He glanced up at Mike with a wistful smile, "I still can't believe we're seniors. My mom keeps, like, saying it-- but it is weird. Is that stupid?"
mike knew he didn't have to do that. he didn't have to stick around and help will out with what was, ultimately, a one person job. a dog could handle this booth, truth be told, and will was super smart and capable so he knew he could leave and have his own fun for a little while. the only thing was, he didn't want to. he likely wouldn't have that much fun with anyone else, and he would almost certainly just annoy his other friends by moping and whining about how much he hated sunlight and the heat and not being at home like the vampire he was.
so, he figured, why not spare everyone and stay right where he was? "i don't have to, but i want to. besides, someone has to be here to lay down the law. i know you, and you'll be far too nice when this is serious business!" he insisted, playfully jabbing right back at will for the teasing he'd given him. tit for tat, and all that jazz.
"it's nice that you're thinking of it in that way, though. i'm not sure i would have considered it, but yeah, maybe they'll be able to pick out some things on their own," he said. only if they had enough supplies, and only if they didn't get too many more signups, he figured. it was moments like these that he remembered that will had been on the signup sheet in the past more often than not, and he was so happy for him that this year he wouldn't have to deal with that.
he'd never seen will, jonathan, or even joyce as needy people. he didn't view the signups as needy people either. life just sucked like that sometimes, and there wasn't much that anybody could do about it. they had to get their supplies somehow, and he thought of it as the one fairly decent thing that the middle and high schools did for the students.
he shook his head at the question, bringing his mind back to the present. "it isn't stupid. nothing you say is stupid," he said nonchalantly, but he meant it. will could say almost anything and mike probably still would've said that, able to make sense of whatever came out of his mouth. that was a special skill reserved for best friends only, if he had to guess. "i think it's weird, too. all of a sudden we're seniors, adults, finishing high school. it's so crazy to think of it as being all that important, but everyone seems to think it is. maybe we won't know why until after we've graduated, or something."
who: nancy wheeler & @dietmike
where: the wheeler household
'Twas the night before the first day of school, and all through the house ... Karen Wheeler had been running around like a headless chicken, making sure everything was in order. Nancy could remember the fuss she'd made for her first day of senior year, and their mother had been keen on making sure each of her children felt the same kind of love and importance on special days like these. What differed was the level of embarrassment her brother suffered upon being dolled up for first day of school photos that would inevitably occur after their traditional pancake breakfast in the morning.
With a gentle knock on his door, Nancy poked her head inside her brother's room past their bedtime, while the two eldest Wheeler siblings were inevitably still awake. Maybe it was silly, but she was trying to be nice, to perform her sisterly duty of checking in on him before one of the more important days in his teenage life.
"Can I come in?" she asked in a whisper, sliding inside the door before he could give her an answer. Nancy took a seat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward as she peered over the edge of the book he was reading. "I just wanted to see how you were feeling, y'know, about tomorrow."
the night before school was typically a tough one for mike to get through. he usually didn't sleep, and since he knew his own pattern he wasn't even going to try this time. he had set out his clothes for the following morning - nerd behavior, he knew - and had his backpack already filled up with all of the first day necessities. he sincerely hoped he didn't get some weird stickler who assigned him homework on the first day.
outside, the sun had already set and he assumed that most everyone was already in bed. then came nancy knocking on his door, padding her way inside before he could actually verbally grant her entrance. she must have known that he was going to say yes regardless, and he looked up at her from the page he had been dutifully reading.
it was a book that was supposedly required reading before school started, but he wasn't all that worried about it. he was halfway through it, and that was going to have to do. he dog-eared the page he was on, then closed the book to give his sister his full attention. for once, he was going to have as nice a moment as he could with her.
"i guess i would say...i'm feeling okay about it. i'm kind of excited for a change? after this year it's all over, and i like the fact that i won't have to deal with the other students of hawkins anymore," he admitted, and that last bit was probably his favorite part. he had never been popular nor had he ever wanted to be. he liked his friends, he liked not being considered the coolest person around, but he didn't like the bullying that they all had to endure. he knew hawkins was small and there wasn't much to do, but surely picking on people wasn't the best way to pass time.
of course he knew that ever saying that in front of his peers would see him crucified, so he'd keep it to himself. "thanks for checking on me, though. i guess what i really need to be worried about is picking out colleges to apply to. i don't even want to deal with that."
who: Lucas & @dietmike
where: The Wheeler basement
what: Serious Party Business
"Mike!" Lucas called as he descended the familiar steps to his favorite hangout. "You down here?" he craned his neck around the stack of notebooks in his arms, flashing a smile when he spotted his friend halfway draped over the couch. Using his leg, Lucas shoved Mike onto one half of the couch, sitting down and claiming the other for himself. "I need your help," he stated, watching Mike expectantly.
When his friend seemed less than interested, Lucas heaved a sigh and tossed a couple notebooks haphazardly at Mike's lap. "Help me rip out these old notes, man, come on." Though, Mike was never very good at blindly following orders. None of their friends were, save maybe Will, and that was more because he was probably weary of understanding their schemes by now.
"I'm saving my school supply money for Worthy 790s," explained, then tacked on, exasperated, "The shoes." He flipped open one of the spiral bound notebooks and started ripping out old chem notes. "You know Erica saves all her notes? Like she's ever gonna look at them again."
He wadded up the paper and paused to shoot it at the trashcan in the corner, holding his follow through like Coach taught. When he sunk it, he turned to Mike with a wide grin, expecting applause, or at minimum, a thumbs up.
if mike couldn't be found upstairs (and he usually couldn't), then it was a pretty safe bet that he was down in the basement. he was in there more than his own bedroom, where he really only went to go to sleep. why wouldn't he spend all of his time there, considering his room didn't have television in it and the basement did? there was also a fridge, table, bathroom, sofa, literally everything a teenage boy could dream of that kept him from venturing away from it.
that was why he didn't bother immediately answering when lucas called out for him. he figured that it was likely a given that he'd be in there, and he made a face at being pushed out of his rather comfortable position. his eyebrows quirked up at the request to help him tear old notes out of a notebook, and he waited (im)patiently for the explanation.
"oh, i know the shoes, man. you haven't stopped bringing them up since you saw them," he said, although there was a hint of fondness in his voice. if he was irritated, lucas would have known it by now. he personally didn't care about his shoes that much, though he was partially loyal to converse, but he wasn't about to stomp on lucas' sneaker needs. maybe they were important for basketball, or something?
speaking of which. he watched as the paper ball made it into the metaphorical basket, looking over at lucas and shaking his head. "you think you're sooo cool. well, i'll have you know, anyone can do that," he said, taking a notebook of his own and ripping out a used up piece of paper. he folded it into a little ball and then tossed it toward the trashcan. it bounced off of the edge and onto the floor, but he grinned when he looked back to lucas.
"what's that called, like, a two-pointer? please, i should be on the team. that has to count for something!" he insisted, looking back down at the notebook before he remembered why lucas was really there. "also, why not use the rest of the notebooks up and then throw them away whole, instead of ripping out all the paper? isn't that way more time consuming?"
"Jeez, Mike, ever hear of a joke?" Max scoffed. Mike Wheeler was far from cheerleader material and she even agreed that he was as uncoordinated as a giraffe. On principal alone though, Max couldn't simply take the easy route with him. It was the age old clicking in her bones telling her she had to argue with Mike, coming to her as naturally as floating on her back in a swimming pool, "You know if you and your school spirit really wanted to, you could get Lucas to pull some strings and get you on the team. Like, as a benchwarmer at least." She'd shell out $100 to see Michael Wheeler as a basketball player.
Seriously? Even Mike was excited in some twisted sense. She was just waiting for someone to come along and agree that the last week or so had been chalk full of impending dread. Merely stepping into school made Max's stomach twist and turn. Then the thought of what followed when the year came to it's end sent her into a spiral, deep and dark like a well. Lose lose.
She adjusted her skateboard beneath her arm and gripped it tighter as they walked, "Good for you." She forced a pleasantry, then balanced it out with another jab, "What classes are you taking? AP D&D? Whining 311?" It was uncalled for, but Mike's reluctant gratitude about the keychain shrouded her with a lingering sense of spite.
Plus, it was difficult to make nice with Mike when Max had spent the last however many years hearing the good, the bad, and the ugly from Eleven. El, who Max cherished. El, who's bed Max spent night after night in. What kind of...friend would she be if she didn't hold a little bit of resentment for his best friend's ex?
Mike didn't make it easier on himself by having Fort Knox built up around him and his friendship. Then again, Max wasn't all that different. Still, it made her feel thirteen again.
Max cleared her throat, boldly continuing, "So are you excited about Will and El starting school with us?" If there was anything she was looking forward to, it was that. But more importantly, Max was dying to get something out of Mike in regards to their respective best friends. She had a hunch he wasn't going to be honest, so she tried to preempt it by intentionally riling him up, "Or is it gonna be weird for you?"
Either way, Max was going to get a reaction! Or she was trying to.
he wasn't sure if that was meant to be kind or not, but knowing max it probably was. he knew her well enough to know that her soft side could easily be mistaken for her gruff one, and it all depended on the context of the conversation. the fact that they were having a conversation at all without trying to bite each other's heads off was, in itself, rather incredible.
as she continued, he felt his outward demeanor change. he didn't find himself all that interesting, considering himself so average that his personality bordered on dull, but he could always talk his friends up. he was consistently their biggest hype man, forever seeing the best in all of them (present company excluded), and he hoped they knew that.
"oh, i'm so psyched," he answered, a genuine smile plastered onto his face as he thought of how their last schoolyear would go. "will has pretty much seen hawkins high already, but i plan to show him the best spots to hang out. spare me your disbelief, we definitely have different ideas on what the best spots are," he said before she could even scoff at him. "and as for el, i'm hoping i can get her in on hellfire too but i think that's a long shot. i'm still excited to show her all around the school. i hope she can find some friends besides the party that can protect her. other than you, of course."
he knew they were close and that max would keep her safe, but they wouldn't be able to stick by each other all day, every day. there would be times when el was alone, and he hated to think of her getting picked on or pushed around. something max had said caught his ear, though, and he looked back over at her.
"why would it be weird for me?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed as though he really didn't know what she was talking about. which he didn't, to be fair. "i think it's gonna be awesome."
The '88-'89 school year was monumental for several reasons. One, Will and El were actually going to be enrolled, not just sort-of-students who got to do an extracurricular or two. Two, because according to the rumor Mom heard, the cafeteria had switched distribution companies to get fresher food-- something about a federal focus on healthy students. And three, because Will was at the back-to-school drive to volunteer, not to pick up supplies for himself. Part of the reason he'd signed up was in celebration for his newfound status as a 'normal kid.'
The other part was obviously because Mrs. Wheeler always made Mike sign up, too. It was fate that Mike's shift overlapped with Will's, and it was all the motivation Will needed to to get to the booth early. As he approached the bright white canopy, Will hit pause on his Genesis tape and slid his headphones down around his neck. There Mike was, lounging in his chair like he was suntanning or something. He didn't usually look comfortable like this, and Will smiled at him for a second before he got close enough to cast a shadow over the table, effectively announcing his presence.
Mike, though, seemed to be on autopilot. He launched into the spiel while he attempted to blink the sunlight out of his eyes. Will snickered, reaching over and touching his arm, "Mike. It's me." He returned Mike's smile, sliding the backpack off his shoulder and depositing it behind the booth. Will took a seat in the folding chair next to his best friend, unzipping his bag and handing over a water bottle that was already slick with condensation. "I thought you'd be bored, and my shift is next, so," Will shrugged, shifting his chair closer to Mike's to get out of the sun. "How's it going so far?"
at first, he didn't know how he hadn't realized it was will to begin with. it must have been the sun in his eyes, blinding him momentarily before he could actually see who stood before him. the gentle touch to his arm snapped him back to reality, and his smile morphed from one that was forced into one that was more than genuine. "oh," he said a bit dumbly, though he was happy that he wasn't having to deal with a stranger. "my bad."
his tone had shifted from one of annoyance into a more happy one, always pleased to see his best friend. he loved all of his friends (most of them, anyway), but will would always have that special spot right at the top. he was his oldest and closest, so it was no trouble at all for him to scoot his chair over to the side a little bit so that will could sit down next to him.
"i am bored. what are you, some sort of mind reader?" he asked with a grin, reaching out to take the water bottle. he probably did need to stay hydrated beyond soda, so he finished off what was left in the can and vowed to stick to water for the rest of the day. he picked the clipboard back up and handed it over to will. "we can tag team the rest of my shift. and maybe i'll stick around to help out with yours, too," he said.
it's not as though he hadn't planned on spending the rest of the day with him anyway. if he could get out of exploring the rest of the party while also getting to hang out with will? that was a win-win in his books. "it's going alright so far. we've got less signups this year than usual, i think, which is good. that means the donations can be spread more thickly, and nobody will feel left out. that's a plus."
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
