Śâ°â†SUCKER PUNCH! á¶» đ đ°
Chapter Three: Cheap Shot
MIKE WHEELER X NOBODY!READER.
âłÂ in which a loser boy meets an even bigger loser girl.
đ€ ch.3 CONTENTS: reader is described as chubby, unfortunately I do use Y/n for simplicity sake Iâm sorry, mentions of bullying, awkwardness, friendlessness, eventual yearning, shitty nerd x grumpy loner trope, silliness, 80âs, physical violence, mentions of blood and slight gore..? (Scrapes nâ stuff like that), verbal bullying, talking poorly about oneself,Â
đ€NOTE: Upon season five's release, I have decided to go a more canon route just because I see a vision... This chapter is the final, filler chapter before the story really kicks off! Stay tuned lovelies, chapter four is in the works!
I WILL BE UPLOADING THIS TO WATTPAD AS WELL! I like Wattpad's formatting :)
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âOhâdude, okayâ you cannot actually think that Coca-Cola is better warm you freak!ââ Lucas gestures chaotically with his hand while Dustin clasps a hand to his chest, taken aback. âAre you crazy?! There is literally nothing better than drinking a coke that isnât colder than shit! My teeth are sensitive in some places!â He defends the warm soft drink with his life, and Lucas has to hold back a gag.Â
âYouâre messed up man, seriously messed up.â He shakes his head, pointing at the permed boy with his fork as he stabbed a bite size amount of veggies.Â
Today was Wednesday, a little less than a week after you sat with Max and her friends for the first time. You had told yourselfâno, promised that it would only be a few days thing, just so you could wait out Veronica for just a bit longer⊠But alas, every time you went home after a day of spending lunch with them at school, you found yourself not wanting to leave the table at all. So, you didnât.
And now, you sat watching Lucas and Dustin during one of their notoriousâand may you add dailyâbickering matches yesterday: it was whether or not The Smithâs sucked⊠to which both you and Mike argued that they didnât. You remember the way he looked at you in some sort of surprise when you spoke up, saying something about how good they were.Â
You took a bite from your cup of pears that the school handed out with lunch today, shaking your head. âI feel like when coke is cold, it kind of balances out the sweetness⊠it isnât bad warm, though.â You pitched in, saying something finally after imagining yourself saying it earlier on when their argument actually started. Max nodded at you, but Michael shrugged. âHonestly? Coke isnât even that good regardless.âÂ
Everyoneâs jaw dropped as they instantly looked to him, you set your fork down and took a break from the pears. âWhat?!â Everyone exclaimed at once. âWheeler, youâre fucking crazy.â Max concluded, shaking her head and drinking some of her milk. He threw his hands up in defense. âWhatâ what? It isnât! Itâs always way too syrupy to me, â he starts. âPepsi is way betterââ
Ah, poor Mike, always with the hot takes on the most random shit. None of you paid mind to the stares your volume got you, you were having too much fun.
âPepsi is seriously nasty, dude..â you laughed softly, shaking your head and going back to your fruit. Mike looked from Lucas and Max to you, a smile on his face. It was nice seeing you laughâit wasnât that you didnât, but typically you were quiet and kind of just observed the group. With that in mind, it felt good getting to put a smile on your face, the kind of feeling you get when you make someoneâs day better with a stupid joke.Â
âWhat? Câmon Y/n, it isnât that bad.â He laughed, then looked to Dustin. âCâmon, you gotta see where Iâm coming from-âÂ
âNo, man.â He cut him off with a raised hand, shaking his head like he had just witnessed something greatly dishonorable. âWhat?? You can drink warm coke happily like some grandma but you canât hear me out on Pepsi.â Mikes face dropped, deadpanning at his friend. âPepsi is a crime against soft drinks, Michael. A crime against soft drinks.âÂ
The table went silent as everyone let go the soda debacle.Â
âI canât believe youâre a Pepsi guyââââDUDE.â
You smile to yourself as you look down at your food, mostly eaten. Max starts to talk to Lucas about⊠well, something. You werenât able to pick it up because you were currently lost in your own thoughts, thinking about how much you appreciated finally having people to sit with. To be honest, you werenât one hundred percent sure whether or not you would be considered a friendâhell, a part of you still told yourself everyone other than Maxine saw you as some charity case, but despite your âbetterâ judgement, you pushed that voice away.Â
This was a new feeling. It was the first time being around people didnât totally scare you or just straight up piss you off due to their stupidity, like Veronica for example. It was the first time you found people that were like you, liked similar things like comic books and movies. More like they found you though, right?Â
Max liked the same punky music as you did, and even started listening to Fleetwood Mac after you showed her your favorite record one day at work. Dustin let you borrow one of his Spider-man comics under the condition that you tell Lucas that Marvel was better than DC: despite your true opinion, whether you believed it or not, you agreed anyways. You also took good care of that comic book.Â
Safe to say, you were enraptured by what it was like to have friends⊠to you thatâs what they were already: friends. And to your understanding, there were more of them, you just hadnât met them yet.Â
âUh oh, twelve oâclockââ Lucas coughed, making you look up to see what the fuss was about. Everyone got stiff, eyes glancing up at something behind you before looking down at their food quietly. You turned, just to see Steel walking up to your table. âHere we go..â Dustin mutters so quietly that Veronica canât be bothered to pick it up. Her friend, Janice or Jackieâsomething like that, spoke up.
âWowâŠ! Iâm sorry, I justâwe had to come over and say somethingâŠâ she started, a look of fake genuine concern that looked utterly strange on her face. âI couldnât help but notice the sweater youâre wearing? And, you know⊠I just needed to let you know that you probably shouldnât wear it again..âÂ
Veronica huffs out a laugh and speaks up as you roll your eyes and rest your elbows on the table. âGotta say, L/n⊠I was surprised to see the freak join the freak show..â she added with quirked brows, looking to the others as they shifted uncomfortably in their seats. âYou have the insults of a cartoon character, Veronica.â Max shook her head, setting her spoon down as if she had lost her appetite at her presence. You noted that, how she stuck up for her friends and yourself.Â
âHm. Maybe.â She nods once, like sheâs conceding a point that doesnât actually matter. âBut it doesnât really matter, does it?â Her gaze driftsâslow, deliberateâuntil it lands on Mike across from you.
âIâm just doing you guys a favor,â she says lightly, before flicking her eyes to the rest of the table. âThis girl?â A small shrug. âSheâs bad news. Just sayinâ.â Then she looks back at Mike, her voice dropping, more intimate.
âYou donât have to stoop this low.. you too Lucas, a guy like you doesnât belong here, not with these rejects.â She scoffed. âJust because Iâm on the team, doesnât mean Iâm gonna be a brain dead scumbag like you, Veronica.â He quipped, she shrugged again. âWhatever, Keep enjoying being a lame ass I guess.â She sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder before sauntering away with her friend.Â
You groan, face in your hands now. âUgh⊠I knew sitting here wouldnât shut her up..â you complain to yourself. Why would it? Itâs not like you were sitting with popular kids, max and them were labeled as freaks too.Â
âYeah, so did we.â Max reassured. âBut itâs better to handle cunts like that with people who have your back instead of by yourself.â She looked at you, hand on your bicep as you turn your head from your palms to look at her. You give her a sideways smile. âYeah⊠I just feel badâŠâsorry, Lucas, donât listen to her.â You awkwardly apologize for something that wasnât your fault.
âWhat? Nah, donât worry about it. Seriously, even if you werenât here I get that stuff all the time from the guys,â Lucas gives you a kind smile. âTrust me, theyâre all smooth brained.â
You sat there utterly embarrassed. You did your best not to let it show on your face, quickly going back to the quiet version of yourself that you normally were. You had hoped they didnât notice, but they did. After exchanging glances, Dustin cleared his throat. âUhm, Y/n⊠are you working tonight?â He asked.
âMâalways working.â You shrug, voice a little more gruff than usualâit was the shame.Â
âCool! Then weâll stop by, hang out with you.â Maxine pitched in after everyone giving one another knowing looks. It was unanimously decided despite the fact that no words were actually spoken about it. Your heart skipped, brows furrowing as a nervous feeling creeped through your bones.
âOh, uhâyou guys donât have to do that. I mean, donât you guys do dungeons and gargoyles stuff?â You shrugged it off, trying to dismiss it. You heard max laugh while Dustin rolled his eyes. âDragons!â He corrected. âDungeon and dragons.âÂ
âYeah, right right.. same stuff.âÂ
Lunch eventually dissolves the way it always doesâwith the scrape of trays, the bellâs shrill demand, and bodies moving all at once. You part from them at the lockers, offering small goodbyes that still feel strange on your tongue, like youâve been misplaced or like youâre aware that youâre in a dreamÂ
By the time you clock in at Afterglow, the sky has gone the color of old, washed out denim. Rain taps against the shopâs front windows in uneven rhythms, growing heavier by the minute. Thunder rolls somewhere far off, low and distant, like itâs thinking about making itself known. You flip the sign to OPEN anyway, shrugging off your jacket and slipping behind the counter.
The shop feels quieter than usualâcozier, even. The lights hum softly overhead, vinyl sleeves stacked just a little crooked where you reorganized earlier. You slide a record onto the player, letting the opening notes fill the space, warm and familiar. Youâre halfway through straightening a crate of used records when the bell above the door jingles.
You look up just in time to see Max shaking rain from her hair, Lucas holding the door for Dustin, and Mike lingering near the entrance like heâs not entirely sure heâs allowed to be here. Lucas and Max are laughing, rushing their friends into the building as they duck and try and hide from rain. You perk up, surprised to see your friendsâespecially in this whether.
Your brows lift before you can stop yourself.
âTold you sheâd be working anyways,â Dustin says to Mike as he takes off his now soaked jacket. His hair is mostly dry because of his hood, but there are spots where his bangs stick to his forehead. âWell whatever, I just figured because of the storm the owner may have closed.âÂ
Max smiles at you, soft and genuine. âHey.â
For a second, you just stare at themâsoaked hoodies, damp sneakers, all standing in your space like they belong there. And somehow⊠they do.
You had been replaying Veronicas bullshit in your head all day since lunch. You felt embarrassed, in all honesty. The last thing you wantedâno, needed to do was bring your problems onto this kind group of people who already get picked on enough as is. It was ridiculous to you.Â
You couldnât harp on it much now though, because your Embarrassment quickly can from something else.Â
Max quirked a brow at you, smirking and pointing to the record player on the counter with her thumb as finished she putting her coat on the rack by the door with everyone else. âYou listen to Cyndi Lauper?â She teased. Your face went white.Â
defensive,  nasty look of confusion contorted onto your face as you instantly stopped the record player and took the vinyl out of it, âGirls Just Wanna Have Funâ coming to an abrupt end. Your cheeks heat up as you cringe at Dustin and Lucas mocking the song and singing to each other even though it was long gone. âWhat? Noâ what? Donât be ridiculous, Shep wanted me to see if the record was scratched..â you lied, mumbling out the excuses as you put it back safely in its sleeve and putting it back in the bin you were sorting.Â
Maxine didnât believe you at allânone of them did, honestly. Even then, she dropped it and asked, âwho the hell is âShepâ?âÂ
âThe owner,â you explain as you put another random record on. The Smiths, apparentlyâyou honestly werenât looking. âHe usually works while weâre in school, so⊠I mean, it makes sense you donât know him, I guess.âÂ
Dustin stands close by, eyes gazing over a rack of misc-music related merchandise. âShit, you guys have floppy discs too??â He exclaims, leaning down to look at the few options you carried. âApparently now, yeah. got them in yesterday.â You answer back with a monotone voice. You heave the box of records onto the counter so you didnât have to break your back and bend over for a good 5 minutes to sort everything alphabetically.Â
Max dragged Lucas by the earâliterallyâtoward the Z section of the record bins, rattling off something about starting from the bottom and working their way up until they found something theyâd never heard before. Lucas protested the entire time, arguing that he already knew exactly which Prince album he wanted and that this was a waste of time.
Max didnât even look back at him. Just reminded himâsweetly, cruellyâthat heâd forgotten their anniversary.
You let out a quiet sigh, pulling a Kim Wilde record from the box and scanning the spines inside it, swearing youâd just seen the other album a second ago. You shifted to the box, completely dead set on finding that damn albumâuntil you noticed Mike lingering by the counter.
He wasnât pretending to browse. He wasnât pretending at all, actually. He just stood there, hands awkwardly at his sides, watching you work like heâd decided that was preferable to digging through vinyl.
You glanced up briefly, then back down at the records.
âYâknow,â you murmured, mostly to the albums, âyou guys didnât have to come out here in the pouring rain. Kinda feel bad.â
Mike huffed a soft laugh. âReally?â he said.Â
âYou donât strike me as a sympathy person.â
Normally, a comment like that wouldâve made you bristle. If it were Veronicaâor even Sylvia Ramiro from Bioâyouâd have taken it straight to the chest. But with Mike⊠it landed differently. With him, and the others, the teasing felt easy. Familiar. Like it was allowed.
âMânot,â you replied, dry as ever, a faint smile tugging at your mouth. âBut trying is good, right?â
âSureâŠâ he trailed off, grinning.
A quiet settled between youânot awkward, just⊠tentative. Mike leaned against the counter, fingers drumming softly against the laminate before he noticed a loose guitar pick sitting near the register. He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers like it gave him something to do.
âYâknowâŠâ he started, then stopped. Tried again. âThe shit Veronica said earlier. And her friend too, IâI guess. But mostly Veronica.â
That familiar, ugly flush of embarrassment crawled up your spine. You hid the wince, focusing instead on sliding records back into place, lining the edges up just right.
âWhat about it?â you asked, your voice more guarded now. Sharper. Mike caught it immediately.
âWellâ I mean,â he rushed, âitâs totally relatable, and like⊠I know sheâs probablyâno, definitely just being an asshole, butââ He paused, took a breath. âIt just seems like she really has it out for you. The way she talks to youâer, about you. I dunno.â
He was rambling. He knew he was rambling. You could tell by the way he shifted his weight, by how the guitar pick clicked anxiously between his fingers.
âIâm notââ he hurried on, âIâm not trying to stick my nose where it doesnât belong. I swear. I justâokay, my point is, we all get messed with, so itâs not like Iâm joining the Y/N hate train or anything. I was just⊠curious.â
You finally looked up at him.
For a second, you didnât know what to say. So you didnât. You just shrugged, eyes drifting away again. What could you say? You barely knew him. You werenât about to dump your history onto his plateânot when you hated thinking about it yourself.
âWhy does it matter?â you asked quietly.
âOhâoh, it doesnât,â he said quickly, shaking his head. âIt doesnât matter. I justâuhââ He cleared his throat, visibly flustered. âI kinda brought it up so I could tell you itâs bullshit. Since I didnât say anything when it was actually happening.â
âBecause,â he added, softer now, âwe all think youâre really cool. Andâuhââ
âYo, Mike!â Dustinâs voice cut in, loud and unashamed. âCheck it outâthe ownerâs got a Dig Dug poster on the wall!â
Mike snapped his head around, rolling his eyes so hard it was almost impressive. âThe adults are talking,â he shot back.
Dustin scoffed, waving him off and immediately redirecting Lucas and Maxâs attention to the poster instead.
When Mike turned back to you, the tension in your shoulders had eased. Your face wasnât shut down anymoreâjust tired. Honest.
âAnyway,â he said, quieter now, âI just wanted you to know⊠weâre not listening to any of the crap she says. Not now. Not ever. All the shit she says is some⊠cheap-shot B.S thatâs worse than literally any bully dialogue ever.â And for the first time since heâd brought it up, you believed him.
For a second, you didnât trust your voice.
The rain outside drummed harder against the windows, a steady, muffled roar that filled the space between you and made everything else in the shop feel farther away. The smell of old vinyl and dust hung in the air, warm and familiar, and the low hum of the overhead lights buzzed quietly above you.
You cleared your throat, eyes dropping back to the record in your hands. ââŠThanks,â you muttered. It felt small, but it was honest.
Mike nodded like that was enough. Like he wasnât expecting some big reaction or explanation. He just leaned back against the counter again, shoulders loosening, the tension bleeding out of him now that the words were finally said.
Outside, thunder crackedâloud enough to make the windows shudder.
Max let out a sharp laugh from the other side of the store. âJesusâokay, that one was close.â Lucas glanced toward the door. âWeâre not biking home in that.â
âNo shit,â she shot back. You watched the rain streak down the glass, fat drops blurring the streetlights outside into smeared halos of orange and white. The storm had come fastâone minute a drizzle, the next a full-on downpour. Typical.
âWell,â you said after a moment, setting the Prince record aside and reaching for the one youâd been looking for earlier, âlooks like youâre all stuck here for a bit.â Dustin perked up immediately. âYou say that like itâs a bad thing.â
âIt is if you knock over the bins again,â you replied dryly. âThat happened once.âââTwice.â
Mike huffed a laugh beside you, quieter than the others. You felt weirdly aware of how close he was nowâit was weird, you didnât understand what the feeling was that bloomed in your head and the back of your neck, why it made you swallow hardâbut you werenât exactly the most comfortable with it.Â
âSo,â he said, carefully casual, âwhat do people even do in a record shop during a thunderstorm?â You shrugged. âDepends. Sometimes I play whatever the owner forgot to turn off. Sometimes I just⊠wait it out.â
You reached under the counter and pulled out a record, holding it up between two fingers. âTonight,â you said, âI was thinking something moody.â
Mike tilted his head, curious. âMoody how?â
You slid the record from its sleeve and set it on the turntable, lowering the needle with practiced care. A soft crackle filled the shop before the music came inâslow,
atmospheric, wrapping around the room like a blanket.
Mikeâs eyebrows lifted slightly. âOkay. Yeah. This fits.â Max glanced over. âWhat is that?â
âJoy Division,â you answered.
Lucas squinted. âIs this the âfeel sad on purposeâ music?â
Dustin nodded solemnly. âRespect.â
The storm rumbled again, lower this time, and for a while none of you spoke. The music filled the gaps. The shop felt smaller, saferâlike the world outside had narrowed down to this little square of light and sound.
Mike leaned his elbows on the counter, resting his chin in his hands. âThis place is kinda⊠nice,â he said. âI mean, obviously it is. But, likeâwhen youâre here.â You glanced at him. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
He flushed immediately, his words coming out the wrong way. âIâI didnât meanââ He stopped himself, exhaled. âI just mean it feels⊠different. Not like..âcuz me and Nancy, my sister, she took me here a few times for a new cassette she wanted or something and uh, Shepherd or whatever his name is was kind of intimidating..â
You hummed in agreement. âYeah. Thatâs kind of his thing.â Another beat of thunder rolled overhead, softer now, farther away. The rain kept falling, but it didnât feel as loud anymore. And for the first time in a long while, being stuck somewhere didnât feel like being trapped.
âSorry, that was weird.â He awkwardly apologized. You shrugged. âNah, I know what you mean. Itâs easier being around people you know.. kind of.â You replied.Â
He nodded, relieved, and before he could say anything elseâ
âABSOLUTELY not,â Maxâs voice cut across the shop.
You and Mike both looked over. She had her arms crossed, glaring down at Lucas, who was holding up a record like it personally offended him. âIâm not listening to this,â he said, flipping it around. âIt looks like something my mom would play while cleaning.â
âThatâs how you find good stuff,â Max shot back. âYou judge it by the cover and then youâre wrong about it.â Dustin leaned in between them, peering at the sleeve. âIs that a wizard?â Lucas squinted. âNo⊠thatâs just some guy.â
âWorse,â Dustin decided. âIf it was a wizard, Iâd allow it.â
Max groaned. âYou both have the music taste of suburban dads.â
âHey!â Lucas protested. âPrince is not suburban dad music.â From behind a nearby rack, Dustin suddenly popped up again. âHEYââ he stage-whispered loudly, holding up a cassette. âTheyâve got Weird Al.â
Mike groaned. âPut that back.â
You watched the chaos unfold with a quiet smile, the record humming softly behind you. The Afterglow felt fuller nowâwarmer. Lived in.
The rain smacked against the windows again, hard enough that Lucas finally glanced outside. âYeah, weâre definitely not leaving anytime soon.â Max grinned. âGood.â
She wandered over toward the counter, leaning her elbows against it beside you.Â
âSo,â she said casually, âwhatâs your expert opinion? You letting Lucas buy his boring Prince album or are we forcing him to branch out?â You pretended to think, tapping your fingers against the wood. âBranch out.â Lucas gasped. âNOÂ wayâ you too??â
Your lips flat-lined as you gave him a sad nod. âyes, Me too. Prince is overrated.â Your words earns another gasp from Lucas as max laughed and pointed at you. âSee?! I told you!! Thereâs so much better stuff out there than shitty Prince.â She spoke rather matter-of-factly.Â
âAnything is better than Prince.â Mike laughed. You rolled your eyes and Dustin was the only one who came to Princesâ defenseâonly slightly. Instead, he advocated for Weird Al, to which everybodyvetoed.Â
Everyone was laughingâyou included. Not the quiet, polite kind you usually kept tucked away, but real laughter, the kind that surprised you as it broke free from your chest. For once, you werenât hovering on the edges of something, werenât watching from a safe distance. You were in it. In the noise, the warmth, the easy chaos of people who didnât make you feel like you had to earn your place.
All at once, the things Veronica and her friend had said lost their weight. They didnât vanish entirely, but they dulled, like a bad song fading under something better. The shame youâd been carrying loosened its grip, replaced by the simple, startling realization that it didnât get to define this moment. Not here. Not now.
Rain rattled against the windows of The Afterglow, the sound steady and distant, like the world had narrowed itself down to just this roomâdusty shelves, spinning records, the hum of electricity, and the way laughter bounced off the walls. You felt it vibrate through you when Lucas flicked Dustin on the forehead, the ridiculousness of it sending another wave of amusement through your body before you could stop it.
You were so enraptured by the moment that you failed to notice the way Mikeâs eyes lingered on your joyful form for a few seconds too long, shaking his head and laughing along with everyone else.
You swore you hadnât felt like this in a long timeâthe ease, the belonging, the quiet certainty that you werenât alone. Maybe you never had. And as the laughter lingered, warm and unguarded, you let yourself believeâjust for a momentâthat this feeling was real, and that it might stay.
And thatâs how it all started.
Not with sudden monsters or blood or anything you could point to and say thatâs itâthatâs the moment everything broke.
It started smaller. Quieter. With friendship.
With scraped knees and late sunsets, handlebars rattling as you tore through Hawkins on bikes that were definitely one bad curb away from falling apart. With shared laughs that made your stomach hurt and secrets traded like currency under streetlights that hummed too loudly.Â
Eventually, that circle widenedâSteve Harrington with his stupidly perfect hair and surprisingly decent advice, Robin Buckley with her rapid-fire rambles and knowing looks that always felt like she was ten steps ahead of everyone else. You heard about Will. Jonathan. Jane.
You had to hear about Jane.
Because when crazy shit started happening in Hawkins againâwhen things felt too close to home, too personal, too wrongâyou started asking questions. And somehow, miraculously, your new gang had answers. Not normal answers. Not comforting ones. But answers nonetheless.
Still⊠there was one answer that came without you even asking.
It shouldnât have mattered. You told yourself that. Repeated it, even. But hearing her nameâJaneâattached to him like it was the most obvious thing in the world left a bitter taste in your mouth you couldnât quite swallow down. Every casual mention of âmy girlfriendâ or âJaneâs calling laterâ felt like a reminder you hadnât asked for. Something unspoken settling heavy in your chest.
It all really kicked off when a Hawkins High cheerleader was found dead in a trailer.
People whispered in grocery store aisles and stared too long at the Munson trailer park like evil might leak out of it if they watched hard enough. Fingers were pointed, conclusions jumped to, and somehowâalmost immediatelyâit was Eddie Munsonâs name rotting on everyoneâs tongue. It was a shit show.
A full-blown, pitchfork-ready nightmare.
The bullying was relentless. Cruel. The kind that didnât even pretend to be subtle. And while you watched Eddie take it on with his usual loud bravado and metalhead swagger, you noticed something elseâsomething that sat wrong in your gut.
Your friends were⊠off.
They shared these looks. Long, silent ones. Like they were speaking a language you didnât know. Like they were constantly bracing for something, shoulders tense, eyes flicking to corners of rooms that were definitely empty. Every time you asked what was going on, you got half-answers. Shrugs. Forced smiles.
âNothing,â theyâd say.
âDonât worry about it.â
âŠAnd then the plans started getting cancelled.
First, it was supposed to be movie night at Mikeâsâjunk food, bad horror flicks, the usual. You were already halfway through getting ready when the phone rang. Mikeâs voice came through the receiver, nasally and whiny, claiming heâd suddenly come down with a terrible cold.
Then it was Sunday breakfast at a Waffle House just outside town. Cheap coffee, greasy hash browns, laughing at how miserable everyone looked before noon. ExceptâLucas had to âbabysitâ Erica. Which made zero sense, considering she could probably run a small country on her own. Dustin had âerrandsâ with his mom. Max wasnât feeling well. Steve had work. Robin had⊠something. And Max? Well⊠Max wasnât doing great. Everyone could see that.
Every excuse felt random. Sloppy. Like they were scrambling.
You told yourself not to overthink it. Hawkins had a way of making you paranoid if you let it.
And then, you heard that Mike was going to visit California.
Just like that, Mike Wheeler was packing up his life into a suitcase and flying across the country, chasing a girl and a life that didnât include Hawkinsâor you. Leaving behind all the crazy shit going on in this shit hole of a hometown. You watched him talk about it like it was nothing, like it wasnât another crack forming right beneath your feet. Like the group wasnât already splinteringâand like you didnât want to crawl into a whole and die due to embarrassment, shame, and honestly feeling quite stupid.
You smiled. You said you were happy for him. You lied. You had pushed the feelings away for weeks, months even, knowing that it was foolish for a girl like you to like a boy like him even before you found out he wasnât even single. The moment you heard the word âgirlfriendâ leave his mouth you felt the weight of realization come crashing down on you, it was honestly pathetic.
And then,one night after work as if your life couldnât get any shittier, it happened.
You sitting at your desk, catching up on biology notes and other homework when the lights flickered.
Then rapidlyâlike the house itself was shuddering.
The air felt charged, prickling against your skin. Your bedroom lights pulsed, bright to dim to bright again, and your music cut out mid-song with a sharp, ugly snap. Somewhere downstairs, the TV died too.
âGoddamn it!â your dad shouted, furious as his reruns vanished into static.
And you just stood there.
Staring up at your ceiling as the last bulb flickered wildly, shadows stretching too long along the wallsâuntil everything went dead.
No hum.
No light.
No sound.
And the sinking, unmistakable feeling that this wasnât a normal power outage. You couldnât place it, maybe it was just you psyching yourself out, making things up⊠but something was wrong.
You told them the next day.
Not at schoolâbecause Steve Harrington had to hear about it but was unfortunately done with that place, diploma in hand and zero interest in ever stepping foot in Hawkins High again. Instead, it happened after hours, all of you crammed into Family Video. The familiar smell of carpet cleaner and stale popcorn Steve got from the cinema next door hung in the air, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like they were barely holding it together.
You had actually forgot about it in the moment, but as you randomly remembered upon seeing some old movie called âflickerâ on a shelf, the words spilled out casually.Â
You told them about the flickering lights.
The way your music cut out mid-song.
How the power didnât just go outâit died. Like something pulled the plug on your whole house at once. You laughed while telling it. Nervous. Trying to make it sound smaller than it felt. âProbably just the grid,â you said. âStorm or something.â
Dustinâs grin faded first. He pushed his cap back, eyes flicking to Lucas, then Max. Lucas went rigid, his shoulders squaring like he was bracing for a hit. Max uncrossed her ankles, then crossed her arms instead, gaze fixed somewhere past your shoulder.
Behind the counter, Steve straightened.
Robin blinked. Once. Thenn she inhaled sharply, like sheâd just made a decision she couldnât undo.
âWhen did this happen?â Steve asked, voice careful.
âLast night,â you said. âWhy?â
That was when it happened again.
The looks. Quick, silent, loaded with way too much meaning.
Dustin nodded once, slow. Lucas exhaled through his nose. Maxâs jaw tightened before she finally met your eyes.
Steve glanced at Robin. They had to. For your safety. Besides, if the issue was spreading to youâ what if you were next?
Robin glanced back. âOkay,â she said softly.
Steve leaned his weight against the counter, suddenly serious in a way that made your stomach drop. âYeah. Okay.â
Dustin turned to you, expression stripped of jokes and science metaphors for once. âSo⊠this is probably gonna sound insane.â
Lucas added, quieter with a wince. âand we shouldâve told you soonerâŠâ
Max hesitatedâthen nodded. âYou deserve to know.â
Your heart started pounding, loud enough you were sure they could hear it. Did you do something? Were they tired of being around you?âthings and questions that didnât even make sense flooded into your brain Â
Robin swallowed. âOkay,â she repeated. âSoâŠâ
And just like that, the room felt smaller. The buzzing lights overhead seemed harsher, the shadows along the aisles deeper. Whatever they were about to sayâwhatever they were finally letting you in onâyou knew one thing for sure:
There was no going back to normal after this.
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