☆🎐

“Now we’re talking.” You could hear the smirk in Mike’s voice.

By the end of the song, you guys pulled up to Mike’s house, yours looming only a couple doors down. It was only around four, not late enough into the afternoon for Mrs. Wheeler to send you home, but not early enough for you to want to spend your evening alone confined in those quiet walls. Mike set his bike up and helped you off the back, ignoring your scoff at his cheesiness.

“Thanks, Romeo.” You ripped out the earbuds from Mike’s and your ears and stuffed them into your bag. Mike huffed with a fresh late afternoon blush on his freckled cheeks.

“Do you want to fall on your face again?” He arched an eyebrow, already walking up to his porch.

“It was one time!” You screeched in embarrassment, hitting his back, each one eliciting a boyish laugh.

Right as you and Mike reached his porch, an odd squeaking noise filled the air. You both turned to each other, frozen in anticipation.

“Is someone cleaning their car?” You questioned, the noise almost sounded like someone cleaning their already squeaky-clean car.

Your neck snapped in different directions to look around for the source of the noise. No one was out in their yards; everyone was still at work, inside, or at school.

Mike gently pushed past you to look over his left porch railing and into the bushes below. He nudged you slightly and nodded towards the leafy bottomless pit.

“There,” He announced quietly, “It’s coming from there.”

“What if it’s another demodog, like Dart?” You worried, your hands gripped the back of Mike’s shirt anxiously.

“Then we send it back to where it came from. By killing it.” Mike spoke with certainty, motioning for you to stay up on the porch as he rushed down the stairs to the bushes.

At times like this, you’re reminded why Mike was the designated “leader” of the party. Even when he didn’t know what lay before him, he charged in no matter what to protect his own. And by his own, you were included in that. Your heart fluttered at the thought.

Mike picked up a stray stick off the ground and cautiously neared the bushes. They rustled on their own, leaves jostling around, although there was no wind to brush them around. You both flinched every time it moved.

“Throw the stick at it!” You hissed, nearly falling off the railing from the way you were hunched over it.

“Step back.” Mike poked you with the stick from below and took small steps towards the bush, which seemed to have a mind of its own.

You leaned away from the railing and bent down to look through the bars as Mike pushed the branches aside. Mike suddenly gasped, dropping the stick and backing up slightly.

“What? What?” You hollered, which made the bush (or whatever’s inside of it) bristle more. You raced down the porch steps and ran towards Mike, who simply stood there with a look of confusion. “What is it?”

You pushed back the branches just like Mike did, except without the stick, expecting to be met with a demodog, or some sort of Upside Down slug, or something nasty in general.

“Oh my God!” You screamed so loud the trees vibrated, “No way!”

You shoved your hands into the bush to pull out a chubby, black bunny. It’s beady little eyes peering into your soul. As you lifted it into the air, it stopped squeaking and started purring (which is something you didn’t even know bunnies could do).

“It’s a bunny rabbit!” You brought it close to your face, squeezing it tight in a hug. “It’s so cute, Mike! Look!”

You shoved it into Mike’s face, who backed up with a strangled gasp, “Put that down, [Name]! It could have rabies or something.”

“Rabies? Look at this little face and tell me it has rabies,” You spoke in an exaggerated baby voice.

“That’s what Dustin said before Dart ate Mews.” Mike shoved the rabbit back to you in disgust. You pouted at his stubbornness.

“We can’t just leave it here,” You insisted, already walking back to the porch.

“Yes, we can. We can do exactly that and leave it here.” Mike grumbled, trying to drag you back but failing, “Y’know, in the wild, where it came from.”

“Don’t listen to the mean boy, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” You muttered to the rabbit, using that stupid baby voice again.

“You’re not bringing a wild animal into my house, [Name]! My mom will freak out and probably pop a blood vessel.”

Long story short, you ended up bringing the rabbit inside. Mike caved after you gave him your own version of bunny rabbit eyes and told you to keep it quiet while he checked to make sure the coast was clear. You slid the rabbit under your jacket and ran upstairs to Mike’s room before anyone could see. Mike shut the door behind you two and watched as you took the rabbit out of your jacket, setting it down on the bed.

“Hey, don’t put that thing on my bed!” Mike complained, yet not doing anything to stop what you were doing.

“Why? You’re a wild animal and you sit on your bed. What’s the difference?” You teased, rubbing the rabbit’s chubby cheeks in between your palms. Mike deadpanned.

“What should we name it?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the ball of black fur in front of you two, “Wait, we don’t even know what gender it is, too.”

Mike scoffed and kneeled next to you beside his bed, staring the rabbit in the face.

“We aren’t naming it—“ Mike protested.

“What about Ocie?” You asked with a big smile, “The scientific name for rabbits is Oryctolagus Cuniculus. We could do an ET the Extraterrestrial kinda’ thing and call it Ocie for short!”

Mike didn’t question why you knew the scientific name for rabbits. You and Dustin were friends, so that was explanation enough.

“We’ll split custody, you take Monday through Wednesday, I take Thursday through Saturday. We both do Sunday.” You explained in full seriousness, Mike couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“[Name], are you hearing yourself?” Mike gaped, “Neither one of us have ever had a pet before and both our moms hate rodents.”

“Ocie isn’t a rodent!” You frowned, covering the rabbit’s floppy ears as if she could understand what Mike was saying, “Apologize.”

Mike scoffed again, “I’m not apologizing to some dumb rabbit.”

“Michael, I said apologize, so you apologize.”

“Sorry, Ocie.” Mike apologized.

Your serious face melted away and was replaced with a bright grin. “She forgives you!”

Mike’s never felt so ridiculous in his life. The only benefit from this rat being in his room, on his bed, in his girl’s arms, is that he got to see you smile so big.

“Think about this logically, [Name]. How will we feed her?” Mike tried to reason with you, “If it even is a her.”

“Um… Those baby carrots Holly likes?”

“Rabbits eat things other than carrots, [Name].”

Ocie started squeaking again, as if chiming into the conversation. Her noises startled you and Mike. You tried rubbing her fur, but that just resulted in louder squeaks.

“Shit, Nancy’s gonna hear.” Mike gestured for you to quiet the rabbit down frantically.

“I don’t know what she wants!” You panicked. You two fumbled over each other, trying to decipher if Ocie was hungry, tired, constipated, or a secret fourth option.

“Kids, Dinner!” Mike’s mother hollered from downstairs. The familiar smell of meatloaf waffled past your nose.

“Do you think Ocie likes meatloaf?” You asked hopefully.

“El liked it last year. Who doesn’t like meatloaf?” Mike shrugged in annoyance and got up to walk to the door.

Turns out, Ocie did not like meatloaf. At all.

“C’mon, eat it, please.” You mumbled, trying to goad the bunny into eating off the leftovers you were able to sneak upstairs.

“She’s not biting, [Name]. Maybe she misses carrots. As in carrots from the wild where she belongs.” Mike said sarcastically.

“Tell your mom to make carrot flavored meatloaf next time.” You grumbled.

Eventually, you guys gave up operation meatloaf and decided to brainstorm other ways to stop Ocie from starving to death.

“I got it! What if we sneak out and get a bunch of grass from the lawn?” You theorized, rubbing your chin like some sort of philosopher.

“What if my dad sees us running in and out the house with grass in our pockets?” Mike retorted.

“Hm… Good point, good point.” You hummed, still scratching your chin. Mike rolled his eyes.

Your discussion was cut short when the sound of steps nearing Mike’s bedroom door alerted you both.

“Shit! It’s my mom,” Mike whispered. You grabbed Ocie like a football and moved towards the closet.

Before closing it, You bent down and petted her fluffy black fur a couple times, “Be good, please, Ocie! If you make a noise, Mike’s dad will barbecue you next summer.”

Mike looked at you in bewilderment but decided not to say anything as you shut the closet door.

Mrs. Wheeler poked her head into Mike’s door, “It’s almost eight, guys. You have school tomorrow.”

That was your cue to head home, your mom probably already called Karen and asked where you were all afternoon. You and Mike’s hearts dropped as she looked around his messy room. Her eyes stopped on Mike’s blue bedsheets, specifically the pile of black hair that was scattered around it.

“Mike, are you shedding again? It may be time for another haircut.” Karen inquired with her hands on her hips.

“Again?” You mumbled, eyes darting to Mike.

“Mom!” Mike yelled with a furious blush, “Goodnight!”

You resisted the urge to burst into a fit of giggles. Just as you let a few snickers out, a familiar squeaking noise came from the closet.

The room fell into silence. Then another squeak.

“What was that?” Ms. Wheeler raised an eyebrow, looking a lot like Mike right now. She walked further into the room, looking around.

“Uh—“ Mike fumbled over his words, staring at you in fear.

“That was me, sorry!” You laughed awkwardly, “I’m practicing my squeaking skills… for science class.”

Mike doesn’t think he ever sighed so hard in his life. And somehow, his mom bought it.

She smiled, “Well, keep it up. That was surprisingly realistic, [Name].”

With that, she bid you both good night and left Mike’s room. You left out a breath of relief as Mike turned to glare at you.

“Get that rat out of my room.” He cursed you and that damn rabbit and his inability to say no to you.

“Stop talking to your daughter like that.” You grabbed Ocie out of Mike’s closet, pulling the shoe she was chewing on out of her mouth. Mike wanted to scream but that would alert his mother, and the rest of the neighborhood, of the source of his dismay.

You stuffed Ocie into your jacket again as you and Mike crept down the steps, trying your best not to notify Mr. Wheeler who was slumped on the living room couch.

You stood on Mike’s porch, watching as the street lights turned on. Under this light, Mike’s freckles glowed so bright you could use them to guide you across the ocean. You shivered a little as the evening wind swept by. Mike nudged closer to you, trying to share his body heat with you and Ocie.

Your eyes flickered between Ocie and Mike. Both with black hair. Both with big, dark eyes. Both purr when you cuddle them. Both with permanent pouts. No DNA test needed.

“Tomorrow after school, we’ll get one of those animal planet books from the library to help take care of Ocie.” Mike muttered, sounding incredibly annoyed and reluctant that you were making him care about this stupid rabbit.

Your face lit up like the street lights, “Really? But you hate Ocie?”

“I don’t hate her,” Mike hated Ocie, very much so. And the pile of black fur she left on his bed. However, Mike loved you more than he hated this rabbit.

You gave him an skeptical look, but nodded along. The wind bristled by again and that was your sign you had to be home. Yet, you felt like you couldn’t leave this porch, standing next to Mike, staring into his beady little eyes.

“Guess I should get home now. Ocie’s shivering.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from your friend.

“You’re the one shivering.” Mike responded, not even looking down at the bunny. His eyes were trained on your lips.

“Like mother, like daughter.” You giggled, knowing that would tick Mike off even more. Which it did, telling from his eye roll and the way his eyebrows wrinkled the skin of his forehead.

You got on your tippy toes and reached to kiss Mike on his forehead, your chapstick melting into the ridges of his wrinkles. Mike’s face fell, becoming youthful again. A bright red shine overtook his cheeks, the same shade as his pink lips.

“Goodnight, Mike.” You gave him an easy smile, “Say goodnight to your Dad, Ocie.”

Ocie, as if she could understand you, began squeaking again. Mike was too speechless to make a snide comment, only able to mutter out a “Goodnight.”

You skipped down the porch and into the night. Mike stayed on that porch for another ten minutes, replaying your soft voice and Ocie’s squeaks.

You’d been gushing about turning thirteen for months, telling anyone who’d listen this was “the big one.” At thirteen, you’d be a teenager, something that seemed to be a medal of honor along with a membership to an exclusive club.

Every time you brought up how excited you were, Mike felt his heart dropping a little more. Although he told himself there would be no more childish gifts, he still had zero clue what to even get you. Or how to get you it.

You shoveled soggy cereal into your mouth as your eyes trained on the little brown box television in the Wheeler living room. Mike sat beside you in his normal spot, scarfing down syrupy waffles at the same quick pace.

Nancy sat in front of you two, still in her pajamas and rollers curled into her short hair. She noticed the bags under you guys’ eyes. She knew it was from another sleepover that lacked one fundamental element: the sleep part.

“Slow down, you two. The arcade isn’t going anywhere.” Nancy’s upper lip curled in disgust.

“We have to get there before Keith lets some mouth-breather beat our score on PacMan.” Mike retorted with a full mouth.

Nancy grimaced and stalked back upstairs, muttering something about wanting a new family. Mrs. Wheeler strolled into the living room with Holly on her hip. She was met with a bewildering sight.

“Since when did you guys make breakfast?” She questioned, sitting Holly down, kissing Mike on his head and trying her best to tame his bed head. She turned to you and did the same.

“You weren’t up yet and we can’t be late.” Mike grumbled, taking his plate and your bowl over to the sink, nearly stumbling over his growing legs.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that,” You whined, still chewing your cereal.

Before you and Mike could begin arguing, the television blared with an unfamiliar commercial. Your attention was focused on the bright colors illuminating the living room. In the center of the television was a pair of white high top Reebok's, under the shoes listed a price of $49.99 before tax. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh my gosh,” You gasped, throwing yourself out of the chair and into the living room. You practically kissed the dusty television screen with how close you were, “I need these shoes!”

You hadn’t realized Mike followed you into the living room until he came behind you and nudged you out of the way of the TV.

“Mike, Mike!” You nearly screamed, Mrs. Wheeler shushed you from the kitchen, you winced apologetically.

“I need these shoes,” You spoke in a quieter tone, “They’re perfect.”

You were so entranced with the shoe commercial that you didn’t even notice Mike hadn’t so much as glanced at the screen. His dark eyes were trained on you; your big eyes darted over the different celebrities that guest starred in the commercial, your chubby cheeks with smile lines ingrained in them from your huge grin.

Mike sighed, dropping his shoulders at a revelation. He would stop at nothing to get you these shoes for your birthday.

“C’mon, let’s go. We’ll be late to the arcade and I’m not listening to you complain about having to wait for Donkey Kong.” Mike huffed, trying to pull you away from the screen.

“You always listen to me complain.” You smiled knowingly, finally standing up and brushing off your clothes. Your mom would be pissed if you came home with wrinkled clothes.

“Yeah, whatever.” Mike rolled his eyes and dragged you out of the house, not before ruffling Holly’s hair and saying bye to his mother.

Through the entire ten minute bike ride to the arcade, all Mike could think about were those damn shoes. You hadn’t mentioned them once since you guys left, but the only thing that played over and over in his mind was your shining face glued to the television screen.

Even at the arcade, as you and Mike played some shoot 'em game, he still couldn’t stop thinking about how happy you’d be if you got those shoes for your birthday. He imagined the way you’d throw your arms around him, hug him tight and kiss him on the cheek (hopefully!) after he gifted you the Reeboks.

“There’s no way you’re that focused on the game, Mike.” Your voice cut through his thoughts.

He turned to you and was met with an inquisitive expression. Your lips were pursed and you weren’t even touching the game anymore. You were fully turned to him.

“I—Uh… I’m just thinking.” Mike sputtered, setting down the fake gun. His clammy palms left sweat stains on the plastic he hoped you wouldn’t notice.

“About what? You always tell me what you’re thinking.”

Damn you and your beautiful face and easy way into his heart.

“Is there anything you want for your birthday?” Mike blurted out, he tried to be subtle, but obviously he was failing.

You arched a brow in confusion, “You’re thinking about my birthday?”

“Well, not yours in specific. I was just thinking of birthdays… in general. Like relatively.” Mike babbled awkwardly.

You ignored the fact that no one else’s birthday was anytime soon and turned to lean your back against the arcade machine, taking a second to think. You watched as little kids chased each other through the colorful building, the smell of plastic and sweat filled your senses.

“For air fresheners to be mandatory in all arcades across the country.” You jested, turning back to Mike, who looked dumbfounded.

“Be serious, [Name]!” Mike stomped his foot like an indignant child.

You sighed and laughed at Mike’s pouty face, “I dunno’… I don’t need anything special, Mike. Whatever I get will be cool enough.”

Mike knew that was a flat out lie. You once complained your parents did get you the right color frosting on your birthday cake and made them take it back mid birthday party.

It was weird though, you never did anything like that to Mike’s gifts. He’d show up to your party, poppy music blasting throughout the neighborhood, with the shittiest gift known to man, and you always loved it.

The bright white laces of those reeboks mocked Mike from the back of his mind. They floated around his head like a cartoon and he was getting sick of it.

“So you’ll be okay with another easy win during a campaign?” Mike flashed a rare soft smile, one that seemed to only be meant for you.

You gasped jokingly, “You mean to tell me I’m not a super amazing rogue and it was just you letting me win the whole time?” You teased him.

Mike leaned closer to you, the air full of familiarity and another feeling he couldn’t place, but he’d known it for a long time. He poked you around your body, you squealed and swatted his hand away.

“Sorry you had to find out this way.” He muttered jokingly.

You and Mike spent a few more hours at the arcade until your fingers started to cramp and your backs ached from hunching over the machines. At this point, Mike had beat you in ten games, while you were sitting at six on him.

“Stupid,” You kicked the Ms. Pac-man machine, “overprice,” kick, “bullshit!” kick.

“You sound like Dustin.” Mike snickered, watching you rage over the game. “You’re such a sore loser.”

“You’d be a sore loser too if this busted ass game kept eating your quarters.” You spat and punched the machine, only to reel your hand back in pain.

“Ouch! Shit, why did I do that?” You clutched your hand and hobbled around comically. Mike had to try his hardest not to erupt in laughter.

You stopped whining to look at him, “Something funny, Michael?”

Mike’s laughter stained face dropped immediately, “No, ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought. I’d punch you if I wasn’t currently incapacitated.” You huffed, nudging Mike with your shoulder like you always did.

Mike rolled his eyes, unable to keep the smile off his face. He nudged you back and uncurled your hands. He took your bruised knuckles into his hand and traced over your fingers with his own. He resisted the urge to bring your throbbing hands up to his lips and kiss them.

“Will you still punch me if I get you ice cream?” He offered, still tracing shapes into your hand.

You pretended to ponder it, “Hm… Tempting offer.”

Mike half expected you to say you wanted those stupid reeboks instead of ice cream. Just as he was waiting for your answer, a girl, a little younger than you two, walked by. Normally, Mike wouldn’t have spared a glance her way, but the shining, white shoes on her feet took his attention.

Mike choked on his spit in surprise. The girl walked out of his sight as he doubled over in a coughing fit.

“Mike, what the hell?” You hollered, leaning over and smacking his back a bunch of times. It didn’t do much, except ensure that he’d have a huge bruise by tomorrow. “I’ll get ice cream with you! You don’t have to die, Jesus.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Mike tried to catch his breath, “That wasn’t because of the ice cream.”

“Was it because of that girl that just walked by?” You glowered at Mike, raising an eyebrow.

Mike couldn’t tell if you were jealous that he was looking at some girl, or if you were pissed because you thought he was looking at her ass. Which neither were technically true.

“Yes,” He answered truthfully, but then one scan at your face made him stumble over his words, “Well, no—“

“You just said yes, Mike.”

“It was because of her—“

You scoffed, folding your arms. Mike was not helping himself, clearly.

“Her what?” You neared him, your hand cupping your ear comically, “Her beautiful eyes that definitely aren’t located on the lower half of her body?”

Mike doesn’t think his face has ever been this red, “It’s not like that at all!”

You scoffed, grabbing Mike’s arm and stomping out of the arcade.

“Now, I’m getting two scoops. And it’s on you.”

“I wouldn’t have let you pay, anyways.”

“And that’s why I need you to come with me tomorrow to go buy the shoes.” Mike finished speaking, slightly out of breath. His hand was gripping his walkie talkie so hard his knuckles turned white.

Mike waited a couple seconds for a reply, “Lucas, you still there?”

“Mike.” Lucas finally spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a dumbass.”

Mike gasped, “Hey! What the hell?”

“No, not me what the hell. You what the hell.” Lucas yelled, “You mean to tell me all it took was her getting excited over one commercial for you to spend an arm and a leg to buy her some shoes. That she probably forgot about by now, might I add!”

Mike scoffed, pacing around his room, “You don’t get it, Lucas. I could tell she was thinking about them all day. I told you she got vanilla ice cream just because the shoes are white, right?”

“Mike, she always gets vanilla ice cream.”

“It’s different this time!” Mike complained, “You have to come with me. Please, man.”

“Why can’t Dustin go?” Lucas asked in annoyance.

“He’s terrible at keeping secrets. He’ll blab to [Name] the second we leave the mall.”

“What about Max or El? They’d know exactly what to do.”

Mike considered it. On one hand, having a girl’s opinion would be incredibly helpful. When you weren’t attached to Mike’s hip, you were sleeping over Hopper’s cabin with El or skateboarding with Max down the street.

Then he realized, “Max hates me and El probably doesn’t know what Reeboks even are.”

“Okay, what about Will?”

“Will isn’t exactly the romantic type.” Mike lamented, not even realizing what he had said.

Lucas laughed in surprise, “Ha! So you admit it, this is a romantic thing.”

Mike stuttered, his face turning police siren red, “Wha— No! I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t even mean to say that.”

“Too late, Wheeler. You’re absolutely, positively whipped. No argument about it.” Mike could hear Lucas’ smirk over the static.

“Just shut up, okay! Will you come with me or not?” Mike ran a hand over his face, trying to calm his blush.

Lucas took a second to think about it, he knew he’d go with Mike, but he wanted to keep the boy on his toes.

“Yeah, sure. I have to get my mom something too, anyways.” Lucas shrugged and conceded.

“Why? Is it her birthday?” Mike tilted his head in confusion like a puppy.

“Nope. Erica and I broke her favorite vase two days ago and she still doesn’t know. I’m gonna get her something so she’s less inclined to whoop my ass when she finds out.”

Mike deadpanned, “There’s no way that’s gonna work.”

“Maybe not, but at least when historians tell my tale, future generations will know I was a giver.” Lucas spoke poetically.

“Shut up, Confucius.”

The next day, Mike and Lucas peddled furiously to the newly opened Starcourt Mall in the early afternoon.

“Have you ever even been to the mall?” Lucas asked over the brushing wind gusting past them.

“No,” Mike answered leisurely. He seemed to have this all figured out, which made no sense to Lucas.

“So how do you even know they’ll have them?” Lucas inquired as the two set their bikes on the rack and stumbled into the mall.

“They’ll have them.” Mike grumbled in determination. Nothing was going to stop him from getting you these shoes.

Mike took in the brightly colored mall. This was probably the largest building he’d ever seen. Hawkins was partially still stuck in the 1960’s, so big, neon lit malls, littered with teenagers in trendy outfits and curly perms was completely foreign to the town.

“Okay, thanks shoemaker for that insightful answer.” Lucas sneered.

The two of them stalked through the mall, looking insanely out of place. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes of looking like two lost puppies before they caved and asked some random teenager for help.

“Excuse me,” Mike tried his best to smile, but it just ended up looking like a grimace, “Do you know where the shoe store is?”

The teenage girl smacked her gum, half listening to him. She couldn’t have been much older than them, probably a freshman or sophomore in high school. She blew a large bubble and popped it before answering. Lucas was half tempted to pop it while she was mid blow.

“Which store? Do you mean Payless? Or are you talking about Kinney? Or maybe you mean Thom McAn, or Maybold, or Leeds, or—“ The girl droned on, twirling a blonde curl around her manicured fingernails.

“Okay! Thank you,” Lucas interrupted her, his face hardened in pure irritation, “Which store can we find the Reebok Freestyle Hi’s?”

The girl perked up, a glossy smile graced her face, “Oh! You mean these? The fifty-four elevens?”

The girl kicked up her leg to show the boys her pristine reeboks. They still had the tags on them and everything. Mike disregarded the weird name she called them.

“I just bought these today!” she giggled, Mike and Lucas stared at each other in aggravation. Mike was starting to think the mall was a portal to an alternate dimension. “I had to come at like 6 o’clock, then waited in like for a couple hours,”

“A couple hours?” Mike blanched.

“Then they told me they were all out. So, I came back today and waited for six hours again.” The girl put her leg down and continued to smack on her bubblegum. She started blowing a bubble again, not minding the boys’ looks of disbelief.

Lucas stuck his finger out and popped the girl’s gum. The bubble blew up on her face, covering from her nose to her chin.

“Hey! What gives?” She drawled.

“Thanks for the help, Miss.” Mike nodded with a deadpanned expression. He stomped away before she could even reply.

“No problem!” She beamed, spitting her gum out into a nearby trashcan and fetching an unopened one from her poodle shaped purse.

“She was almost as helpful as you, Mike.” Lucas chimed as both the boys weaved through the busy walkways of Starcourt.

Mike punched Lucas in the arm, albeit pathetically, and told him to shut up and pay attention to the stores around them. The mall stretched endlessly, it felt like. Mike felt like he was going dizzy just being here.

“Mike, look! Over there,” Lucas stopped abruptly, pointing towards a brightly colored store with tens of shoes shelved in the big glass windows.

Mike didn’t even respond, he just raced towards the store. He zoomed past the families and couples standing around windows, seemingly looking at one item. He shoved his way to the front of the crowd to see what everyone was looking at, and there they were. In all their birthday gift glory, the Reebok Freestyle Hi’s. The baby blue detailing with the pink stitches lettering sat like a halo on the white shoes.

“Here they are.” Mike’s breath fogged up the glass. Lucas stared at him in slight discomfort.

“We better go and get them before they remove you for being a weirdo and breathing all on the glass.” Lucas spoke through clenched teeth, his face heating up in embarrassment at how Mike was acting.

“Welcome in! Looking for anything specific today—“ The employee, who was also wearing the reeboks, asked with a bright smile.

“We need to buy the Reebok Freestyle Hi’s. Like, right now.” Mike cut the woman off.

“Uh, okay.” She said slowly, setting down the orange shoebox she held and walking over to the women’s section. The boys followed her mindlessly.

As they walked past, they watched as three other people walked out of the store with reebok shoeboxes under their arms. Mike almost fell over.

“Jeez, seems like everyone has these shoes, huh?” Lucas tried to joke, but Mike shot him a burning look that made him zip his lips.

“What shoe size is she?” The employee questioned.

“How did you know it was for a girl?” Lucas asked.

“Because these are women’s shoes,” The woman replied obviously, “I mean, unless you boys want them. No judgement here. All money is the same, doesn’t matter who spends it.” She shrugged.

Both Lucas and the employee turned to Mike, waiting for his answer. He just stood there, frozen and paler than usual.

“Excuse me, sir? I asked what shoe size she is?”

“I… I don’t know.” Mike whispered, his eyes closed in defeat.

“What?” Both the woman and Lucas questioned, disbelieving smiles on their faces.

“I don’t know! I didn’t think that far!” Mike hissed, bringing his boney fingers up to pull his hair in distress.

“You’re not being serious, Mike.” Lucas took a deep breath, trying his best not to deck his friend in the middle of the store.

“That’s okay!” The woman tried to mediate, “How old is she? We can just go based on average shoe sizes for her age.”

“Well, her feet are a little large—“ Lucas started, wincing.

“Hey, don’t talk about her feet like that!” Mike interjected, shoving his side.

Lucas held up his hands like he’d been caught, “Big feet aren't a bad thing! It’s just… noticeable.”

“How big are we talking?” The employee tried her best to remain professional. Her perfectly plucked brows twitched every couple of seconds.

She held out her hands, gesturing for them to move them according to how big your feet were. Lucas moved both her hands wider and wider, until her hands were practically on the outside of her body.

“Have mercy.” Her face now mirrored Lucas’ who just nodded in agreement.

“Have mercy is right.” He said with a closed lipped smile.

“Oh, come on, Lucas! This isn’t funny!” Mike cut in, catching their attention again.

“Y’know, what? That doesn’t matter! Luckily for you, we only have the bigger sizes because everyone bought up everything else. Wait here.” The woman sped walked into the back room and left the two standing there in the crowded store.

They stood in silence for a couple seconds until Mike broke it, “Are her feet really that big?”

“Yeah, dude. You’re just too busy staring at her face to realize.”

“Shut up.” Mike grimaced with a fiery blush

“Alright, boys!” The woman returned from the back with a shining white box in her arms. Mike imagined this was how it felt to see angels. “Here they are.”

She cracked open the box and showed the boys the shoes. The exact pair from the commercial. Mike could’ve cried from how beautiful you’d look in them.

“She’s beautiful—“ Mike sighed dreamily.

“She as in the shoes?” The woman arched an eyebrow, looking at Lucas. He just shook his head as a way to tell her not to question him.

“Okay…” She laughed awkwardly, “Let’s get you boys out of the store so you can give whoever these shoes.” She very clearly wanted them out of her store with a quickness.

The woman went behind the counter and began ringing up the shoes. She finished and tapped the reader in facing Mike.

“Your total is $54.11.”

Record scratch.

Fifty four dollars and eleven cents.

Fifty four dollars.

Eleven cents.

Fifty four eleven.

Mike could feel his soul leaving his body. He could’ve passed out, right then, right there. Thirteen years old wasn’t too young to die from retail torture.

“Earth to Mike. Can you pay so we can get out of here?” Lucas huffed, leaning against the counter. The woman behind the desk silently agreed.

“I don’t have enough money.” Mike said under his breath, still as a statue. Every breath he took felt like the lasting weight of his will to live leaving him.

“What?” Both the woman and Lucas asked.

“I don’t have enough money.” He whispered again.

“Mike, as loud as you are, speak up—“

“I don’t have enough money!” Mike blurted out. Multiple families and customers turned to look at his outburst. “I only bought fifty dollars on the dime because the commercial said $49.99! Where the hell does the extra four dollars and twelve cents come from?”

“Due to high demand, Reebok raised their prices a couple weeks ago.” She said, forcing her professional smile back on her face.

“No…” Mike couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This wasn’t real life, it couldn’t be. “That can’t be right.”

“So that’s why that girl called them fifty-four elevens.” Lucas realized.

Mike slammed his head against the counter and groaned in defeat. It was really over. He would be back to making you a card out of his father’s printer paper and scribbling some stupid, heartfelt letter that could’ve been mistaken for a confession. He would have to watch from the sidelines as your other friends and relatives gifted you jewelry, clothes, new vinyls, whatever your heart contents.

“Listen, Ms—“ Lucas paused and looked down at the woman’s name tag. “Ms. Katherine, my friend here is deeply in love with this girl,”

“Lucas!” Mike’s head jolted upwards, he jabbed his side. By the end of this, Lucas’ arm would be so bruised his mom would probably think he got into a street fight.

“Shut up and let me work my magic,” Lucas hissed, turning back to Katherine (who looked extremely unimpressed), “Mike is so in love with this girl, that he drove three hours here, through the snow, rain, hail, and so on to get his girl these shoes. He sold some of his own clothes to make up the money for it.”

Mike tried to keep his face from contorting, but Lucas’ story was so unbelievable that he couldn’t help himself.

“You boys are like ten years old, how did you drive here?” Katherine questioned with an incredulous look. “And it’s, like, sixty degrees outside… Where would it even be snowing right now?”

Lucas coughed awkwardly, “That isn’t the point, Kat. Can I call you Kat?”

“No.”

“Okay, Kat.” Lucas ignored her. Mike was starting to wish he jumped off that cliff a year ago, “Just please, do us this solid and help my friend impress the girl he loves.”

Both Mike and Lucas did their best puppy dog eyes, which always worked on their mothers, and waited for her response. Katherine’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance again. She looked behind the two to the growing line of people and sighed.

“Whatever. Fine.” She conceded. She pulled out a five dollar bill from her shirt pocket and inserted it in the cash register.

“Yes! Yes!” Mike’s entire demeanor immediately flipped, he perked up and shot both hands in the air like he just won the lottery. He and Lucas latched onto each other and jumped around in joy.

Mike handed her the money and Katherine finished the transaction. She slid the shoebox towards the boys. Just as Mike went to grab them, she yanked them back and slammed a paper in front of them.

“Before you can take them, sign here.” She said in a monotone voice.

“I need a pen.” Mike said quickly, practically leaning over the desk to grab one from behind the register. He scribbled his name on the signature line and grabbed the box from Katherine.

“Thanks so much!” He shouted, racing out of the store, not minding the group of guys he knocked into, “C’mon, Lucas!”

“What did he just sign?” Lucas looked at Katherine suspiciously.

“It’s an agreement that you guys won’t return to this store again.” She said in complete seriousness.

Lucas stood there for a couple seconds, fully speechless. Then, he simply turned around and walked after Mike.

Last time he’d ever go anywhere with Mike. In his life.

“Michael, hurry up or you’ll be late!” Mike’s mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Your birthday party was set to start in five minutes, and your gift was nowhere to be found. Mike could hear the speakers blasting Madonna from down the street. The only upside is that you lived a couple houses down, the downside is that he still couldn’t find this stupid ass shoebox.

Mike was a third the way of tearing up his room. He looked under his bed, in between his bed, at the top of his closet, on the floor of his closet, in his underwear and sock drawers. Hell, he even looked under the couch in the basement.

“Mom,” Mike screamed, “Mom!”

Ms. Wheeler sighed, placing Holly in her husband’s arms and stepping up the stairs. She reached Mike’s bedroom and took in the mess.

“Did a tornado that I wasn’t aware of rip through the house?” She asked, kicking a shirt out of her way with her heel.

“Have you seen [Name]’s gift? The shoes?” Mike asked hurriedly, he was half way under his bed, so his voice came through muffled.

“No, Michael. Did you look in Nancy’s room? Maybe she mistook them for her own.” She suggested, tapping her finger against her arm in impatience.

“I looked in there, then she threw a shoe at me and told me to get out.” Mike let his entire body deflate onto his messy floor. His mom scoffed at his dramatics.

“You can always give them to her another time. You see [Name] practically every day—“

Karen was cut off when Nancy stormed into Mike’s room, a pair of white shoes in her hands. Nancy was officially his favorite sister (for the next couple of minutes until she pissed him off again).

“Are these your shoes, Mike? ‘Cause I’m not a size—“ Nancy asked with a hand on her hip, mirroring her mother who looked just as exasperated. Mike skipped up to her and snatched the shoes out of her hands, not minding her ticked off expression.

“Thanks, Nancy! C’mon, mom!” Mike sprinted down the stairs, nearly knocking his dad and little sister over.

After another wild goose chase that included Mike and Holly arguing the entire walk to your house, he finally made it. Mike could see the moon bounce, a cake table with multiple different two tiered cakes on them (each one with the number thirteen on it) and a bunch of running children.

Mike’s parents stopped to greet yours as he searched your backyard for your bright smile. He spotted Lucas and Dustin trying to sneak cupcakes from the tables, Will standing near Jonathan (who both were being bumbared by one of your relatives, offering them a hair cut free of charge) and El and Max, who were trying to hassle the hired clown to make something other than balloon animals.

All that, and still no sign of you. Typically, you’d be somewhere in a big tiara and birthday girl sash, smacking Lucas and Dustin and ordering them to stay away from the cake table or being forced to say hi to your aunts who flew in from some far off state.

“Hey, guys. Where’s [Name]?” Mike neared El and Max.

El brushed a growing curl out of her face as Max barely spared him a glance. Their focus was completely taken by the clown, who looked strangely familiar in his white and red makeup.

“Dunno’, Probably somewhere sneaking a peak at the gifts.” Max answered, shoving the clown again as El tripped him with her powers.

“Does that clown owe you guys money?” Mike’s jaw went slack at the display.

“Ask him.” El said in her normal soft voice.

Mike turned to the clown for an answer, “Your friends are tiny terrorists.”

“What the— Steve?” Mike gapped. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Mrs. [Last Name] offered me a hundred bucks to do a job for her for a couple hours. I thought she was talking about fixing her husband’s lawnmower, not be a fucking clown.” Steve complained, brushing off the dirt and dress from his oversized outfit.

Nothing that happened in the past forty eight hours made any sense, so he couldn’t even care to question this.

“Speaking of gifts and money, where’s your little gift for [Name]?” Max gave Mike a judgemental once over.

“What are you talking about? It’s right here—“ Mike paused, reaching his empty hands out to show Max and El the shoes, or lack thereof.

“Invisible cloak.” El nodded genuinely. “Nice gift, Mike.”

“He didn’t get her an invisible cloak, El. He just didn’t get her anything at all.” Max scoffed, crossing her arms.

“They were right here! In my hands, I swear.” Mike probably looked schizophrenic to your family members and friends with the way he was snapping his neck around, looking for the pair of shoes.

“Oh, Look. There’s [Name],” El declared, pointing behind Mike.

Mike spun his body around to see you with the biggest smile on your face, running towards the trio. A huge princess crown sat atop your head as your hair fell in ringlets around your shoulders. Barrettes and glittery streamers littered your hair like a halo.

Mike had never felt such despair seeing you before.

“Mike, finally!” You sounded so elated. Mike’s heart dropped knowing that would all go away soon. You threw your arms around him and squeezed tightly. He couldn’t even blush like he normally did, too distracted with the run away shoes.

“Come with me, I wanna show you something.” You didn’t give him a chance to compile before you dragged him away from the clown jumping and inside your house. Mike would’ve honestly rather have been in Steve’s place right now.

“He’s sooo whipped.” Max scoffed, shoving Steve again, ignoring his yelp.

El simply nodded, not really knowing what whipped meant, but she knew Mike was it, and floated another cupcake to hit him in the face.

“You aren’t gonna believe what I found while cleaning my closet today,” You exclaimed, leading you up the familiar stairs and into your room. He knew the layout of your room the back of his hand, it was just as grand as your birthday parties.

“That’s funny, I cleaned my closet out too today.” Technically, he did clean it out. If you considered chucking miscellaneous items around his room as he looked for your birthday gift “cleaning.”

Mike instinctively sat on your bed, brushing his sweaty palms against your unmade sheets. He watched you pick up a white box (looking eerily like the Reebok shoebox), yet this one has stickers, dried flowers, and drawings all over it.

Mike’s face lit up in recognition, “It’s your old memory box.” He smiled genuinely, one of the first ones in a while. Of course you pulled it out of him.

“Mhm,” You laughed softly, sitting beside Mike and caressing the box’s soft wood, “Remember when we made friendship bracelets during summer camp and I wouldn’t let anyone wear them because they had to go in the box?”

Mike’s chuckle mirrored yours, “Yeah, and mine kept coming apart so we just ended up putting the thread in a bag and stuffing it in there.”

You shared a nostalgic giggle, you leaned your head onto Mike's, you guys’ curls getting tangled in the middle. The late fall air settled around you two. Something about this, about your birthday, about you finding the memory box, felt like weird foreshadowing. You didn’t know what, but you felt a shift, not only in the air and yourself, but between you and Mike.

“Look what I also found,” You pulled the box open gently and dug out a picture from inside. You handed it to Mike and waited for his reaction.

It was a blurry polaroid photo of you and Mike, no older than four or five years old. You were sitting around a big cake with melted frosting and sprinkles thrown haphazardly on the top. You guys had frosting all over your hands, mouth, clothes, and even in your hair. Big, cheesy smiles with blue stained teeth etched on your faces as you leaned into each other’s sides.

On the bottom of the photo, written in your mother’s recognizable scribble, was “[Name]’s first Hawkins birthday, 1975.”

Mike’s heart lurched. He remembered this day so vividly. He remembers spending all day telling his mom what to write inside your card, then asking Will to draw a nice picture on the cover because art was never his thing. He remembered when your mother forgot to get your cake the night before, so she let you two make and decorate one.

“I remember when this was taken,” Mike whispered under his breath. You were close enough to hear him clearly.

“The card you made me was honestly the best gift I ever got.” You pointed towards the shelf above your headboard, there sat Mike’s little card, still in the same condition as when he gave it to you years ago.

“The best gift you ever got? You don’t have to flatter me, [Name].” Mike scoffed, his thumb unknowingly caressed your face in the picture.

“Seriously! It was so cute, it meant a lot to me, really.”

“Anyone can just make a stupid card and give it to you.”

“But it didn’t come from just anyone, Mike. It came from you. That’s why it’s special to me.”

Damn. Lucas, Max, and everyone else on the planet was right. Mike was so, so, irrevocably whipped.

And also in a world of shit.

“[Name],” You leaned your head up from Mike’s, yet kept your face so close to his that you could feel the shapes of his words on his breath. “I have to tell you something.”

You nodded and waited for him to speak. Mike didn’t realize you thought he was about to confess his undying love for you, he was too preoccupied with those cursed shoes.

“You remember those Reeboks you saw on the television the other day?” Mike didn’t give you a chance to answer, “I was so sick of just getting you some stupid card for your birthday. I wanted to get you something real that you’d actually be able to use. Well, I forced Lucas to come with me to the mall to buy the shoes, but I didn’t know your shoe size, so we had to guess. And then I didn’t have enough money, so Lucas had to come up with some bullshit story about how I crossed the seven seas to get you these shoes. And then I’m pretty sure I signed away my kidney to Thom McAnn. Then today, I bought them over here, I swear I did! But now they’re lost. So I have nothing to give you now and I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.”

Mike finished his ramble with heavy breath. He just stared at your face, which hadn’t moved once the entire rant. You just sat there, slack jawed with wide eyes.

Then, a slight twitch of your lips. Followed by a twitch of your left eye, then your eyebrow.

After five seconds of you and Mike staring at each other, you burst out laughing.

“Wha— You’re not mad?” Mike choked out.

Tears welled in your eyes from how hard you laughed. Mike stared at the smile lines carved in your cheeks. You leaned so hard onto Mike he tilted over and fell back onto your bed with a startled gasp. Your entire body jolted around as giggles bubbled out of your throat. You buried your laughter in Mike’s chest as his arm wrapped around you unconsciously.

Mike brushed your hair out of your face as you came down from your laughing fit. Your eyes crinkled as the remaining mirth left on your face.

“Mike,” You scooted up to be face to face with him, you both still lying on your bed.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a dumbass.” You giggled slightly.

Mike just sighed and nodded, “Lucas said the same thing.”

“You could’ve given me sandals from the roman empire and I would’ve still loved them, Mike.”

“You’re just saying that.” Mike rolled his eyes, scoffing.

Against your better judgment, you pulled Mike by his nice polo shirt (that you know his mom made him wear for your birthday) and smacked your lips against his. The kiss didn’t last longer than a second and a half, but Mike could feel the presence of your lips lingering on his.

Mike brought his hands up to his mouth, smoothing your lip gloss across his lips. Your eyes watched his fingers with a heart beating so fast you were sure he could hear it.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I did that.” You said quietly, an ashamed heat under your cheeks.

“Now we’re even on doing stupid things,” Mike tried to laugh away the tension, then fumbled over his words, “Wait— You kissing me wasn’t stupid. I really liked it, like I’ve wanted to do that for so long—“

You began laughing again, rolling around your bed as Mike continued to trip over his words. In that moment, Mike would’ve given anything to make it go on forever. Even if It meant spending all the money in his piggy bank on shoes he’ll never see again.

“A lot of things were supposed to happen today and they haven’t, so this isn’t really that crazy.” Bobby snapped, smacking his teeth at the sight of you and Chris.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I think you know full damn well what it means, [Name].” Bobby murmured. Everyone else just watched you two like a tennis match.

“Um, okay.” Claire said awkwardly, “I feel like we should give John and Kathy a call, just to be on the safe side.”

A couple others hummed in agreement. Chris twirled a piece of your shiny hair around his finger and smiled. He was so close you could feel his mouth curving into a grin from your cheek.

“While they’re busy calling John and Kathy, say you have to use the bathroom exactly three minutes after I leave to get water.” He whispered in your ear, hiding his words behind his stupid striped robe you laughed about earlier.

You gave him a look of confusion, drowning out the surrounding conversation about how they would reach your camp directors.

“Why?” You asked him dryly.

“So we can make out near the creek…Y’know, where everyone goes to make out?” Chris spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You do realize I spent my entire life being a loser up until now, right?” Your lips formed a straight line.

Suddenly, you felt like that same fourteen year old who got picked last for dodgeball and color war. You felt like the same loser who was always the first to be pranked during cabin vs cabin because everyone knew you’d never say anything. You were transported back to being sixteen and watching Shannon and Claire get invited to bonfires with the cool campers, while you were left crying into your pillows.

Sure, you were in a new body, but new hair, skincare and makeup couldn’t heal years of ostracization.

Chris paused, “Oh…” There was an awkward silence before he continued, “Just turn left as you leave the cabin, follow the trail until you see the little clearing, the creek is right there.”

You just nodded, forcing a smile and stuffing the sickly, painful feeling rising from your throat back deep into your stomach.

“And how would I tell if it’s exactly three minutes if I don’t have my phone or a watch?” You tried to diffuse the tension by asking playfully.

Chris just sat there, blinking dumbly. You could see the gears turning in his head. “I didn’t really think of all that…Just count to one hundred eighty.”

Before you could question his logic any further, Chris abruptly stood up from the couch with a loud groan. The discussion of who would go get the phones was paused to pay attention to Chris.

“I’m so thirsty, is anyone else thirsty? ‘Cause I’m like really, really thirsty.” You nearly face palmed at Chris’ very obvious display.

“I could go for some water.” Shannon said, peaking at Claire who nodded.

“Yeah, whatever.” Ari waved off Chris to go back to talking Noelle’s ear off, who looked ready to die (even more than she normally did).

“Cool! I’ll go get us some waters. Be back soon.” Chris shot a fake smile at everyone and rushed out of the cabin, practically leaving a cartoonish trail of dust behind him.

In his rush, Chris didn’t realize his best friend watched with sharp eyes during your entire conversation. He saw the way you both giggled in each other’s ears. His lips pulled into a scowl.

“Well, we still need to find a way to get our phones. Anyone know where Jason is?” Shannon asked.

“Nope, but he’s the one who took our phones. What if he’s a crazed serial killer and he killed John and Kathy, now we’re next?” Noelle spoke up. She looked a little too excited.

Claire stared at her in bewilderment, “Jason isn’t a serial killer.”

“Yeah, he can’t even lift the archery targets, let alone kill someone.” You laughed. You were at ninety seconds.

Bobby made a noise as you spoke, something between a scoff and a click of his tongue. Regardless of what it was, it was in annoyance.

Your eyes shot to Bobby, who wouldn’t even look at you, “Something you’d like to add, Bobby?”

He finally turned back to look at you, "It's just that looks can be deceiving. So, I don’t think we can rule out Jason being a murderer yet.”

Under other circumstances, you would’ve agreed with Bobby, but the way he made an effort to stare directly at you after saying “looks can be deceiving” ticked you off.

“Why the hell did you look at me while saying that?”

“I didn’t look at you.”

You laughed mockingly, “Raise your hand if you saw Bobby look at me when he said ‘looks can be deceiving.’”

Shannon and Claire’s hands both shot up, followed by Noelle who timidly raised her hand and Ari who raised his without taking his eyes off his screenplay.

“Are you guys serious?” Bobby gaped, “You guys are only saying that because she’s hot now!”

A crowd of protest went around the room, “Why’re you booing me? I’m right.” Bobby retorted.

“Not everyone equates correctness with hotness, Bobby.” Ari snarked.

Frankly, you didn’t care much for this conversation. It passed three minutes fifteen seconds ago and you were looking for an excuse to leave the cabin and meet up with Chris.

“Wow, Bobby…” You began the dramatics, “I can’t believe this is what you really think of me. I don’t know if I can bear this.”

Cue the world’s smallest violin.

“I need a minute,” You fake choked up, wiping your dry waterline as if you were actually crying. “Just to get myself together.

You paused your terrible acting to scan the faces around the room. All of them looked incredibly sympathetic, even nodding in solidarity. Maybe you were too hard on Chris, these people really were that easy to deceive.

You pushed yourself off the couch quickly so that they couldn’t see your tears, or lack there of. Stepping over tangled limbs on the ground and the creaky floorboards, you tried to scurry off towards the door.

But the universe wasn’t letting you go that easy, heaven forbid anything good come easily for you.

A hand clamped on your wrist that was hovering over the door handle. You trailed the hand up through the arm and was met with the suspicious face of Bobby.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked as if he was in a ‘20s detective flick.

“Well, I just said I need a minute…” You said obviously.

“Then, I’ll come with you,” Bobby announced, not even looking at you, but at the rest of the room, who were still gawking at his audacity.

“When I said I needed a minute, I meant preferably a minute alone.” You deadpanned.

“Why would she want to go with the guy who just insulted her?” Shannon inquired genuinely.

“Um, because I’m a good dude?” Bobby said. “And because [Name] is only going to go meet up with Chris.”

You cringed, eyes darting everywhere else in the cabin. You hadn’t realized Bobby was being a creep and eavesdropped on your conversation with Chris.

“That’s not even true–“

“A lot of things about you aren’t true, aren’t they?”

Before you and Bobby could begin arguing again like insolent toddlers, Claire cut in.

“Even if she is going to meet Chris, who cares?” She shrugged as Shannon and Noelle rapidly nodded their heads. Ari still hadn’t looked up from his screenplay.

Bobby malfunctioned, gesturing to you, then the door, then the girls sitting on the floor, looking at him expectantly.

“U–Uh,” Bobby sputtered, “Because there’s a murderous serial killer on the loose, as Noelle said.” He framed the sentence as if he was asking if his reasoning made sense, which it didn’t.

“Yeah, whatever, Bobby.” You scoffed, pushing him away from the door and stomping out into the warm summer night. You allowed the wooden door to slam itself shut on Bobby’s arguing; the last thing you heard was “dump her body in the lake,” which was starting to make you think he wished a serial killer was rampaging through Pineway currently.

You huffed, blocking Bobby and his flippant words out of your mind and trudged on into the woods. You did exactly what Chris said to, turning left, then listening to the crunching of rocks and dirt under your scuffed sneakers you’ve been wearing since age fifteen.

You walked until the trail stopped, leading to the open-mouthed clearing where a little creek lay. You had memories of sneaking out with Shannon after lights out to eat your first edible, then freaking out about it, then throwing up into the creek and crying the entire walk back to your bunks. Maybe it was better that you hadn’t gotten invited to the bonfires.

“Chris?” You whisper-yelled into the night, trying your best to talk over the cicadas and the rustling of the creek water, but not too loud that you’d alert everyone else in camp that you’re about to get it on. “Chris, where are you?”

That same sickly, unwelcome feeling crawled up your throat again. What if Chris stood you up and this was all an elaborate ruse to embarrass you one last time?

“Boo!” A voice rustled through the still trees. A cliche, horror movie scream ripped through your throat, your entire body spun to look at whatever murderer was about to kill you right as you started your new life.

Fortunately, for your life and self-esteem, it was Chris, doubled over himself and his stupid robe, laughing so hard tears escaped his eyes. Your face felt so hot under the summer evening that you wanted to punch Chris and throw him into the lake.

“That’s the loudest I’ve heard you ever be.” Chris managed to get out through his childish giggles.

You smacked your lips, rolling your eyes, “Maybe I’ll just go back to camp, asshole.” You shoved Chris’ shoulder, trying to hide the smile threatening to etch across your face.

Chris grabbed the hand you used to push him and held it there tightly. You paused, short-circuiting. The only boy you held hands with was your father. Twelve years ago.

He used your hand to pull you flush against his chest. You had to bring your arms around his shoulders to stabilize yourself, or else you both would crash to the grassy Earth.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for so long,” Chris whispered into the night. His words left his mouth and entered yours as you took a breath.

“Have you really?”

“Since we were ten years old.”

“Then stop waiting.” You spoke, all you could feel were Chris’ cold palms on your exposed stomach. Shivers crawled up your arms and spine. He felt so nice in the blazing summer night.

You and Chris’ lips met in a mess of hushed breaths and saliva. You brought your hands up to his hair to tug at it as his hands pressed your waist against his. You could feel the ridges of his bony chest and the buckle of his pants through his stupid robe. Your attention was taken by a growing pressure up against your inner thigh. You placed your leg between Chris’ as he whined into your mouth.

“Please, don’t stop,” Chris moaned, ending the kiss to nuzzle his head into the crevice of your shoulder. “I’ll do anything, just don’t stop.”

You complied and continue to rub your leg against him. Chris’ breath picked up in your ear. The chirps of crickets and buzzing of cicadas filled your senses and the moon seemed to shine extra bright on his dyed hair. You never remember summers at Pineway being this hot. Maybe because you’ve never been this close to someone before.

Feeling weirdly bold from hearing Chris moan into your ear, you decided to trail your hand from his hair down his chest and beneath his waistband.

“Oh, fuck—“ Chris sputtered, “I’m almost there, please.

“Does that feel good?” You asked nervously in his ear. You continued to palm him through his underwear. Chris had to bite into your shoulder to stop his screams.

“Yes, God, yes,” He answered breathlessly.

“So,” You allowed that sickly feeling to pool at the base of your throat again, “Have you been here before… Y’know, with someone?”

Chris lifted his head from your shoulder, scanning the bruises he left before his eyes flickered to yours.

He tilted his head in confusion, “Have I been here before? As in, have I been to Pineway?”

You stopped rubbing Chris, ignoring his whine of protest, “No, you idiot. Have you ever done this with someone here before?”

Realization hit Chris’ face, “No, never.”

“Really? Or are you just saying that so I keep jerking you off?”

“No! God, no!” Chris glowed bright red, “I swear, I’ve never been here before with anyone. Ask Bobby.”

You tried not to roll your eyes at the mention of his best friend. If you thought too hard about him, you’d gag.

“Yeah, okay.” You tried to go back to kissing Chris, but he stopped you with a serious look on his face.

“I’m serious, [Name],” Chris promised, “I saved my first time at this spot for you.”

You looked into Chris’ brown eyes, the lake water reflected off of them and shone a new emotion you’ve never seen before on anyone.

“Your first time?” You tried to laugh away your insecurity.

Chris shook his head with certainty, “Only time.”

You smiled and moved back in to kiss him again, not minding the fact that your hand was down his pants the entire time.

Chris’ breath sped up again, your mouth moving messily in tandem with his. He kept letting out pitchy whines in pleasure that told you he was close.

“I’ve never done this before,” You whispered as he hissed when you squeezed tighter, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Chris moaned, his eyes shutting tightly, his face flushed, sweat pooling at his cupid’s bow, “I just want you. More than anything.”

Something shifted in your chest after Chris said that. Heat pooled in your core and filled throughout the rest of your body. You felt impossibly hot and impossibly close to him in this moment, even if you were getting him off in the middle of the woods. It wasn’t the most romantic, but it felt as such.

With a final bite on your shoulder that made you cry out, Chris finished with a matching moan that matched your scream and soaked his underwear and pants. Clarity hit him like a freight train and he breathed heavily into your ear, coming down from his high.

“I love you,” Chris whined, lifting his head to look at you directly, “I love you so much.”

Your eyes widened in bewilderment, “Chris, you barely even know me. I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to you before today.”

“So?” He asked, hands leaving your waist to grip your face, you allowed your own hands to leave his pants and trail up his shirt, “You weren’t the only one watching from afar.”

“Try being romantic when you don’t have a wet spot on your crotch.” You laughed, pushing him back to take in his disheveled, drunk-like state.

His hair curled in ways it never had before, some sticking to his forehead from the sweat. His lips were swollen from your kisses and his cheeks were bright red, per usual. His shirt twisted awkwardly on his body and you could get a glimpse of his happy trail with how low his unzipped pants hung on his waist.

Chris blushed and nodded awkwardly. You two sat there, in the dead of night, not caring of what lurked in the woods of Pineway. This was the calmest you’ve felt in hours.

“Aw, fuck.” Chris’ voice randomly cut through the silence, meshing with the sounds of the rushing water feet away from you. He brought his hands up to his hair to pull at it.

“What’s up?” You frowned in concern.

“Studies have shown that out of every ten relationships, women perform sexual advances on the men first in nine of them. I told myself I’d be the one difference.” Chris lamented, looking stupidly serious.

You couldn’t help but gap at him, “Well, if it makes you feel better, there is no fucking way I was lying on the ground to get eaten out by you anyway.”

“I got a blanket from my cabin for you to lay on.” Chris mumbled, pointing towards the folded, blue blanket a couple feet away from you. You hadn’t even noticed it.

You scoffed a laugh, “So you just assumed I’d want to do that?” You teased.

“No! No—“ Chris stuttered, “It really was for us to lay on together. But if you wanted to—“

“Relax, Chris. I’m only teasing.” You moved his wet curls out of his eyes and poked his freckled cheeks. “Rain check? Maybe it doesn’t have to be your only time here.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Chris nodded to himself, trying to fight the easing smile emerging on his face. Your grin matched his own.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. If he tried, he’d end up saying he loved you again.

The ringing school bell flooded the hallways as students scattered to pack into classrooms. Mike tapped his foot against the linoleum floors in impatience, he’d been waiting for five minutes and still no sign of you.

“Michael, what class are you supposed to be in?” Some teacher, who Mike couldn’t care enough to remember the name of, poked her head out of her classroom to address him.

“Uh—“ Mike stuttered, “Biology… But I’m just waiting for someone.”

The teacher raised a greying eyebrow, snarled then went back in with a scoff. Mike didn’t care much he was late to class if it meant he’d get to walk in with you.

Mike’s attention snapped to the sound of your footsteps nearing him. He scanned your figure; you looked like how you did when he dropped you off at your first period, disheveled curls falling around your face, sweater falling off your shoulder and crossbody twisted half way across your torso.

“Hey! Where were you? I’ve been waiting for, like, hours.” Mike exaggerated.

He expected you to flash your usual endearing scowl at him and tell him not to question you like you always did. Mike would smile toothily, grab your hand (you reluctantly grabbing his back) and walk into the classroom.

“Sorry, babe. I got caught up in first period.” You gave him an apologetic smile and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

Cue record scratch.

What the hell universe did Mike travel to after he dropped you off in first period?

In all the time of you two dating, all the years you two knew each other, you have never, ever said babe. Much less said sorry before.

Mike snapped his head around the hallway, trying to find who you were talking to because it surely wasn’t him.

Under any other circumstances, Mike would’ve flushed bright red and gave you a dopey smile in return. But instead, he just curled his face in disgust.

You grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him into the class without another word. Mike just allowed you to, a dumbfounded look across his face. You two sat in your seats next to each other, you ignoring Mike’s disbelieving eyes burning into your skull.

“Hand in your worksheets from last class and turn to page forty-eight.” Mr. Kenilworth, you guys’ Biology teacher, instructed, cleaning the chalkboard from his previous classes’ notes.

Mike cursed under his breath, he was so busy last night burning a new CD for you that he forgot to finish his biology homework. He rummaged through his backpack in hopes it would randomly appear, obviously delusional.

“What’re you doing?” You called.

Mike looked back at you over the desk, your head tilted with a friendly smile gracing your glossy lips. He had to snap himself out of his lip-induced trance. That’s exactly how he got in this situation in the first place.

“I forgot to finish my bio homework.” He murmured, scratching the back of his neck. You giggled in response.

Wait.

You. Giggling?

What the hell was going on? You chortled, you snorted, you rolled your eyes and scoffed a laugh. You burst out in laughter at the stupid things Mike did very often.

But you never giggled.

“You’re so silly, Mikey. You can just erase my name on my worksheet and turn it in as yours.” You said casually. You didn’t give Mike any time to oppose before you dragged your eraser across the name line aggressively.

“What the fuck?” Mike whispered under his breath as he watched you recreate his handwriting perfectly.

“I’ll turn it in for you, sweetie pie.” You kissed him on the cheek again, which was beginning to get excessive (in Mike’s very affectionate, clingy opinion).

“What— What? Stop,” Mike hissed at you as you ripped his arm off of you to walk towards the teacher’s desk. He wished he had El’s powers so he could fling you (gently) back in his arms.

Mike had no other choice but to watch in horror as you stared Mr. Kenilworth in the eye and turned in your homework with his name on it. He felt like an evil malicious monster forcing a beautiful and innocent girl to do his bidding. Typically the roles were reversed.

Nothing was making sense. Mike had forgotten to finish his homework before, or rather just didn’t bother finishing it. Every time he did this, you just snickered at his dismay and bragged that you finished yours two days ago. Mike would always groan and beg to see your paper, to which you told him to buzz off and try better next time.

Of course, you always discreetly slid your paper towards him, telling him to wipe the smile off his face and dodging his attempt at kissing you on the cheek afterwards.

When you sat back down, Mike took you by your face, resisting the urge to shake you back and forth. Your lips puffed up like a fish as you blinked in bewilderment.

“Who are you and what did you do with my girlfriend?” Mike questioned, his dark eyes flickering over your, or the imposter who was posing as you, face.

“What’re you talking about, cutie pie?” You giggled, again, and threw yourself into his arms for a hug.

Mike froze at the sudden contact, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He felt like he was hugging a stranger. The only time you let him hug you was during extra cold Hawkins winters and directly after he showered (you claimed the boy smell he naturally had washed off him).

“[Name], I’m scared. You’re scaring me.” He spoke into your ear, hoping Mr. Kenilworth didn’t turn away from the board to see you practically sitting in his lap.

Normally, you’d glare at Mike and say he should be scared, which would let him know everything was okay. But you just leaned back, kissed him on the lips and turned towards your seat to begin writing.

“Open wide, sweetheart!” You spoke in a baby voice, bringing the cafeteria pizza slice near his mouth.

Mike reluctantly opened his mouth to bite down, half scared you poisoned it and that’s why you were being so weirdly nice.

You two were now sitting at your lunch table. Lucas, Dustin and Max sat around you two. They watched you feed Mike, who was perfectly capable of using his hands, stale pizza that you bought for him in varying phases of disgust and disbelief. Another anomaly, since he normally bought you lunch everyday.

The only two missing from your table were Will and Jane, who’d been absent for the past week since Joyce was on a work trip out in California and they wanted to tag along. Mike was beginning to wish he tagged along with them.

“What is actually going on?” Lucas said with repulsion.

“I don’t know… But I feel like I’m watching one of those dramas where it’s a flashback before the main villain snaps and kills everyone.” Dustin whispered as if you two couldn’t hear them.

“I miss when we ate without you guys,” Max frowned, playing with her soggy mash potatoes, “What did you do to her, Mike?”

Mike gawked, “I didn’t do anything! I’m just as concerned as you are!”

He took the pizza out of your hands, ignoring your weird pout as he shifted in his chair to look directly at you.

“Seriously, [Name], what’s up with you?” He asked, bringing his hand to your forehead to feel for a fever. Maybe you hit your head on a desk during first period and became concussed. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine, Mikey.” You grinned, “Now open wide for the airpizza!” You grabbed the pizza again and tried to shove it in his mouth.

Mike’s slack jaw allowed you to nearly choke him with the nasty pizza slice. He chewed and tried to force it down with furrowed eyebrows.

“Mikey?” He questioned. Who the hell was Mikey? “You’ve literally never called me that before.”

“I feel like airpizza is more concerning.” Dustin huffed and stole a spoonful of mash potatoes off Max’s plate. She smacked him with her plastic spoon.

“Well, why not try something new?” You giggled, once again, “Or do you prefer Mikey poo?”

“I prefer idiot, or fuck face. Like what you normally call me.” Mike said in a monotone voice.

Lucas nudged Max, nodding towards you. She caught the signal and kicked your leg to get your attention off of Mike.

“C’mon, [Name]. Come with me to throw my trash away.” She insisted, a strained smile on her face.

“But Mikey poo hasn’t eaten his airpizza yet.” You pouted again, which Mike cringed at.

“I wasn’t really asking.” Max yanked you and her tray up and forced you both away from the table.

As soon as you were out of ear shot, Lucas turned to Mike with a horrified expression.

“Mike, what the hell was that?” Lucas shrieked.

“I don’t know!” Mike held up his hands as if being caught red handed, “Ever since first period, she’s been all weird and lovey. I’m actually starting to get scared she has, like, a terminal illness or something.”

“Or maybe she was taken by aliens and replaced with an imposter? Didn’t that happen in some movie?” Dustin theorized with a mouth full of gooey potatoes. Lucas grimaced.

“Are you talking about invasion of the body snatchers?” Lucas deadpanned, “Ignore him, Mike.”

Dustin stuck his tongue out at Lucas and continued to stuff his face.

“Listen, man, there’s only two possible answers as to why [Name] is acting this way.” Lucas started, “Either she really was taken my aliens and replaced with a doppelgänger,”

“See!” Dustin interjected, both of the boys ignored him.

“And it’s up to you to invade the alien spaceship, defeat the dark alien lord and get your girl back,” Lucas said in complete seriousness, Dustin nodding along.

“What are we even talking about anymore?” Mike asked incredulously.

“Or,” He started, pointing directly at Mike, who followed his finger, “You fucked up big time and now she’s being extra nice before she kills you with a hatchet and dumps

your body in the river. Zombie boy style.”

Dustin winced at the imagery, knowing full well that was probably the most likely possibility.

“But, I haven’t done anything wrong recently?” Mike whined, “At least I don’t think I have.”

Lucas sighed mockingly, “Oh, my sweet, sweet Michael. You need to stop thinking as someone with normal irritation levels and think like someone who has a low tolerance for dumb guys named Mike.”

Mike ignored Lucas’ dig and wracked his brain for what could’ve possibly made you this mad at him.

He wore his anti-sweat shirt when he was over your house yesterday, so no sweat stains on your freshly washed sheets.

He didn’t add any more Joy Division songs on your mixtape after you cried to Day of the Lords and claimed he tried to set you up. So it couldn’t have been that.

“I’m drawing a blank.” Mike finally sighed. His shoulders dropped in acceptance that now he had to fight even more interdimensional monsters, this time to get his mean girlfriend back.

“Well, whatever you did, it doesn’t matter.” Lucas reassured with a smug look.

“What’re you talking about? It matters a lot if now she’s letting me kiss her. It isn’t as fun when she doesn’t call me a stupid idiot and shove me away first.” He complained.

“While [Name] has a very low tolerance for dumb boyfriends named Mike, she also has a high level of affection for dumb boyfriends named Mike.” Dustin cut in again. Lucas nodded along with his words.

“How many times has she gotten pissed off at you?”

“Like in the past forty eight hours, or general? Because regardless of either, the number’s gonna be in the hundreds.” Mike said seriously.

“Exactly, Mikey!” Lucas cheered.

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s time to get up, dust off your sword and march right back into battle.” Dustin encouraged, beating his chest as if he was some sort of war hero.

“You guys are right,” Mike pushed himself up from the table, ready to march right up to you and Max (who still had you kidnapped near the trashcan). “I have to save her from evil space aliens.”

“That’s the attitude! Now go get your bitchy girlfriend back.”

“Hey, don’t call her a bitch. She’s just passionate.”

“You’re staring, honey pie.” You said sweetly, not looking up from whatever you were doing in your locker.

Mike wanted to vomit.

“Yeah, I do that a lot.” Mike snarked, “Normally you tell me to buzz off before you gouge my eyes out.”

For a second, Mike noticed your kind demeanor falter. Your eyes widened at his words, your lips tightened before you put the fake smile back on your face.

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t very nice of me.” You replied, slamming your locker shut and motioning for him to take your hand.

Mike couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. Not only were you initiating hand holding but you were talking like his mother.

“Since when have you ever cared about being nice? This morning you said my hair looked stupid.” Mike blanched, he still took your hand as annoyed as he was. It didn’t feel right, your palm didn’t fit into his the way it typically did.

“Y—Y’know, that was a lapse of judgement. It was a rude thing to say. I’m sorry.” You stuttered, Mike could feel your hands growing sweaty.

“No, no. See!” Mike nearly screamed, passerbies turned to look at his outburst. Your fast heated up as your eyes darted around awkwardly. “That! That right there, stop saying sorry.”

“C’mon, Mikey, let’s just go home.” You hissed out of a trained fake smile, “Please.” You tugged at his hand.

Mike stopped his manic rant to glance at you. He actually took a moment to really look at you. He ignored his urge to cringe at “Mikey.”

Sure, you looked the same all day. Same curls, same sweater, same crossbody. But your face was different. Your permanent scowl was gone, replaced with something foreign to him, something phony. Your eyebrows weren't pulled together in the middle of your forehead like they normally were, they were raised a little too high to convey a real emotion. Your lips weren’t pulled in your signature frown. You looked like someone pinned your face in a comically joyful expression with safety pins.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Mike mumbled, looking defeated.

Your smile dropped a bit as you rushed the two of you out of the building.

The bike ride back to Mike’s house was dead silent. The only sounds were the lingering summer cicadas and the occasional gust of wind as Mike pedaled on his creaky bicycle. Normally, you’d be ranting about something: a dumb movie your English teacher made you guys watch, something stupid Dustin said at lunch.

It was silent. Mike couldn’t even hear your breathing in his ear like he normally did. He resisted the urge to pout and huff in indignation.

Eventually, after an unnecessarily painstaking bike ride home, you and Mike settled in his room. You on his bed, leaning over your math textbook, him on the floor, splayed out with papers surrounding him.

Mike looked to where you sat on his bed. Your sweater now discarded somewhere in his room and your shoes kicked off downstairs. Your eyebrows pulled together in that familiar scowl, except this time it was focused instead of ticked off. The sun from his open window shined through and made you light up in a late afternoon glow.

“You look so beautiful right now.” Mike found himself saying. He hadn’t even realized it escaped his mind until it was too late.

Your head snapped up quickly, face burning with a sudden look. Stray hairs from your updo obscured your vision of him.

You fought against your instinct to tell him not to say things like that and quit being cheesy. Instead you just mumbled a thank you and stuck your nose back in the textbook.

That’s it. Mike had enough. He didn’t understand what your damage was, but he would figure it out right here, right now.

He smacked his lips, “[Name], cut it out.”

“Cut what out?” You tried to force that stupid giggle, but it just came out like you were trying to get something out your throat after choking.

“This whole act you’re doing.” Mike said, moving to sit beside you on his bed. He forced himself into your space, “Normally, you’d tell me to stop being so cheesy. What’s with this stupid thing you’re doing?”

“I—I’m… Just working on being nicer, I don’t know.” You sputtered, trying to scoot out of Mike’s demanding aura.

“Why, though? Did someone say something?”

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, and that was all the confirmation Mike needed.

“Someone did say something!” He gasped, “Who? What asshole said something?”

“Just some stupid girls in my first period, it’s nothing, Mike. Seriously,” You tried to reassure.

“Nothing? Whatever they said has you acting like Mother Teresa, so it’s definitely not nothing.”

You sighed deeply and leaned into Mike’s side. This time, the affection didn’t feel forced. It felt natural, like when you’d trace stars and shapes and your friends’ names into his back before bed.

“These girls, I don’t even remember their names, kept talking about how much of a massive bitch I was and how all my friends are probably too scared of me to stop talking to me.” You explained, keeping a low voice. If you spoke any higher, you feared it’d actually become true.

“So, what? You never cared what some fuck faces had to say before.” Mike questioned, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Then they started talking about how I am with you.” You said, Mike immediately froze, “They said you feel too bad to break up with me because of whatever fucked up thing that happened to me to make me so mean.”

It was Mike’s turn to be stunned into silence. Your lips wobbled in that way they always did when you were about to cry. Usually your tears were reserved for cheesy chick flicks you made him watch on Saturday nights and homeless dog commercials that aired in between them. Mike’s never really seen you cry like this before. It made his chest hurt, his own eyes welled up at the sight of yours.

“I don’t know why it bothered me so much. Maybe because it’s true.” You confessed.

“It isn’t,” Mike interrupted, bringing his hands up to cup your face again, “You’re one of the kindest people I know. And I’m not just saying that because you let me kiss you sometimes.”

You managed to laugh lightly at his words. Mike’s heart lifted a little, “They’re right, Mike. I am kind of a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch, you’re just passionate. People don’t get that, and they don’t need to.” Mike rambled, “I love when you’re snarky, or when you have bad days and I get to make you a mixtape, or when you make me get you flowers before I can hold your hand. If I wanted an easy, sweet relationship, I’d have that. I like that you’re mean. You keep me on my feet, you make me work for what I want.”

“And what is that?” You asked in a hushed voice, “What do you want?”

Mike blushed again, “Don’t make me say it. You know.”

He tried to get near you to kiss your lips, but you pushed against his chest in that familiar way you always did. Although he was getting denied a kiss, Mike smiled. You were back.

“I want you. The normal, passionate you.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing Mike’s arm that was wrapped around your waist to whip stray tears with his sleeve.

“Quit being so cheesy, I may vomit then make you clean it up.” You flipped your hair over your shoulder and turned away from Mike to hide the growing grin on your face.

Mike’s face fell, “So, no kiss?”

“No kiss. Now get off the bed, you smell like outside and it’s distracting me from the homework you’ll probably ask me to copy tomorrow.” You pushed him away from you, making him fall flat on his face on his carpeted floors.

“How’d you know I lost my math notebook?”

“‘Cause you’re a stupid idiot.”

“You know me so well.”

For years, you both were the butt of every tooth joke at school. Middle school bullies laughing, saying your teeth could rival the New York City skyline, or making fun of Mike’s overbite that gave him a permanent pout. You always thought it was cute, but obviously your orthodontist didn’t.

Your mothers, keeping up with the trend of raising you both to be some sort of pseudo twins (which you both absolutely hated being referred to as family), booked your braces appointments on the same day.

By dinner that night, you both were seated at the Wheeler family table, your parents sitting next to you, Mike’s family sitting across, and you both had mouths full of wire and colorful bands.

It was hell on Earth.

“This sucks.” You murmured, petting your cat, laying on your chest, “Our teeth weren’t even bad.”

Mike winced, you weren’t sure if it was because of his braces or what you said, “At least we won’t have to hear those mouth breathers talk about us anymore, yeah?”

You smiled a bit at his words. At least, you tried to, since it hurt to even open your mouth currently with the stinging metal attached to your skull.

“Yeah,” You hummed, yawning lightly, “I couldn’t even mouth breath if I tried. It hurts too much to do anything but exist.”

“That’s deep.” Mike yawned after you. You pictured him blinking sleep away from his eyes, rubbing his face and settling back into his pillows.

“I gotta go soon. My mom’s gonna put that stupid numbing gel on my gums before bed.” You whined.

Suddenly, Mike wasn’t so tired anymore. Your voice snapped a thought to the front of his head. You couldn’t hang up yet, there was so much more for you two to talk about, or mumble incoherently about since talking was nearly impossible in your conditions. Like the upcoming campaign he let you help him plan, or deciding which day you guys would go check out the newest game they installed at the arcade.

Most of all, he had to ask you to the snowball dance. It had been on the tip of his tongue since he knew what the snowball even was. Memories of watching Nancy get her hair curled by his mom swamped his mind. He wanted his mom to force him to go shopping for a nice tie and blazer, claiming he had to look his best for you.

“Wait, [Name],” Mike sputtered, trying to ignore the pooling saliva in his mouth, he wondered if it was because of his braces or because he was about to vomit out of nervousness, “Don’t hang up yet.”

“Don’t hang up yet? Mike, it’s already ten o’clock and my mom’s been calling my name for like ten minutes.” You retorted, Mike heard the sounds of your cat purring in the background. He pretended like that was it’s way of cheering him on.

“Your mom loves me, she won’t mind a couple more minutes.” Mike said, “Just, please. Give me a second.”

You sighed finally, resisting the urge to mess with your braces bands, they still felt foreign in your mouth although you guys got them a couple days ago. You pictured Mike on the other side, with his bright blue braces he insisted on getting, trying his best not to doze off because whatever the hell he had to tell you was so important.

“Thirty seconds, Mike. Starting now, by the way.”

“Thirty seconds?” Mike blanched, “How am I supposed to say it all in thirty seconds?”

“I’m giving you thirty times what you asked for. Twenty five now. Make haste, Michael,”

Mike took a deep breath, ignoring how bad his mouth hurt doing so. He sat up on his bed with a grunt. His heart was beating so hard against his rib cage; it could've broken some ribs.

“Okay, okay.” Mike breathed out again, you were worried he’d start hyperventilating. “So y’know that stupid dance coming up?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t? It’s all Max will talk about ever since Lucas asked her.” Mike could hear the eye roll in your voice. He knew you were messing around because you literally coached Lucas on asking Max out for the past three weeks.

“Well, I was wondering… If you, like, were planning on, maybe… possibly—“

“Damnit, Mike! Spit it out!” You yelled over the phone, then wincing at the strain it put on your mouth to do so.

“Will you go to the snowball with me?” Mike blurted out before he could stop himself, his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.

“Huh?” You replied dumbly. Your face was stunned frozen, so was your brain. “The snowball… with you?”

“Yeah,” Mike blushed so bright he illuminated his dark bedroom, “Like, as a date. Not as friends.”

“A date… not as friends,” You repeated again in disbelief.

You tried to process Mike’s words. For years, since you first met Mike in kindergarten after you two argued over who’s turn it was with the wizard costume (your teacher made you share it, you wore the hat, Mike wore the cloak, which led to the lifelong codependency), you had a crush on him. For a while, you were able to put it off, you were able to shove it to the back of your mind and pretend like your heart didn’t buzz every time you and Mike played footsies under the table during joint family dinners. You never imagined he’d ever like you back, Destined to be in the friend-sister-family friend zone for eternity and then some.

“I mean, you don’t have to! Like, we could go as friends, or not at all, ‘cause the snowball is, like, totally lame of course–” Mike rambled, his mouth was moving so fast he couldn’t even register the aching anymore.

“Mike, shut up.” You interjected, “I’d love to go with you. Or whatever.”

Mike cheered by throwing falling back against his pillows, but ended up slamming the crown of his head on his head board.

“Ow! Ouch, shit!” He cried, dropping the phone. Mike hoped you hadn’t heard the loud ass thud.

“What? Is it your teeth?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Sorry, hold up—“ Mike fumbled to pick his phone back up, “Yeah, yeah… It was my teeth.” He lied.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head at his awkwardness.

“Okay, I’m all good now.” Mike took a second to regulate his breathing, trying to calm his aching gums (and head) and beating heart, “So, it’s a date?”

“Yeah. It’s a date, brace-face.”

“Cool. See ya, metal-mouth.”

“Not if I see you first, tin-grin.”

Mike was three toothpicks into the night, and still no sign of you. He laid his used toothpicks out on the table, as gross as it was, and plucked another out of his blazer pocket to pick out a piece of candy (that his dentist told him not to eat) from his braces. The blue bands reflected the decorations his sister and Will’s brother helped put up. The synth sounds of Age of Consent by New Order faded into background music as Mike moped the night away.

“Still no show?” Mike heard Lucas’ voice over the music. He and Max returned to the table after dance battling in the middle of the gym for twenty minutes. Dustin was off bothering Nancy and Will was hiding in a corner along with Jonathan.

Mike simply shook his head. If he tried to answer verbally, he’d probably start screaming.

“Don’t worry, Mike,” Max tried to smile.

Mike immediately scowled at her, “I’m not worried. Do I look worried?”

Max and Lucas shared a look, one that said a thousand words in a language Mike couldn’t understand.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself then cry afterwards.” Lucas answered, Max nudged his side and motioned for him to shut up.

Mike dropped his head dramatically onto the table, not minding the toothpicks still lined up in a row in front of him. This was a total mistake, a major lapse of judgement.

“Seriously, Mike. She’s gonna be here. Just give her a couple more minutes.” Max placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder in an attempt at comforting him.

Although Max was the last person Mike wanted comfort from, he knew since she touched down in Hawkins, you’d taken a liking to her. That meant you two grew closer over the months and if anyone knew where you’d be, it would be her.

“She’s right, dude. You know [Name] wouldn’t bail out of nowhere.” Lucas reassured, “Plus, she’s, like, insanely whipped for you.”

“Really?” Mike’s entire demeanor perked up like a growing flower. The pair watched the light enter his eyes again and his face turn red under the blue gym lights.

“Lucas!” Max said through clenched teeth, nudging him again to shut his big mouth. Lucas mouthed a “sorry” and motioned zipping his lips.

Another song started to play and Max took that as her opening to save you any more embarrassment. She nodded a last time at Mike and dragged Lucas over to the dance floor.

“And go throw those toothpicks away, it's gross!” The redhead shouted from the crowds of preteens. Mike scowled and went back to rearranging them over the blue table cloth, stricken with boredom and self doubt.

Exactly thirty seconds passed of Mike wallowing in self pity before he heard the clicking of heels coming towards him.

“Go away, Nancy. I’m not in the mood right now.” Mike called without looking up from the table, a pout on his pink lips.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not Nancy.”

Mike damn near gave himself whiplash with how fast he looked up at the voice. His breath was knocked out of his lungs almost instantly. There you stood, wrinkled dress you probably begged your mom to get at the last minute, feet shuffling awkwardly in heels way too big for you. You kept flicking a stray piece of hair out of your face as you tried your best to look natural. To Mike, it looked like you drained all the light in the room with how bright you were.

“[Name]… Y—You’re here,” Mike slowly rose from his seat, wiping his sweaty palms on his dress pants.

You hummed, looking down at your shoes, “Sorry I’m late, it took forever for me to decide what color eyeshadow to wear.”

“Eyeshadow?” Mike questioned, he stepped closer and squinted as you shut your eyes to show him. They were a cool blue color, matching with the bands of his braces.

“I didn’t know which blue would be best.” You gave him a shy smile. “It feels super cheesy now.”

“No! It isn’t cheesy,” Mike insisted, he lifted his dress pants that were too long for his legs to showcase his [favorite color] socks, a perfect matching color for the bands in your mouth, “I wanted to match with your braces too.”

Your heart fluttered. You resisted the urge to throw your arms around Mike right now and pepper his face with kisses.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” You asked, looking behind him to glance at the table full of soda cans and candy wrappers.

“Yeah, just a bunch of candy that I’ll regret eating later.” Mike rolled his eyes, tonguing his teeth to check if there was any more stray candy pieces lodged in between the wires.

“Me too, I had bubble gum before this. But my mom made me spit it out and threatened to call the dentist.” You shrugged, sighing out in annoyance.

“That makes two of us, I guess.”

You and Mike found yourselves in an awkward silence. It was weird and unfamiliar. You guys had never been this weird before. Sitting in silence, basking in each others’ presence was always easy.

The opening notes of Be Like A Woman by Chris Rainbow filled the gymnasium as your classmates got into pairs around the dance floor. Nancy finally caved and danced with Dustin again, Will was off with a random girl with huge curls, and Lucas and Max were obviously together.

You sighed longing, looking at all the couples crouched in on each other, blushing smiles on their faces.

“I love this song.” You spoke softly, Mike could barely hear you over the music.

“U—Uh,” Mike stuttered, his palms shook and got clammy again, he felt himself sweaty through his [favorite color] socks.

You turned your attention to him, an expectant look on your face. The baby fat of childhood still stuck on your cheeks, Mike felt he was looking at seven year old you for a second. You waited for him to speak as you tapped along to the beat of the song.

“Do you like to dance— Wait, no.” Mike face palmed, shifting his lips that got caught on his brackets, “I mean, would you like to dance? Like, with me. To the song.”

You nodded once, already grabbing Mike’s hand and pushing yourself from where you were leaning on the table.

“I’d love to, bucky beaver.” You grinned and rushed him into the sea of kids packed like sardines.

“Is this a good time to tell you I can’t dance?” Mike confessed. He hovered his hands over your waist since he had no clue where to put them.

“It’s a great time for me to tell you I don’t know how to dance either. Apologies in advance if I break your toes.” You admitted, bringing Mike’s moist hands to hold your waist, then posting your hands on his shoulders.

“Then, we’ll be shitty dancers together. Like everything else we do.”

You and Mike laughed in harmony as you swayed gawkily to the music. You hummed the sounds of the singing. You could feel the heat coming off of Mike. He was so familiar and close, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to care how awkward you two probably looked.

As Chris Rainbow sang “But save the last dance for me,” against the brick walls of the gym, Mike couldn’t take his eyes off your lips. Your mom’s lipgloss sparkled under the artificial light of the room.

“[Name],” Mike spoke softly. His face was so close to yours, you could smell the candy on his breath.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of telling Mike yes, you smashed your lips onto his. He bristled and froze for a second, but recovered and kissed you back. You were both uncoordinated, but none of that mattered since it was Mike you were doing it with.

Just as you guys went to pull away, a sharp, blinding pain came from your mouth. Your eyes widened as your entire vision was just Mike’s freckled nose.

“Holy shit—“ Mike said in a muffled voice, since he physically couldn’t move his lips much.

You are Mike were still face to face, except now you weren’t joined by your lips, you were connected by your braces. Reality settled in your head, your braces got stuck together after you kissed Mike. One of Mike’s bands got caught on your front teeth brackets.

“This cannot be happening right now.” You said, your lipgloss smearing all over Mike’s lips.

You tried to yank your mouth backward, but Mike only yelled in pain and gripped your shoulders to stop you. You two went around in circles for a second, you trying to rip your mouth off of his, him trying extremely hard not to rip your teeth out of your head.

“Wait, wait! Stop moving,”

“What do you mean stop moving, there’s nowhere for me to move!”

Mike tried to calm himself down, “Just relax a second.”

“It’s very hard to relax when our fucking braces are stuck together.” You were barely able to get your words out due to your… restricted situation.

“Okay, on the count of three, we’re both gonna move.” Mine instructed, he let go of your shoulders and you nodded, or tried to.

“One… Two… Three!”

You and Mike moved on his mark, but you both stupidly jerked forwards, which ended up in your heads colliding.

“Ouch!” You guys cried out in unison. Now you had sore foreheads and mouths.

“Plan B,” You blinked hard once and tried to refocus your eyes on Mike.

“Which is?”

“Scream for help.” You said, deadly serious.

If you could see Mike’s face, you would’ve seen that he was looking at you with the craziest look possible.

“You’re not being serious.” Mike mumbled against your mouth.

“Unless you’re ready to be a conjoined twin, this is our only option.” You snarked, being mouth to mouth with Mike Wheeler was making you snappy.

Mike’s shoulders fell in acceptance. You raised your hand to count down from three. Just as the song ended, you and Mike took a heavy breath before letting out the loudest, blood curdling scream your tiny lungs could muster.

Everyone in the room flinched and turned to look at the two maniacs who were hollering in the middle of the dance floor. The DJ stopped the track, a comical record scratch played throughout the gym. You would’ve laughed if you weren’t one half of the maniacs screaming.

“What the hell is going on?” Nancy jogged up to you guys, an incredibly scrutinizing look etched on her face.

“Our braces are stuck together.” You muttered.

“What?”

“Our braces are stuck together.” Mike repeated.

“I literally have no clue what you’re saying.” Nancy puffed in annoyance. “Wait here.”

With that, she stalked off to either find Jonathan, call your parents, or an ambulance. You hoped for all three.

Lucas, Dustin, Max, and Will shoved their way to the pair of you with varying expressions on their faces. It was clear Dustin and Lucas were trying their best to not burst into tears laughing.

“Does anyone have a camera? I want to capture this moment forever.” Lucas cackled. You and Mike burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Embarrassment or anger, you weren’t sure.

“It’s a little romantic if you think about it. Like, your lips will never be apart. Very Shakespearean.” Max tried her best to comfort. You could tell she was close to giggling, but she kept it together for you.

“I don’t know how romantic getting my mouth stuck on my girlfriend’s braces is.” Dustin commented with a gummy smile.

“Well you don’t have a girlfriend, so you don’t need to worry about that anytime soon.” You said.

Dustin’s brows furrowed in confusion, “I couldn’t hear you because you’re too busy mouthing Mike, but I know it was mean.”

“Did you guys try pulling your heads back?” Will asked in his usual soft voice. You tried to ignore the judgemental looks and snickers from the surrounding crowd.

You and Mike attempted to nod, but only ended up bumping your heads against each other again.

“How did this happen?” Jonathan maneuvered through the crowd and entered Mike’s line of vision. Well, what was left of it since you were taking up most of it.

“They were obviously tonguing each other down and their braces got caught on each other.” Lucas clarified.

“You understood what she said?” Nancy questioned incredulously.

Lucas simply shrugged and nodded, looking at Nancy’s face of disbelief. Somehow, she was always roped into mess by her brother’s annoying friends.

Jonathan scoffed, rolling his deep eyes. He grabbed Mike’s shoulder and your head gently as he moved you both to walk out of the gym.

“I hope you know how you’re gonna explain this to, Mom.” Nancy teased, flicking Mike under his ear as he followed after you three.

Mike made a disapproving noise as you two stiffly walked towards the exit, ignoring the expressions on the chaperones’ faces, with Jonathan leading you. You realized the rest of the party walked after you guys, which made you pause.

“You guys don’t have to stop dancing just for us.” You said, shuffling around to face them.

Max shrugged, “Eh, this dance is a bust anyways. Plus, it’ll be a lot more funny watching you two get surgically removed from each other.”

Everyone, bar you and Mike, laughed at your expense. You two would’ve given them a scalding look and yelled it wasn’t funny, but that wasn’t an option clearly.

As ticked as you were that your first dance ended in a trip to the emergency room, at least you got to do it with Mike. Just like everything else.