Mike and Max sit in the bathroom stalls of Starcourt mall. They'd just thrown up Russian torture drugs and were now in the middle of 20 questions.
Max: Can I ask you something?
Max slides over under the stall door and leans against the wall opposite Mike, who's sprawled out legs reach the other side.
Max takes a deep breath, and scrunches her brows.
Max: Why-I mean-...I thought you were a douche for a long time, because of all the things I'd heard from El. I hated you, you were such an asshole to her, I thought you were the worst, scummiest dickbag alive. But...you're actually a good person. You're so caring towards your friends, I see it all the time in the shop, you help out strangers with random shit all the time, and you're even kind to me, even though I verbally abuse you on the regular.
They laugh together at her remark
Max: I just... I don't understand how you could be such a caring person, and then turn around and treat El like a shit stain on the bottom of your shoe. Just-like...why?
Mike: I don't...I don't think I ever really loved her. I mean, I do love her, she's one of my best friends, but I don't love *her.*
Max: Then why would you date her in the first place?
Mike, burying his head in his knees: Because she looks like him.
he hugs his knees even tighter
Mike: Because they have the same eyes. They have the same laugh, the same smile, the same hair, the same sneeze, and happy dance when they eat food they really like. They both look like paintings that belong in a museum, that people would pay just to go and look at them and stare for hours on end.
They're almost the same person. Almost. But she doesn't get nearly as bad of a bed head as him. She doesn't always have paint or charcoal on her hands. She couldn't name one Clash song if she tried, and even though they're the same, *her* eyes don't have hints of green and honey and starlight in them. She doesn't like DnD, or Star Trek, or David Bowie, and she doesn't know that if you jiggle the handle on my bedroom door three times in just the right way it'll pop out. She doesn't mumble to herself when she's concentrating really hard, or tug on her sweater when she's nervous. I don't even think she's heard of the color Tourmaline, because her favorite color's purple, not yellow....She-she was never gonna be him, not to me. They're so, so similar; but to me, they're entirely different people.
Max stares at him wide eyed, the tears beginning to form in his eyes as his head lay sideways on his knees. Mike stares at the toilet seat next to him, as the tears start rolling down his face.
Mike: I just thought maybe...maybe similar would be enough. Maybe if I had someone *like* him I would stop wanting *him*. Maybe I could *be* normal instead of pretending like I was. But the more I realized I couldn't, that I was unfixable; the more frustrated I got. And scared. So, so scared, Max. I treated El like shit, avoided her and yelled and acted like an asshole, because I was mad at her that she wasn't what I wanted. It's stupid, but I was so angry that she couldn't be him, that she wasn't *trying* to be him. And then, one day, she asked me why I wanted to date her in the first place. And you know what? I didn't have an answer besides "You look like someone else."
Mike takes in a sharp breath, then looks Max in the eyes
Mike: I know it was beyond shitty, and believe me when I say that I'm so *fucking* sorry. It's just...
Mike: I just didn't know what else to do. I love him so much, Max. So fucking much. But I can't. I can't love him, not like I want to; not like he'll ever want me to...
Max crinkles her eyebrows, then her gaze drops down to Mike's bracelet. His matching friendship bracelet with Will that reads "The Brave" in charm letters.
They stare into each other's eyes for what feels like a lifetime to Mike. Max wracks everything against her brain, trying to process it all, and her eyes start to get glossy with tears. She finally looks at Mike clearly; really, really looks at him.
Mike: Max...please say something.
Max still stares at him, tears now welling at the corners of her eyes.
Mike speaks in a whisper now, on the verge of crying once more.
Max crawls across the stall floor and wraps her arms around Mike in a tight hug. She stays firm as Mike slips his fingers to the sides of her torso, sobbing into her shoulder. Silent tears roll down Max's eyes as she listens to the gut wrenching sounds of Mike's pain amplified into violent cries.
Max: It's okay, It's okay. You're fine. You're okay... It's-It's gonna be okay, Mike.
She leans her chin atop his head, and they stay there like that for a while, until Mike's tears have run out. Footsteps are heard outside and Dustin comes running into the bathroom, to see the two side by side leaning against the wall. Their arms are interlocked, and they both whip their heads around when Dustin shouts at them.
Dustin: What the hell are you two doing!?!
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