đšđŠ° Ë ŕŁŞâš â i hate love her
pairing: loser!mike wheeler x popular!fem!reader đđ
summary: influenced by âi hate summerâ monologue from â500 days of summerâ // mike wheeler clenched his teeth and mutters he hates you but as much as he tries, he can barely get the words out
warnings: description with crooked teeth, 1960âs haircut, knobby knees, mention of scars and bruises (these are just vague descriptions that fit the monologue & i also look different from this description but itâs just according to the film so please donât take it personally thank you đđ)
mike stared at her from across the classroom, crossed legs and tapping your number two pencil on the wooden desk repeatedly. it bothered him so much, only adding to the mental list of things he hated about you. rather than staring now he was glaring but he sat behind you and a couple rows over which meant you didnât even notice. continuing to annoy him without a single thought.
he pressed down his pencil into his notebook until the lead snapped, making him also snap out of this trance. he looked down at his empty paper with a dark lead circle in the middle. he ripped out the sheet and crumpled it up, debating whether to throw it at your head or into the trash can. he probably had a better chance shooting it at your head than landing it in the trash can according to his sports record but he refrained because your hair looked nice.
he wasnât sympathetic especially when the situation included you but he wasnât an asshole. it mustâve taken you all morning to do that hairstyle and agree that you liked it. he just didnât want to throw all your hard work away so he kept the crumpled paper and shoved it in his backpack, agreeing heâd either throw it to your head another day or throwing it away at the end of class.
âmike! i asked you a question mr. wheeler, whatâs the answer to the question on the board?â the teacher asked in a stern tone, hands on his hips and trying to get mikeâs attention. mike looked up and away from you, hoping you didnât see his eyes hurrying to avoid your eye contact. you turned around from your seat to look at him as did the rest of the class.
mike was out of it. he was thinking about something else, you. he forgot to write down all the notes on the board which contributed to what the answer could be to the question the teach was asking. before he could apologize, a hand rose up in front of him. it was yours. your arm popped up and attracted the teachers attention. âyes, ms. y/n?â he asked now taking his burning eyes away from mike and to you.
âif mike canât answer it, iâd gladly do it myself,â you replied and not in a sarcastic or rude manner. it was like you wanted to help him. âsure that would be great, go ahead,â the teacher proceeded and let you come up to the board. you took your notebook with you, it was covered in bright stickers and shiny gems matching your appearance. mike watched as you sat up from your desk and almost skipped to the board.
you picked up the small white chalk and wrote down your answer, copying your equation from your notebook. the class watched but mike observed. he thought about how you saved his ass from getting yelled at the teacher. why? after finishing the equation, you turned and returned to your seat, winking and smiling at mike before doing so. he shook his head, whatever. he hated you.
i hate her crooked teeth.
if he hates you so much, why was he up at three in the morning still thinking about your stupid smile. your pearl white teeth almost blinding him in the middle of math class. his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes pierced through the ceiling of his bedroom. what was your problem? you didnât do this to any other person in the school? let alone the entirety of hawkins! so why did you chose him? was this a punishment?
mike groaned and turned off his bedside table lamp, looking at the alarm clock reading 4:27 now. he spent almost four hours just thinking about you and it infuriated him. he liked girls before, girls in his class, girls on the tv, girls in his favorite movies. but he never stayed up thinking about him until this late hour. so what made you so different?
was it your smile? it wasnât even that nice! heâs seen better smiles in the newspaper and even his mom may have had a better one. yet you were the only thing on his mind and mike couldnât stand the feeling.
he turned to sides left and right, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep but it was no help. by the time, his eyelids were finally about to shut, they were disturbed by the bright light of the sun coming up. he hated you so much.
i hate her 1960âs haircut.
the next day at school, mike slung his backpack over his shoulder and got to his locker. he agreed to meet dustin before the hellfire club meeting afterschool and was in a hurry. the most unfortunate thing about going to his locker was that yours was right next to it.
he always avoided you everyday, trying to find a time that would be good for him to approach his locker without you being there. however unlucky for him, you were there most of the day. either taking with your friends, unloading your heavy textbooks, or just leaning against it waiting for the bell to ring.
this forced mike to hide behind the corner, peering over time to time like a creep to wait for you to leave. he was even late once or twice just going to his locker at you finally left when the bell rang. when his teacher asked why his eyes slowly trailed to you, who stared back at him innocently. unknown that you were the reason why he was late and got detention.
he could only shut up and take the yellow slip from his teacher. sliding into his desk in the back and staring out into the window in annoyance. why did he need to avoid you? why wasnât it the other way around?
today was worse. worse than mike could ever imagine. he headed for his locker, after watching you walk down the hall to your cheer practice as you always did afterschool. it was weird how much mike knew about you. he hurried to his locker and put in his code. opening it quickly and grabbing his books and shoving them into his backpack for homework later.
as soon as mike closed his locker door, he almost had a heart attack. you were standing right there, facing away from him and looking into a small mirror attached to the door of your locker. you were applying another layer of strawberry chapstick, the one you carried everywhere and put on during first period, third period, and right after lunch by your locker.
so he was definitely surprised to see you standing right in front of him, puckering your lips and looking into the mirror. completely oblivious of mike standing behind you with a shocked expression saying âwhat the fuck!â you didnât even notice him staring at you for a full on five minutes. mike would never admit it but you werenât such an eye sore as he tried to convince himself all last night.
you were actually nice to look at. really pretty and your hair was right in front of his face, the scent of strawberry and peach shampoo and conditioner filling up his senses. without him even knowing, mikeâs frown became a small smile.
your high ponytail with a white bow made you look like a character from a 60âs cartoon. it was moving side to side putting mike into a trance but he snapped out of it as you put the cap back on of your chapstick, signaling mike to go back into hiding and run away before you freak out and sic the entire basketball team on him for being a creep.
he turned around and rushed down the hall, not looking back and just praying that you didnât notice his existence like you did for the last ten minutes. how he hated you so much.
dustin informed mike that everyone was required to watch the final hawkins basketball game tonight, making the hellfire club meeting postponed which eddie would be furious about but he didnât want his parents being on his back about getting another detention this month. at least lucas would be glad which made going to the game worth it for him and dustin.
âwhat if we just slipped out during halftime?â mike suggested to dustin who was climbing up the bleachers to look for an empty seat. âif we get caught our asses are toast and my mom will take away my satellite meaniââ dustin was explaining but mike had heard this a hundred times to repeat it, ââmeaning no suzie, i know i know,â he grumbled and sat onto the wooden seats.
before the game even started, a girl walked to the middle of the gym and stayed singing the national anthem. or at least what sounded like it kind of. she sounded like a muppet, he and dustin agreed on. after that, a bunch of green uniforms filled up the center stage.
it was the hawkins cheerleaders, including you. his eyes immediately fell upon you, disregarding the other twenty girls and guys wearing the same outfit. you were the only one that caught his eye and he couldnât tell why. was it cause of the weird interaction earlier today?
you were skipping in with a smile plastered on your face, those stupid pearly whites blinding mike once again. you had pom pom in your hands, waving your arms around and waving to the crowd. you didnât spare mike a glance even once but he didnât mind. at least it meant he could stare at you the entire time the cheerleaders introduction was happening.
what surprised mike was that you walked to the center, as everyone got into formation, you were center stage. your smile was warm and could light up an entire room, as it was doing now. you danced in the front with a bunch of other girls, doing a routine you guys probably practiced a million times before. mike could see the nervousness in your face, hiding behind that smile you held so proudly.
he noticed your knees, they were kind of crooked. you also had bruises on them, cuts too. skin tone band-aids trying to cover the scars on your knees. people mightâve thought they were ugly but mike found them nice.ďżź not like he was a sadist or anything about scars and bruises but it made you look more real. like you werenât just another carbon copy of these popular cheerleaders who had perfect lives and appearances like the girls surrounding you.
you were different. something about you gave mike a hint that you wouldnât make fun of him or laugh at his face if he made a mistake. maybe it was because you helped him yesterday morning or smiled at him a moment after.
either way, he found himself clapping for you after you finished your dance, enjoying your performance and rather disappointed to find it so short. dustin was confused, wasnât mike just giving suggestions on how to sneak out of here five minutes ago? now he was smiling and clapping like his girlfriend was out there dancing in front of the crowd?
why did you make him feel this weird? this good feeling he had whenever he saw you? he had to force himself to hate you to avoid his true feelings from spilling out. he hated how you made him feel.
