vyper

Because loving him silently was better than risking losing him at all. You didn't know at all but the way his eyes linger after you when you two get off the ice the way hed hold you a second longer then hed should have 

When the invitation came to join Team Russo, you said yes almost immediately.

It took longer to convince Brayden.

Not because he doubted the opportunity Team Russo was legendary, a gathering of some of the most talented ice skaters in the world but because he hated change. You didn’t. Not really. You

knew the Russos. Old friends, old acquaintances from junior circuits and international competitions. Familiar faces, familiar pressure.

“They’re good people,” you’d told him. “Most of them, anyway.”

Eventually, he agreed.

The Russos were exactly how you remembered them. Warm. Professional. Welcome. Mimi especially she hugged you the moment you arrived, chattering excitedly about routines and ice time schedules like no years had passed at all. She made the transition easier, grounding you when everything else felt too sharp, too new.

Others… not so much.Katya made up her mind about you within the first week.She corrected you during warm-ups when you didn’t need it. Comment on your timing just loudly enough for others to hear. Smiled in that way that everyone knew it was fake. It was subtle, calculated, exhausting. You told yourself to ignore it to focus on your edges, your lines, your partner.

But Brayden didn’t notice.

He was too busy flirting with Elise. The way he leaned close when she spoke, the way his grin softened in a way you’d never seen it soften for you or at least the way you saw it  It was the worst.

You told yourself you were being dramatic. That this was nothing new. Brayden had always been like this charming, effortless,flirting with out feelings. But something about seeing it here, in a place that already felt unfamiliar and hostile, made it cut deeper.

On the ice, you were still flawless. Your timing never slipped. Your lifts stayed strong. You trusted him with your body the way you always had, even as your heart lagged a beat behind. Off the ice, you felt like an afterthought. Katya’s sharp glances. Elise’s laughter. Brayden’s attention drifted further and further away.You wondered, for the first time in years, whether saying yes to Team Russo had been a mistake or whether it was simply the moment you could no longer pretend that being his partner was enough

Everyone had come back from the small party tired and buzzing, laughter fading down the hallway as doors closed one by one. Soon enough, the place went still, the kind of quiet that only settles in late at night. You stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp, routine notes looping through your mind. There was a timing issue in the step sequence you wanted to fix before morning something small, but it mattered. It always did. And Brayden would understand. He always did.

So you made your way down the hall to his room. You didn’t knock.

You opened the door and stopped.

Brayden was there, hands tangled in Elise’s hair, her back pressed against the wall, their mouths already moving like they’d been there for a while. Close. Familiar. Intimate in a way that had nothing to do with skating.

For a second, your mind refused to catch up.

“Oh—” Your voice came out smaller than you expected. “Sorry.”

That was all you managed before stepping back, already reaching for the door, already trying to erase yourself from the moment. The air felt too thick, your chest too tight.

In that split second just before the door closed you could have sworn Brayden looked guilty. He pulled back, eyes meeting yours, something sharp and fleeting crossing his face. Surprise, maybe. Or regret. Or something else entirely.

But you told yourself it was nothing. It had to be nothing.

He didn’t owe you anything. You weren’t that girl. You were his partner. His best friend. not the one he kissed in the dark.

So you walked back to your room quietly, barefooted carefully against the floor, and shut the door behind you without making a sound.

You sat on the edge of the bed for a long time after that, staring at the wall, the routine still playing in your head only now every lift felt heavier.Tomorrow, you told yourself, you’d fix the routine.And so you did.

Sleep never came By four in the morning, you gave up pretending and pulled on your jacket instead. The rink was empty when you stepped onto the ice.

The lights were dimmed, the air sharp and clean, the kind of cold that usually cleared your head. You pushed off anyway, muscle memory taking over as your blades carved familiar lines. Again and again, you ran the section of the routine that had been bothering you. You tried to focus on technique your edges, your timing, the placement of your leg.

You kept trying. And trying.

But your mind wouldn’t stay quiet.

Your landings were sloppy. Your extension fell short. You shook it off and went again, breath coming faster, legs burning. Time slipped by unnoticed, one run-through turning into another, then another until exhaustion dulled the ache in your chest and replaced it with something heavier. Four hours later the sun was coming up.

You slowed to a stop near the boards, hands on your knees, chest heaving. The others were probably awake by now. Probably eating breakfast. Probably laughing about the party, about nothing at all

You decided to grab breakfast, needing some time away from the ice.

“Hey, good morning,” you said as Adriana passed by.

“Hey—missed you at breakfast. Where have you been?” she asked kindly.

“At the rink,” you replied. “Couldn’t get something out of my mind. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I get it. Well,” she lowered her voice, “don’t tell anyone, but there are frozen waffles in the peas.”

She walked away, and you mouthed a silent thank you.

After you ate, you sank into one of the sofas in one of the many rooms scattered throughout the place. A moment later, Brayden walked in.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Listen, about—” You cut him off gently. “You don’t have to explain. It’s your business,” you said. Breaking the silence “what did you want to tell me last night?"

You couldn’t quite name it, but there was something in his eyes an apology he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. The way he looked at you lingered a second too long, heavy with regret. And just like that, the image flashed through your mind again: him and Elise, tangled together, laughing, kissing. Your chest tightened before you could stop it.

“Um—right, yeah,” you said quickly, forcing your voice steady. “There’s just… something in the routine that needs fixing. That’s all.” You launched into an explanation, hands moving as you talked, pointing out timing issues, footwork, the lift that never quite landed the way it should. You didn’t notice it at first, but he wasn’t listening. Not really.

His eyes stayed on you.

There was something about the way you spoke when you were passionate, how you forgot everything else, how your guard dropped without you realizing it. That was one of the many things he admired about you. You weren’t some girl on the cover of articles, smiling for cameras and pretending success came easy. You worked for everything. You cared. It showed in every word, every sharp breath you took when you got worked up.

“Hey,” he said suddenly.

You stopped mid-sentence. “What?”

“You don’t have to do this right now.”

“Do what?” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

“This,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Pretend like everything’s normal.”

That did it. You laughed once, short and humorless. “I’m not pretending. I’m talking about the routine. You know the thing we’re actually supposed to be focused on?”

He stood up straighter. “You’re deflecting.”

“Oh, please,” you said, heat rising fast. “Don’t act like you get to psychoanalyze me now.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable.

“You saw us,” he said quietly.

Your stomach dropped. “yeah,” you shot back. “ and ?.” 

“ i want to explain”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, voice breaking despite your best effort. “Don’t explain. You already tried earlier, remember? I said it was your business.”

“And you didn’t mean it,” he said.

You looked away, jaw clenched.” yes i did” “ no you didnt “ The words spilled out before you could stop them, messy and tangled. “Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you act like nothing was wrong while I  You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “I kept telling myself I was stupid. That I imagined it. That you dont t feel the same after years of being partners , so why should it hurt?”

His breath hitched. “You think I didn’t feel it too?”

You turned back to him, eyes burning. “Then why, Brayden? Why her? Why anyone?"

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of you. “Because I thought I was bad for you.”

You froze.

“What?”

“I always thought that,” he admitted, voice low. “You’re disciplined. Focused. You know exactly who you are. And me?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m chaos. I mess things up. I distract myself, I distract others. I didn’t want to be the thing that ruined you, being partners is different then being a relationship.”

“So your solution,” you said incredulously, “was to flirt with other girls?”

“And Elise,” he added, not proud of it. “Yeah. Because if I kept it shallow if I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything then I didn’t have to risk hurting you.”

Your laugh this time was shaky. “Congratulations. You still did.”

“I know,” he said immediately. “And I hate myself for it.”

The room went quiet again, but this time it felt fragile instead of tense.

“I tried so hard not to fall for you,” he continued. “Every time you talked about your goals, every time you got that look in your eyes when something mattered—I told myself you deserved someone better.”

Your voice came out small. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

He looked at you then really looked and something cracked open between you both.

“I know,” he said softly. “I just… always hoped you’d never see me the way I see myself.”

You swallowed hard. “Well, I do. And that’s the problem.”

You crossed your arms, more to steady yourself than to shut him out. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle,” you said again, quieter now. “I never asked that from you .”

He swallowed, his jaw tightening. “I know. I just every time I got close, I thought about how much you had riding on this. On everything. And I kept thinking, I ruin things. So I figured if I kept you at arm’s length, at least I wouldn’t be the one who broke you.”

“You weren’t keeping me safe,” you said, your voice trembling despite yourself. “You were shutting me out.”

His shoulders sagged at that, like the words physically weighed on him. “Yeah. I was.” You paced a few steps away, pressing your fingers into your temples. “Do you know how lonely that felt?” you asked, turning back to him. “Standing next to you every day, trusting you with my body on the ice, my balance, my timing—and not knowing where I stood with you off it?”

He took a step toward you, then stopped himself. “I was scared.”

“So was I,” you snapped, then immediately softened. “I still am.”

Your eyes stung, and you hated that you couldn’t stop it now. “I kept telling myself it was just partnership. That whatever I felt didn’t matter because you’d never cross that line.” Your voice cracked. “And then you did. Just not with me.”

“I never meant for you to find out like that,” he said.

You laughed weakly. “Is there ever a good way?”

He shook his head, guilt etched into every line of his face. “Elise didn’t mean anything. Not like this. Not like you.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt less,” you said. “It just makes it confusing.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But it was never about replacing you. It was about distracting myself. About proving I could keep things surface-level so I wouldn’t want more.”

You studied him then the tension in his posture, the way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. “And did it work?” you asked.

“No,” he said immediately. “Not even a little.”

Silence settled again, heavier but honest.

“You don’t see yourself the way everyone else does,” you said finally. “You think you’re this walking disaster, but you’re not. You’re careful when it counts. You show up. You don’t quit.”

He met your eyes. “And you don’t see how much power you have over me.”

Your breath caught.

“I kept telling myself I had to be less,” he continued. “Less attached. Less honest. Because if I let myself want you the way I do… I was terrified I’d drag you down with me.”

You took a shaky step closer. “What if I want that risk?”

His voice was barely audible. “Then I wouldn’t know how to live with myself if I hurt you.”

You stood there, close enough now to feel the warmth of him, but not touching. “You already did,” you said softly. “But I’m still here.”

That seemed to undo him more than anything else. He let out a slow breath. “I don’t know how to be good for you.”

You looked up at him, eyes glossy but steady. “Then stop deciding you’re bad for me and let me choose.”The space between you shrank without either of you meaning for it to happen.

You weren’t sure who moved first maybe neither of you did. Maybe it was just gravity, or the way the room suddenly felt too small His breath brushed against your cheek, warm and unsteady, and you became acutely aware of how close you were. Close enough to count the freckles on his face. Close enough to feel the tension in his shoulders.

He looked at you like he was memorizing you. “If I do this,” he said quietly, “I don’t know how to stop.” Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs. “I’m not asking you to.”

His hand lifted, hesitating midair, fingers hovering just shy of your waist. The restraint in that small distance felt louder than any touch. Slowly like he was giving you time to change your mind he let his thumb brush against your hand instead.

Electric. You inhaled sharply, eyes dropping to his mouth before you could stop yourself. You felt it then the pull, undeniable and aching. He leaned in, just a fraction, and your body followed on instinct.

Your lips were inches apart.

You could feel the question in the pause, the weight of everything this would mean if either of you closed that distance. His forehead rested briefly against yours, a silent confession.

“God,” he murmured, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

That was what made you stop.You pressed your hand lightly against his chest, not pushing him away, just enough to remind both of you where you were. “If we do this,” you whispered, voice trembling, “it won’t just be a moment.”

He froze, breath hitching.

“It’ll change everything,” you continued. “Us. The ice. The trust.”

He swallowed hard, then slowly pulled back, though it clearly cost him. His hand fell from yours like it was the hardest thing he’d done all day.

“You’re right,” he said hoarsely. “And that’s why I stopped myself every time before.”

Your chest ached at the restraint in his eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it.”

“I know,” he replied softly. “That’s the problem.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward it was heavy, charged with everything you’d almost done. He took a step back, giving you space even though it hurt him.

“I don’t want to be a mistake in your life,” he said. “The moment stretched, fragile and trembling, until the restraint between you finally gave way. His hand came up slowly, like he was still giving you the chance to stop him, fingers brushing your jaw. You didn’t pull away.

So he leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first hesitant, almost questioning like neither of you quite believed you were allowed this. His lips brushed yours, barely there, and your breath caught before you kissed him back.

That was all it took. The kiss deepened, still gentle but full of everything you’d been holding back. Weeks months years of unsaid feelings poured into that single moment. His hand settled at your waist, grounding, careful, You melted into him before you could think better of it.

For a few seconds, nothing else existed. Not the ice. Not the routines. Not Elise. Just the warmth of him and the quiet certainty that this this was real.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, breaths uneven.

“I should’ve done that sooner,” he murmured.

Your lips curved into a small, shaky smile. “Yeah,” you whispered. “You should’ve.”

The world didn’t magically fix itself after that kiss but something shifted. Something honest and impossible to ignore.

“Then we figure this out,” you said. “Slowly. Honestly.”

When the music finally stops, you close your eyes for a second. "I'm going to throw my skates out of the rink if you want to do the routine one more time," you mutter, earning a breathy chuckle. Brayden's minthy breath ghosts over your face, the warmth of his firm chest against your back. He's aware of how close you are, and he swallows hard. You feel his hand sliding off your arm, down your waist, brushing over the bare skin of your back as your shirt was ridden up from him lifting you up. "It's perfect, we will kill it," you say, twirling around to skate to the exit of the rink.

"That's cause you skate with me," the charming smile spreads across his face again, flashing his white teeth at you. Even when you step off the ice, skates still on, he's towering over you. Brayden leans his elbows on the door, hair falling over his forehead so effortlessly. "We should go out tonight," he proposes, causing your eyebrows to raise. "I thought you were snogging Elise Russo behind my back?" you counter, sitting on a bench to untie your skates. "I thought we agreed to leave that behind us three months ago already when I committed to us," Brayden replies, head cocking a little sideways,

"But you're cute when you're jealous," there's the grin again that both makes your blood boil and causes your stomach to dip like you're on a rollercoaster. "People will start talking if they see us together off the ice," you say, sinking some more inches when you step into your slippers, holding your skates in hand. "That's the point," he states, fingertips grazing over your elbow to make sure you pay attention. It's a habit you don't understand, but you grew addicted to it anyway. "We're hot, but if we add some more spice...," his voice trails off, a look in his eyes you recognize from practice, when your body is pushed against his and you're so close you only need to tilt your head to kiss him.

"You want us to fake it off the ice too," you catch on. "Think of the benefits. Marketing, sponsorship," Brayden says. "Says the guy who hates media?" you squint your eyes at him. "Look, I promised you gold. This is the way to get it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms over his chest, causing your eyes to dart over his muscled arms and the confident glare in his eyes. "I'll think about," you hum, turning around to get to the locker room.

"Where are you going?" Adriana whistles as she and Freddie sit at the table in the kitchen of the Team Russo home. "Out with Brayden," you say, turning a piroutte. "What's going on between you two?" Freddie asks, an amused glint visible on his face. "We're good partners," you strategically answers. "He proposed we should fake date as a marketing strategy," you add, biting at your lower lip. "I don't think it's fake from his side," Adriana giggles, making your eyes widen slightly. "He's just a flirty person," you say. "Sure," she replies with a smile. "Have fun. Remember, ice time tomorrow at seven." You roll your eyes with a chuckle, heading out to find your uber waiting for you there. Brayden texted you he was there already, your thoughts drifting off to his proposal as you looked at his profile picture on your screen.

Fifteen minutes later you were dropped off at the club, and he opened the door of the car for you, offering a hand like the charmer he was. "Hey," Brayden smiles, warm fingertips lifting your chin slightly. "You look pretty," he says, voice a little raspy and only for your ears to hear. Your cheeks heat up slightly. "Did you think about..." You nod before he can finish his sentence. "Let's do it," you say. His eyes darken, his grip on your waist intensifies. "We're gonna be so hot together," his lips brush over your ear with a grin before he pulls away, taking your hand in his to guide you to the club. The heat inside is a shrill contrast with the snowy weather outside. You drop your coat off before he pulls you towards the dance floor.

People notice your presence right away, camera's sneakily snapping a picture when he twirls you to his chest. His fingers curl around yours in a sweet way, a familiar way. Like you're on the ice. Except he's closer to you than ever, his cologne making your head spin a little. "Everyone's looking at us," you say, seeing his eyes move from yours to your lips, one of his hands gliding from your arm to your waist. "We should give them something worth watching." Tension sizzles as his nose bumps into yours. He's waiting for you to give the green light, now both of his hands on your waist, fingers digging a little harder into your skin. Yours is curled around his bicep, the other sliding up his chest. It's again like on the ice, when everyone is watching and you fade into a world where only you two exist.

It's an addictive state of mind, one that makes you feel drunk while being sober, the heat of him against you, his lips ghosting over yours. "Please," he says, the letters slowly dragging from his mouth before you finally kiss. Your eyes fall closed, hand disappearing in the hair on the nape of his neck. It's so effortless, making your body itch for more as you follow his lead naturally. Brayden deepens the kiss gently, stupid butterflies erupting in your stomach. Your shirt rid up slightly, his fingertips circling the exposed skin in a comforting way. He leans down with you when you pull away to breathe, nose against your neck, breathing in your scent. "Convincing enough?" he asks, easily ignoring the stares.

"Or should we try again?" the kiss he leaves on your skin makes you shiver, one of his digits teasing the thin strap of your lace top. Brayden's sure his heart starts hammering against his ribs when your hand is placed on his chest, hovering over the beating organ. You don't reply, his head dipping again, but you turn your face a little. "That's unfair," Brayden complains with a breathy laugh, kissing the skin beneath your ear instead before spinning you around in his arms. You ignore your phone for the rest of the night, knowing your notifications were probably exploding on all platforms possible.

"We're going to need some rules," you say when you both climb into the backseat of the taxi a couple of hours later. Brayden gives you a roll of his eyes while leaning his head against the seat, even in the dark his stare burns through your chest. You ignore it. "Touching and kissing only in public and if absolutely necessary," you start. "And we can't see anyone else." He gives you one of his flawless grins again. "You can't tell me you want to do this with anyone else after that kiss," his chest puffs out slightly, making you gnaw down on your bottom lip to suppress a laugh. "You're down bad," you push him gently. "Don't worry. We will win," he promises you.

To your surprise, Brayden follows the rules you proposed. He was serious on the ice, the perfect fake boyfriend off the ice. Brand shoots and promo parties flooded your inbox, both of your socials grew triple in follower size. You expected it to mess with your relationship and the boundaries you set as professional ice dancers, but if possible, it made you grow closer. Less mistakes each training. Countless times telling press how you fell in love together. "We hated each other's guts, stopped acting like children and finally realized what others had already seen: how good we are together," Brayden had told journalists so many times, you knew at what points in the story he'd look down at you with that smile that made your stomach do somersaults and when his hand would find the dip in your waist to pull you closer.

It was all so effortless, felt so natural to let his hand slide in yours when you made an appearance at a charity gala, felt normal when he teasingly pulled on your pony tail, let his fingers drift down your neck before drawing you in for a kiss dangerously close to your lips - all for small clips to show up on your instagram feed with dreamy captions and fans drooling over the couple you were. Qualifiers happened and you felt more connected than ever before. You were skating so freely, trusting each other, getting the perfect score. It was all so perfect and you started asking yourself more and more often how fake it was.

You stop the video of your performance at qualifiers when someone knocks on your door. You had been celebrating with the team earlier tonight, but you pulled back from the party to lock yourself into your room. "Can I come in?" Brayden peaks around the door. "Yeah, sure," you reply. Dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a tight, black shirt he enters your room, closing the door behind him. "Didn't feel like partying?" Brayden asks, letting himself fall on your bed where you were seated propped up against the pillows. "We can party after we win," you say with a small smile, letting him know that wasn't the real reason.

"You can watch it countless times, but we didn't make any mistakes," he nods to your laptop, making you close it and get up to drop it on your desk. His jaw clenches a little, hyperaware of the shorts and sportsbra you're wearing, how much skin is exposed to him. He's gotten to know you really well over the past weeks, having more difficulties to keep his desires to himself. Brayden wanted to be selfish and have you to himself off camera too. You climbed onto your bed again, sitting on your knees while looking at him. His hands rested behind his head, your eyes drifting to his muscular upper body without a thought. "We look good together," Brayden speaks up again.

"We do," you confirm for the first time, his eyes darkening slightly. It's quiet for a second, tension crackling like many moments before. You reach out to brush the hair on his forehead aside, his hand catching yours and pulling you towards him immediately. "We should kiss," he softly says, voice lowered an octave. You don't hesitate to lean forward and let your lips collide. It was even better than the kiss in the club. No pressure from people watching and snapping pictures. His hand sinks into your hair, shifting from his position to pull you closer to him, your back hitting the mattress. His weight hovering over you makes you sink deeper into the sheets.

"Tell me it's a real kiss," Brayden's breathless against your mouth. "Need me to pinch you?" you tease, making him laugh softly. He kisses you now, hands finding your waist, your hips, his body rolling so deliciously into yours. Your nails bite into his shoulder, the other hand pulling on the roots of his blond hair. His tongue licks gently into your mouth, experimentally and intrigued by your response. Brayden's fingers tickle your skin above the waistline of your shorts before settling on your hip again. Your heart is racing when he parts from you, leaning his forehead against yours. "I wanted that for a very long time," he confesses with a smile.

FUCK. SCHOOL IS HELL.

literally. hellfire is supposed to be the one thing that’s fun this week, and here he is, stuck at the table only trying to pay attention. the lunchroom is annoying, trays clattering, people yelling about sports, someone scraping a chair across the floor, the smell of mystery meat hanging in the air. he’s sitting at the hellfire club table, eddie animatedly waving his hands about some totally dumb idea for a campaign, dustin laughing way too loud, lucas trying to explain rules he’s already explained three times, and mike is just… done.

and you’re there. sitting across from him, leaning slightly back like you’re in charge of the cafeteria, hair tied up in that stupid perfect ponytail, laughing. of course laughing. at them. all of them. jason and his friends. the football idiots. you’re friends with them, probably likes them, probably laughs at them all the time. definitely rude. probably judging him too, because of course you would.

it’s annoying. of course it’s annoying. you’re popular, you’re liked, you’re beautiful. you’re probably rude. definitely rude. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t watching you though, but he’s not watching you. he’s just… noticing. totally innocent noticing, like a scientist observing a specimen. a particularly annoying, perfect, probably-spiteful specimen.

he hates how fast his stomach flips when you glance in his direction, like you actually looked at him for a split second and he’s panicking because obviously he can’t just look back, that would be insane. who does that. you’re way out of his league, socially speaking. plus your friends are all massive assholes, and you’re friends with them, therefore you’re a massive asshole.

he’s supposed to be listening to eddie, who’s describing his rogue’s perfect escape from a trap, but he’s not. can’t. every time you talk or laugh he’s stuck internally rolling his eyes. loud, obnoxious laugh. loud enough to make him want to throw his pencil at your head. okay, not really. but almost.

he keeps rationalizing. you’re probably fake nice. you probably rolls your eyes at people when they’re not looking. probably does. maybe you’re laughing at him. definitely laughing at him. and if you’re not laughing at him, you’re definitely laughing at someone worse than him. and if you’re not laughing at anyone, you’re probably bored and he’s boring, so it balances out. not that he cares. no. he’s focused. very focused. on strategies. and pencils. and why lucas is chewing his pen like that?

he’s noticing everything he shouldn’t notice but refusing to admit it: the way your shoulders tilt when you gesture, how you lean toward the jocks just slightly, like you’re giving them the attention they don’t deserve, how you laugh at their dumb jokes. it’s infuriating. you’re nice, sure. maybe nice. but that doesn’t cancel out rude, and you’re definitely rude. friends with jason. laughing at jason. laughing at all of them. fine. he doesn’t care.

but then you laugh at something jason says and your teeth are ridiculously white and now he’s imagining his face when he accidentally looks at you, and oh no, there it is again, stomach doing flips he didn’t think boys could actually feel, ears warming, heart maybe going a tiny bit faster—definitely normal, it’s probably just because hellfire club is stressful. yes. stressful. focus on eddie’s ridiculous ideas about campaign strategies. focus on the notebook that’s probably crumpled under his fist. you didn’t even notice him staring. no one did.

he refuses to admit that it’s been like this every week since school started. none of that matters. he is oblivious. he is strong. he is rational. except now eddie is talking and he can’t concentrate, pencil tapping slowing, stomach doing something stupid again and —-

“mike, you’re zoning.” eddie says, nudging him.

“uh huh.” mike doesn’t even look. you’re laughing again. maybe at jason, definitely at jason. asshole. and okay, maybe he notices how your uniform is slightly rumpled, like you just walked here and didn’t care, like you can afford to not care, and your sneakers are clean and the socks are just right, and your backpack is sitting perfectly beside your chair like it was placed there by someone who knows exactly how to make an impression, which is obviously annoying, and probably deliberate, and maybe you’re aware he’s noticing, because why else would anyone be that good-looking in the middle of a Tuesday? but he’s not looking. hes paying attention to eddie, duh.

“mike.” lucas hisses from the side, elbow jabbing him like that’s supposed to snap him out of it. “stop staring.”

“i’m not staring.” mike replies immediately, way too fast, like the word itself could be a crime.

eddie looks way too amused, tossing a grape from his tray into his mouth. “you’re staring like a creep, wheeler.”

“i’m not.” mike says, defensive in the way that gives him away immediately.

evil, he thinks. absolutely evil.

because if you weren’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that this has been happening every week. that he knows where you sit. that he tracks your laugh without meaning to. that his brain goes stupid and loud and defensive whenever you’re near, and that is not happening. he doesn’t like you. he’s rational. he’s in control.

he doesn’t look back for a while. long enough that he convinces himself it didn’t matter, long enough that the noise of the lunchroom starts to blur into something tolerable. long enough that eddie and dustin drift into another conversation. the bell rings. chairs scrape back. trays slide. the room shifts all at once. he looks up again without thinking.

you’re standing now, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, saying something to your friends. still smiling, still unaware. or maybe aware. he doesn’t know. he never knows with people like you. that’s part of why he hates it. you walk past the hellfire table without looking at him, close enough that he catches the scent of your shampoo again. clean. not overpowering. unfair. “come on,” lucas says, standing. “we’re gonna be late.”

he follows them out into the hallway, noise swallowing them immediately, lockers slamming, voices bouncing, sneakers squeaking against tile. the world keeps moving like nothing happened, like lunch wasn’t a whole thing.

cheerleaders have always been like this. always. he learned it early. elementary school early. the girls who got picked first for everything, the girls who were loud without getting in trouble, the girls who smiled at teachers and somehow got away with stuff he would’ve been sent to the principal for. then middle school, when everything split cleanly into groups, and the girls who would eventually become cheerleaders already knew it. already stood together. already laughed together. already looked through people instead of at them.

he doesn’t remember a specific moment where he decided cheerleaders were evil. it was more like a gradual understanding, safe in their little social bubble of doom. mike hates safe. safe people don’t lose their best friend to another dimension. safe people don’t watch monsters crawl out of walls. safe people don’t grow up too fast and then get told to calm down about it. safe people get to laugh in cafeterias and walk through hallways like the world has never once tried to eat them alive.

so yeah. cheerleaders are evil, and you fit. of course you do. popular, liked, friends with jason. laughing at lunch like it’s easy. sitting where you want, saying what you want, carrying yourself like nothing bad ever sticks. annoying. deeply annoying. he tells himself this as they walk: you’re not special. you’re a type. a category. eddie is talking again, voice carrying down the hallway, something sarcastic, something about school being a prison. dustin laughs too loud at it, like always. mike hums in response, noncommittal, present enough to pass.

he’s bored. so bored. bored of school. bored of pretending this is normal, bored of a world that keeps insisting on lockers and lunch bells and cheerleaders after everything that’s happened, like monsters didn’t exist.

he doesn’t like you. he knows exactly what kind of person you are. and if his brain keeps circling back to you anyway—well.

that’s just another thing wrong with the world.

which would be fine. manageable. survivable. if the world would just stay wrong in predictable ways. monsters, sure. portals, whatever. government cover-ups? annoying but at least consistent. but no, instead it does this, lets him get halfway down the hall toward the vending machines after school, brain already shifting gears toward campaign logistics, and then—

you.

of course you’re there. of course you’re alone for once. leaning against the lockers by the science wing, backpack on the floor, kneeling like you dropped something and decided the floor was your enemy now. productive, probably. cheerleaders are always productive. or sad. maybe sad. he can’t tell. your face is tilted down, hair falling forward, hands messing with something—papers, maybe. a clipboard. figures.

mike. don’t.

he slows anyway, not on purpose. momentum just… decreases. great. alone cheerleader. he pretends he’s just heading for the vending machine, which he is. definitely. that’s why he’s here. he puts his hand in his pocket and inserts money into the machine. he doesn’t look at you at first, just presses the button. the soda drops halfway and gets stuck, tilted, mocking him. “of course.” he mutters.

you glance up, just a little. surprise flickers across your face, then something else—recognition, probably. annoyance. or relief. hard to tell. you straighten, brush your hands on your shorts. “um,” you say, hesitant. not rude, which is irritating. “sorry—did i—are you waiting for that?”

“no,” mike says automatically. “i mean. yes. but not—whatever. it’s stuck.”

“oh, yeah. that one always does that.” you know the vending machine patterns. of course you do. “if you hit it on the side,” you add, “sometimes it drops.”

mhm. great. you’re also a vending machine expert.

mike exhales through his nose, like that might dislodge the soda by intimidation alone. it doesn’t work. obviously. nothing ever works the first time. he hits the side of the machine anyway, not where you said, because he’s not taking instructions from you.

nothing.

he hits it again, harder. the machine rattles. the soda wobbles. stays stuck. he feels you watching him. now that’s worse. “you have to hit it lower.” you say, still gentle, still polite, like you’re talking to a skittish animal.

“i know.” he says, too fast, even though he absolutely did not know.

he hits it where you pointed. the soda drops. he freezes for half a second, staring at it like it embarrassed him.

“see?”

“yeah,” he mutters, grabbing it immediately, like if he doesn’t you’ll claim credit. “lucky.”

lucky. sure. that’s what that was.

he twists the cap off, takes a sip he doesn’t want. carbonated regret. he should leave now. he should walk away, turn the corner, let eddie yell at him for being late, sit down at the table and pretend his brain hasn’t been doing this stupid static thing all afternoon.

but you don’t move. instead, you bend back down toward the floor, scooping up the papers you dropped earlier. he registers them without meaning to—flyers. bright colors. handwritten letters. something about a fundraiser. a pep rally? a food drive? some kind of school-sanctioned enthusiasm. “your friends ditch you?” the question slips out before he can stop it. immediately, he wants to shove it back in his mouth.

you pause, just for a second. then you shrug. “guess so.”

“thought cheerleaders did everything in packs.” he says, aiming for neutral, landing somewhere closer to rude.

you huff a laugh, small, tired. “we usually do.” you stack the papers, tap them against your knee to straighten them.

“so why aren’t they helping?” he asks, because apparently today is ask questions mike shouldn’t ask day.

you hesitate and look down at the flyers instead of at him. “we had a fight.”

“about…?”

“me.” you say, simple, like it’s not a big deal. that sets something off in his chest that he absolutely does not want to examine.

“right,” he says. “well. people suck.”

it comes out harsher than he means. or maybe exactly as harsh as he means. hard to tell.

you glance up at him then, really look at him, not judging, not amused, just… curious. “yeah,” you agree quietly. “they kind of do.” you stand, adjusting the strap of your bag. your uniform’s slightly wrinkled, like you’ve been sitting on the floor longer than necessary. he looks away immediately. don’t be weird. don’t be weird. “anyway,” you say, forcing a lighter tone that doesn’t quite stick. “enjoy your soda, mike.”

“mm.” he hums, already halfway turned away. automatic response. the same sound he makes when his mom asks if he’s done his homework and he is technically in the same room as it.

he takes one step.

wait. he stops so abruptly his sneaker squeaks against the floor. stupid. loud. announces him like an idiot. you said his name. just—casually, like it belongs in your mouth. like you didn’t just pull it out of thin air. he turns back, frowning before he can stop himself. “how do you—”

he cuts himself off, because asking questions is dangerous. questions lead to answers. answers lead to thinking. you’re still there, waiting, like you’re used to people freezing up around you and you’ve learned to give them a second. “what?”

“how do you know my name.” he says, sharper than necessary, because his brain has already decided this is suspicious.

“oh. uh.”

uh???

“we’re in the same grade,” you say. “and you sit like… three tables over at lunch. with dustin. and eddie. and lucas.” you gesture vaguely, as if that explains everything. it does not explain anything.

“right,” he says flatly. “so you’ve been… what. keeping tabs?”

your eyebrows knit together. “what? no.”

“because that’d be weird.” he adds, immediately, because apparently he’s committed to being unbearable today.

“i hear people say your name.” you admit. “a lot. eddie kind of shouts it.”

traitor.

“doesn’t mean you should remember it.” mike mumbles.

you blink at him, once, then again, like you’re deciding whether this is worth your energy. “okay,” you reply slowly. “sorry for having ears.”

he bristles immediately. “i’m just saying it’s weird.”

“it’s not,” you say. “it’s… school. people talk.”

“about me?” he asks, skeptical, defensive, already convinced this is some kind of setup.

“trust me mike, no one’s gossiping about you.”

“wow,” he adds dryly. “thanks.”

“you’re welcome.”

he can feel himself locking up, shoulders tight, brain flipping through its usual list of explanations. she’s messing with you. this is a joke. this is what popular people do. they poke and see what reacts. “so,” he continues, sharp, “you just go around memorizing everyone’s name?”

you fold your arms. “no. just the loud ones.” eddie. definitely eddie. “and you,” you add, almost as an afterthought, “sit with them.”

“unfortunately.”

you tilt your head. “you don’t like them?”

“that’s not what i said.”

you raise an eyebrow.

“okay,” he corrects. “i like them. i don’t like… this place.” he gestures vaguely at the hallway. the lockers. the banners taped up crookedly. the stupid school colors everywhere.

“same.”

same? “don’t pretend,” he sounds annoyed. “you’re literally part of it.”

“part of what?”

“the… school,” he says, like it’s a disease. “pep rallies. assemblies. chanting. forced enthusiasm.”

“pep rallies are the worst.”

he wasn’t expecting that.

“they’re loud,” you continue. “and sweaty. and they make us stand there forever smiling like idiots while the principal yells into the mic.”

“…yeah,” mike says, cautious. “and the sound system always squeals.”

“exactly.”

his brain scrambles to patch the hole this just punched in his worldview. “still,” he says, regrouping, “you chose to do it.”

you shrug. “yeah. doesn’t mean i have to like every part.”

actually, yes, yes it does, mike decided for you. you can’t do that. “you don’t get a choice,” he says. “once you’re in that crowd, that’s it. hive mind.”

“wow. dramatic.”

“i’m serious.”

“i know,” you say. “that’s the dramatic part.”

he glares at you. you don’t back down. which is annoying. deeply. “you think we’re all the same,” you add, observational. “don’t you.”

“yes,” he says immediately. “because you are.”

“okay,” you nod. “then you’re all the same too.”

“what does that mean.”

“hellfire club,” you say. “dungeon stuff. dice. arguing about rules. hating everyone else.”

he stiffens. “it’s not dungeon stuff. it’s—”

“dungeons & dragons,” you say, smiling slightly. “i know.”

stop knowing things!

“my cousin plays,” you add quickly, like you see the shutdown coming. “he made me watch once.”

his brain stalls. he clears his throat, deciding not to acknowledge that, because that’s too much for him to unpack right now. “still weird you know my name.”

you roll your eyes. “fine. i’ll call you ‘hey you.’”

“don’t.”

“okay, mike.”

don’t.

his name shouldn’t do that. it’s a name. it’s been his his whole life. teachers say it. his mom says it. eddie yells it, apparently. dustin says it when he wants something. it has never—never—made his chest do that weird skip. this is new. therefore bad. his heart does a stupid little lurch, like when you miss a step on the stairs but don’t fall. that. sickening. nope. don’t do that. you’re not allowed.

“you don’t have to keep saying it.” he says, defensive posture engaged.

you blink, then smile a little, like you’re trying not to laugh. “your name?”

“yeah. it’s excessive.”

it’s not excessive. it’s four letters. you’re just weak. pull it together.

you tilt your head, studying him, like you’re trying to figure out how something works by looking at it too closely. stop that. i’m not a puzzle. i’m a person. a normal person who does not react to cheerleaders saying his name. “you’re really committed to hating me.” you observe.

“i don’t hate you.” he lies immediately.

you raise an eyebrow.

“i just,” he corrects, scrambling, “don’t trust you.”

“why?”

because cheerleaders ruined middle school. because they laughed at kids like him. because popularity is a disease. because if you let one in, they eat you alive.

“because,” he says instead, “people like you don’t usually just… talk to me.”

“but i am talking to you.” you point out.

“yeah, and that’s suspicious.”

“what, you think i have an agenda?”

yes.

“maybe.” he says. you step closer without realizing it. or maybe you do. he doesn’t know. he only knows suddenly you’re right there, close enough that he has to look down at you, and he hates that too. hates the angle. hates that his stupid brain immediately catalogues things: your eyes, your mouth, the crease between your brows like you frown when you concentrate. the way you smell. cheerleader pheromones. definitely a thing. he shifts his grip on the soda. the can is cold. “cheerleaders are basically a cult.” he adds.

“we have jackets, not robes.”

“same difference.”

“and you guys don’t?”

he opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. “we have dice.”

“dangerous.” you say solemnly.

he almost smiles. almost. he catches himself and scowls instead. “dice are serious.”

“i can tell,” you say, nodding gravely. “very intimidating.”

“you’re doing that on purpose.”

“doing what?”

“being… normal,” he gestures vaguely at you. “about it.”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

because you’re a cheerleader. because cheerleaders are supposed to be loud and cruel and dismissive. because middle school taught him that lesson very clearly and he has never, ever revisited it. because if that rule stops working, then a lot of other stuff starts unraveling too. “most people aren’t.” he says instead.

“most people suck.” you counter.

he laughs. you light up just a little when you notice. not exaggerated, not smug, just—pleased. damn it. “see,” you say. “we agree again.”

“don’t get used to it.” he mumbles, frustrated with himself.

“relax,” you say. “i’m not trying to convert you or anything.”

“good.”

“though,” you add, thoughtful, “if i were evil, this would be a great strategy. gain trust. lower defenses.”

“you just admitted it.”

you grin. “or did i?”

oh my god.

he shifts his weight, suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing. closer than earlier. close enough that he has to look down at you, which he hates because it makes him feel like he’s looming. or staring. or both. “why are you still here.” he asks, not unkindly, but not friendly either.

you glance at the hallway. empty now, lockers stretching on forever. “i guess i don’t really want to go home yet.”

that surprises him. it shouldn’t, but it does. “why.”

“long day.”

fair. he nods once. “yeah.”

“so,” you say, breaking the silence before it could settle. are all cheerleaders this talkative?? “what do you actually do in hellfire?”

“campaign planning,” he answers automatically. “and arguing.”

“about?”

“rules. strategy. morality.”

you smile. “morality?”

“yeah,” he says. “like… choices. consequences. who deserves what.”

“that’s kind of cool.”

his ears warm. god. really? that did it? “it’s not,” he says quickly. “it’s nerd stuff.”

“mike,” you smile gently, “i am wearing a uniform with my name stitched into it. we all have our things.”

fuck, you’re a little funny. just sometimes. only sometimes. he won’t admit any more than that. he looks at you again without the automatic defenses fully slamming shut. notices how relaxed you seem now, how your shoulders have dropped. she’s pretty, his brain supplies, unhelpfully. like, actually pretty. not just uniform pretty.

“aren’t you supposed to be at your club?” you add, like you’re checking a fact, not poking fun.

he braces. “yeah.”

you nod. “my brother thinks it’s satanic.”

“your brother’s an idiot.”

you blink, then laugh. actually laugh. quick and surprised. “yeah,” you say. “he is.” you pause. “i should go,” you say, lifting the flyers. “good luck with… your game.”

“campaign.” he corrects, because of course he does.

you smile, just a little. “right. campaign.”

you turn like that’s it, like this was a normal hallway interaction and not—whatever this was. the flyers bend a little in your hands. he watches you take one step, then another. okay. fine. good. solved. back to normal.

except his brain doesn’t move on. it stays right there, snagged on the way you said campaign like you were trying. on the laugh. on the fact that he’s still standing here instead of walking in the opposite direction like a sane person. why did i let this go on this long.

he thinks of middle school—of lockers slammed too hard, of jason-type smiles that meant we see you and we don’t like what we see. you’re almost out of reach when it happens. the thing he doesn’t pre-approve. the thing his mouth does before his brain files the paperwork. “you can—” he starts.

you stop. turn back.

oh no.

he clears his throat, already irritated with himself. “you can come. if you want.”

his heart does something idiotic, like it thinks this matters. “come where?” you ask.

“hellfire,” he says. then, defensive, “not—play. just watch. if you want. you don’t have to.”

abort abort abort.

“you’re inviting me?” you question carefully, rightfully suspicious of the boy who seemed convinced you were evil incarnate five minutes ago.

“i’m not inviting you,” he says immediately. “i’m just—informing you that it’s an option.”

“wow. generous.”

“you’ll hate it,” he adds, grasping for ground. “it’s boring. and eddie yells. and there’s arguing. like, a lot.”

“you already said that,” you point out. “it sounded kind of interesting.”

he scowls at the floor. “you won’t get it.”

“try me.”

that does something. he doesn’t like that it does something. “fine,” he says. “but if you laugh—”

“i won’t.”

“or ask stupid questions—”

“probably will.”

“—then i’m revoking the offer.”

“okay.” you fall into step beside him like this is settled. he’s aware of everything now. the sound of your sneakers. the way your arm brushes his for half a second and then doesn’t again.

he opens the door and steps inside first, awkwardly, like he’s not sure why he’s doing this. lucas is already rolling dice, dustin’s counting something, everyone’s focused on whatever they’re doing—but then you’re there, and it’s like someone hit pause. the air shifts, not because you’re here, because you shouldn’t be, and they don’t know why mike brought you. everyone’s eyes flick up, a pause, questions in the raised eyebrows, the leaning forward of heads. mike doesn’t look at them. he doesn’t answer. he’s too busy pretending this is normal, that having a cheerleader in the hellfire club is totally normal.

you, oblivious, set your bag down, smooth out your skirt, and settle into a chair near the back. the papers you were working on before now stacked neatly in front of you, clipboard balancing carefully on your knees. you start taking it all in, curious, not really judging, just watching. mike’s hands tap a pencil, notebook open, dice still scattered in front of him. he’s too aware of you; he’s too aware of the way you lean slightly, the hair brushing the side of your face, the way your eyes track what’s happening on the table without interrupting.

he hates that he notices. hates that his stomach churns when you scribble something down and hum, like the sound is small enough to be innocent but enough to catch his attention. he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, then pretends to focus on his dice, on his notebook, on the little notes he’s scribbled about character abilities, strategy, alignment. everything except you.

you lean a little forward as dustin explains a roll, and mike notices you nod, like you understand it, like you’re processing the rules in your head. cheerleaders don’t do this. they don’t sit and think about rules. they don’t watch dice. they don’t care about probability or alignment or morality in a dungeon. except somehow, you do. he hates it and doesn’t know why. he’s hyper-aware of every small gesture. somehow, you’re slipping into the group without breaking anything, without disrupting, just existing, watching, listening, and he’s watching you watch them, and he hates that he’s watching you watch them.

time stretches. mike rolls dice again but can’t completely concentrate. he reminds himself cheerleaders are evil. he reminds himself this was a mistake. he reminds himself you’re probably laughing at him. but somehow, the longer you sit, the longer you stay, the easier it gets to forget that he should hate this. not fully, not consciously, not admitting, but there’s something about the way you follow the dice, nod when someone explains a rule, that makes it almost… tolerable.

finally, eddie announces a break. mike exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours. you get up first. “going?” he asks. too curt, defensive. too automatic. why do i even care?

“yeah,” you say, gathering your things. “see you at school?”

he nods. don’t say more. mike stands too, automatically, walks with you out of the club, and somehow it doesn’t feel quite as wrong as it did before. maybe it’s just that you exist, that you were polite and attentive, that you fit into his world in a way that makes sense even though it shouldn’t. “you’re… welcome to come by again.” he blurts suddenly. what are you doing? why did you say that?

he immediately regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. he’s never invited anyone to hellfire before. never. he’s never wanted anyone to see this side of him. he’s not allowed to like anyone enough to bring them here. definitely not a cheerleader. definitely not you.

“yeah, maybe.”

you glance at him, just a fraction, like you’re weighing something, not quite sure if you should ask, not quite sure if you should leave it. he notices the pause. long enough to make him uncomfortable, short enough to make him paranoid. “mike…” you finally say, quiet, careful, like you’re testing the waters. he stiffens automatically.

the “yeah?” he gave came out defensive.

you hesitate. “earlier, when you asked me how i knew your name… i lied.”

he blinks. stops walking for a split second, too stunned to notice. lied? she lied? why? evil. plotting. wrong. “what?” he asks, suspicious. dry. why would she lie? this is a trap. of course it’s a trap. she’s evil. she’s a cheerleader. shut down.

“i didn’t just know because of eddie,” you admit, like it’s dangerous to say it out loud. “i’ve .. always known.”

he stops. his brain sputters. always known? what does that even—why are you saying—wait—what? “what do you mean?” he says, voice sharper than intended, heart starting to hammer.

you glance down, cheeks coloring faintly. bashful. hesitant. “i mean i’ve —- kind of… liked you. for a while. i just… didn’t… say anything.”

he freezes, backpack straps digging into his shoulder, soda crinkling in his hand, mouth open like he’s going to explain something, defend himself, insist that this is a misunderstanding—but there’s nothing. he doesn’t have a defensive line ready for this. i—what—you—hello????

“you… what?” he says finally, incredulous, not believing. not sure if he wants to believe. part of him wants to tell you you’re wrong, that you’re lying, that cheerleaders are evil, that he hates this—but another part? another part is ridiculously, embarrassingly glad.

“yeah,” you admit, looking up just enough to meet his eyes. “i’ve always thought you were… cool, i guess.” your voice is soft, almost like you’re worried he’ll push you away.

he swallows. he wants to say something clever, dry, snarky, but none of it comes out. instead, he just stands there, balancing between panic and something else. why do i like that you like me?

he just stands there. too long. long enough that the silence starts to feel loud, like the hallway itself is waiting for him to say something smart or sharp or at least coherent. nothing comes. his brain is buffering. this was not in any possible outcome tree he’d bothered to map out. his heart is going way too fast, like he just ran laps. “i—” he starts, then stops. clears his throat. tries again. “you don’t—” also bad. abort.

you shift your weight, clearly bracing yourself. not dramatic about it, just steady, like you’re ready for him to say something awful and you’ve already decided you’ll survive it if he does. that’s somehow worse than if you were defensive. or sarcastic. or mean. he knows how to handle mean.

“i just wanted you to know,” you clarify. “that’s all. i know you hate me. i know you think i’m… whatever. i just figured i’d rather say it than keep pretending.”

he frowns automatically. “i don’t hate you.”

the words come out before he can stop them. immediate regret, followed by confusion about why he regrets them. he doesn’t hate you. when did that happen? when did that stop being true?

“you don’t?”

“i mean—” he stalls, because now he has to back it up. “i don’t… hate you. i thought i did. probably. i thought you were—” he gestures uselessly. “you know. like that.”

“evil?” you offer, dry but not offended.

he winces. “yeah.”

you giggle, a small little laugh that’s more relief than humor. “fair.”

that makes something in his chest loosen. he watches you while you talk, not in the way he was trying very hard not to earlier, but openly now, because apparently all his defenses are fried. you’re nervous, but not crumbling. you’re honest without apologizing for it. you don’t hedge every sentence. you just… say what you mean, like it’s allowed.

that’s wild to him.

mike wheeler does not say what he means. he deflects. he turns things into arguments so he doesn’t have to name what they actually are. feelings are messy. feelings get you hurt. feelings make you look stupid. feelings are stupid. he has spent years being very careful about that. you just walked up and handed yours over. “you’re brave.” he notices, and immediately cringes at himself for how stupid it sounds.

you tilt your head. “am i?”

“yeah,” he says, more firmly this time. “i wouldn’t do that.”

he doesn’t know why he’s admitting that. maybe because it’s true. maybe because you already admitted something worse. maybe because the world feels slightly off-kilter and honesty is leaking through the cracks. you shrug, a little shy now. “i’ve had practice.”

you’ve done this before. you know how to say things out loud. you know how to survive the answer either way. he admires that more than he wants to. he rubs the back of his neck and looks at the floor, then back at you. “i don’t really know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” you say quickly. “i’m not—this isn’t—” you stop yourself, take a breath. “i’m not asking for anything. i just didn’t want you thinking i only talked to you for some other reason. or because i was bored. or because i’m fake.”

“i did think that.” he admits.

you smile. “i know.”

that’s the thing. you always seem to know. and instead of using it against him, you just… accept it, like it’s part of the deal. “okay,” he says. “thanks. for… telling me.”

you relax a little, like that was the part you were holding your breath for. “yeah,” you say. “you’re welcome.” you start walking again, and he doesn’t hesitate before falling into step beside you. it feels different now, like something has shifted and neither of you knows what to call it yet. he’s still awkward, still stiff, still very much mike wheeler, incapable of a smooth emotional landing. but there’s something there now, an understanding. the knowledge that someone saw him, liked him, said it out loud, and the world didn’t end.

and he doesn’t hate you.

and now he’s thinking: wait. i don’t hate her. he actually doesn’t. like. at all. how long has it been since he’s felt this particular kind of not-hating? too long, really. and then, just like that, his brain decides to start justifying everything, retroactively rewriting history. maybe cheerleaders aren’t evil. maybe your friends aren’t all scheming idiots. maybe your laugh isn’t some weaponized sonic trap aimed at him specifically.

he glances at you enough to see you’re not looking at him, just staring forward, maybe thinking about something else. he likes that. your attention, or lack thereof, or… whatever. you watched him play D&D. you didn’t need to, but you did. more than anyone else. more than dustin explaining the same rule for the fourth time. more than eddie whining about dice. you actually watched mike, and now he’s thinking: okay. that’s… kind of nice. your attention. you. you’re kind of nice.

he notices your hands, how they swing a little when you walk, he notices the tilt of your head, like you’re quietly measuring the hallway, or counting tiles, or just… being you. maybe you’re kind of cool. maybe you’re not evil. maybe your friends are funny sometimes. maybe your hair just always looks better than it should for a tuesday.

and why does he feel good walking next to you? why does he like that you watched him play? do you notice him more than the others? and why the hell does that feel good? his chest feels lighter than it has in days. the panic has gone, replaced by a confusing, pleasant sort of… awareness.

why does it matter that you watched him? that you didn’t get bored, didn’t look around for someone better, didn’t laugh. you watched him, like what he was doing mattered. like he mattered.

the doors loom ahead, glass smeared with fingerprints, afternoon light bleeding through in dull yellow slabs, and suddenly the walk has an end. mike hates that. he hates endpoints. they force decisions. you slow first, of course you do. you’re better at this. at transitions. you stop just short of the doors and turn, half-smiling, like you’re already bracing for the moment to break.

he realizes, distantly, that he’s supposed to go back. hellfire. the campaign. the table. the dice. the version of himself that makes sense there. and you’re supposed to leave. walk out into the parking lot, back into your world. this is how it works.

his chest tightens at the idea.

he clears his throat, shifts his weight, looks anywhere but your face. the floor. the exit sign. why is this so hard? he’s faced demogorgons. literal monsters. this—this is just a person. a girl. a cheerleader. a girl who likes him. apparently.

“so,” he says, and immediately hates how thin it sounds. he coughs and tries again. “uh. i have to—” he gestures vaguely over his shoulder, toward the club room. hellfire. destiny or whatever.

“yeah.” you say, understanding. not disappointed.

he nods, swallows, then, before his brain can intervene—before logic can tackle him to the ground— “would you maybe want to… hang out sometime?” it comes out rushed, like he’s tripping over his own words. “not—like—i mean, not a big thing. just—” he grimaces.

you blink, surprised, and then your smile spreads, slow and genuine, like you’re trying not to spook him. “yeah,” you agree. “i’d like that.”

“okay,” he says too quickly. then softer, like he’s testing it out. “okay.”

there’s a pause. the kind that feels like it could stretch if neither of you moves. but the doors are still there. reality still exists. you adjust your bag strap. “good luck with your… campaign.” you say, teasing but kind.

he huffs. “thanks.”

you hesitate, then lift a hand in a small wave. “bye, mike.”

his name again. still hits. still makes his chest do that stupid fluttering thing. “bye,” he says. then, because apparently he’s braver now—or dumber—“you.”

you push the door open and step into the light, and mike stands there for a second longer than necessary, watching the door swing shut behind you. his chest still feels light. his head feels full. when he finally turns back toward hellfire, he knows one thing with absolute, terrifying clarity:

he’s going to think about this the entire campaign.

based off this request !

STARTED 12.20.2025. POSTED 12.21.2025.

  ⸝⸝  masterlist  .ᐟ  𝜗𝜚

©️ latedeparture

"hey, will and i can stop by your house and we can ride to dustin's together?" mike's voice broke you from your thoughts. all of you were now outside where kids were running to busses, their cars, or their bikes to get home. you, mike, and will were stopped in front of the bike racks.

"yeah. sounds good," your lips tightened into an smile. the taller boy nodded, unhooking his bike because he needed to grab holly from the elementary school.

he called a quick goodbye to you and will as he rode away. you silently unlocked your own bike when will's gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you. the brunette was already looking at you when you met his wondering, lingering gaze. "you okay, y/n? you've been..quiet," the boy chose his words carefully, not wanting to upset you more if you were upset about something.

you stilled briefly. these boys knew you like the back of their hands and you knew them, but the one thing they could never break through to was your emotions. you had a way of hiding them behind this wall that guarded anyone from getting passed it. even mike, who you were the closest to out of the four, could never see through the wall, so will noticing your more reserved nature from the past few days caught you off guard.

he continued looking at you, but not because he was trying to interrogate you or anything. he looked like he was just genuinely checking in. "i'm fine. long week," you brushed him off. because even if the wall cracked and someone could see through, you just put it right back together.

you continued unlocking your bike. when will didn't say anything more you thought he dropped it and stopped paying you mind. he didn't though, "it's been 3 years, right?"

you stopped in your tracks. your parents never acknowledged the anniversary anymore, so hearing someone say it out loud had your head swirling because that meant it was real. when you slowly turned back to will he frowned. "i only know because november 6th was a few days ago and..and i remember when.." he stopped talking and your lip bottom wobbled with emotion.

"i'll see you at dustin's, okay?" you climbed your bike and pedaled off before will could keep talking or you could acknowledge his words.

you rode through the slow afternoon streets of hawkins where kids were getting home and parents were wrapping up their 9-5s. your parents usually didn't get home until 6, so you had almost three hours to yourself at the house. by that time, you would have to go to dustin's so you wouldn't even need to interact with them, but it wasn't like they even talked to you anyway.

you could be be dead and they probably wouldn't even bat an eye. that or they'd be too drunk to even notice.

the three rows of houses at the end of the cul-de-sac became bigger in your vision. lucas liked to call it the pac sac because all of your houses lined the half circle with yours perfectly in the middle. you dropped your bike by the edge of garage, hurrying inside because you needed a snack.

one thing you did credit your parents for was the house they decided to raise you and your brother in. they didn't hide that they came from money because nearly everything in your house was high end. that meant birthdays and christmas' and holidays were always filled with special things because your parents had the money to swing it. you were grateful for that, always, but you tried not to flaunt that you came from money because rubbing with the snobby rich kids in school wasn't at all your vibe.

it just hurt that your parents couldn't continue showing up for you.

the house was quiet when you walked in. it was also cold. the early freezes in hawkins always hit the worst so you went to turn up the heat while deciding to snack on a rice crispy treat.

3 years ago, it'd be you and your brother biking home and he would race you inside to get the good snacks first before fighting you for the tv. he always won and you'd have to sit through hours long of the stupid show he would be hooked on at the time. when he didn't let you watch something you gave up and started your homework.

sometimes if you thought hard enough you could still hear those distant echoes of memories like y/b/n still lingered in the corners of the house.

homework was the furthest thing from your mind so you went upstairs to your room. you sort of woke up late this morning so things were thrown askew as you rushed to get ready listening to mike scold you through the walkie about not being ready yet. your bed was unmade, there were clothes on the floor, your toothbrush had been left hastily on your dresser. mike was so anal about being on time even though he was constantly running late half the time himself. such a double standard.

you cleaned up your room a bit knowing your mom would yell at you about it if you didn't. in the middle of folding your pink comforter back, you decided the entire bedsheets needed to be washed so you tore them off. doing things helped keep your mind off your brother and when you came back from dustin's you'd have clean sheets to sleep in anyway. you rolled everything into a ball to carry it back downstairs to the washer.

you set a timer on your watch for 30 minutes before going back upstairs. on your way to your room though, your eyes shifted to y/b/n's closed door directly across from yours. your footsteps slowed before you could even really think about it and then you were stopped directly in front of his room.

going into his room was off limits. something about wanting to preserve it..you didn't really know but your parents were pretty strict about that. and because they were so strict, you only occasionally went in when they weren't home—like now.

you hadn't gone in there in a few months. usually, life was too busy to think about him and his perfectly preserved 16-year-old boy room, but on weeks like these where you missed him a little bit more than normal, he constantly crossed your mind. your hand hovered over the golden knob, a soft breath escaping your lips.

you pushed the wooden frame open and that smell—his old cologne, fresh linen, and the natural smell of your house filled your nose almost immediately. your eyes flicked across the room, everything still in the exact place he left it. backpack on his desk chair, old folders out filled with homework and exams, his bed made because he always made his bed, his favorite books lining the shelves, his cassette player.

every once awhile, you thought you could feel a presence in his room like maybe he came and lingered sometimes. not haunted, but lingered. stopped by. checked in on you and your parents.

you shuffled further in, your finger delicately swiping across his dresser that was covered in a thin layer of dust. his cassettes were piled high and one then was popped open. you remembered how he was listening to music that night before you came barging in telling him there was a weird noise outside.

you breathed out, slowly.

the clothes in his closet also sported a layer of dust, but when you lifted one of the sleeves to smell, it still smelled exactly like him.

if your parents knew you were putting on one of his old hoodies, they'd slap you into the upside down. it was just until they got home though. you just wanted to feel him close.

you went to his nightstand. he had the one photo of the two of you together by his lamp. you were probably 11 and 15 in it. he did not want to take that photo, but your mom insisted before she dropped you off for your first day of school. he put on a smile though and you were just happy to be in a photo with him because he still had that older brother annoyed at his younger sister vibe. a soft smile found its way to your lips. "hi, y/b/n," you mumbled like he could hear you.

"i can't believe it's been 3 years already. i miss you," you swallowed the tears slowly fighting their way to your eyes. "i really, really wish you were still here. mom and dad..they still hurt everyday. i do too."

the mattress dipped under your weight as you sunk onto his bed. you grabbed his dog stuffed animal and cuddled it into your arms while you curled yourself onto his pillows. it almost felt like he was still there being wrapped up in his hoodie and holding his one and only favorite stuffed animal. you pictured y/b/n, acting annoyed you were in his room but secretly enjoying it because you knew he never truly hated you. he just had to act like he did because that was his job as older brother. he'd mumble things about high school that you were too old to understand but wouldn't tell mom or dad about. he'd make you listen to his music and you'd act like it was the worst thing in the world before buying the exact same cassette a few days later to listen to for yourself.

he really was your best friend. besides the party, he would always understand you because you were family. you weren't dumb to the academic and social pressure your parents would put on him even though you were only 12 because they'd put it on you too. be like your brother. get straight A's like your brother. the two of you would have that mutual understanding.

and you really, really tried to live up to him and be the perfect picture kid, but it was never enough. your A would never be as good as y/b/n's A.

you must've fallen asleep because when your eyes opened, your mom was yelling for you and the sun went down. you groggily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and glanced at your watch. 6:40?! shit.

"y/n! what the hell are you doing up there?" you ran out of your brother's room and to the stairs. she was at the bottom, wine glass in hand per usual. she had a hand on her hip like she was about to scold you for something. "there you are. i've been calling your name for 5 minutes. you know you have stuff in the wash? it's probably getting moldy for who knows how long it's been in there for."

your laundry. shit. you raced down the stairs, "i forgot about it. i put it in when i got home from school. sorry," you mumbled as you went to change it over. the disapproval from your mom radiated off of her.

she tsked, a sound you hated but had grown used to hearing, "and you left your bike in front of the garage. i nearly ran the damn thing over. i'm gonna throw that thing out with the trash if you don't start taking better care of it."

here it was. it was always the list of things you were doing wrong every time your mom came home. she always seemed to have something new of yours to complain about. "i'm sorry," was all you said.

"you better start learning how to take more responsibility around here. you're 16 now, y/n. you're not some kid anymore who can just do whatever she pleases. your brother was so much better than this.." she took another swing of wine. it wouldn't be a complaint from her if she wasn't bringing up your brother and comparing you to him.

she watched you put your things into the dryer. you forgot about y/b/n's sweatshirt you still had on as soon as she noticed it. "wait a minute. is that your brother's sweatshirt?"

shit. again. "uh, it was just in my laundry. i don't know," you tried playing it off.

"no, no, no. i know that sweatshirt," she pointed a finger at you and walked, or more like stumbled slightly, towards you. "that sweatshirt is supposed to be hanging up in y/b/n's closet. did you...did you go into his room?"

your hesitation was all the answer she needed. her glass quite literally slipped from her hand and smashed into pieces at your feet. you jumped back while she slapped her hand over her mouth.

"y/m/n? y/m/n! what was that?" you heard your father running in from the living room. he came around the corner and stopped at the sight of you and your mom staring each other down. "what happened?" he didn't understand why the wine glass was in pieces.

"she..she..she went into his room! she went into his room!" your mom exclaimed like you committed a crime. "she took his sweatshirt from the closet!" your dad finally realized you were wearing one of y/b/n's hoodies.

"oh my god," he muttered while your mom raced to the stairs. you stepped over the glass to go after her, but your dad's strong hand caught the collar, bunching it and dragging you towards him.

"what the hell is wrong with you! what is wrong with you!" he shook you so hard you almost felt sick.

when he let you go you fell backwards against the counter. the marble counter collided with your elbow and you winced out.

"no! no! no!" you could hear your mother yelling.

you ran up the stairs, "mom. i'm sorry. i-i didn't touch anything besides this, i promise. i just wanted to..i wanted to—" you words were jumbled.

"you wanted to what, y/n? what? you ruined it all! you ruined it!" your mom screamed into your face. she was crying and so was your dad as they looked at the room you barely touched, but in their eyes looked like a tornado blew through.

"i didn't ruin anything! i just..i wanted to feel his comfort. i wanted to..it's been 3 years already. did you even know that?" your own tears welled up into your eyes.

"of course we fucking know that! why do you think we're so upset right now?" your expression shifted, lip trembling.

"the why do you act like you don't! why do you never acknowledge it or even..even comfort me? i'm hurting too!"

it happened so fast you didn't even think it happened until your cheek stung and the echo of your dad's hand against your face lingered in your ears. you stumbled back.

"do not talk to your mother that way! you ungrateful little child!" his voice roared through the house. you touched the tender skin, wincing when it felt hot against your fingers.

"we do everything for you. everything. this is how you treat us? this is how you repay us? you ruin everything?" he backed you into your room and you had never seen him look so angry before.

it scared you.

he raised his hand like he was going to hit you again, but instead he turned to the things on your desk and with one hard shove, everything fell onto the ground. you gasped. he turned to the things on your dresser and shoved all of that off too. your jewelry, your cassettes, your books, everything fell and went flying across your floor.

when your snow globe fell onto the ground, the one your brother got you that he got from new york when he went with your aunt—the last thing you had left from him, your breath hitched.

it shattered across your hardwood floors.

"don't ever ask for anything ever again," your dad left the room after that.

silent tears rolled down your cheeks while you stood frozen in the corner. you didn't even process your walkie going off in your backpack and mike asking where you were.

"why isn't she answering?" mike muttered while him and will sat at the top of your driveway with you nowhere to be seen. the dark-haired boy glanced at his watch. 6:52. you were never late.

he tried you again, but still nothing. "we're gonna be late to dustin's. what the hell is up with her? she was even late this morning," the boy mumbled in slight annoyance.

"you know..today is the 3 year anniversary since her brother died," will finally said and everything in mike stilled at the same time your garage door lifted open.

the two boys looked up thinking it was you finally, but they only heard the bickering voices of your parents. a car door slammed and then the engine roared to life. mike and will quickly moved back as the car basically flew up the driveway and down the road without even looking both ways.

"shit," mike mumbled as he quickly pedaled down to your garage. will wasn't far behind as they dropped their bikes and ran inside. "how could i forget? how could i not remember?" the boy was kicking himself for forgetting how hard this time of year was for you.

they ran into your house, "y/n? y/n!" mike called.

the lights were on, but your parents just left. "wait, mike," will nudged his friend's shoulder and motioned to the broken pieces of glass just outside of your laundry room.

that puzzled them. "y/n?" mike called again, but you weren't answering.

he went up the stairs two steps at a time. your bedroom light was on and to his surprise, so was your bother's with the door wide open. that was abnormal too. he knew that door never opened.

the two boys took a sharp right into your room, but they stopped in their tracks when they saw the state of it and you down on the floor in the middle of all the mess. mike saw the broken pieces of your snow globe around you and then he heard the sniffles.

"y/n? holy shit," he went to you.

your hands shook as you blinked through your tears trying to pick up the pieces of the snow globe. you didn't even look at mike or will, your only focus was trying to put the snow globe back together even though you knew deep down it was gone.

"y/n, hey. hey, wait. you're gonna hurt yourself with the glass. it's sharp.." mike tried pulling you away from it, but you resisted. "we can try and fix it. we can..we can glue it back together? nancy might be able to fix it."

"no, no, no..it-it was the only thing i had left of him. it was the only thing i had and..and now it's gone," you started crying harder. the boys didn't know what to do. they still didn't know what happened or how you got to this state.

you finally let mike pull you back. he took you into his arms and then they saw the bruise on your cheek. both of them gasped. "your cheek..y/n, what happened?" will touched your arm.

"i'm such an idiot. i-i ruined it. i ruined everything," you sobbed into mike's sweater. him and will exchanged a worried glance. "did they hurt you?" mike finally asked meaning your parents.

when you clutched him harder and sobbed some more he took that as a yes. the boys slowly put the pieces together. you went into your brother's room and put the sweatshirt on. your parents caught you and got mad because that's against their rules. one of them hit you and then destroyed your room in the process, even your snow globe.

the walkie crackled and then it was dustin, "hey, where are you guys? it's 7:03?"

will grabbed the one from your backpack and quickly told them there was a situation at your house and you needed them.

the other two boys were en route to your house a minute later.

"hey, let's get you up. get some water? ice your cheek?" mike softened his voice and carefully made you sit up. him and will's hearts clenched seeing your broken state.

you didn't say anything, but you let them help you to your feet and walk you downstairs. will was filling a cup of water and mike was wrapping a pack of frozen vegetables in a towel. you took a few sips and carefully held the pack to your still burning and now swollen face. your lip was still trembling.

"do you know where your parents went?" mike gently asked and you shook your head. "probably some bar," you muttered.

"i'll clean up the glass over here," will went looking for a broom and a dust pan.

dustin and lucas made it to your house in record time. mike let them in and they were running into your kitchen like there was a demogorgon attacking you or something. there wasn't though. just you on the stool looking like a shell of yourself.

"y/n? holy shit, what happened?" dustin muttered when he saw a glimpse of the fat bruise on your cheek. him and lucas eyed will cleaning the broken wine glass.

when you opened your mouth to speak and explain what just occurred, the words ran dry in your throat. instead, a choked sob came out and you were crying all over again. neither of them hesitated to wrap you into a big group hug though.

they didn't press. they didn't ask again. they just held you until your tears slowed.

while you recuperated on the couch, mike, will, dustin, and lucas slowly tried putting your room back together. they picked up most of your jewelry, making sure to check under your bed to see if any of it went flying under there. they picked your books back up. they made sure none of your cassettes were damaged. mike swept up the remains of your snow globe, making sure to save the statue of liberty that was inside of it.

it looked almost good as new by the time they finished. on their way back down, mike swept his gaze into your brother's room. he shut the light off and closed the door, not wanting to linger.

you stared blankly at the wall when the boys came back in. "i, uh, i salvaged the statue of liberty from the snow globe," he held the piece out to you.

you took it, folding it into your hand and holding to your heart. the boys carefully sat around you. "i'm sorry i forgot today was 3 years. i should have known.." mike began.

"i'm never gonna be the kid my parents are happy with," you finally spoke. "i seriously think they would have been way more happy if it was me that died and not him. i can never be him."

"hey, y/n don't say that. we wouldn't have been more happy," lucas quickly said.

"i shouldn't have gone in there, but i just..i just wanted to feel him. feel something of him. i didn't even touch anything besides the sweatshirt and i laid in his bed," your head hung low in shame. if only you didn't fall asleep for 3 hours and forgot about everything.

"did they hit you?" dustin asked.

you nodded. "my dad took one hard slap to my face. he destroyed everything in my room too. knocked things off the desk. off my dresser. destroyed my snow globe.." you squeezed the piece tighter.

"we're so sorry, y/n. he shouldn't have done any of that," mike wrapped his arm around your shoulder. you fell into him, fighting more tears. "they shouldn't treat me like they do, but they do it anyway. it's always about y/b/n. never about me. it's like i'm not even a part of the family and i'm the one still alive."

this was the most you'd broken down in front of the boys in a long time and even opened up about all of what was going on in your home. the wall you worked so hard to keep up and keep from others seeing you break was slowly crumbling away.

"hey. you're part of our family. you're always part of our family. it's always been the five of us. nothing will change that," dustin quickly reached over to to squeeze your arm.

"how long have your parents been like this?" lucas asked.

"since y/b/n died. they're always drunk every night. they don't really talk to me except lecturing me about how i need to be more like my brother," you frowned.

"has your dad hit you before?"

"he's yanked, shoved, pushed, and shook me but never hit. this was the first time."

"you should tell someone, y/n. like my mom or..or hopper? they shouldn't be doing this to you," mike looked at you but you quickly shook your head.

"no, no, i can't. i..i can usually handle them it's just tonight i messed up and—"

"but you shouldn't have to handle this. you didn't do anything wrong and it's not a crime to grieve your own brother," lucas cut you off and the others nodded in agreement. your head hung because you knew in the back of your head they were right.

but bringing this to the police would spiral something you didn't wanna deal with. they'd make you testify and then you would have to move if the court found your parents guilty of child abuse and neglect. you'd be ripped away from the party. you could handle your parents, but you couldn't handle losing the party.

"why don't you sleep at my house tonight? think about it. sleep on it. maybe just..talk to my mom in confidence," mike squeezed your arm. "mrs. wheeler does..kind of know how to keep secrets?" dustin said making you laugh for the first time tonight.

"nancy can usually confide in her," mike shrugged.

"okay, yeah. thank you. all of you. i-i'm sorry movie night was a bust again," you looked at dustin, but he quickly brushed you off.

"don't sweat it. this is more important. we always got your back, y/n," his words earned a smile on your lips. "plus, i did bring it so if we want, we can watch it in mike's basement. the smaller tv is fine. i'll just explain how the bigger tv would give it a different effect," you all laughed at the curly-haired boy.

you could use their company, so you agreed. you exited your house and walked across the grass to the safety of mike's basement. the comforting smell wrapped you up like a hug and seeing the four of them bicker about who was getting the couch instantly made you feel a lot better and you didn't feel so small anymore.

mike was moving the two of you in an instant. your brain finally caught up to the realization that will just did that and you broke from mike's hold. you both collided into the brunette as soon as joyce pulled away. "he's a sorcerer! a real life, honest to god sorcerer!" mike said from behind you.

the three of you hugged like your lives depended on it. you were squished between them but you didn't wanna let go. neither of you did. not after that. mike pulled away first though and you stepped out of will's hold. he looked like he didn't even believe it himself that he killed those demos. "you did it. you really did it," you praised but those words must've drilled something into will's mind because his smile fell.

"the kids. vecna..he's got the kids."

"we know. derek, mary, glenn," mike listed and you frowned. derek. you let him down. you were so helpless watching them get dragged by the demogorgons. you promised derek.

"no. not just them. the others. they didn't make it out of hawkins. i could've helped them fight if i had just acted sooner, but i was too late. and now he's got all of them. all 12," the weight of will's words sunk in.

your plan to get the kids out before vecna got to them didn't work. he got them anyway and he had all of them for his plan. your lip trembled, the memories of henry's words to you earlier still fresh in your mind—your brother even helping him pull it off. your head snapped to the gate entrance. you wanted to scream.

so your body moved before your mind could stop you. you ran to the gate, ignoring the calls from mike, will, and joyce. you stopped at the entrance, seething with rage. "y/b/n (your brother's name)! how could you help him! what the fuck. you're not protecting anyone but yourself!"

you didn't even know if anyone could hear you yelling into an abyss, but you didn't care. your jaw tightened and your fists clenched like you could just punch your brother if he appeared. "you say you're protecting me but you're not! you're not. how could you help with a plan as evil as his?!"

someone did appear though. a dark, shadowy figure crossed into the orang haze. you stumbled back straight into mike who must've been running up the ramp to pull you back. the two of you froze when the figure did nothing but stand there.

"what the fuck," you muttered. it couldn't have been him. it wasn't him.

you were delirious. you were probably just seeing things. yeah, seeing things. it was so late, you didn't even know what time it was and you just got knocked against the concrete. it wasn't your brother. sounds of helicopters filled your ears and you snapped out of the trance to look at the sky. there were beams of light coming your way.

"hey, we gotta go. we need to get out of here," mike pulled you back down towards will and joyce who looked at you in concern. mike kept the group moving though. "the tunnels. radio shack," he urged and pulled you towards the building across the street.

you looked back though. the shadowy figure was still there. a shaking feeling ran down your spine, but you didn't have time to question it further as mike opened the hatch and sent you down first.

y/b/n stepped back from the gate and watched your retreating figure. he spun on his heel, running before someone saw him as the guilt crept up his throat for doing what he did. henry's plan—he knew some of it. not all of it. he had no idea this would happen. he thought he was keeping you and your friends safe if he helped.

y/b/n ducked through the dark woods hoping to make it back to the house where he stayed, but an even darker figure flew in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. he skidded to a stop when vecna's face was in front of his. "why are you running, y/b/n?"

"you didn't tell me you were gonna do that," he muttered.

"do what? i didn't hurt her," the creature was confused but the boy shook his head. "you hurt the kids. they're just kids. what..what do you even need them for? i thought..i thought—" with a snap of his wrist, vecna brought y/b/n towards him and the boy struggled in the force.

"you don't get to tell me how my own plan goes. i used you and i respected your wishes. now i don't need you anymore, so you'll be going straight back to where i keep you."

y/b/n's vision went black.

max watched the familiar boy through holly's spyglass. she watched as he sat up, scratched his head and confusingly looked around. when his face passed her spyglass she dropped it. y/b/n? but he was dead. or he was supposed to be.

the red head crept through the bushes. eyes on y/n's brother as he stood and tried figuring out where he was. he looked unsuspecting and somewhat clueless so max took her chance. she snuck up behind him while he was turned away and when she reached him, she tapped his shoulder.

he spun around in fear making both of them jump back. he pulled a small pocket knife that max didn't know he had. she raised her arms in defense. "who the hell are you?" the boy snapped.

"i'm not gonna hurt you. i swear. i know your sister," that just confused y/b/n even more. "what? how?" 

max eyed his shaking hand gripping the knife. she looked back at his face and the puzzled and somewhat fearful expression. she realized he had no idea who she was because he was "dead" before she moved to hawkins. the only reason she knew him was through y/n's stories.

"i moved to hawkins a year after you "died." there's a lot to explain and it's gonna sound insane, but i'm guessing it won't be that crazy if you're here.." the red head said and y/b/n slowly lowered the knife. she lowered her arms.

"there's nothing really crazy anymore. tell me," the boy said. max's eyes darted around the open field, "okay, but not here. we need to go somewhere more private. it's not safe to talk out here."

your brother had zero reason to trust her. he didn't even know her, but she knew you and maybe that meant she knew what exactly happened back there when vecna took all of those innocent kids. "okay, let's go then."

you and mike walked a beat behind will and joyce. his grip on your hand tightened with each moment of passing silence. your mind was clearly racing, still thinking about what you saw back there at the entrance of the gate. who it was. if it really was your brother and he did hear you. mike didn't know how to talk to you without upsetting you even more, but he knew he needed to try.

"you wanna talk about what happened back there?" his voice was gentle and just worried. your expression twisted and your lips thinned. you realized now how insane you probably looked running to talk to a stupid alternate dimension abyss. your gaze turned to his and he studied your face before completely stopping you when he noticed tears bubbling in your waterline.

"hey, come here," he pulled you to his chest and you pressed it into his sweater like you did when you thought the demogorgon was going to kill you both. mike didn't say anything except squeeze you into him and run a soothing hand up and down your back. "talk to me, y/n," he whispered. it hurt him to see you so distressed, especially after coming back from that encounter at your house. if he could take it all away, he would.

"i'm sorry. i think seeing henry at my house still has me shaken up. when will talked about the kids..i was thinking about my brother and how he let that happen. how he helped it happen," you cried into the fuzzy material. mike frowned. he hated seeing you like this and he couldn't do anything.

"hey, don't apologize. we don't even know for sure if henry was telling the truth about that. he could've easily been bluffing like he does. your brother is resourceful but surviving in the upside down with all those demogorgons? it seems.."

"impossible," you mumbled. mike was right. there was no way your brother survived for that long without trying to escape or something. "yeah, you're right. this whole thing..these past few days have really got me feeling weird."

the taller boy wiped his thumbs across your cheeks to get rid of your tears. he smiled gently down at you and you steadied yourself by deeply inhaling and then exhaling. "hopefully we can get some sleep soon. get fresh heads. figure out what to do next," mike squeezed you one more time.

you nodded. sleep sounded so good right now. mike took your hand again and you sped up to catch up with will and joyce. when you rounded the corner though you almost ran right into them where they paused. the two of you looked around them to see lucas collapsed on the ground with a giant gash through his chest.

"lucas?" mike ran forward.

"shit," you muttered and followed.

"oh no. oh no," joyce and will were close behind. the four of you kneeled beside him. his cut was deep and looked like it hurt like hell. "hey guys," lucas mused despite his state.

"oh shit," mike muttered

"it's just a scratch," lucas huffed and beside you joyce was motioning for the first aid from mike's backpack. the boy tossed it over and when lucas lifted his shirt so you could see the cut better you all cringed again.

"oh my god," it was like a cross. two good scrapes of the demogorgon's claws straight into his skin.

"that's..that's not too bad," will mumbled while joyce went into nurse mode to press a cloth to the wound and slow the bleeding

"yeah. it looks like just the right amount for a couple of badass scars," the boy beside you tried lightening the mood.

"i'm sorry i couldn't protect the kids," lucas looked between all of you.

"you did everything you could. you..you fought. you risked your life. nice swing by the way," will smiled, but lucas slowly lifted his head and examined his friend closer. will still sported some dry blood in his nose and lucas saw it almost immediately. "you saw?"

"he more than just saw," mike nodded and it slowly clicked for the boy on the ground. his eyes snapped back to will who flushed. "i-i don't know. i just..i just tapped in like..like you guys said i could. i controlled the demogorgon. i could see you guys. i just channeled it and i lifted them up and then snapped their limbs," will explained.

"a sorcerer," mike reemphasized.

"a damn good sorcerer," you rubbed the brunette's back.

lucas was in disbelief just like you all were when it happened. he stared at the three of you again to see if you were just messing with him, but when your expressions were dead serious, it really set in. "holy shit. holy shit. you're like..you're like actually will the wise. for real," lucas sat up but joyce pushed him back down so he didn't strain himself even more.

"not..really," will flushed.

"this totally changes the game though. we got our second el."

"i'm not a second el. i don't have powers. i'm just..i'm siphoning. i'm stealing vecna's. and to do that, i have to be near the hive mind, and vecna's not coming back," will stood up and paced the small area of the tunnel you were in.

"but his demos might," lucas pointed out.

"i don't think so. they came for the kids, and he's got them all now. he has his vessels," will talked but your gazes snapped to his. vessels?

"vessels?" you voiced your thought out loud, standing now too.

"that's what he called them. he said, vessels for reshaping the world," the brunette explained and you looked back at mike and lucas.

"i just hope your theory is wrong," mike looked at lucas.

"what theory?" joyce finished patching lucas up and mike slowly helped pull him back to his feet. he steadied him before letting go and making sure lucas could stand on his own. "november 6th. the day this all started is the day it ends."

an nervous silence filled around all of you at the weight of those words and how that day was now only a couple away. you needed to keep moving though. mike made sure lucas' footing was stable as you continued through the tunnels back to the squawk.

when you reached the ladder mike took the lead with pushing the hatch open and then helping the rest of you back up. lucas had you go first as you gripped mike's hand so he could pull you from the hole. "good?" he asked when you were on two feet again.

"yeah, good," you mumbled.

lucas came up next, the pain in his chest still sharp as he moved and breathed. you helped mike bring him up and when he was off the ladder the two of you made sure he was still steady. "thanks guys," he managed a smile.

when everyone was safely above ground, mike closed the hatch and everyone started the journey back up the hill to the radio station. mike caught up with your steps, his arm tugging you into his side and then kissing your head. you leaned into him, "how's the bruises?" he meant your neck.

you touched one of them, wincing when your finger merely brushed the tender spot. "still hurts."

"we can ice them again when we get back," for someone who wasn't your boyfriend yet, he was still doing everything a boyfriend would do. it made your stomach turn in a good way though. the last time you had something even remotely close to this was freshman year before everything went to shit and even then, that guy wasn't nearly as good as mike was.

but then henry flashed in your mind again and the idea that everything he was saying about your brother was fake and he really was dead still. you knew he had the capability to manipulate your mind into anything and when you thought about him using mike against you, your entire chest hurt—because when it came to mike you'd do anything.

you leaned further into side like being closer would prevent him from disappearing. the boy noticed, but didn't say anything. he just held you tighter and led the group back to the squawk where robin and murray were waiting.

"so what your telling me is that those demos that attacked me four years ago and whatever entity invaded hawkins still exists only for it to be..vecna? the one that hunted me for help? and he almost killed you but now you're here. we're both here. trapped in his memories?" y/b/n repeated one more time to make sure he was understanding correctly. the leaves rustled under him and max's feet. she kept looking around and checking behind herself as they walked.

"yes. correct."

"holy shit," he muttered in disbelief.

"how are you alive though? how did you survive in the upside down for four years? the shit down there kills you," max asked her own question. y/b/n scratched the back of his head, "uh..well. i don't really know. i woke up there. the demo that attacked me must've found something else. i..i got up and ran. i found something to stop the bleeding and then when i was okay again, i figured out i was in some alternate universe where everything was the same but not really? i went to my house and then i just hid there."

"for four years though? the upside down is trapped in 1983. how did you find things to survive off of?"

y/b/n's expression shifted and he really didn't want to think about what he had to do to survive there. max took the clues and didn't ask again. "so, you're here after henry just used you to get his business done? to complete the plan?"

"i-i guess? he didn't even tell me what the full plan was. he found me one day when i wasn't at the house. he brought up my sister. he threatened me with her. he told me he wouldn't hurt her if i helped him, so i did. i..i helped him bring those kids here by luring them in. when it was done he sent me here."

"do you know what he was trying to do with those kids? i mean he has holly here already.." y/b/n shook his head. "i don't know. he didn't tell me that part. all i know is he needed 12 of them."

something snapped like a stick. y/b/n and max stilled and the red head quickly put a finger to her lips as she spun in place for the source of the noise. there was another snap and then louder footsteps coming their way. a little blonde girl with pigtails came into view. without hesitation, max was running to her.

"what are you doing here?" y/b/n quickly caught up.

"we need to talk," the little girl said before shifting her gaze to the boy. "who is he?" she looked back at max in a panic.

"don't panic, he's on our side," the older girl quickly said.

"how do you know that? what if he's a monster.." the little girl freaked and y/b/n finally realized it was the holly wheeler. he didn't even recognize her because he hadn't see her since she was much younger. "i'm y/n's brother. y/b/n. you're holly, right?" he quickly cut into her panic.

holly blinked. she furrowed her eyebrows and then looked at max before looking back at him. "n-no. no way. you're supposed to be dead. why do i keep running into people that are supposed to be dead?!" the girl backed off before max grabbed her arm. "holly. he's with us, i promise. i was shocked too, but he's not dead. he's..real. trust me."

the little blonde looked at y/b/n again. "my brother is in love with your sister," she said.

both y/b/n and max exchanged a confused glance. neither of them knew what that meant, but it didn't matter. max got back to the matter at hand, "holly, what are you doing here? the plan—"

"was to wait for henry to leave. i know. but was talking and he was saying all of this creepy stuff," holly rambled.

"did anyone see you come here?" max urged.

"no, i was careful. please just listen. i know why henry kidnapped us. he's going to somehow use us to draw another world to ours, to earth."

neither max nor y/b/n knew what that meant. they exchanged another glance. "i don't even understand what that means," the red head mumbled.

"henry says it's to save earth, but i think it's really to destroy it. whatever he's planing, he's going to do it tomorrow. we have to get out of camazotz right now."

"we'll never make it! as soon as he realizes that you're gone, he'll track you down with his powers and then he'll catch us," max shot back with a firm tone. y/b/n didn't exactly understand what was happening, but he followed. kind of. it was slowly making sense the longer the little wheeler rambled.

another branch snapped behind them and all of their eyes shot up. "are you sure no one saw you?" max mumbled.

"positive," holly said.

y/b/n stepped forward first. he inched towards the log where the noise came from while the girls followed quietly behind. he scanned the tree line before slowly glancing over the log and seeing some kid lying behind it. he reached for him and pulled him up.

"who the hell is this?" he looked at max and holly.

"i'm derek. who the hell are you?" the little boy shot back.

"what are you doing here, dipshit?" holly stepped forward. her use of a swear word caught max and y/b/n off guard.

"i'm not dipshit derek anymore. i'm delightful derek," the boy emphasized.

"how much did you hear?" max cut in.

"not much. just how you guys wanna escape but can't because you need henry to leave first, otherwise he'll find you with his evil vecna magic or something."

this was all way too hard to keep up with, and just when y/b/n was starting to finally understand everything someone else came along.

"vecna? i didn't say that name. how do you know that name?" max shook her head.

"mike," derek said simply.

"mike?"

"my brother, mike?"

"he's like my best friend now," derek smiled like he was proud of that fact.

"you're best friends with mike?" holly asked again.

"and y/n. and will. and lucas. and erica. and mrs. byers and miss robin. we tried to save the others, but that didn't work. so now i'm here. i thought i couldn't trust anyone, but then i saw your face during mr. whatsit's speech and i was like she definitely knows he's full of shit. so i followed you into the woods and obviously i was right on the money. so can i come with you guys?" derek finished his explanation and y/b/n stared at him in shock as well as holly.

"no!" max said though. "none of us are going anywhere, okay? not as long as henry's watching."

"what if..we make sure he's not?" holly piped up and everyone's gazes snapped to her. "you can't come with us, but maybe you can help us escape. but you really need to drop this new delightful thing, because if this is going to work, we need dipshit derek."

the younger boy looked smug as he slowly nodded.

y/b/n stood back as holly explained what derek would need to do and the boy surprisingly agreed. she gave him a piece of paper and told him to follow the map to the cave. he would be safe there and he needed to just stay there. if he left, henry could hurt him. they sent him back to the house, "come on. we need to get going," max grabbed y/b/n's arm.

the three walked in the opposite direction derek went. "if henry takes the bait, he'll have eyes on derek and that should give us enough time to make it though these memories," max said.

while you were on the roof helping will, lucas and mike went back to get the demogorgon that almost killed robin and murray. even though it was further, it was easier than trying to haul a creature through the tunnels and up the ladder. the two boys sat in the back of the squawk van while joyce dove to the site of the wrecked trailer. they were in silence, but a comfortable silence, kind of just reeling from the past 2 hours. 

"is y/n okay? she was so..spacey when we left," lucas broke the silence first. mike's gaze snapped to his, "i think so. she told me she was just kind of shaken up still from what henry told her about her brother and stuff. she kind of..when we were still at the base after getting almost killed.." mike didn't know how to put it because he didn't wanna make you sound insane or something. "she ran to the gate and like yelled into it. i think to her brother? she was yelling at him." 

"oh." 

"there was this figure though. after vecna went back in..a smaller one appeared when y/n was yelling. it kind of just lingered and didn't come out," mike continued, eyes on lucas as the boy processed the information. "you don't think it actually was.."

"i don't know. i-i kind of played it off. i told her maybe henry was bluffing around her brother being alive still, but that figure..you said you don't believe in coincidences anymore. i don't know what else it could've been and why it didn't come out after us." 

"if it was y/b/n, maybe there's a force keeping him in. maybe henry was right. he has him under a spell or something," lucas offered his two cents. mike didn't know, he only sighed and settled further into the wall of the van. "even if it was him, i don't know how he'd survive in the upside down for four years. that's a long time." 

"there's some weird voodoo magic shit down there, mike. he probably found a way. he was a resourceful guy," lucas shrugged and the conversation lulled. the boys were staring and disassociating again. "i'm glad she has you though. i can't believe you finally asked her out after years of liking her," the boy chuckled. 

mike's gaze shifted though, "i..uh, i haven't asked her out yet. we're still..she's not my girlfriend girlfriend." 

lucas drew his eyebrows together, "what the hell does that mean? i thought you and her were like a thing now." 

"not..officially. we decided we should wait. play it off. it would just be another thing vecna could use against us and..and—"

"wait until what? we die?" lucas was not following his friend's thought process. "what? no. i mean when this is all over. when we don't have to worry about a monster killing us and getting into our heads," mike quickly said.

"mike. be real right now. this shit might never end. you'll be waiting for eternity if that's the reason. who cares about vecna? if you're waiting, your love confession to her 2 years ago is pointless. what if she does die tomorrow and you never found the courage to ask her out?" the dark-haired boy shot back and mike pursed his lips. "don't say shit like that. i do have the courage, but it was just something we agreed on...have a little optimism that this will end." 

"we've been dealing with this shit for four years and my girlfriend is in a fucking coma. i think i lost my optimism a long time ago," lucas snapped, jaw tightening. "this isn't some..campaign where everything can be happy go lucky if we write it in. this is real life. real shit. real people dying and almost dying."

"i know that." 

"if you know it, then you know that our lives are short and could literally end with a snap of our fingers. not asking her out is just gonna be you reliving two years ago if something seriously happens again. it's what i've been trying to tell you since then. stop being afraid to say what you feel." that was pretty low dig. mike huffed. he didn't want anything to happen to you and he was trying to be optimistic about ending all of this and finally living a normal life, but maybe..just maybe lucas had a point. 

he was afraid. so so afraid. but he never tried showing it for the sake of you and everyone else. he needed to be strong and that meant bottling away his true feelings until it came tumbling out in a high-stake moment. mike loved you, and you knew that, but neither of you had said it since that night at the hospital. it was like you forgot it happened. mike was afraid of losing you so much that he couldn't even properly ask you out in fear of it all vanishing before his eyes like that night. 

"okay, maybe you're right. i am afraid," mike admitted and lucas looked back to his friend. "i'm so afraid i'm gonna almost lose her again. the crawl? that shit with henry and him hurting her? the demogorgons? i really can't lose her again." 

lucas sighed, "i get it. i think about losing max everyday and how i should've done something more, i should've done this differently or that differently. i try not dwell on it though and just think about what i can do now. she may be in a coma, but i can still try and protect her from here. you can do that, too." 

some protector. 

you sat on the top of the squawk with will drilling into a pumpkin to test if the shocks would actually work. you had to put your shop class skills to work as you tried not to break the entire thing or hurt either you or will with the drill. you were doing a pretty impressive job so far though. "when we were back at the base..did you see your brother?" will asked as you hit the metal into the orange sphere. 

you flushed, "uh..i don't really know. i think i was just tired and delusional from everything." 

"i saw the figure too and i don't think it was any sort of threat because i didn't get that feeling i usually do," your gaze snapped to will. he was already looking at you. 

"you didn't?

"no." 

"it would be crazy though. he's supposed to be dead. i mean who even survives that long in the upside down anyway? four years? what would he eat? there's like no food. why wouldn't he come out if it was him?" you rambled. 

"maybe he couldn't? something was holding him back?" will suggested, but you scoffed. you couldn't be filling your brain with this or else you'd keep spiraling. "i still can't believe you saved all of us. that was crazy, will. thank you." you changed the subject. 

"of course. you guys are my best friends. i just..i don't know. something robin said to me before all of that happened, it really stuck with me. i kind of accepted it and somehow it helped me channel into the hive mind," the brunette muttered. 

"what did she say to you?" you and will were pretty close. he knew he could trust you, but the idea of saying what he was thinking out loud? that was a step he didn't know if he could take quite yet. 

"oh..just..stuff about being myself. being true to who i was," he kind of beat around the bush. you didn't quite know what he meant, but you could take a guess. instead of pushing, you just smiled. "well, you were really brave. there's a reason why you're the cleric." 

will smiled back as you stood up to test the electricity level. you climbed down the ladder to the power, raising it to 50 before running back out and climbing up to see if it was working. when it was, you grinned. "perfect. this should work," you mumbled. 

the brunette thought about your words and realized there was no reason he should be afraid to tel you. out of the entire party, you were the warmest and most comforting and he always enjoyed your company. you were one of his best friends. "hey y/n?" will spoke up. 

"yeah?" you looked his way. 

"robin told me..well, she inspired me when she said there was..was this person she liked, but..but they didn't like her back, but, but accepting that she liked this person made her feel more sure of herself. i thought about that. i..i relate to that. i think i accepted myself so i feel more sure of myself.." will lost his words, but he didn't need to say anymore.

you understood. you knew exactly what he was trying to say. you engulfed him into a hug that he didn't expect. "i love you, will. always." 

that was all the brunette needed to hear. 

"so, do you know if y/n's okay?" y/b/n asked holly as she and max led the way into the school playground in search of the next memory. "uh, i don't know. the last time i saw her..was a few days ago? before i was taken. she seemed fine then?" holly couldn't really recall. "she was at our house with mike like the week before. they were doing..homework i think?" 

"oh, so rich. wheeler inviting her over to do homework?" max couldn't help but laugh. she hadn't even been around you guys in two years, but she knew the older wheeler had a giant crush on y/n and had been slowly trying to make his move. "why is that funny?" holly didn't get it though. 

"no reason," y/b/n and max said at the same time. they exchanged a glance, max fighting the urge to laugh again while y/b/n just glared at her. "what else do you remember. walk us through it again," he said to holly. 

"i told you like five times already," she complained. "tell us again. from the beginning," y/b/n urged. she looked at the older boy before walking back to the merry-go-round. "mary and i were at the merry-go-round. derek was a dipshit to us, like usual, then henry called me over there. he told me he'd protect me from the monsters and then i didn't see him again until the field. and then i got in trouble for having an imaginary friend. mom got all weird. she got in a big fight with dad.." holly's voice faded off. she went to the merry-go-round so y/b/n and max followed after her. 

"what is it?" max asked. 

"that's wrong. it should be yellow." 

the little girl pulled her fire stick out and smashed the gray circle. it immediately caved in and revealed one more memory with distant screams of fear and sounds of the past holly screaming for her parents before the demogorgon took her. the three of them peered down the hole. 

"holly, are you alright?" max looked at the young girl staring into the the hole. "i don't know. i feel.."

"scared?" y/b/n finished her sentence. "we're close to the final memory. you might start to..feel things, some things you felt that night. i know i did. but it's just like an echo. it's a good sign. it means you're almost home," max added with a reassuring look. 

the youngest wheeler looked nervously into the hole again, so y/b/n and max took the lead with going in first. "you said i'm almost home. but you're both coming too, right?" holly wondered. 

y/b/n looked at max. "mm, no i'm gonna stick around here, actually. of course, are you kidding? come on," she answered for him and that was enough to convince holly to come through. 

y/b/n thought about the idea of trying to make it back to the real-world. it would probably just create more chaos than there already was because he was supposed to be dead. sticking around here though? based on what he knew now, that didn't seem like a good idea either. he also couldn't go back to surviving in the upside down though. 

the three of them walked through the wheeler house watching as holly and her parents hid from the demogorgon that hunted the little girl down and then tried running to safety. mrs. wheeler was really brave that night for trying to save her daughter and seeing her lie on the kitchen tile lifeless as holly was dragged away hurt to see. y/b/n got flashbacks to his own encounter..how the demogorgon came out of nowhere. how his sister had to sit back and watch it all happen and see him get dragged into the woods. 

he swallowed heavily. 

"i just stood there. why didn't i fight? why didn't i help her?" holly broke him from his thoughts. the young girl turned to him and max. "that was old holly. you would now." max assured. she continued through the kitchen and when they rounded the corner, they saw the door wide open into a vast, red-looking world. 

"what is that?" holly muttered. 

"our exit," max said. 

"it doesn't look like an exit," y/b/n mumbled. 

"you sure you're not a monster?" the fear was evident in holly's voice. she looked at y/b/n and max. "pretty sure," the two offered a small smile. 

they started walking towards the door until the actual one came slamming down. they jumped back, but max went forward again to try the handle. it didn't budge. something was wrong. really wrong. 

"i told you, holly," when they spun around henry was coming down from the stairs. he made an eerie noise as his head basically rolled across his shoulders and he shifted into a different version of himself. "don't go into the woods." their eyes widened in fear while y/b/n quickly pulled them in a different direction. they ran into the living room where he pulled the curtain, but there was a window there that didn't budge either. 

"holly, give me that," he took the fire stick and smashed the window with it while holly screamed to hurry. 

henry came around the corner in his final form as vecna. holly and max froze. y/b/n stumbled back remembering the time he was cornered like this before. vecna didn't go for him or holly though. it went for max. he shot his arm out and immediately grabbed her by the neck, choking her and lifting her into the air. the girl struggled in his grasp, gasping for air that wasn't coming. 

holly trembled in fear while y/b/n quickly jumped into action. he couldn't be afraid this time. vecna wasn't on his side. with the fire stick, y/b/n took a hard hit to the creature's leg. it wobbled off balance. "leave us alone!" the boy yelled and went for another unsuspecting hit. 

vecna fumed. he tried shooting his other arm out but y/b/n dodged it by an inch. he smacked it with the metal stick again, a harsh yelling escaping his lips. "you don't scare me! you can't use me!" 

he was still choking max, but then y/b/n noticed vecna's one leg was twisting in on itself. the creature noticed as well because it looked down and then suddenly, it's entire leg snapped in half sending him and max to the ground. holly went to her while y/b/n stared in disbelief. how did that happen? 

vecna sat up, but something was off. it looked like he was struggling against..himself? y/b/n backed up checking on max as well. "max! y/b/n!" it started yelling at them and looked directly in their direction. 

"if you can hear me, you need to run. now," that was enough to get them up. y/b/n led the way out of the memory back where they came in from while holly helped max as she continued to regain her breath. 

they made it to holly's room. "go, go, go," y/b/n urged them to go first. he kept checking behind himself to make sure vecna wasn't coming. when max and holly were safely through he climbed through the little hole as well and when they were safely in the school yard again they ran as fast as they could to get back to the cave. 

will flew into the ground hard. you, mike, joyce, and lucas ran to him while robin ran to the power. "will? will. i'm right here, baby," mrs. byers cried, clucthing his arm. "come on, will. come on," you said. 

"crank it! crank it!" lucas yelled at robin. you shook the brunette's shoulders, but he wasn't responding. 

the demogorgon on the roof was lighting up like a firework as the power surged through it. a tornado of black smoke emitted from it's mouth and flew up the radio tower in a spiral. your hands trembled as all of you tried to shake the boy awake, "will! will, come back to us," you said but it was no use. 

you would wake up breaths uneven and heavy, probably after the crawls, the ones where you would sleep over at mikes every night cuddled up under the dim light you had already requested to stay on for the night.

he quite literally jumped like the black cat he is, his soul leaving his body for a good minute. blinking his own sleep away. already reaching for her — as if it was the most casual thing to know what to do after one had a nightmare.

cause it was all just casual right? good friends and.. so.

"you're alright... its going to be okay. promise. y/n/n??" he whispered against her hair.

a small murmur of a hum left her body, seeking his touch. face burrowing into his neck as she just tried to catch her breath. the small tear drops landing on his porcelain skin.

"promise.." she returned shakily. fingers digging into his shoulder blades as she pulled him closer to your body.

he would pull the covers that you nearly threw off the bed, tucking themselves under once again Ashish face burrowed into their hair. his own eyes clothing again as he felt your breaths even out again. his free hand playing with their hair.

"it's alright.. he's not going to get you here.. won't let him." he murmured softly, before giggling slightly at the end.

but they were just casual right? this was friendly. not flirtly. like wdym they were more than friends.

——

what i was listening to this whole time help ---> also literally the guitar that i have came w a tuner that doesn't even work ive had to buy this app. (ive had this guitar for ages but would just ignore it..) also someone teach me how to fricking ollie IVE BEEN RIDING FOR LIKE FIVE YEARS AND I CANT.

"no. no way. she wants nothing to do with us anymore. she doesn't even talk to us at school," mike rushed, shaking his head. clearly, your name was a touchy subject around him and the rest of them.

the events of almost a year and a half ago were still fresh and pretty bitter. "i wouldn't say she wants nothing to do with us. she's still in the party. she's still one of us. if we just explained the situation to her and tell her—"

"no. no. i'm not talking to her. she won't even talk to me if i tried. new idea," mike cut dustin off and the tension rose. will, lucas, and dustin exchanged a glance. there were no other ideas besides reaching out to you.

it wasn't that the boys couldn't shoot a gun, they just didn't have as great as aim as you or nancy did. you could literally be moving and still hit the target straight on. it was some hidden talent or something and deep down, they all knew they needed you. it was just a matter of getting to talk to you because you avoided the four boys at every chance you got. "mike.." lucas started but the taller boy shook his head

"you're not changing my mind. y/n made up her mind and we're not bringing her back into the party after she turned her back on us," there was so much bitterness dripping from mike's tone. "don't forget the reason why she turned her back on us. you turned your back on us first," lucas quickly shot back and pointed his finger.

"i was in california. what the hell was i supposed to do? i don't see you giving shit to will," mike defended and the brunette shifted lower in his seat when everyone's gaze flicked to him. "that's not the point, wheeler. you chose to leave. you fucked all of us over," now the two boys were arguing.

mike's face twisted, "whatever. i'm not doing this right now. tell me when you find a new plan." he stormed away. the door slammed on his way out and the uncomfortable silence settled around the three left at the table.

dustin sighed while lucas shook his head. "i don't know who else to ask if it isn't y/n. we can't do it without her," lucas mumbled after a long silence.

"i would love to ask her, but mike's not wrong with her not talking to us. she turns the other way when she sees us," dustin said.

"yeah, even in our calc class, she doesn't talk to me. she really doesn't want anything to do with us," will agreed.

"i..i may be able to get through to her, but you guys are gonna have to trust me and if she agrees, we're bringing her in without asking mike. i don't care what he thinks," lucas sat up and the two boys nodded.

—

you visited hawkins general quite frequently that doris didn't even need to give you a second glance as you printed your visitor sticker and flashed it at the front desk. it was an easy right and then a sharp left down the long hallways until you reached the room you were looking for.

nothing ever changed in the room, but you always tried to liven it up by decorating depending on the season. since it was fall, you had paper leaves taped to the walls and a garland you made from felt. max's figure stayed stationary on the bed like always.

"hi. long day today. i think i failed my calc quiz," you huffed as you sat in your usual chair, dropping all of your things on the ground next to it.

max was your best friend. the things this happened a year and a half ago broke something inside of you. seeing her in lucas' arms with broken bones and blood dripping from her eyes still kept you awake at night. you relived that day over and over and over and each time left you with the same outcome. you'd wake up in a sweat and it'd take you another thirty minutes to calm back down. the only way you could let yourself forgive what happened was visiting her everyday after practice. you'd sit in the chair and tell her about your day and what went bad and what went good. it almost felt normal like you two were at  one of your houses gossiping.

you were in the middle of telling her what happened at dance practice when the door clicked open. you stopped talking, looking up to see lucas poke his head in. you mustered a small smile as he reciprocated and shuffled inside. sometimes your schedules overlapped and you'd see him here occasionally.

"hi, sorry," he said as he slid into the chair on the other side of the bed. "hi, no worries. good to see you," you said.

lucas was the only one you talked to still from the party. not that you were forced to, but the circumstances made you see him more than the others and honestly, you were fine with that. he was the most level-headed besides will. it was nice talking with him and sometimes he'd tell you updates about everyone else. you didn't really ask though.

"how is she?" lucas wondered and you nodded. "good. the doctor outside told me just the usual. still unknown about if and when she's waking up," a soft sigh escaped your lips.

max's coma was coming up on a year and half which was the longest you've known someone to be in a state like hers. the doctor never had much insight besides just letting her lay there and let her body decide if she was going to wake up. you didn't doubt her, but a year and a half was a long time.

"i wish they had more answers than that or brought someone else in to look at her. i know she has to be in there somewhere," lucas mumbled, eyes trained on max's sleeping figure. you frowned.

it hurt. so much.

"i know, me too. how've you been though? i haven't seen you here in awhile?" your gaze met his and just from his look, you knew something was wrong.

lucas hesitated. he knew you didn't like hearing about the party that much, but you needed to know what was going on. "honestly, not great. things..haven't been great," the boy started.

you sat up more, curious and concerned. "what's been going on?"

he looked at you again with that same look like whatever he was about to say you weren't going to like. "after a year and a half of silence, we think we may have an idea of what vecna's been up to," the boy paused again and you straightened up even more. "he came after little holly and took her."

your face paled and your blood ran dry. "what do you mean took her?"

even if you couldn't even look at mike anymore, holly was still like your little sister you never had. you babysat her when nancy or mike couldn't. she begged to hang out with you and do "big girl" stuff together. you took her under your wing and she adored you.

"i guess she had been seeing this...this person? she called him mr. whatsit. he told her there were monsters coming. a demogorgon broke into the wheeler house to take her. it hurt ted and karen too. they're here recovering. we don't know where the demogorgon took her, but will's visions have been telling him they're going after more kids to do the same thing."

"holy shit," you muttered in disbelief.

"yeah, i know. we've been trying to find her, but we don't know where to look nor how to stop vecna from taking more kids," lucas finished and you had no idea what to even say.

your heart clenched at the idea of little holly being lost and afraid somewhere in the upside down just underneath your feet. stupid vecna. he just couldn't leave your town alone, could he?

"we may have a plan..it's kind of insane and it might put us all in jail if it goes south..." lucas looked at you again. he paused and carefully deliberated his next words, "we can't do it without you, y/n. we need your help."

your breath hitched.

you swore off being involved with the upside down after max's accident and your own. after failing her, you couldn't find it in yourself to trust yourself to keep everyone else safe. you wanted nothing to do with it anymore. you couldn't be the cause of someone's death.

"lucas.." you started, but he cut you off. "i know you want nothing to do with us or it and i completely understand. we almost all died a year and a half ago. i wouldn't wanna put myself into that situation ever again. this plan though..we're down nancy because she's been here. you're the only other one of us who has perfect aim. if we can shoot the demogorgon and track him back into the upside down, then maybe we can find holly and maybe figure out where vecna's been hiding and take him down once and for all."

tears unexpectedly welled up in your eyes. your gaze lingered on your fidgeting hands in your lap. this felt all too familiar. will. barb. bob. chrissy. eddie. max. holly. it was an endless cycle.

"this shit...it started with us and it's gonna end with us. we can't defeat it though unless we have the entire party. we need our rogue," you met lucas' gaze and he reached over the bed to take your hand in his.

you clasped it and when he squeezed tight you knew you couldn't turn your back on them even if you hated them. more importantly, you couldn't turn your back on holly. if something happened to her, you really wouldn't be able to forgive yourself.

"tell me the plan."

—

you followed lucas into the squawk. admittedly, you were nervous. you had no idea if people would be mad or happy or upset to see you there, especially after no contact for so long. lucas assured you that everyone would be happy to see you though, so you chose to believe him as he led you down a hidden stairwell. you could hear chatter from joyce and robin as they discussed last minute adjustments and occasional banter from erica and dustin.

"hey guys. guess who's in?" lucas said once you reached the floor. everyone looked up at him and when he stepped to the side to reveal you, you shyly waved watching how everyone's eyes widened at the sight of you.

"y/n! you're here!" dustin ran to hug you which earned a chuckle from you as he squeezed you tight. everyone else quickly filled the excitement of seeing you and stepped in to hug you as well.

your nerves quickly eased off.

"thank god i don't have to practice aiming anymore," steve threw the gun your way with a smile and you laughed.

there was one person who hadn't come to greet you and you made eye contact with him standing on the opposite end of the room still. he stared at you the same way he's always stared at you since you guys were kids. a lump formed in your throat when his expression shifted into distaste and he swept his eyes away from yours.

next to max, mike was the other person still constantly on your mind. you two had a lot of history which was maybe why you had such a hard time forgiving him the most. "it's good to have you here, y/n. thank you for doing this," joyce held you and you smiled, your mind and gaze breaking away from mike.

"of course. anything for holly and the rest of the kids," you said, the real reminder why you agreed to help.

for holly.

joyce ran through the plan one more time so everyone was on the same page before sending erica to the turnbows. you stood between lucas and dustin while mike stood on the opposite end of the table. you could feel his eyes burning holes into yours. "now that we have y/n, she'll be in the basement behind the bar with mike. the two of you will listen for the demogorgon and when it gets caught in the barbed wire, that's your chance to take the shot anywhere that won't kill it. once the bullet is in, mike you throw the flame so it will flip back into the upside down," joyce explained your part.

"yeah, got it," you nodded. when you finally looked back over at mike he nodded too. lucas told you the pairings were made with the idea that you wouldn't be involved, but now that you were it just made more sense to keep you and mike together.

you two had the strongest bond anyway. you worked the best as a team. at least before you did. now, you weren't really sure if it was still there.

"so everyone knows their part? we can't get this one wrong guys," joyce looked at everyone. you all nodded.

you really couldn't believe you were putting yourself right back into the action after swearing it off, especially with a plan like this one. if it didn't kill you first, you'd definitely be in deep trouble if something went wrong. either way, you were doing it for holly and all the other kids vecna was after.

you couldn't save yourselves when you were their age, but you could save them now.

the back of the squawk van was quite cramped with you, mike, lucas, robin, joyce, and will plus your bikes and all of the supplies you'd need to set the trap. it was a waiting game after watching erica head into the house with her pie laced with the heavy sleeping benzos. the gun leaned against the side of the van and the tracker bullets weighed heavily in your pocket.

to say you weren't nervous would be a lie. you hadn't shot a gun since everything that happened and while you still didn't miss while practicing, you worried this would be the one time you'd miss.

your nervous quirks were starting to show through the longer you waited for erica's signal. your leg bounced against the van floor and you fidgeted nervously with your fingers—a telltale sign that your anxiety was slowly rising.

because there was hardly any seating in the van, you had to squish with everyone and with your luck, you ended up shoulder to shoulder with mike. his side touched yours and he could feel the way your leg brushed against his each time it bounced on the floor. despite not talking to you for a year and a half, he still knew you inside and out and your nervous habits weren't strangers to him.

he sighed and resisted every urge to place his hand on your knee and gently press your leg down to keep it from bouncing. was he mad at lucas for going behind his back and asking you anyway? yes. was he glad you were here though? also yes. it was hard to hate you no matter how much mike tried.

because once upon a time, you and mike were in love with each other and mike still was in love with you. secretly. unknowingly. subconsciously. you were every part of him.

he regretted everyday failing to be there for you when you needed him most.

the walkie beeped three times from up front. you all looked towards the house and there erica was waving through the window. joyce revved the van back up and you all sat up a little bit more as she drove across the street to back into the garage. that nervous energy turned into adrenaline as you jumped out of the van and followed everyone inside to turn the house inside out.

the first job was getting the turnbow family away from the house. you wrapped them up in blankets and hid their faces with pillowcases. you, robin, joyce, and will helped drag them to the van and lift them inside.

"i hope those benzos were strong," steve muttered as he helped lift them. "don't worry. they could knock anyone out for over four hours," robin assured.

once the family was safely in the van, joyce, robin, will, and erica hopped back in to take them to the abandoned barn across town. you watched them pull out, steve and you exchanging wary glances knowing how much explaining you'd have to do when they woke up.

you went back inside to help with everything else. the boys had been moving furniture and creating space for the hole you were about to dig into the floor. the carpet was the perfect ploy that hopefully the demogorgon wouldn't suspect when it fell into it.

jonathan and dustin worked on laying the barbed wire down while you packed the gun with the bullets. "doing okay?" lucas came by.

"yeah. nervous, but okay," you said.

"don't be nervous. you got it. this is one your best at," he reassured and you managed a smile. "thanks, sinclair. i just hope we can get holly back and save the other kids," you mumbled.

he squeezed your arm before continuing on to help. your gaze swept across the basement before lingering on where mike was in the other corner. he was unpacking the flares when his own eyes met yours. the lump reformed when his gaze lingered instead of looking away like before.

he was still every part of you too.

the waiting was the worst part. the trap was set and all of you were in position to set the plan into motion when the demogorgon arrived. you and mike were hidden in the cramped space behind the bar, legs and shoulders pressed together again while you listened to the sounds above you. your heart was beating and not just because you were about to shoot a demogorgon.

mike watched you fidget again. he could see part of your jeans exposing the bottom of your leg along with one of your many scars from everything that's happened in the last four years. the one on your leg must've been the most recent one—the one he failed to be there for. the one he only saw once he got back from california and you were a crying mess because max was close to death and you were bleeding out and no one could give you an answer about anything.

he finally found the courage to place a gentle hand on your knee to get your leg to stop bouncing. "i regret it, you know. ignoring you. not being there for you," he whispered. your breath hitched.

"mike, we can't do this now," you said because you knew this was a much bigger conversation to have when you weren't about to fight a demogorgon.

"i know. i just wanted to tell you that. i wanted you to know how much i regret everything and how much i wish i could've talked to you this past year and a half."

your heart clenched at his words. even though it was dark, you could perfectly see his face from his close you two were. his eye were full of remorse and apologies. his hand was warm through your jeans and it was hard to focus on anything else but him and his proximity.

the radio cracked and you heard steve's voice. you breathed out, you attention breaking from the boy beside you as you grabbed the walkie. "south down arlington, t-minus 30 seconds. status check. taggers?"

"in position and set. launcher?" you said.

"set. catchers?" you heard lucas. "set. trackers?" jonathan spoke.

"set," steve finished.

you and mike exchanged a glance and that impending doom of waiting began. the two of you were silent as you listened for any noises and on cue, the lights began flickering around you meaning the demogorgon was inside the house.

you could hear the commotion from upstairs and the spine shivering roars and groans from the demogorgon. there were a few loud thuds from one of the rooms which must've been lucas running down the stairs. you gripped the gun tighter and then the carpet gave in and the demogorgon fell straight into the trap. you and mike jumped up as you prepared the gun and raised the barrel. the flames from the flare lit up beside you as you took your aim.

the gunshot echoed throughout the basement. the red light flickered inside of the creature's skin. it spun around, hissing and opening its mouth flaps at you. mike quickly threw the flare which lit up the room even more as the flames started engulfing it. you quickly reloaded to shoot it again if needed.

"y/n!" mike exclaimed. you quickly aimed again before the demogorgon jumped back up to the first floor. the two of you stumbled back, watching as jonathan whacked it with the shovel.

the thing jumped towards the bookcase and pulled the wall apart into the upside down. it disappeared inside like a mouse running to its hiding place. the wall closed as fast as it opened and then everything was still again. you let out the breath you were holding while everyone looked around to make sure the demogorgon was really gone.

"trackers in pursuit, i repeat trackers in pursuit," dustin said through the walkie.

the rest of you still in the house cheered and you hugged mike without thinking as you both celebrated the victory. you were too caught up in the moment to really care that you were even this close to him and he was holding you to his chest or that his cologne filled your nose and reminded you of plans like this going well before.

you even cracked a smile as you pulled back to meet his gaze, except you weren't expecting the sight before you when you looked up again.

instead of mike staring back at you, it was a face you hadn't seen in a really long time. you stumbled back, your back hitting the counter. that wasn't possible. your mom died four years ago. your mom stared back at you and when you looked around to see if you were truly tripping, you realized you weren't even in the turnbow's house anymore.

mike hugged you without even really thinking, but having you in his arms just for a split second maybe everything feel like it could be okay. you smelled good and when he pulled back to meet your gaze his smile disappeared.

your eyes had gone white and you were frozen stiffly in place. his heart dropped. "shit. y/n? y/n!" mike shook you, but you didn't move or snap out of it.

"guys! guys! something happened to y/n! help!" mike called up to anyone who could hear him. lucas and jonathan stuck their heads through the opening. "what happened?" lucas called.

"she's not moving. i-i think vecna got her," mike stuttered.

"shit. shit. we need to find a cassette player. tina turnbow has to have music around here. what's her favorite song? we need music," lucas scrambled and urged jonathan to go find a cassette player and cassettes.

"it's uptown girl by billy joel," mike said without missing a beat. he kept trying to shake you to snap you out of it, but whatever vecna was doing to you had you trapped in your mind.

"m-mom? w-what's going on?" you stuttered as she quickly shushed you. you looked around more and realized you were in your house—or a version of your house. "don't talk, y/n. he might hear you," she said.

"what? who? where are we? how are you.." you trailed off when there was a noise by the door and then a shadowy figure in the light. your mom looked as scared as you did.

the door knob jiggled. "mom," you muttered and she held you tight. "it's okay, baby. it's okay," she curled you into her arms as the door opened and in came 01 or henry.

"y/n. i haven't seen you in awhile," he spoke directly to you and pulled you from your mom's grasp so you were standing directly in front of him. your hands trembled and your breaths shook. "w-what do you want," you stuttered.

"you don't get yourselves involved for a year and a half and now you try to foil my plans?" his voice had that tone that made a shiver run down your spine.

"you have holly," you spit out and when you said that he grabbed your throat and squeezed, cutting your air supply in half. "you have no idea what you're getting yourself into, y/n. you and your friends don't realize how big this actually is. it's best you don't try to get involved again," he practically growled.

you struggled in his grasp, but the struggling only made it worse. "your mother here has been helping me," he said.

"don't say that! she's dead! she's not real!" you rasped.

"what even is real? is this real?" henry forced your head to look around your house. it felt real, but the closer you looked the more you realized how distorted things really were. pictures were crooked and the color of the walls were opposite to what they really were.

"you stay away from my plans and i will not hurt you or your friends. i may even be able to help you with your other friend, max?" your face paled.

"you hurt her!" you yelled again.

"i can also save her if i really wanted to. you let me do this and i will never step a foot near your friends ever again," you choked for breath the tighter his hand got.

jonathan ran down the stairs with a cassette player. "i found uptown girl!" he exclaimed.

"hurry! hurry! get it in!" mike urged as him, lucas, and jonathan scrambled to put the cassette in and hit play. you were still frozen and white-eyed.

mike's heart was pounding. he was gonna lose you all over again. the familiar tune of billy joel began filling the room while the boys watched your reaction that would hopefully pull you from this trance.

you could distantly hear the man's voice from where henry had you. "you guys are clever, i will give you that. listen to what i say, y/n. i don't take this lightly and you shouldn't either."

he finally let you go and you dropped to the floor.

mike quickly caught you when you came to. you gasped for air, grabbing your throat and shaking in his arms as you realized you were back in real time. "hey, it's okay. it's okay. it's us. we're right here," mike calmed you as you clutched his arm and regained your breath.

"y/n, what happened?" lucas urged, getting down to your level.

"v-vecna. he wants to kill us if we don't stop helping the kids," you got out with a dry breath.

—

you couldn't go home after that and sleep by yourself, so mike offered you to stay at his place even though it was only him and nancy there. it was better than being by yourself, so you agreed and said goodnight to lucas and jonathan after confirming that you were okay and would meet up again tomorrow morning.

mike got you clothes from nancy's room to wear while he made you tea to help soothe your throat. there were faint litters of bruises across your skin that were tender with each touch. your mind felt foggy and disoriented.

"he said he could save max," you muttered from where you sat at the kitchen island. mike looked at you, concern etched in his features.

"you believe him?" he asked.

"i don't know," you sighed.

the taller boy came around to join you. he gave you the cup of tea which you gratefully accepted. the silence was tense and deafening, but you didn't know what to say and neither did he. 24 hours ago you weren't even speaking. you didn't even look at each other. now you were in his house remembering all of the times he'd sneak you in late at night and you'd share soft fits of laughter watching a movie on his tv trying not to wake up his parents downstairs.

"how did lucas convince you to help us?" mike finally broke the silence.

"he just..explained what was happening and i knew i couldn't leave holly in danger like that. i did it for her," you said simply. "and for you, i suppose. she's your little sister," you added softly.

mike met your gaze again. it was so hard when he looked at you like that still. it was the same way he always looked at you and at the squawk earlier. hurt, confusion, love.

"i should have been there. you radioed so many times. you asked for help so many times. i left when i should have been here. i'm really sorry, y/n. i've hated myself since," mike said again and your heart clenched.

"you ignored me. you acted like i didn't even exist, like what we had wasn't real," you mumbled.

"i know and i hate myself for it. i..i don't know why i did that. i-i thought my feelings for el were still there, but they weren't. i just thought of you every time instead. i was so stupid and i hurt you."

his hair was a mess from the night and you were so worn down. "i'm surprised you remembered my favorite song still," you mumbled, a tiny smile hiding on your lips.

"it was the only thing you played when it came out. i think i have the lyrics burned into my memory," mike laughed and you let your own slip out. "thanks for being there for me tonight," you said softly.

the boy grinned. he reached around and pulled you into a tight hug which had you melting into his arms. he was warm and smelled good despite all the stuff you were doing, you felt safe in his arms.

"i know we can't go immediately back to how things were, but i'm willing to try. to start again?" mike pulled back and looked at you with more hope in his eyes that made your heart flutter.

truthfully, the year and a half without mike had been hard. you missed him and the rest of the party. they were your people and your family and you knew you couldn't completely turn your back on family. after tonight, you knew you couldn't leave them again.

"yeah, i'd like that," you said.

She had managed to be clean of Mike Wheeler for nearly a year. It hadn’t been easy. It had meant dodging her friends and spending way too much time in her room, but it was working. Every time she visited home from college, her nervous system still went haywire and kept her on edge, but even that had begun to fade. She was finally getting bold enough to leave the safety of her home. 

If there hadn’t been a pinky promise involved, she probably would have cancelled on Chrissy and made up some lie about babysitting her little sister. In fact, she had tried to do just that when Chris first told her about the party, but her friend was having none of it. 

“Do you know I have only seen you twice since last winter break? TWICE!” The gloves had officially come off and Chris was done handling her with care. 

“I MISS YOU! YOU CANNOT LET SOME BOY DICTATE YOUR LIFE LIKE THIS. I DON’T CARE WHAT HE CAN DO WITH HIS HIPS. ENOUGH!” 

Her mouth opened once, twice, and then let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“And we are going to have so much fun that the name Mike Idiot Wheeler will not enter your brain.” Chrissy stared determinedly into her eyes with a pinky held out. “You swear?”

As she stared into her friend’s eyes, she thought about the impossible task set before her. God, she longed for a day free of thoughts of him. His pink lips. The victory buzz from making him laugh. His inebriated smile after they finished. When she was away at school and far from their small town, it was easier to ignore the panic that accompanied the thoughts. But at home, in the bed where he’d slipped through her fingers, the feelings were crushing. 

“I swear.” The two women’s pinkies interlocked, although they both knew the likelihood of it being broken.

An immediate wave of regret washed over her as they crossed the threshold into Patrick’s party. The room was flooded with the people she had spent four years dying to get away from. Now, she was choosing to spend her free time watching them all get fucked up. Was this all really worth her best friend’s happiness?

One look at Chris’s smile easily confirmed that it was and left her mirroring it herself. She could handle most things to keep her sweet friend smiling. After the past few years of Chris dealing with both of their bullshit, she was owed one good night. Hence, why she had allowed Chris to do her hair and makeup and put her in a little black dress that showed off way more of her legs and chest than she was comfortable with. 

Amongst the low hum of pop music in Chris’s bedroom the look hadn’t felt so daring, but now, staring out into the party, with the party staring back, her fight-or-flight was begging her to turn back. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Chrissy’s hand grabbed on to hers and began pulling her through the crowd before she could act. 

The two waded through the party, smiling and hugging old friends as they passed. It felt like extreme exposure therapy. Luckily, Pat’s punch helped dull the nerves and left them both swaying and twirling across the makeshift dancefloor. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let herself relax like this. Even when she was with Mike, she felt constantly aware of the tightrope they were walking. No, no Mike. No ghosts of the past. Tonight was about her and Chrissy and making up for lost time. 

As if they heard her silent appeal, the sharks began to creep in. When she saw the hand on Chrissy’s waist appear, she had to physically refrain from rolling her eyes. Jason must have a sensor that went off whenever his ex-girlfriend dared to have too much fun without him. The high school sweethearts cycled through this same routine every time they found themselves back in Hawkins: conveniently run into each other, have a “magical” night, immediately start fighting, realize why they should not be within ten feet of the other, and not speak again until they were back. She meant to address the pattern with Chrissy before the fallout of her Mike-based psychosis, but now she had no leg to stand on. 

With the alcohol slowing her mind and reflexes, all she could do was watch as the peaked Golden Boy led her friend away leaving her alone. Chris had at least thrown her an apologetic smile and mouthed “be right back” before she disappeared, but both women knew the likelihood of it being broken.

As if the sight of one former flame wasn’t enough to tank the night, while turning around she made hard eye contact with the specter of Mike Wheeler through the window, leaning against the back porch. He stared at her hard like he was looking for something specific. 

Her fight-or-flight had previously been shut down, but it chose now to return full-force and without the support of Chrissy’s hand, all she could do was spin around and rush back to the haven of the kitchen. Her mind was running too quickly to process what the hell was actually happening.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” She repeated the word as a prayer to herself as if it might save her. She needed something to drink. It was as if all the night’s previous alcohol and fun had drained from her system with just one look. As she struggled to pump the keg into her cup, the feeling of a cold hand over hers had her jumping back nearly into the cabinets. But when she looked up it was Patrick with a confused smile on his face and his hands up. 

“Hey, it’s all cool! I was trying to help. The pump keeps getting blocked.”

“Oh… okay…” Her lungs were fighting to catch her breath. “Um, thank you Pat.”

He gave her an easy smile like she wasn’t having a mental breakdown next to his spice rack. “Of course! Chrissy mentioned you might be coming, but to be honest, I didn’t really believe it. Figured you’d have some fancy boyfriend in the city keeping a tight hold on you. Are you liking school out there? The community college here is awful…”

Patrick’s rambling gave her time to breathe and try to get her brain under control. How long had he been standing out there? Was he watching her? Was she really so tipsy that she wouldn’t have noticed if he was? Why the fuck was he even at this party? He hates these people.

When Pat finally handed her a full cup of beer—still venting about how at least Hawkins Community had a half-decent basketball team—she hastily threw it back. As the cup left her eye-line, the apparition of Mike was crossing the party seemingly heading her way. 

The prayer returned. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” 

She barely uttered a sorry to Patrick before dashing out the front door. If the cold air hadn’t shocked her body, she might have taken off running. The mix of dread and too much to drink was suddenly hitting her hard. He can’t have been coming to see her. He probably needed a drink too. It was just a horrifying, terrifying coincidence. Just a coincidence. 

Her mind narrowed its focus on repeating it to herself and breathing before the panic could overtake her entirely. The breathing had just gotten to a regular pace when she heard the door open behind her. Surely if she didn’t turn around and look, he couldn’t possibly be there. The universe could bless her just this one time. 

“Hey.”

“Shit.” 

She should have known the universe was no friend of hers. 

It felt like she was in a horror movie of her own making. The bad guy she managed to dodge the whole movie had finally caught up to her and now all she could do was face him.

She took the deepest breath of her life and slowly turned around. 

“Hi.”

For some reason, he seemed shocked to see her, as if he hadn’t just chased her out of the party. His eyes softened as he watched her shiver in her dress.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

All she had to do was salvage whatever dignity she had left and channel it into a wall of confidence. “Yeah, Chrissy really wanted to come and have a girls’ night… so… here I am…” Tough, and not really a sentence, but it was words. 

She can do this. She can be an adult. She can have a conversation with the person that held her heart in his hand and crushed it in front of her. 

“How come you’re here-“

“I haven’t seen you in awhile-“

They spoke at the same time and both tried to awkwardly cover up. 

“I mean at this party, not here-here, it’s obvious why you’re here-here-“

“I just meant you never seem to be around anymore-“

She wondered if she prayed hard enough if the town might split open again and take her with it this time. She stared down at the heels Chrissy had put her in, no such luck.

There was a beat where they both seemed to hope the other might take the lead. He broke first, “Lucas and Patrick are still good friends from the team so he begged us all to come. Some stupid shit about ‘teenage revelry strengthening the bonds of friendship.’”

She fought the small smile that threatened to break out. While they were in different years, they had all gone to school together and she always admired how tight his group of friends was. But, as her mind always seemed to remind her, she thought of how he refused to introduce her to them. How he purposefully kept them apart. As if the reality of her was too shameful to intersect with the reality of his real life. 

Any kindness fled from her body. Her voice arrived without her brain’s instruction. “A year. It’s been a year since we last saw each other. That’s why you ‘haven’t seen me in a while,’” she stated, quoting him at the end.

The sound of him swallowing hard reverberated in the gated front yard. Good, he should be nervous. 

There had been purposeful avoidance on her part to stay away from his eyes. She thought looking into them might be what finally, truly broke her. But once she did, she found that the wall of confidence she was faking had turned into a very real shield of anger. 

The beautiful brown eyes she had spent three years agonizing over, just seemed like eyes now. Yeah, she had loved that blue sweater and had worn it many times, but now she thought of how many other girls he had pawned it off to. Of course he was pretty, the devil always was.

The fire in her veins sent her back to the last time she had looked in his eyes. At her house. Always her house. He had snuck her into his basement a few times, but never let her upstairs to meet his family or see his room. God, she was so dumb. 

He laid there on her chest, still glassy-eyed with that grin on his face. Despite the hundreds of thoughts pounding through her head, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw his face. The face that could either start or stop her heart. Her whole being. It made her brave. 

“I was thinking, maybe this spring break you could come up and visit me at school. My roommate will be gone, so you could stay with me at the dorms. And I could show you the city. We could even go to the MSI if you wanted to…” 

It was said casually, but she felt anything but. She had spent weeks going over this plan and what it might mean and how he might react. They’d be out of Hawkins and away from everyone they knew.. She could show him her life and where he could fit into it. They could try out being an actual couple without the pressure. The worst he could say is no, right? Stupid, dumb girl. 

“Oh… I already have plans actually.” He didn’t even lift his head to look her in the eyes when he told the obvious lie. 

“Really? It’s like four months away. What are you doing?” Perhaps she said it too strongly but she refused to believe he would lie. They had literally been doing the most intimate thing two people could do, multiple times a year, for two years now. She had always kept his secrets, even the batshit insane ones she didn’t fully understand. She had always done as he asked. She had been lying to Chrissy about them for years—albeit poorly. Why would she be someone he needed to lie to?

“I— I have to visit my Grandma in Bloomington… The whole family is going. She’s been sick for a while so we’re trying to make the most of her time left.” 

Another obvious lie. His grandma passed away last year. That’s why he couldn’t come with her to the annual Hawkins Christmas parade. At least that’s what he had told her. She pushed forward anyway. Maybe this was his other grandma. Why would he lie?

“Huh, I’m sorry to hear that. Well, it could just be a small thing like you come up for a long weekend. We could still pack a lot in!”

He abruptly moved from her chest to lying on his back. Eyes glued to her popcorn ceiling. 

“Why are you pushing this?”

She felt the first fissure in her heart burst. She tried to laugh it off, in spite of his deadly serious tone. “I just thought it might be nice to spend some time together outside of my childhood bedroom… Maybe see if this could be something more.”

Her hand twitched like she could catch the words as they left her mouth. It was pushing too much and she knew it. But it was true. And why should she lie?

Then there was a silence that felt so long and so deep that it seemed to get under her skin and fill her throat. The panic was eating at her gut. She was vibrating with emotion, just waiting to be set off. 

The silence snapped swiftly as he jumped out of her bed and messily threw his clothes back on. 

Quietly, deadly, he said. “It can’t. It won’t.” 

He slammed his boots on without tying them up and moved to the door. 

“See you later.”

And then he was gone. He didn’t look at her once. Pathetic, stupid, dumb girl. 

She cried so hard her mom called Chrissy—and almost the paramedics. The sobs racked her body. She hardly calmed down enough to explain to Chris what had happened. Of course, her best friend knew. She was certainly shocked by who, but she recognized something like this was happening over a year and a half ago. Yet, she didn’t tell her ‘I told you so’ or anything of the like. Chrissy just rocked her and quietly said “I know” into her hair. 

Why would he lie? Because he never wanted to ‘try out’ being a ‘real couple’ with her. She was just the meat puppet he got to play with and fuck when he came home. They weren’t even friends with benefits because they weren’t friends. They were old, school acquaintances that fell into something neither fully understood. And somehow he seemed to think it could continue. “See you later.” No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. It was done. It had to be done. You can’t cry that hard over a boy and let him keep using you. It was against the laws of the universe. 

So, she decided to make a clean break and never see him again. Even if it meant alienating herself from most of her school friends and isolating herself from her family. It was worth it to try and sweat out this curse he had placed upon her. He likely wouldn’t even notice. He never called first or sought her out anyway. 

It had to be done. 

If he planned to speak, she stepped right over him. “What do you want Mike?” She said with a sigh. 

The shock of her demeanor change jolted his body. She didn’t think she had ever seen him this surprised before. It felt good. It felt like power. 

He barely gulped out a “what” before she jumped over him again. Taking a physical step forward this time. 

“I said… What—do—you—want? Why did you chase me out here? I’m not interested in secretly fucking in your car so you can go back to friends.” She knew she was raising her voice and someone might hear, but fuck it. Why did her anger, just like their entire relationship, have to be kept quiet. She was done being a secret. 

“I— That’s not why— fuck.” He pressed his hands into his eyes and tugged on his curls. He tried to take a deep breath and try again but she got him again. 

“Most people would take a year of silence as a clear sign to leave someone alone. I know I sure did. My phone number didn’t change by the way. But, I guess you probably never learned it, huh.”

She took another step towards him. The panic and tension was gone. It felt like someone was taking over her. Someone she didn’t know yet, but greatly preferred to her typical meek self. 

“Usually when you’re this quiet you’ve either just come or you’re trying to figure out the most hurtful thing to say, so which is it? To be honest, I’d vastly prefer the latter this time around.”

Before she snowballed further, he let out a quiet “enough.” It stilled her. Quiet, angry Mike was someone she knew and someone who could tear her to shreds.

“I— I came to this stupid party and followed you out here to apologize. To take accountability for what I did and how I treated you. It wasn’t right—.”

“You can say that again!” The voice came from the shadowed side of the house and made them both jump. Before the other girl came into the light, she knew it was Chrissy. Oh my god, it was Chrissy. And there was Jason five steps behind her looking absolutely befuddled. 

While she had gotten progressively closer to him in the past few minutes, Chrissy closed the distance on Mike instantly. And by god was she loud about it. 

“Do you really think you can just run into her and apologize as if it’s some grand gesture! As if she should be so lucky you happened upon her! Fuck you Mike Wheeler! You piece of shit!” Chrissy stuck her finger into Mike’s chest to punctuate each sentence.

The party began following the noise outside. Mike’s own friends came around to see the fight until they realized he was the recipient of the profanities screamed by the lovely, former head cheerleader. What the fuck was going on? 

Dustin was the first to come to. “Hey Mike, what is happening?” Chrissy didn’t bother turning his way, still pointing her eyes and words at the man in front of her. 

“Yeah Mike, what is going on? Do you wanna bother telling your friends how you lied and snuck around with my friend for two years or will you keep taking the coward's way out?”

Mike looked like he had been petrified. He had barely bottled up enough bravery to try and talk to her, never mind be screamed at by the head-fucking-cheerleader in front of all their former classmates. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lucas doing the math. 

“Wait– for two years. So while you were still dating El?”

It was potentially the only sentence that could have made this situation somehow even worse. Immediately there was gasps and titters throughout the growing crowd. In the wind there was a faint “Damn! Who knew Wheeler had it going like that?” It looked like actual steam might burst out of Chrissy’s ears. But all Mike could do was stare at the girl behind her whose hands were cradling her stomach. Her mouth was still agape with tears threatening to break free. 

She wasn’t worried about crying though. She was desperately holding herself back from throwing up. This whole time she thought he just didn’t want to be her boyfriend. But no, he already was a boyfriend. Of course she couldn’t meet his friends or family, that would give the game away. Of course he couldn’t spend spring break with her, he had to spend it with this real girlfriend being a real couple. 

The bile was rising up her throat. This was so much worse than just being a secret meat puppet. He made her a home wrecker! A mistress! What in the world did she do to deserve this? Why was karma paying her back like this?

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU CHEATED ON YOUR GIRLFRIEND WITH HER?! FOR FUCKING YEARS?!” Chrissy clocked her arm back like she might actually hit him, but Jason stepped in and yanked her back. 

Mike covered his face with his hands again. “No! That’s not true! It’s way more complicated than that.” He looked across the walkway trying to find her eyes. “If we could just get away from everyone for a bit, I promise I can explain it all. If we could just talk.”

Chrissy jumped into his vision, still being restrained by Jason. “You are never talking to her again, you fuck!” Chrissy twisted out of Jason’s arms and grabbed her hand. She also tried to find her eyes but to no avail. “Hey, let’s get the hell out of here. I’m so sorry I made you come. Let’s go, okay?” 

Chrissy tried to pull her away but her feet were glued to concrete. Something was missing. 

She finally looked up from the grass and stared into Mike’s eyes. The feeling in them made him gasp. It stunned him far more than anything Chrissy had done or said. 

“Out with it then.” While her voice was controlled, the edges of it were frayed.

“What? What do you mean?” He couldn’t believe she might actually hear him out. It seemed too good to be true. And it was. 

“You said you came out here to apologize but you’ve yet to actually say it. Or was that a lie too?”

The whole party let out an “ooo”, including Lucas which earned him a glare and elbow from Max. Mike didn’t even hear it. He was too focused on her and how she was looking at him. Like she didn’t know him. Like they hadn’t spent countless nights tangled up in each other. Like he was some monster.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could choke out. 

“Fuck you.” 

And then she left. The habit was broken.