Chapter Text
Richie had been quiet after their ride around downtown. To be fair, they had all been quiet, but this was the first time since the boy had arrived that Mike wasn't either hearing his incessant chatter or bracing himself for when it would start. That was mean; Mike knew that, but he also knew that before Richie had come in and messed things up, everything was just starting to go back to normal. Sure, Mike had said that about a hundred times, and it had never been true in the past, but who could blame him for wanting some downtime after the shit show of the summer? Of course, though, the world could not be kind and had to throw a wrench in that as well, sending some random teen in to ruin things. Worst of all, everyone seemed to like Richie, Robin, Steve, and Will; even Mike's own mom seemed to be genuinely interested in this kid's life. It was like things in Hawkins were completely normal, and some weird out-of-town kid gets thrown in, and they all gawk and wonder about him as though Richie's life could have been half as interesting as anyone in Hawkins. Well, at least El didn't seem too interested in the shiny new kid, though Mike couldn't really tell since she had become completely cold since Hopper died.
Mike couldn't blame her; she was grieving, but he also didn't get what he was supposed to do. She wasn't some fragile kid; she'd saved the world three times. Mike was sure that she would bounce back in no time. Maybe this made him a shit boyfriend; maybe he should have been doting on her and buying her flowers, but he had never done this before, so he had no idea. He'd never done any of this before; he'd never had a girlfriend before El, and before this summer, she'd been a secret from his family, so he'd never been on real dates, and before El, he'd never even really had a crush. Of course he'd had schoolyard yard crushes, and he wasn't blind; he knew that the women he saw in movies were hot, but none of that infatuation even compared to what he had with El. Mike knew that he loved her; he knew that no other girl could make him feel safe or happy like she could. Plus, no other girls in Hawkins would even look at him twice. El looked at him like he was the only guy in the world, or at least she used to; now she doesn't look at him much at all.
Her eyes had been glassy, staring somewhere in the distance most times. She reached her hand almost impulsively towards the pocket on the flannel as though there would be something in it. Mike knew that the flannel was Hopper's; it was the one he was wearing when he accosted Mike and told him to stay away from El. That night felt like years ago now, and thinking about it made Mike's head hurt; he had loved Hopper too, even if the man hadn't seemed to have always loved him. Hopper acted more like a father than Ted did half the time, and when he wasn't careful, Mike still thought he saw him out of the corner of his eye or heard his gruff voice coming from the various cars on the street.
Mike had never really grieved before he'd lost Will that first time, and even then, there was always still a hope that Will would come back. He wasn't an idiot; he knew about the five stages of grief or whatever, but that always seemed so simple: you got angry and then sad and all the other ones, but you moved on. El didn't seem to be moving on. If anything, she was more in her head now, weeks later, than she had been the days right after that night. Mike didn't know what to do; he just took all his feelings, made them as small as he could, and then put them into a box in his brain so he could look at them later (or never). He said this to the party once, and Lucas and Dustin nodded like they agreed, but Max had muttered something about “repression’ and “men are so weird,” so he didn’t know if it would be bad to suggest that El do the same thing.
Mike was so busy ruminating that he almost didn't realize that they had gotten back to his house. It had only been probably an hour since the group had left, but the mood had soured enough that none of them wanted to continue the tour. All four of them entered the house, with Richie quickly slinking back into the basement, saying something about going to call a friend, and the other three ascended to Mike's room. One part of Mike wished that Will wasn't there so he and El could have some alone time, but the other part hoped the third member would make things less awkward.
“He's nice, but he is kind of strange.” Will was the first to speak up once the door clicked shut.
“Haunted,” Ever straightforwardly forward, El added her two cents.
“Yes, exactly; his eyes, they're like really sad even if the rest of him tries to make up for it.”
“He knows something is up here. He didn't believe us about the fire.”
“Yeah, he seemed really perceptive or traumatized, one of the two.”
Mike felt like the siblings had forgotten he existed as he watched them go back and forth about Richie. They were right; something in Rich's expression had made him sure that Richie saw through the fire excuse, but that wouldn't make sense. Everyone in Hawkins had believed it was either arson or faulty wiring and had gone back to their lives like before.
“Why the fuck wouldn't he believe it? He's not special." The other two fell silent at Mike's words. Mike knew he was being mean; Richie had been nothing but nice to him, but he couldn't help it; he'd just been so angry lately at everything. The siblings exchanged looks before Will spoke up.
“I don’t know, Mike, but he’s definitely been through some shit. Sometimes when you go through something scary, you are extra paranoid for a while. Maybe that's all; he's just questioning everything.” Will spoke like he was trying not to make Mike mad; that only made him feel more like shit.
“What happened to him at his home? Maybe he knew bad men too.” El seemed to be genuinely curious, and Mike felt acid in his throat.
“His parents were in a car crash. They were drunk apparently, and yeah, he said some things about his parents being kinda awful, but he seems fine now.”
Mike knew that what he was saying wasn't true, but as he ran through all that Richie had said, the more he was reminded of a time when Lonnie still lived with the Byers. What if Will found out that he and Richie were so similar, and then he started spending time with him instead? Richie was older and funnier, wasn't he? So could Mike even blame Will for wanting to be his best friend instead of Mike's? The acid bubbled.
“I’m going to go talk to him. You know, see how he's doing. Plus, Mike, maybe you can reassure El that going to high school will in fact be a good thing.” Will turned quickly and shut the door as he left.
Mike knew that just a bit before he had been wishing for alone time with El, but he really didn't want Will to leave him. It already felt like they were floating farther and farther away from each other. Mike knew that things would never go back exactly to how they were before the Upside Down, but that didn't mean that he didn't think about it every day. What he would be like, what Will would be like. But of course if he did that, there would be no El in his life, and he would be stuck lonely and girlfriendless.
Speaking of, as soon as Will’s footsteps could be heard retreating down the stairs, El’s lips were on his. They kissed like they hadn't seen each other in months (they saw each other three days ago, but they haven't kissed since before everything went down). Mike had missed this, the very tangible, very literal reassurance that El really did love him back. Mike wouldn't exactly know, but he was pretty sure that you didn't kiss someone with this much passion unless you were in love. And they were in love; it didn't mean anything that Mike had to keep reminding himself of that. Of course they were in love; that was one of the only things Mike knew for sure right now.
Kissing was good; it meant less talking and less guilt on Mike's side when he inevitably said the wrong thing. Needless to say, they didn't do much talking about school, but that much was fine by Mike; at least kissing had a pretty simple set of rules, unlike actually talking to his girlfriend did.
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Richie had meant to call Bill, but he found himself ruminating on the day instead. As he thought, he ran his fingers mindlessly over the zipper of Eddie's Fanny Pack; he still hadn't opened it; something about it felt so daunting. It felt a bit like if he did open it, then he would have nothing real left of Eddie. If he kept it closed, he could convince himself that inside was a note confessing that Eddie returned all of Richie's feelings, but whenever that thought came up, Richie shoved it back down. He had to stop thinking of Eddie like that. He was in a new town, and if he was careful, maybe this town would remember him as anything other than the town queer.
Richie wished more than anything that his carefree attitude extended to conversations about sexuality. He watched interviews of Bowie and Freddie Mercury; he saw them talk openly about being bisexual or gay or, hell, just being themselves. He knew that plenty of people, even in Derry, listened to their music and had watched those same interviews, but it was different when it was some celebrity vs. when it was a person they saw in real life.
He tried to remind himself that Stan hadn't cared when Richie told him, but a pesky voice in his head said that Stan was too kind for his own good and that nobody in Hawkins would like him if they found out. A brief image of Mike's face contorted in disgust entered his mind before Richie was able to shove it down; he would never tell anyone, and he hoped that nobody would find out.
Richie briefly contemplated trying to find a girl at school who would be crazy enough to date him, but the chances of that seemed low. Before Richie could think of a better plan, though, the door opened, and Richie slammed into high alert. He shoved the fanny pack under the pillow on the bed and stood up in what he hoped looked like a casual pose.
“Oh shit, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” It was just Mike's friend, Will, Richie's brain supplied. Richie attempted to relax his body, but he was unsuccessful.
“The jumpiness does go away, I promise.” Will rambled much to Richie's confusion. “It gets weird once you’re out of there or they’re gone because your body is still waiting for something to happen but it can’t really understand why. I swear I broke like three dishes in just the first week after my mom kicked out my dad. I was so on edge that every noise set me off, but it really does wear off eventually.”
Ah, so this kid had been through some shit too, and clearly Richie was doing a worse job hiding his feelings than he thought.
“Great to hear. Did you just come down here to tell me about your trauma, or did you need me for something?” Richie responded, sinking back into his makeshift bed.
“No actually, I came to hear about your trauma,” Will quickly added, “or, just like your life, you don't have to come right out with all the heavy shit. You're from Maine, right? One of my mom's boyfriends was from Maine, some town north of Bangor; I don't remember the name.”
“Derry?” Richie would be surprised if it was Derry; that would be too much of a coincidence.
“Uh, maybe; I don't really know. He only mentioned it once. Was it a nice town?”
“No, it was a shithole, but it's the only place I've ever lived before here, so I guess I don't have much to compare it to.”
“Yeah, I’ve only really lived here too. We almost moved out actually, but it's hard to leave behind the only place you've ever known.”
“Tell me about it; at least you guys got to decide to stay.”
“You're right; I guess that was insensitive.”
“Don’t worry about it; so far, Hawkins has been pretty great. Nobody has tried to beat me up, no slurs have been yelled at me from car windows, and not one person has tried to kill me.”
There is something about the truth that makes it so much easier to say when people think you are lying. Richie hoped Will thought he was joking at least. The boy looked incredulous, and he let out a slight giggle, but he also seemed a bit concerned.
“Were those actual concerns?”
“Well, you just never know, do you, William? Just last year my school bully was arrested for killing like ten kids, so I've been known to keep my guard up.
“Oh my god. That's insane; the people here suck, but at least they aren't serial killers.” Will seemed genuinely concerned for him, and Richie almost felt like opening the floodgates and telling him the truth. There was something about the kid that made Richie think that he would believe Richie's crazy story. As quickly as that thought came, though, it faded, and Richie honestly couldn't think of what he would have said that would be any crazier than Henry Bowers.
“You haven't heard anything yet; wait till I tell you about the time that I poured soda on him at the movie theatre.”
Time passed quickly as the boys swapped stories—well, mostly Richie said crazy things, only some of which were exaggerated, and Will watched on enthralled with his stories. Before the boys knew it, the front door opened, and Jonathan called out for Will and El. Jonathan seemed a bit surprised to see Will come out of the basement, but he didn't say anything. Upon seeing Mike and El’s swollen lips, Richie began to wonder if Will actually just wanted to give them some space. Richie couldn't find it in himself to care though, as he did actually have fun talking to the boy.
Richie knew that there would be 30 more minutes until dinner; there was something that he had been going to do, but it couldn't have been that important, though, since he couldn't seem to remember it. He fell asleep happy that night; maybe Hawkins would have more in store for him than he thought. Maybe he wouldn't be a loser here.
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Mike woke up falling. He hadn't done that since he was in seventh grade; back then he'd had this dream all the time, the one where he was falling rapidly towards the water of the quarry except El didn't come to save him. He'd gone through worse since then, fighting interdimensional monsters three times, being near death more times than he could count on both hands, and watching countless people die, and yet the feeling of falling had never quite left him.
The party is so much closer these days, so he couldn't even imagine what would have happened to them if he had hit that water, but sometimes in the back of his mind, he wonders if it would have been better. Maybe fewer lives would have been lost; maybe nobody would have had to die except for him, and well, his life isn't that big of a price to pay. He only has these thoughts when things get particularly tiring, when getting out of bed feels like an uphill battle, and when being with El makes him feel like he is in debt to her and not like a real relationship.
Mike knows there is blood on his hands, and sometimes he wishes it were his own. He quickly shoves all of these feelings into a tiny ringbox in his mind, which he hopes he will never open again. He feels more tired than he has in months, but he knows the feeling will fade eventually; it always does.
Two floors down, Richie woke up clinging to the dregs of a dream he can't quite understand. There is blood on both his hands and a cut on one of them; the blood on his other hand isn't his, but he doesn't know how it got there. He feels safer than he has in months, but it doesn't quite last; it never seems to.