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Mike was older than Richie by ten minutes and one calendar day. Technically, Mike was older, but Richie argued every Thanksgiving and Christmas that he was the same goddamn age as Mike and shouldn’t be treated like Holly, not allowed to come too close to the kitchen when they were using the stove. Richie was even an inch taller than Mike, although that was only because of his unruly hair, curls stacking on top of each other to try and tower over Mike.
It was also his hair that was so horribly out of style. Every kid at school thought Richie got a perm, giving him every awful nickname and most embarrassing picture day photo in Hawkins. Mike liked to remind him of it every so often, reminding him of the photographer that didn’t ask him to take off his glasses for the flash. Mike would erupt into laughter, but it was the same picture he had in his locker with the other photos of his friends. Mike had neither curly hair nor coke-bottle glasses, but he always told Richie he wish he did. Mike also didn’t have the ability to lie well.
“Richie!” Mike waved to his brother, standing at his locker with Will and Lucas. “Where were you?” It was a half hour after school ended and Richie had just escaped gym class. He adjusted his glasses to see them more clearly.
“Got stuck in the locker room.”
“Doing what?” Mike laughed, lifting an eyebrow. Richie stopped in front of the three of them, diverting his gaze from their faces to the crack stretching up from the bottom of his frames. “What happened?” He gasped, reaching for his glasses.
“Used my hair as a handbag.” Richie sighed. “Got launched into a locker. Got called the only f-word I don’t like using. Again.” Richie rolled his eyes and began unlocking his locker. “I’m not even the gay twin!” Lucas began snickering and Will covered his own smile.
“Shove it, both of you!” Mike hissed, slapping Lucas on the arm and pointing at Will sternly. “Who did it?”
“The same people who always do it.” Richie wasn’t sure why Mike would be interested in knowing their names; every kid in the school that wasn’t in their group wasn’t a big fan of them. The bank of names of students to avoid and the yearbook were the same list.
“Was it Troy?” Mike asked, pushing off from the locker. Richie muttered an answer and fiddled in his locker. “Richie. Answer me.”
“Relax, Mom.” Richie said. “It doesn’t really matter. Okay? Just back me up when Dad complains I broke my glasses again.”
“You didn’t even break them last time! It was them!” Lucas cut in, waving at them. “I was there!”
“That’s right!” Will nodded. “They can’t keep doing this, Richie.”
“What am I going to do? Argue my side? Objection your honor– the twerp in ladies’ glasses would like to repeal the decision to deny him respect.” Richie scoffed. “Yeah. No thanks. Not fucking happening, Brain Trust.”
“Then I’ll do it.” Mike said. His voice was low and quiet, not announcing his exit as to not invoke anyone’s opinion.
He took off for the front doors and left Richie, Lucas, and Will scrambling, trying to chase after him and remind him all he had left to live for; asking for death this soon wasn’t worth it. Mike didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder as he pushed the glass doors open, storming into the parking lot. Much like everything else in Richie’s life, God had decided to make things ten times worse by putting Troy in the dead center of the vacant parking lot. And then God decided to have every single one of Troy’s friends gaggled around him.
“Hey, you!” Mike pointed angrily, his gait swift and heavy. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Excuse me, Frogface?” Troy asked with a laugh. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah. What do you have against my brother?” Mike demanded, shouldering off his backpack and leaving it with his shadow as he kept walking. Will scurried and picked it up, calling for Mike to stop and put it back on.
“You have to do something.” Will said to Richie after Mike blew off his plea. “You can’t let him fight them.”
“And sacrifice myself?” Richie asked. “Not fucking likely.”
“Richie!” Will cried, shoving the backpack into his chest. “What do we do?”
“I’m not really sure it matters what we do. We just have to do something.” Lucas muttered, watching Mike refuse to back down.
Mike stormed up to Troy, stepping around his friends surrounding him and shoving him backwards. Troy stumbled but remained on his feet, giving Mike a furious stare. He regained his balance in a moment before shoving Mike back. He collapsed backwards like Troy’s arms were a strong gust of wind.
“You want to fight, Wheeler?” He laughed. “You want to fight your Barbie Doll brother’s battles? Be my guest.”
“Leave him alone.” Mike said, pushing himself to his feet. Lucas, Will, and Richie echoed the same sentiment across the parking lot.
“Mike, I’m not mad!” Richie cried, trying to get him to stop.
“Mike, please stop!” Will cried, inching forward. “This is not a good idea.”
“Dude, get up!” Lucas cried, holding his head in his hands.
“You can’t treat my friends like crap. They haven’t done anything to you.” Mike said. Richie wanted to scoff, Mike’s threat weak and cliched, but he was faced with a far more frightening reality as Mike slowly lifted his hands up– like he was going to fight someone. “You fuck with my brother. You fuck with me.” Oh shit.
“We have to do something. We have to do something now.” Richie muttered, grabbing Will’s arm and shaking him. “Quick, Will, uh, do something.”
“Like what, Richard?” Will sighed, just as frazzled but now slightly more annoyed. “What do you propose I do.”
“I dunno! Start confessing your love! Something like that.”
“Because that won’t make things worse.” Lucas pointed out, rolling his eyes. “Hold this, Will.” Lucas shouldered off his backpack into Will’s hands and started for Mike, his fists curling and feet planted shoulder-width apart. Richie looked at his brother and somehow saw his own life flashing before his eyes; he was going to watch himself get the absolute shit kicked out of him.
Troy swung an arm out with far less finesse than Mike’s form seemed to promise. It hit Mike in the cheek and he immediately went down. One punch and Richie was staring at his brother’s face, his own face, bruised and lying face up on the asphalt. It looked a lot like him, down to nearly the same freckles, but it obviously wasn’t. Richie had to remember it wasn’t him. Mike had intervened to make sure it wasn’t Richie on that asphalt. Someone as foolish as Mike apparently got fucking dumber when he wanted to protect someone he loved.
“Don’t you know,” Troy said, leaning over Mike and spitting on him. Mike groaned and cradled his face, looking at Richie with pained eyes. The physical pain seemed to be nothing compared to the anguish of guilt in his eyes. He turned away from Troy’s prodding foot in his side and Richie began walking forward, Will yelling behind him. “fairy’s can’t fight, Wheeler. Fairy’s just can’t fucking fight.”
“Oh yeah, well this one does.” Richie was fuming, storming up to Troy. Richie had never fought anyone in his entire life, didn’t know how to punch, kick, knee, or even dodge a fist flying at his face. Richie didn’t know shit but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. “Eat shit, bitch.” Richie grabbed Troy by the shoulders and brought him harshly down on his lifted knee. Richie had been kneed on four separate occasions by failed romances; he knew how debilitating it was to suddenly have a firm bone strike you in your other bone.
Troy staggered back, groaning and grumbling in pain. The boys standing around Troy straightened as Richie stumbled back, the two sides knowing that the fight wasn’t over but awaiting the orders to start battling. In the hesitance, Richie crouched down to Mike, slipping his arms into his underarms and pulling him to his feet. Mike gripped Richie’s arm, wobbling on unsteady feet. Troy looked up, hands still cradling his groin and face tense with pain and fury.
Richie smiled, Mike standing upright and tall, like he had somehow gained that extra inch of height. “Seeing double, sweetheart?” Richie reached out and clapped Troy on the cheek. The boys around them didn’t know what to do in a situation where two of the least threatening people in Hawkins Middle hit their “leader” in the crotch. Richie placed his arm around Mike’s shoulders and laughed. “I’m bored. Ready to go, Mike?”
“Shut up and take me home.” Mike grumbled, already following Richie away from the gang.
Will was the first to Mike’s side, to which Richie refused to be surprised about. He took Mike from Richie and helped him sit down on the floor of the school’s foyer floor. He looked at his growing bruise with wide eyes, Lucas saying he could use the pay phone and get his mother if Mike couldn’t bike home.
“I’m fine.” Mike said. “Really.”
“You’re not.” Will countered, looking at his watch before looking at his bruise, as if calculating its growth rate. “You just let someone punch you in the face.”
“And Richie took care of it.” Mike said, trying to ease Will back down. He placed a hand on Will’s arm and smiled, reassuring him. “It’s fine.”
“You two are never doing that again.” Lucas said, standing with his arms crossed. “Never.”
“Deal.” Richie agreed. “Promise to stop acting like I’m your baby brother?” He raised an eyebrow at Mike.
“Promise to stop being a asshole and getting into trouble?” Mike laughed, leaning his head against Will’s.
“I’m not a miracle worker, Michael.” Richie sighed.
“Fine. Deal. You aren’t my baby brother anymore.” He agreed. “But you are still ten minutes younger.”
“That’s it. Next time you want to battle the Neanderthals, I’ll let you break your teeth. Try explaining that to Dad.” Richie spat, sinking to the floor beside Mike.
“Shut up and come here.” Mike teased, putting his other arm around Richie and pulling him into his side. “If I said I loved you, would you shut up or would I hear about it for the next month?”
Richie broke into a grin, placing his own arm around Mike’s shoulders. He looked at the bruise attempting to consume Mike’s entire face, admired his weak smile, and felt his hand squeeze his shoulder. Okay, fine. Big brother in maybe one sense of the word. “Two weeks tops.” Richie said. “But I love you too.”