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“Okay,” Mike huffs, slamming the door to the basement, hard, “what the hell is your deal?”
It’s just him and Max, now, the rest of the party already on their way home from yet another movie night at the Wheeler house. They were going to do a marathon of shitty, shitty horror movies, as per usual. The atmosphere, however, was so awkward and the tension so evident that they could barely get through one of the three movies Dustin picked out before calling it a night. The entire time the movie was playing Mike could feel a pair of eyes boring into his skull, and when he looked over, Max didn’t even have the decency to look away. She was openly, unashamedly glaring daggers at him.
There was something wrong with El, too. She didn’t sit next to Mike. Within the first 15 minutes of the movie, she was out like a light, cuddled against Max’s side. Her and Mike would normally hold hands or something, but she didn’t even look at him once before passing out.
She didn’t say bye on her way out, either.
They were conspiring again. Max was turning her against him, corrupting her. He could feel it.
The worst part? He couldn’t even bring himself to care all that much. Sure, it was aggravating, but Max has always hated him. This was nothing new. And El? They’ll fight for a bit and make up eventually. They never really fought before this summer, sure, but ever since Max took El out to the stupid mall and El broke up with him the first time, it’s just been like that. It’s fine, it’ll pass, Mike has worse things to deal with.
Like Will not coming over.
Which, if this was anyone else, would be admittedly a pretty stupid thing to stress about. But it was Will.
Will didn’t come to movie night, something he previously considered to be something sacred. He would clear his entire schedule for the day, and come over to Mike’s two hours before anyone else did to help prepare the basement. And as they worked on the pillow fort or cleaned whatever mess Mike probably left there from last time, he would talk Mike’s ear off about movies he saw at Family Video and already start planning for their next hangout before that one would even take place. Mike would laugh at him, but he knew it was special, so it was okay.
And now he didn’t come. Hell, he didn’t even pick up the phone — Mike called like ten times to ask if everything was okay (because Will would never forget something like this, so something had to have happened) — only to be told off by Jonathan at his eleventh ring.
Mike’s words seem to make things worse, as they usually do, because somehow Max looks even angrier. She chuckles in disbelief.
“My deal? My deal, Wheeler?”
“Yes, your deal! I get that you hate me, but you could at least have some decency to not be so obvious! You ruined the night!” Mike whisper-yells, more because he doesn’t want Karen Wheeler on his ass about treating his guests badly than anything else.
“As if you didn’t ruin it before it even happened!” She accuses, her voice so full of venom that it’s obvious this isn’t just a regular fight. This isn’t about Max hating Mike because he’s dating her best friend and that’s usually how these things go. Something happened. Max isn’t just annoyed, she’s furious with him. Livid.
“What the hell do you even mean by that?”
“God, Wheeler, you really are just that fucking dense, huh,” she runs her hand through her hair, incredulous, “did you even notice that not everyone came to your stupid little party? Or is your head that far up your ass?”
Mike’s cheeks burn with anger. She doesn’t get to talk about Will. She doesn’t know Will like he does.
“What is this? Of course I noticed that Will isn’t here! He’s my best friend! I’ve been calling his house phone for like an hour before you even came!"
“Best friend, huh?” Max scoffs at this, “Wheeler, you don’t deserve to be anywhere near that title after what you did.”
After what you did. He tries to ignore the way his throat tightens. Did what? Sure, he wasn't the best friend lately, but what the hell would Max even know about that?
“Wha—”
Before he can even get a word in, she continues.
“After El dumped you, rightfully may I add, we decided to check what you guys were up to. You were moping and being generally gross, whatever. But Will wasn’t with you. So El checked up on him too. Do you know where he was? Do you even care to know?”
A chill goes down his spine. Their fight. A pool of guilt starts forming in the pit of Mike’s stomach, quickly dousing any anger left. He is suddenly at a loss for words.
“I…” he attempts, but Max obviously isn’t done.
“We found him at Castle Byers. Or whatever was left of it, since he took a baseball bat to it. I’ve never seen anyone cry that hard. He was choking on his fucking tears, and gasping for air, and by the time we calmed him down enough to take an actual breath, he was still inconsolable for an hour. An hour, Wheeler!”
Whatever fight was still in Mike has left. His knees threaten to give out.
“And do you know what’s the worst thing? He still wanted to protect you. We could pretty much piece together that it had to be you, because it’s Will, and for some godforsaken reason he really cares about you — which you absolutely do not deserve after that, by the way — but he wouldn’t tell us because he knew we’d be mad. And when we eventually got it out of him, do you know what he said?”
Max’s words have been picking at a dam, hidden deep behind his ribcage, and he’s sure whatever she says next will be the final blow. The guilt that was pooling is now flooding him, and he can barely breathe, keep his head above the water. He doesn’t look at her, gaze fixed on the ugly basement carpet.
“That he couldn’t hate you if he wanted to. And he wanted to.”
The dam crumbles, everything spilling out. Many feelings, emotions Mike wasn’t ready to face yet, but mostly guilt. The flood water isn’t clear, it looks like mud, and he is drowning in it. A tear starts to roll down his cheek. Then another. Then another.
“I knew Will was getting bullied. Getting called slurs. Hell, I get those too, sometimes. What Ididn’t know, however, and Jonathan was oh so gracious to share, is the situation with his piece of shit father,” Max moves for the first time in what feels like forever, and storms over to Mike. She grabs him by the shirt and pulls down, rough, to get him to face her. Her own eyes are filled with tears, Mike notices, her voice trembling, “you knew about that. You knew about his dad and yet you said that. How could you do that to him?”
She then lets go of his shirt, wipes at her eyes, and regains her composure. The cold in her voice and eyes is terrifying.
“You knew exactly where to hit so it hurt the most. You stabbed him in the back. Actually, no. Not even in the back. Straight through the heart, Wheeler, and you twisted the blade,” the venom is back, “so no, I couldn’t have been less obvious. And honestly, if it were me in Will’s place, I would never want to see your face again. But because it’s Will, with his stupidly huge fucking heart, he’s willing to give you a second chance. So here’s what’s gonna happen.”
Max walks halfway up the stairs, not sparing Mike a second glance.
“You’re going to take that chance. You’re going to apologise for what you did, and for treating him like garbage the entire summer. He’s going to tell you it’s okay. It’s not. Even if he forgives you, and he will, because he’s an idiot, you will make it up to him. You’re going to be the best friend he wants and the best friend he needs, even if you don’t deserve him. Which you obviously don’t,” a beat, “understood?"
Mike can only nod, whatever more sophisticated means of affirmation dying in his throat, or threatening to turn into a sob.
“Good. Because if you hurt him again, I’m — no, El’s gonna break every single bone in your body.”
She leaves, and Mike slides down the wall, hugging his knees to his chest. Sobbing.