Chapter Text
Mike, like most people in Hawkins, hates it. He hates the people. He hates the red sky. He hates the vines covering the floor. He hates the gates. He hates the ongoing threat of death. He hates everything in this damned town.
Well, except for a few select people. Like Will, Nancy, El, Lucas, Max (don’t tell her about that) and Dustin. That’s about it really.
And now as he watches most of the people on that short list argue over something he can’t really remember in his house, he finds himself hating them just a bit.
He sighs as Nancy, Dustin and Steve fight for some reason, leaning back against the wall. This is stupid. He shares an exasperated look with Will, who shakes his head and points his thumb to the group. Mike lets out a small laugh and Nancy snaps her head towards the general direction of him.
”Is this funny to you, Mike?” she asks sharply, glaring at him. Misdirected anger, he guesses.
Mike shakes his head rapidly, “Of course not, it’s just—“
”Great! Then shut up.” she says, then turns back to Steve and Dustin again.
Mike mutters something under his breath and pushes himself off the wall, shaking his head in exasperation and walking out of the house. This is stupid.
As he steps out of the house and into the garage, he takes a deep breath and then immediately regrets it, breaking out into a coughing fit. Yeah, that wasn't his greatest idea. He takes his bandana and brings it up to cover his mouth as he looks out onto the dark and desolate road.
Last year at around this time, he'd see kids riding around on their bikes or playing tag but know, because of the town splitting in half, everything is just…empty. The towns population by now was their little found family and a couple of other small families who decided they weren't just going to up and leave everything they knew. He didn't know if that made them really brave or the biggest cowards that ever lived. Probably the latter.
Suddenly, a rustling in the bushes catches his attention. He squints at it in confusion, stepping closer to see better and— oh shit.
Screwed up depth perception be damned, he can still see that it’s a vine coming straight for him. By the time he registers it, it's too late for him to run away or call for help as it wraps around his ankle and trips him, landing on his back with a pained cry.
He tries to find purchase on anything to stop it from dragging him as he screams for help, blunt nails digging into the ground.. He kicks at it desperately but it just makes it grip onto his ankle tighter. He can vaguely register himself screaming for Will and Nancy or anyone really.
It keeps dragging him down the pavement and down the street and he watches people rush out of the house but he really can't make out who they are. Stupid eye. Stupid blindness.
Mike looks back with blurry vision and finds that it's dragging him towards an open gate. “No!” he cries out, kicking at the vine desperately now but it just doesn't want to let go. Fear and pure panic runs through his body as he realizes that he definitely might die. Or something close to it.
Someone–Will calls his name, running towards him with all his strength. Mike outstretches his arm with a strangled cry before he feels himself get dragged through the gate and everything goes black.
Mike jolts awake with a gasp.
The first thing he registers is that everything hurts. Aches, really.
The second thing he notes is that everything is really, really bright.
He takes a deep breath, expecting to smell the stagnant scent of the Upside Down but he weirdly doesn't. Instead, he smells absolutely nothing.
Is he dead?
He sits up and– no yeah, he's definitely alive. If he was dead, there would be angels singing in his ear or some bullshit. If he was dead, his ankle wouldn't hurt like hell and wouldn't be bleeding. Great.
Mike stands up on wobbly legs, hands flying out to grip…a desk? That's weird, he doesn't remember getting to school. Or even having plans to be here. He looks around as soon as his vision clears and he sees that he's in a classroom.
He purses his lips in thought and he walks over to the door, pushing it open as he looks around. The halls are completely empty, not a person in sight. He can hear faint laughter and chatter coming from the far end so he assumes it's an after school club. He looks down at his watch to find that it's well after dismissal, so his theory is correct. As always.
Mike's heart pounds with confusion as he navigates the silent corridors of the school. His mind races with questions like: How did he end up here? What happened? Where is everybody?
He walks cautiously, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger. That's how he usually was these days after Will told him that One was still alive. Maybe this is his doing. The emptiness only served to fuel his unease and he frowns, wrapping his arms around himself. Times like these make him wish he had taken Nancy up on those lessons on how to use a gun. Now it just sits uselessly in his bag, a glorified paperweight, really.
Anyways, he reaches the source of the noise: the gym in the far end of the school. He peers through the small window on the door and he spots familiar figures, even if he can only see them faintly. A brunette with long, wavy hair sitting next to a fiery ginger with hair that reaches their shoulders instead of going down their back and a kid with wild curly brown hair. A dark skinned boy with dreads (at least that's what he thinks the hairstyle is called anyways) is throwing a basketball around and a boy with a shaggy mullet is talking about something.
That's…not how he remembers them. He only saw most of them, like, thirty minutes ago. They couldn't have done all of that in thirty minutes. And Max wasn’t supposed to be awake. Well, she was, but not now.
Mike opens the door slowly, walking into the rather clean smelling gym and he can hear their conversation. Or rather, just Will(?) complaining about something.
“…and then she looked me straight in the eyes and told me she couldn’t bump my grade!” the boy huffed, crossing his arms and running a hand through his hair.
”The horror.” the ginger deadpanned, braiding the brunette's hair, who was reading a book quietly. At the faint noise of the door opening, she snapped her head towards him. She makes a face at him and she gives him a nod. “Are you lost?”
Mike blinks, utterly confused by the scene before him. These are his friends, or at least they look like his friends, but something feels off. “Uh, yeah, kind of.” he admits, scratching his head.
The ginger—Max, he guesses, stands up and she walks over to him, her eyes narrowing as she examines him closer, “You’re not from around here,” she observes, her tone sharp yet not unkind. “Who are you?”
The brunette (El?) closes her book, setting it aside as she stands up and approaches him, her expression curious, “And what’s wrong with your face?” she asks bluntly, her gaze landing on his unseeing eye. He covers it with a frown and he takes a step back, staring at her blankly.
Max smacks her in the arm, rolling her eyes at El’s apparent lack of social skills, “You can’t just ask people what’s wrong with their face, Jane.” she says in a hushed tone, glaring at her. Mike blinks in confusion. Max looks back at him, “Sorry about her. She’s not exactly Miss Manners.”
Mike stands there, confused and disoriented. Something feels off. And…Jane? Why is she calling El by her birth name? “Uh, I-I’m Mike,” he stammers, unsure of how to explain the situation, “And nothings wrong with my face, I just…I can’t see out of one eye.”
Yeah…that’s an acceptable explanation. Can’t really explain to them that One had him pinned to a wall, vines tightening on his limbs, one slowly snaking up his body until it stabs into his left eye and— and—
“Mike?” A shaky voice cuts through his thoughts. He looks up and he sees that it’s the kid with the curly hair (Dustin?), “Mike what?” he asks sharply, taking a step closer to him.
Mike blinks. “Uh, Mike. Mike Wheeler.” he says with a small smile. It drops off his face as he looks around at the group's confused and angry expressions.
“That’s not funny.” Will says angrily, taking a step closer to him, his eyes glossy with unshed tears, “Don’t joke around like that. What’s your real name?”
Okay, that’s…definitely a reaction. “That is my real name. Michael James Wheeler.” he says, frowning, “Are you okay, Will? This is—“
“Cut the crap!” he snaps, making Mike flinch harshly, and he grabs him by his shirt. “You think this is funny?!”
“Will, calm down—“
“No! I'm not going to calm down, Lucas!” he yells and he looks back at Mike, who stares at him with wide eyes, “You aren't Mike. Who are you?”
“I am Mike–”
“No, you aren't!” Will cuts him off, clenching his jaw. He lets go of him and he takes a shaky breath. “Because Mike Wheeler has been dead for three years.”