1

Mike didn’t see Star Wars when it first came out in theaters, but he watched the tape from Family Video when he was ten. Then he watched it again. And again. And another four times before they had to return it. It was the best movie he had ever seen. He talked his mom’s ear off about it for the next week, begging her to take it out again next time she went to get a movie. She sighed at his chattering but smiled fondly and rented it again, along with The Muppet Movie. He watched it ten more times before he even asked about the sequel. 

When Nancy asked why he was watching it again , he could never quite come up with a good answer besides “it’s the best movie ever, why would I wanna watch anything else?” 

When Nancy went to see My Bodyguard in the theater with Barb three different times, the answer she gave Mike was that she liked the boy who played Ricky and she couldn’t find any other movies he’d been in, so she just went and saw that one again. 

Mike did really like Luke Skywalker. Once, when Nancy groaned as he stuck the VHS tape in again (his mom had eventually caved and just bought him a copy, it would be cheaper than renting it over and over), and Mike had said just that. 

“What?” She said,

“It’s like you and Ricky or whatever from that one movie. I like him, so I wanna watch it again,” Nancy giggled.

“I don’t think you know what I meant when I said I liked him,”

“Yeah I do! Luke Skywalker is really cool and brave and he helps people. I like him a lot,” Nancy giggled again.

“Sure, yeah. You think he’s cool, I think Adam Baldwin is hot,” Mike’s face fell.

“What? Gross. You watched that movie just because you have a crush on some guy in it? Do you even like the movie?”

“I mean, it’s fine, but mostly I just wanted to look at him,” Mike made a gagging sound as the opening text scroll began on the screen and Mike turned away from his sister’s mischievous smile. 

A few minutes later, when the scene cut to Tatooine, Mike’s eyes focused on Luke.  At the beginning of the movie he was just some kid from the middle of nowhere, but he becomes a hero by the end. His blond hair fell across his forehead but never covered his clear blue eyes. His smile was a little crooked and very pretty. His eyes tracked Luke across the screen the whole time. He couldn’t see Luke’s courage or his compassion all the time, but he could definitely see the bit of his collarbone that showed under his farm boy outfit and his arms and his face. He liked looking at Luke. When Leia showed up, he inspected her for a moment. She didn’t really draw his eyes that much. She was great, he loved her. She was sarcastic and smart and kept the others in check, but his eyes didn’t follow her like they did Luke. Luke was prettier anyway, why would he look at Leia when Luke was right there? Even Han looked at Luke, even if he looked at Leia too. 

Mike knew why he wanted to watch the movie so much after that. The fights were cool and the story was awesome and Luke was pretty, but for some reason he felt like he wasn’t supposed to mention that last reason. When he thought about it, Nancy’s giggle would ring in his ears, telling him it was ridiculous for him to watch it for Luke. Some part of his chest knew if he had said he liked looking at Leia, Nancy’s giggle would’ve been teasing instead of mocking, but he wouldn’t let that ruin his favorite movie, so he just started keeping track of his eyes a little more. Counting the moments he looked at Luke. Ten seconds at a time, that was the rule he made. If he only looked for ten seconds, then let his eyes wander the scene for another ten before he could look again. The rule only counted if he was around other people, alone he still stared at the pretty boy on the tv screen for every second he graced it. 

2

“Byers!” Mike said with a smile, pushing the door to his hospital room open as Dustin and Lucas trailed behind him. He had been in the hospital for six days, they said they would only be keeping him for another day or so, which only made Mike’s smile bigger. Will was sitting up in bed and he didn’t have those tubes up his nose anymore. He looked a lot less pale. 

“Hey guys! Dustin, I finished the comics you brought, I really appreciate it,” 

“Good right? What’d ya think?”

“I really liked the new Alpha Flight, Northstar and Aurora are really cool. Plus the suit that Raymonde was wearing looked exactly like the one Bowie wore in the Life on Mars music video.”

“What?” Lucas asked, flipping through the comic from one of the chairs at the side of the bed.

“Yeah! He was, like, Jean-Paul’s old mentor or something, but he was dressed just like Bowie, it was really cool.”

“How’d you recognize that so quickly?” Mike asked.

“Oh, Jonathan showed me the video a while ago and he’s got a poster where Bowie’s wearing it on his wall so I’ve seen it a lot. They play it on MTV sometimes still, even though it’s kinda old,”

“The part where that guy had sex with the goddess or whatever then like goes crazy was weird though. Like I get they’re doing all the members origins but ew,” Dustin added from his place leaning against the wall right next to Will’s bed

“Yeah, I didn’t like that either, we get that he’s a demigod you don’t have to do all that,”

Their conversation faded into the background as Mike glanced at the comic over Lucas’ shoulder. 

They all goofed off for a while, telling Will about school that day and working on the spaceship lego set Lucas had brought in the day before. When they all finally had to pack up and head home, Mike tugged on the sleeve of Dustin’s jacket and asked if he could borrow the Alpha Flight comic, Dustin obliged, as long as he would return it the next day at school (the usual rule for comic loans within the party, an extensions could be granted as long as the comic is brought to school as proof it hasn’t been lost). 

After eating dinner with his family, which has somehow been both more and less tense since Will’s return, Mike laid across his bed on his stomach and started reading. He had read the other couple issues of Alpha Flight that were already out, but he hadn’t been too invested. X-Men had always been more of Will and Dustin’s thing, he stuck to Daredevil and Spider-Man for the most part, but Will liked it, and it seemed cool, so he stuck with it more than the other X-Men series. 

He half remembered what was going on with the Beaubier twins. Something about Jeanne-Marie having a split personality and them only meeting the year before, after being separated at birth. They started off at a psychologist, trying to figure out what was wrong with Jeanne-Marie, but they ended up at a café with an old friend of Jean-Paul’s, the one Will had said was dressed like Bowie. Mike sort of zoned out as they talked, not quite registering what he was reading until Raymonde was dead on the ground at the hands of Ernest St. Ives. It was such a sudden switch, even after the villain had been alluded to earlier in the issue, but it was Jean-Paul’s reaction that really drew Mike’s focus. 

“‘I think he’s dead,’ The words seemed to reverberate along the suddenly silent street. Jean-Paul Beaubier feels a great, black emptiness open in his heart, a gaping maw threatening to swallow his whole world. Until Northstar found Aurora, Raymonde Belmonde had been the most important person in his life. More than a father, much more than a friend, he had found Jean-Paul, scarcely more than a boy, alone and frightened. Frightened of what he thought he was, and what he feared he might become, and Raymonde had led him out of that dark fear, into the bright clear light of self-acceptance, teaching him not to fear his mutant powers, or any other thing. Now, with the speaking of four short, sharp words, an iron door has closed upon a chapter of his life, and Jean-Paul Beaubier is alone again,” 

Mike felt a great black emptiness open in his own stomach. He somehow felt he knew Jean-Paul quite well, as his eyes dragged across the panels, Jean-Paul’s angry, grief-stricken expression coming into clearer view with each new drawing. Mike desperately wanted to see more. See Northstar with Raymonde when he was younger. To see how he got out of that dark fear. He wondered if Will felt the same way about him, or if he just liked his suit. 

A quiet voice in Mike’s head asked, “What would my father think if I was a mutant?” The question was soft, but it only caused the emptiness in his stomach to begin to ache. He knew the answer, he thought. He also felt, somewhere deep inside, that the voice had another question. Instead, it asked, “What else did Raymonde help him not be afraid of? What else does someone as strong as Northstar have to fear?”

Mike thought about David Bowie, and thought he might know. 

3

Mike had his hood pulled over his head as he lay on the floor next to Will’s bed, wrapped in blankets. He wasn’t cold, but he definitely wasn’t as warm as he wanted to be. He stared at the side of Will’s mattress, unable to close his eyes, even as they fluttered shut every few moments from exhaustion. His sleep-deprived mind provided him with a thought, “I want to climb into bed with Will,” which only made it harder for Mike to close his eyes at all.  

Something was happening to Will. They weren’t sure what, but it was hurting him. Mike felt like his skin was too tight, like the world was off its axis. Will Byers should never be scared or hurt, that’s rule number one. At least, it is for Mike. The universe seemed to have had other plans for a long time. That’s why rule number two has always been “When rule number one is broken, take care of Will,”

That’s why Mike didn’t know why he wanted to climb into Will’s bed. Will kept saying he needed it cold. If he got into the bed, it would only heat him up. If he’s already overheating, making him warmer wouldn’t help him, but still, all Mike wanted was to curl around the other boy.

Oh.

That wasn’t part of his thought earlier. Why did he want to hold him? Mike barely felt comforted by touch when he didn’t feel sick. His desire felt alien, like it came from someone else. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will it away. After an achingly long ten seconds, they shot open again and he pushed himself up to sit against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at the tiny lump of Will’s body in the bed. Maybe if he was sitting, if he could at least see Will, he’d be able to fall asleep. His eyes held fast on his sleeping face. His eyebrows were knit together, but his face still looked softer than it had all day. Mike felt like there was a timer ticking in his head. Ten seconds at a time . 

Oh . 

Will’s face was soft. It shifted so much with his expressions. His eyes were warm and flickered with light all the time. He wore a lot of hand-me-down sweaters from Jonathan that would cover his hands a little so when he got really excited and started moving his hands while he talked the sleeves would fly around. His eyes would never move from his drawings once he started working on them, unless an adult started yelling (even if it wasn’t at him). Mike was sure because he had watched Will intently as he drew for hours and Will would only meet his gaze once he was done. Or maybe he never looked because he was normal. He didn’t have to press the palms of his hands into his eyes to wash the image of the two of them intertwining their fingers from his mind. His hands didn’t start shaking during the health class because he was so behind where the teacher said they should be. He didn’t know about the ten second rule. Mike felt tears well in his eyes that he refused to let fall, forcing them down so hard it exhausted him enough to allow him to finally fall asleep as his fingernails dug into his sides.

4

“According to city officials, Dan White, the former San Francisco supervisor who spent five years in prison for killing the city's former mayor, George Moscone, and its first openly gay supervisor, Harvey Milk, committed suicide today at his San Francisco home. He was released from prison on parole less than two years ago…”

Mike’s eyes flitted between the tv and the toast on his plate. 

“Such a horrible situation. Guy was reformed, trying to make a new life for himself,” Ted’s hollow voice rang through the living room. Mike’s eyes stayed on his plate, his hands paused. He didn’t want to take another bite. His mother softly hummed as she cleared Holly’s plate from the table, “Remember how the Mayor of San Francisco made some statement telling him not to return to the city? No respect for a man trying to get back on his feet.”

“He killed two public officials, if I were the mayor I wouldn’t want him back in town,” Nancy said as she readjusted her hair pins in the hallway mirror. 

“And he served his sentence! This is a free country, he can’t be ousted from his hometown permanently. If the law says he’s free to return he should be given the courtesy. He should’ve gotten out years ago anyway.”

“What?” Mike asked before he could think it through. Nancy brushed her skirt off as she sat down at the table, her eyes flickering to her brother for only a moment.

“I mean, if you ask me, he did that city a favor. Those two degenerates would’ve kept driving them downhill,” A small piece of chicken flew out of his mouth as he spoke, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“That doesn’t mean they deserved to die? What happened to this is a free country? They were democratically elected, if he wanted them out why not campaign against them?” Nancy was angry. She pointed her fork at their father accusingly, eyebrows pulled tight.

“Hey, it’s just my opinion. Calm down,” 

Mike could feel his hands shaking. He put his fork down so his mother wouldn’t notice. Nancy pur her fork down too, but hers came with a clatter.

“What kind of opinion is ‘any public official I think is wrong should die’?”  

“I never said that, I said getting them out of office was probably good for the city,”

“Two people are dead, Dad. They had friends and families and lives to live. Them having different politics or lifestyles than what you’ve decided are acceptable doesn’t make them worth less than you,” Their voices were getting louder. Mike sat on his hands to stop himself from pressing them tight over his ears. He wasn’t 12 anymore, he couldn’t do that at the dinner table. 

“You, young lady, need to stop putting words in my mouth. I don’t know where all this liberal nonsense is getting in your head, but in America I can say what I damn well please. I’m telling you, the city of San Francisco is better off without those two having any sort of authority, and if that man’s actions were the only way to get them out so be it,” Nancy let out a frustrated groan. Ted was yelling at this point, but refused to stop eating his stupid dinner. Mike barely felt present. 

“What were they doing, Dad? Do you have literally any clue what they’re platforms were? What they’d done while in office?”

“I don’t need to,”

“Why?”

“That Milk was a queer, all he would’ve been doing is corrupting the youth of that city,”

“God, you’re such an asshole, you know that Ted?”

“Hey! Language, and what did you call me?”

Mike wanted to cry. He knew he wouldn’t. 

“Honey, let’s take some breaths,” Karen put her hand on Nancy’s arm. Nancy was out of her chair at this point. Everyone’s meals were abandoned, except Ted’s which was almost finished. 

“I can’t do this right now. It’s impossible to talk to you when you refuse to see reason,” Nancy left the room, throwing her mother’s hand off. Mike looked to his mother before following her.

“These children are out of control,” Ted grumbled as Mike almost tripped over himself trying to get out. He tried to give Holly a smile, but it ended up too strained to provide much comfort. 

Mike sat on the floor of his closet, hands pressed over his ears. There were no more loud voices, but it felt safer. His heart raced. He didn’t understand why he felt so unsafe. It was just Nancy yelling at Dad. That had happened at least once a week since the Byers moved. He was usually fine. It was better than when Dad just yelled or when him and Mom yelled. Nancy yelling didn’t scare him nearly as much. When Nancy was yelling she usually had a point. But tonight was the worst it’d felt in a long time. He stared out into his room. His bunk bed was gone, had been for a while. It was all different. He felt different. What was different about tonight?

Harvey Milk. He didn’t know much about the man. Practically nothing, actually. He knew he was a politician in San Francisco, he knew he was gay, he knew he’d been killed. That was it. He barely followed local politics in Hawkins, why would he know about what was happening in California? It’s not even the part of California where Will and El were. So what was sticking with him about Harvey Milk. Dad hated him. Knew about as much about the guy as Mike did and hated him enough to rule his death a necessary evil. 

What would my father think if I was a mutant?

Mike thought he knew. He was sure he knew now. 

Nancy didn’t hate him though. Nancy defended him. That’s nice. Mike clearly couldn’t. He used to be able to say something when people said that stuff about Will. Why couldn’t he do it now? Maybe it’s because it was Dad? No, because he’d defended Will to Dad. Maybe because this man was a stranger? Maybe because he knows for sure Milk was gay and Will wasn’t? Maybe he’d just become more of a coward since then. That sounded right.

Mike knew why he was so much more scared of the yelling tonight, so he stayed the night in his closet. He didn’t sleep well. He had a massive ache in his neck the next day. He didn’t look his father in the eye the next morning. He didn’t think about it long enough to let it settle. 10 seconds, then you have to look away .

5

Eddie Munson is enormous. He is the biggest and brightest force at Hawkins High. He’s a senior (a couple times over) and he has long curly hair and heavy boots and teeth that almost look like fangs. Mike and Dustin practically worship the ground he walks on. He always had to hold back how much he wanted to tell El about him in his letters so it seemed like he did anything other than watch Eddie. Maybe the sixth time they went to a Hellfire Club meeting, Mike was waiting for Nancy to finish working on whatever article she was cutting it close on. Steve had already collected Dustin and Lucas and the rest of the guys had headed home, but Eddie waited with Mike, just in case. Mike had insisted it wasn’t necessary, but Eddie just shook his head and lit a cigarette. 

“What kind of parents made both you and Nancy?” He smiled around the cigarette and Mike had to take a moment to process the question.

“Shitty ones,” Mike was startled at his own answer. It had taken years for him to admit to the party that his home life wasn’t ideal. Why was he just telling Eddie out of nowhere?

“Ooo, drama behind the picket fence, Wheeler?”

“Uh, I mean, my Mom’s not bad. My Dad’s just a piece of shit,”

“How so, little one?”

“He, uh, gets really angry. Like all the time. Haven’t gone a week without him and Nance getting in a shouting match in months. He’s never really cared about any of us. Like he lives in the house but doesn’t want to be a part of the family. And he’s really rude to my mom. Just demands things from her, doesn’t look up or say thank you. Just tells her to do it and moves on,” Mike realized he was starting to ramble, “Sorry, uh, didn’t mean to throw all that at you,”

“Don’t worry, kid. Sounds shitty. Nancy shouts at him?” Eddie had edged closer and shifted his whole body to face Mike, his shoulder leaning against the brick wall, the cigarette dangling dangerously from his lips.

“Y-yeah. Half the time I don’t understand what they’re yelling about. Usually politics I think? She hates the guy more than I do I think,” Mike did not turn to face Eddie. He didn’t think he’d be able to get full sentences out if he turned, because his face would be only a few inches from Eddie’s.

“Have you ever fought with him?”

“I mean, not like Nancy has. I’ll, I don’t know, storm out of the room or roll my eyes or whatever but I don’t have, like, proper arguments,”

“Why?”

“I-I don’t know? Just don’t,”

“Mike, look at me,” Mike takes a deep breath and leans his shoulder against the brick wall where his back had just been resting. The cigarette was between Eddie’s fingers now. His eyes were focused in on him. They were dark and warm. He ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re a good kid. It’s okay if he scares you,”

“What? No, he doesn’t scare me. I’m not seven,”

“Did he scare you then?”

“I mean, yeah, but who wasn’t scared of their dad then?”

“I wasn’t. Maybe shoulda been, but I mostly just idolized the guy.”

“What?”

“Parents aren’t supposed to scare you. They're supposed to watch out for you and make sure you’re fed and happy. It’s okay if he still scares you,” Eddie was looking right into his eyes. Mike felt hot, especially in his cheeks. Ten seconds . Fuck. Mike’s eyes shot to the ground.

“I’m not,” He could still feel Eddie’s gaze on him. He didn’t know about the rule, “Well, he does have kind of a lot of power over me. Could kick me out if I… If I piss him off too much,” Mike felt raw. He looked up. Eddie’s hair was pretty. He’d been growing his out to match. His dad hated it. 

“Right,” Mike’s eyes darted all over. He couldn’t keep still. Eddie took another drag. Mike’s breath caught. Ten seconds went to fifteen, just this once, to see the way Eddie looked with his eyes closed and his hair blowing softly in the wind. 

“Mike, let’s go,” Nancy’s voice rang out as she came out the front door of the high school. Mike thanked Eddie for staying back with him and waved a quick goodbye.

“Who was that?” Nancy asked once they were in the car.

“Eddie, he runs the Hellfire Club,” 

“You guys seem close,”

“I-I guess?”

Mike tried to will thoughts of long brown hair and denim vests and cigarettes from his mind. Trying to push them away only kept drawing his attention to the lips that held the cigarettes. They looked chapped, but soft. Then he thought that the stubble on Eddie’s cheeks probably wouldn’t be soft, and so he tugged on the strap of his watch until it pinched his skin. Mike lost himself in listening to Nancy explain the technical issue the printer was having that kept her so late and definitely didn’t consider what Ted would think if he ever met Eddie, or saw how Mike acted around him.

+1

“Robin, Vickie at your 9,” Mike heard Steve attempt to whisper while he was browsing the horror tapes. 

“Fuck, how do I look?” 

“You look great, don’t panic. She’s looking at the romcoms, go go go,”

Mike felt frozen, the copy of Nightmare on Elm Street 2 dangled in his grasp as his eyes shot between the shelves and Robin. He made an attempt at subtlety, shifting down the row of tapes to catch a glimpse of Vickie. He didn’t know anyone with that name, maybe it’s Victor Davis? Mike was pretty sure he worked on the newspaper with Nancy. He slipped the tape he was holding back in place and took a few steps toward the mysteries, finally able to see past the shelves. What he saw was Robin seemingly trying not to pull her own hair out mid-conversation with a skinny ginger girl in a long flowy skirt. A skinny ginger girl in a long flowy skirt that was smiling wide and making big googly eyes at Robin. 

Mike halted barely an inch before slamming his nose into a display of recent period romances. Robin’s gaze keeps bouncing around the room, moving on and off the girl’s, Vickie’s, face. Maybe she knows about the ten second rule . Mike tried to shake the thought, training his eyes on the The Postman Always Rings Twice tape in front of him. He let his gaze trace the swoop of the blonde woman on the cover’s hair and the sharp lines of her makeup. 

Steve pointed Vickie out. Steve knows about Robin. Steve knows about Robin and he doesn’t hate her, or at least he’s acting like he doesn’t. The thought was wishful at best. 

Right? 

Well, Steve dated Nancy, and Nancy doesn’t hate… She defended Harvey Milk to dad. So I guess it would make sense that he’s at least nice about it. From there Mike’s thoughts split in about seventeen different directions, none of which he could pinpoint or track. He kept his eyes on the woman on the cover. Her eyes were dark but they had blue painted all on the top of them. Her lips were plump and a sort of dark red color. Robin likes girls. Robin likes girls and someone knows and she’s alive. 

Mike did not know what to do. All at once he wanted to collapse and run out of the building and lock the doors to the store so nobody could leave until he got answers. What he chose to do was tread a path he knew well, grab a copy of Return of the Jedi, and slam it down on the counter.