Work Text:
Hawkins wasn't healed. Summer couldn't brighten up the skies. It was getting easier and easier to understand that this wasn't just some earthquake. Earthquakes didn't open portals across dimensions. Everyone in Hawkins, the ones who didn't or couldn't flee, was living the aftermath of their failing. Mike's failing. But they liked to pretend everything was fine. They liked the curtains drawn. because nobody wanted to look past their peaceful and ignorant suburban life, too trapped in idea of perfect normalcy to dare think that something could ever be anything more than everything else. And so even with the angry, crimson "Hell" spray-painted over the town sign by enraged teenagers, after two mourning assemblies, high school reopened four months into the apocalypse.
And they were all trying. They were trying be okay. But it was hard. It was hard when men clad in bulky camo walked up and down their streets. It was hard when chemistry tests were the least daunting parts of the day. It was hard when red and raging scars still stretched across town. It was hard when half the kids at school wouldn't even meet their eyes. It was hard when he knew Dustin skipped fourth period every Thursday to go visit Eddie's grave, and because sometimes Mike did too. It was hard because Max didn't come to school anymore. It was hard because Will could constantly feel Vecna lingering, still breathing and somehow alive —evil doesn't die, they say— vile and waiting, and Mike wanted to scream leave him alone! but Henry was well past the point where words mattered. It was hard because they could barely see El, and it was hard because Mike didn't know what to do when he did.
They had lost, and everyone could see the ripples. Max was in the hospital, laying motionless and dull.
El had broken the news to them at the pizza parlour — broken glass, her words had gone down to his gut along with his heart, scraping his skin: i couldn't save her. It was the same look she wore at the Byer's house a few years ago when she couldn't find Will and Barbara, but with redder eyes and tear streaked cheeks. It had taken the better side of ten minutes to calm her down and get that one sentence out of her. She'd faltered the sentence out with sobs and said nothing more until she woke up two hours later, 1 am in the van through silent sniffles.
He'd walked in, the soulless room, the medicated air, the not max not max not max echoing through his mind as he'd gripped the icy bed rail. Hurt and anger flooded his eyes.
It couldn't be Max, void of colour or life. Even the past six months, even while she was going through all the grief and guilt of her brother's death, she was still her, all rage and riposte, expressive eyes and words that were never held back.
It couldn't be Max, her hands were too cold and still. The freckles were fainting against them. She laid there motionless for hours. It didn't go away. The truth he had dreaded for the past two days, right there, real and unceasing.
It couldn't be Max, who hated the hospital and its miserable, depressing walls. "Maybe if they added colour people would actually find the will to live." She had said last summer. Laughs came easy to him at her quips and remarks, even if he'd stifle them and turn away everytime.
Now her room was filled with the beeps and whirring of hospital machines, and the clinical smell that hung heavy, a lot more unbearable than her babbling. When Lucas had given him the letter, Mike's heart sank. This was not going to be the last of Max. He had frowned and had pushed the letter into his pocket.
He wanted to talk to Max. They used to always be at each other's throats, but there had been moments. Moments where he felt like they understood each other. Understood better than the others. Moments where he wished he could say more to her, where he wondered if she would understand, where he would have, had everyone else not been there. He missed her, though he'd never say it out loud to her, she would know anyway. She would take one look at him when she woke up and know.
And it wasn't just Max, as if it wasn't enough for that sadistic bastard to take one of his friends, he had to take more. He had to break more hearts, break the whole town.
And as much as he hated this place, it hurt to watch rot settling on it- on everything he's ever known, on his entire life. Yeah, he couldn't wait to get out of here, but he wasn't ready to lose his only home. He had already lost so much.
He remembered when Dustin and Lucas told him about Eddie. He remembered how he felt so confused. He remembered the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, both of his friends looking guilty, as if it was their fault somehow. He remembered running off into the basement, straight to the bathroom, and how they didnt protest. He remembered how the air in his chest was replaced with anger, the whole way down, and how he finally heaved a loaded breath as he came to a halt in front of the sink, looking into the stained mirror in dim lighting and seeing- seeing Eddie. He remembered frowning at himself—at this downgraded version of the coolest person he knew, the person he was so desperately trying to be like— and digging out the drawer through blurry eyes till he found the scissors. He remembered how his body moved faster than his mind, he remembered shoving his hair between the blades, till the counter was a mess. He couldn't even see himself through the tears. He remembered breaking down, staring at himself, resting his forehead on the mirror and sobbing through light gasps.
He had walked over to the dim corner to sit, his body aching. He had almost dozed off there till his mom had come knocking on the door.
It had hurt. He hadn't known him for long, but he had thought that- maybe- Dustin had Steve, Will had Jonathan—Jonathan who didn't seem too fond of him anymore which hurt but, whatever—Lucas had- well, Lucas had his dad. He thought that maybe he could have Eddie.
Everyone was a little more than upset, so it wasnt strange for El to be as well. But Mike couldn't help but feel that there was some passive hostility directed at him. He would sometimes catch El looking at him with sorrowful eyes, before she would look away, and then he would get the same hardened guarded expression she always carried. She was so hard to read.
He didn't get it. Didn't he do what everyone wanted from him? Wasn't it supposed to fix things? Why was everything in between him and El still so tense? He'd done what she had asked for. He had said the thing, but now it looked like El would rather he hadn't. Was he too late? Did she no longer care? Did he do something wrong? How did he always manage to disappoint everyone? How did he always manage to make things worse, even when he was following the rules word-to-word?
It felt like he was constantly breaking things. And he tried so hard to put them back together but it just… didn't work. Nothing he did ever worked. He had to make it better, but how? With the guise of the impending apocalypse and El having to hide away, their conversations barely breached the safety net of hollow small talk. Mike didn't know where he stood with her, if they were… well, together. They didn't even feel like friends. He didn't know what to do, honestly. He missed El. He wanted to smash his head against a wall a little bit.
He was hoping today would bring some development.
It had been very long since he and El had hung out and had fun. Today, however, Hopper had allowed El to leave the safehouse, so while the rest of the party was at school and Mike had a temperature, the two of them had lazed off the day. They had overslept, and then some, watched The Karate Kid, played Jenga, listened to Holly rant about the stupid boy in her class when she came back from her first day of school, played Uno, sat through Jonathan and Nancy's intense debate over the stacking of cards, watched Jonathan desperately attempt to develop photos in the laundry room, all sprinkled with slightly awkward conversations here and there.
This was good. It was something. The air still hung thick, but at least they were wading through it, trying to reach out. They were actually hanging out. It reminded him of the day he'd first shown el around his house.
Now, they were sitting on the floor of the basement, and there was nothing to do but talk. Or play some more Uno. And Mike was eyeing the deck on the table in front of them but then-
"Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"There is something I think we should talk about."
And- ok. Yeah, Mike was totally not prepared for anything that could come at him right now—even though that's what he had been doing for months- preparing (read: internally freaking out)—but he wanted this. He wanted to talk to her. He nodded.
"I've been wanting to talk to you since… since the pizza parlour." She looked up at him carefully. He had to remind himself that this was okay, it was long due. It scared him to shit, but he didn't want to avoid this any longer. He was tired.
"Okay," he said dumbly.
"You know that I will always care about you, right?" She said, slightly nervous, toying with the hair-tie on her wrist. It was Max's green hair tie from last summer, Mike realised with a pang of apprehension.
"Y-yeah, I know that."
"Good." She paused. "Mike, what you said to me in the bath that day, I know it wasn't true." Mike's throat went dry. Her eyes darted across his face, a look of panic that was maybe placed there to mirror his own, though he wasnt panicked exactly, just tense, anticipating what would come.
"Wait, listen," her eyes widened briefly. "I mean, I know you don't mean to hurt me, and you don't want to lie. I know you would not do that on purpose. I don't hate you. I just want us to stop lying to each other." She paused, and then when he didn't respond, she tentatively added "Does that- does that make sense?"
I want us to stop lying. If only. If only he was brave enough, maybe they wouldn't be at the end of the world at all.
El was looking at him with wide brown eyes, unsure.
uh.
"Yeah!" Mike shook himself.
stop lying. stop lying.
stop lying.
"Friends don't lie," Mike said. It was all he could think right now. the guilt of a hundred lies he'd told everyone, even himself—of the false visions and promises of a perfect life he'd fed el when she first came around—overcoming him.
"Yes." El agreed. "I have lied as well. I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about things in Lenora. I'm sorry for saying you would not understand. I just thought you would like me more if I..." She sighed in defeat. He knew words didn't come easy to her. He knew how much that frustrated her. "I don't think little of you, I promise. I should not have thought that you would judge me. I should have trusted you."
"Oh," was all Mike could say. Her lie seemed feather-light compared to the constantly increasing weight of wrong on his back. He felt heat at the back of his eyes.
If only she knew. How could he tell her that he'd spent his entire life lying, lying to everyone, and to himself? He'd let everyone believe that he was okay, normal. But who would stay by him if they ever found out what went through his rotten mind? Everyone would hate him. So he hid. Hid from his friends, his family, El. El, who didn't deserve this. El who had suffered enough. El who had been caged and betrayed enough times. El, who he had to let live on her own. It wasn't her fault he was like this. She never signed up to be a cover for the mistake that was his stupid mind and stupid, stupid heart. He deserved El being upset with him after the way he'd treated her. The way he had used her. The way he hadn't even gone back to look for her. It was disgusting.
stop lying.
"I…" her fingers tapped her thigh awkwardly.
"There's something else I wanted-"
"El, I'm sorry." He had to tell her. For the both of them. It was killing him, turning him violet, and it was prodding into her skin by the proximity—the way he'd roped her into all of this—but he couldn't let it break skin. He couldn't let more hurt settle among the people he loved because of his own problems when all he wanted to do was protect them.
stop lying.
He wondered if he was just lying to himself about that. He wondered if the paladin on the table in front of him would look at him with distaste - Mike the Coward. He wondered if it was never about being there for his friends, if it was all just about his own selfish gratification, feeling better about himself. He thought of the times he'd watched those bullies at school rack Will, never telling them that it was him. He was the fucking fairy. He was the creep that loved someone he shouldn't have. He wished he could uproot the scars from every sharp-worded bite Will had to endure and sow them into his own skin. He had earned it, after all. He deserved every terrible thing Will had to go through. He deserved those poison words he had barked at Will that evening in the rain.
He wondered if he could make it better. He wondered if he could pick up the sword and slice through the lies instead of hiding behind the shield. He wondered if he could be like Mike the Brave just for once.
"I know I havent been the best- uh, boyfriend. And i hate that I hurt you. I know that's its my fault that we're- um," broken. dating. falling out of love. Were they ever even in love, or was it just him forcing the both of them to live in the picture perfect doll house he'd shoved them into - both of them bruised and scraped around the edges?
"Listen, I've been weird lately. I've been weird since last summer. I don't know what's happened, I just- I've just been so confused. And I'm sorry I pulled you into it. You didn't deserve that." He'd tried. He'd tried so hard to fall in love with her. To fall in love with the way her smile looked when it was so close to his. To feel the flutters in his chest when her hands touched his face. To feel like he belonged in her embrace when he danced with her in a room full of people like he'd kept promising her.
"You- You mean so much to me El, really. You're so important to me. And I care about how you think of me. I want to be good to you. I know it doesn't feel like it lately, with all that's happened, i just," He blinked—squeezed—hard.
He couldn't cry. Not after hurting her, after watching her cry and beg in front of him and still not give her what she wanted. He didn't have the right anymore. "I'm sorry. For all the ways I've hurt you, and for lying to you."
Tears fell anyway.
"But I just- I wish it wasn't like this. I wish I wasn't like this but… I don't- I don't think I love you in that way. I'm sorry, El. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you think that something was wrong with you. You're- you are beautiful, and you deserve better than someone who doesn't even know how they feel about you. you are not a monster, you are not a mistake, It was me, I'm so- god, I'm sorry. I just keep on hurting you. I- I don't want to you lie to you anymore. I never did. But I don't wanna lose you either. I was just afraid."
He waited. For hurt, anger, tears, anything. Her brows were slightly furrowed throughout his speech, as if in condolence, and he searched her face desperately, for any signs of something negative, before she nodded slowly, barely. She extended her hand for his, and it reminded him of the pizza place and the diametrical fear he had felt at the thought of confrontations and confessions. She blinked. There was moisture in her eyes, and he was ready to berate himself for hurting her. She held his hand and a soft smile.
"I know, Mike."
He felt himself frown. "I'm sorry, El. I- you were right. I cant believe you were right, But it's not like that, I promise. I tried. I really tried so hard-"
"Mike. Stop saying that. It's okay," She paused and nodded "I understand." She squeezed his hand and then dropped it. "I was confused too. And scared. I thought I was in love with you. I thought I needed to hear you say it, but I didn't. I don't even know what it really means," She laughed bitterly.
There was silence for a while. He took it all in.
"So, it's okay? Is this- are we really okay?"
"Yes, Mike. We're okay. I am not angry. "
Oh. Mike didn't know where all this prudence came from. It amazed him how, after everything, she was still so thoughtful, so wise, so caring. After everything went against her, after so much pain, she still made sure that nobody else got hurt. Even after Mike reduced her to his idea of the superhero, she still felt so largely. She understood. She always did.
"I need this. I want to learn who I am without you. You have always been right here, but I need to be on my own now. I need to find myself. I want to understand myself before I try to understand things like this. Will you… will you be there for me even then?"
"Of course,"
"I just- I do still love you, but, in a friend way. Does that… make sense? Is that okay?"
"El. You are one of the best people I know. I would never not want you in my life."
She smiled.
His skin felt sticky between the crinkles under his eyes.
"So… friends?"
"Friends." She nodded with a giggle.
They both grinned. Mike extended his hand out for a handshake. El considered warily.
"You are not gonna make me do the spit swear, are you?" Her nose scrunched up in disgust, but she held back a laugh.
Mike scoffed and shook his head. "What? No, that was just Lucas being gross. I swear none of us have done that ever. I don't even know where he learnt it from."
They laughed, giddy with this weight being lifted off, as El accepted the handshake, which soon rested against the couch.
"I- I love you in a friend way too." He mumbled gently.
El pulled him into a hug and for the first time in the past year, he felt sure of something. That things between them would be okay.