Work Text:
It was a stormy night in Hawkins, Indiana. Rain tapped steadily against the kitchen windows, loud enough to notice but not loud enough to be scary. Normally, Holly liked that sound. Tonight, it just made getting up feel impossible.
She was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that smelled faintly like Snuggles laundry detergent. She wasn’t asleep, but she was close enough that standing up felt like a personal attack.
Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets. Inside, it was freezing. And her stomach was doing an awful wringing sensation, she hadn’t felt it before.
Holly squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the pain might take the hint and leave her alone. It didn’t.
Across the room, her brother was watching her.
That made everything worse.
Mike Wheeler had that look on his face, the one where he was pretending to be patient but was very clearly not. Holly didn’t even need to open her eyes to picture it: arms crossed, foot tapping, probably glancing at his watch like he had somewhere extremely important to be.
Which, knowing Mike, he did.
She sighed. Mike had always been like this. Bossy, perpetually on the go.
Even when she was little, he’d complained nonstop whenever he was stuck helping with her. She could practically hear his old voice in her head: Quit moving, Holly! and C’mon, work with me here! like she was intentionally making his life harder. As if diaper changes were her fault. As if Star Wars couldn’t wait five minutes.
Sure enough:
“Holly,” Mike said, dragging her name out. “We really need to get going soon. I have places to be.”
Holly cracked one eye open and looked at him.
She groaned dramatically and tugged the blanket tighter around herself. “Oh, yeah?” she said. “Like your basement?”
“No!” Mike shot back immediately, way too fast. “Me and Will are going somewhere in a bit—”
“Oh my god,” Holly interrupted, sitting up just enough to glare at him. “You’re just gonna get stoned again and then come home and eat our food. You do it every Friday.”
“That is not—” Mike waved a hand. “Not this Friday. And come on, Holly. I know you’re hungry.”
Holly frowned and pressed a hand to her stomach, suddenly less dramatic and more annoyed about it. “No, my stomach actually hurts,” she said. “Like, for real.”
It did, too. Bad enough that she couldn’t ignore it, which was rude of her body. She had no clue what caused it.
Perhaps the gross school lunch, maybe the soda she drank earlier, maybe just her stomach deciding to be evil tonight. Either way, it wasn’t helping, and Mike acting like he knew her better than she knew herself definitely wasn’t either.
“It’s probably just because you’re hungry,” Mike said, trying to sound reasonable. “Food’ll help.”
Holly rolled her eyes, but she pushed herself up anyway, dragging the blanket along and letting it hang off her shoulders like a cape. Everything about her felt nasty.
Her head throbbed, the acne behind her bangs itched like crazy, and her mood kept flipping back and forth for no reason at all. She hated it.
She shuffled over to Mike, and without really thinking about it, he set a hand on her shoulder as they headed for the front door. She didn’t shrug it off. That would’ve taken effort.
“Mom left us some cash,” he said. “Where d’you wanna eat?”
Holly leaned her head back and groaned. “Can we just pick something up?” she said.
Mike cast a worried glance her way, but wordlessly nodded.
Mike picked a burger place uptown, one with a drive-thru. Holly sat in the passenger seat of his secondhand Ford, the blanket tucked tight around her shoulders. The heater hummed, rain streaking the windshield in uneven lines.
She didn’t feel sick. Not really. But something was wrong in a way she couldn’t explain, like her body was keeping a secret from her. The thought made her chest feel tight. She’d felt acute to this once before.
When Mr. Whatsit showed up.
Her fingers curled into the blanket. What if this was connected? What if it was some leftover thing from him, something that never actually went away? Mr. Whatsit had made her feel weak, shaky, like she could just… stop being solid. This felt too close to that.
What if—god—what if—
“Holly?”
She startled and turned toward the driver’s seat.
Mike wasn’t looking at the menu board. He was looking at her, eyebrows drawn together, eyes too wide. For a second, he looked just like Mom when she was worried and trying not to scare anyone. That scared Holly more than the pain did.
“Do you want fries with your burger?” he asked.
Holly nodded without speaking and turned back toward the windshield, focusing on the rain, the neon glow of the drive-thru lights, anything real. Stomachaches were normal. Everybody got them. They didn’t mean anything.
She told herself that again, just to be sure.
When they finally got home, Holly dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and immediately regretted it. She shifted around, one knee pulled up, the other leg stretched out, trying to find a position that didn’t make her lower stomach ache so much. Maybe she’d just sat weird in the car.
Maybe she’d pulled something. That had to be it.
Still, she tore into her burger like she hadn’t eaten all day. Like it was the first real food she’d seen in years.
Mike, on the other hand, barely touched his.
He kept looking at her. Not in a normal way, either. More like a nervous pigeon. Or a mom. It was deeply annoying.
Holly caught him staring again and wiped her mouth with a napkin, her patience snapping. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”
Mike blinked, like he’d been jolted awake. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, Mike,” she muttered, already halfway out of her chair.
One second she was fine. The next, she wasn’t.
Holly froze.
There was red. Too red. Bright and unmistakable. Her brain tripped over itself trying to catch up, and when it finally did, panic came rushing in after it.
Why was there blood? Why was it there?
Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. This didn’t just happen. Not to her. Not like this. Her chest felt tight, like she couldn’t get a full breath no matter how hard she tried. Each inhale came out shaky, uneven. Tears blurred her vision before she even realized she was crying.
This had to be Mr. Whatsit.
It had to be. He’d made her feel weak before, wrong before. What else could explain this? What else made sense?
She didn’t look in the mirror. She couldn’t. Instead, she sank down onto the bathroom rug, pulling her knees close, hands fidgeting uselessly in her lap as she tried to calm herself down. It felt like her body had turned against her, and she had no idea why.
What made it worse was the knock.
It was barely there, almost swallowed by the rain hitting the roof. Holly might’ve missed it entirely if her nerves weren’t already screaming. The sound felt huge anyway, loud in her chest.
“Holly?” Mike’s voice, careful. “You okay?”
That was it.
Holly broke.
She scrambled to her feet, the sudden movement making everything worse, and she let out this awful, ripped-open sob as she yanked the door open. She didn’t even look at him.
She just stepped forward and slammed into his torso, wrapping her arms around him like she was afraid he might disappear.
“He’s gonna get me, Mike!” she cried, the words tumbling out messy and wet. “Miiiiike—” Her voice cracked so hard it barely came out. “He’s gonna— he’s tryin’— I don’t—!”
Mike startled, hands hovering uselessly for half a second before he settled them awkwardly on her shoulders, then her back, then her hair, like he couldn’t decide what was allowed. “Whoa—hey—hey,” he kept saying, a little strangled, a little panicked himself. “Jesus — why are you — why’re you crying?”
Her sobs shook against his chest, loud and uneven, like she couldn’t get enough air.
“It was him, Mike! It was him!” Holly wailed, her words blurring together.
“Who—Holly, who?” Mike asked, panic creeping into his voice despite himself. Hearing it only made her cry harder.
“There was blood!” she sobbed. “He’s making me bleed!”
Mike sucked in a breath. “Blood?” he said quietly. “What do you mean blood? Holly—are you bleeding right now?”
“He’s making me bleed!” she repeated, more frantic, like Mike just wasn’t listening. Like nobody ever listened when it mattered.
“Holly, hey—calm down,” Mike said quickly, trying to steady her. “You’re gonna be fine, okay—”
“Don’t say that!” Holly cried, her voice cracking completely. “You said that last time!” The words barely made sense anymore.
She was so tired. Everything hurt. Her stomach cramped hard enough to make her knees feel weak, and she could feel the awful, damp proof of it spreading through her sweatpants.
They stood there in silence for a second, her sobs filling the space between them.
Mike’s mouth hung open, like his brain was buffering. He swallowed, then his eyebrows lifted, something clicking into place. His voice was gentler when he spoke again.
“Holly?” he asked carefully. “Where… where are you bleeding from?”
She didn’t look at him. She just pointed, miserably. “There.”
Mike’s eyes followed the gesture, and then he saw the stain.
Holly felt it immediately. The way his shoulders dropped, the way his body stopped being so stiff and scared.
“Oh,” Mike said softly. Then, even softer, “Oh, Holly.”
Mike pulled her into his arms, careful and gentle, like she might shatter if he held her too tight.
Normally, Holly would’ve hated it. She would’ve shoved him away and told him to stop being weird. But right now, it felt… safe. Almost like Mom. The thought of that made her chest ache again. She wished Mom wasn’t working so much now.
“Hey,” Mike said quietly. “Can you stay here for a second? I’m gonna grab something. Okay?”
Holly hesitated, then nodded, small and tired.
Mike pulled back and hurried down the hall toward Mom’s office, still strange to think of it that way, not Dad’s anymore. Holly stayed where she was, tears slipping down her face, leaving wet tracks on her cheeks. She wiped at them, but more kept coming anyway.
When Mike came back, he had a small hardcover book tucked under his arm. He held it out to her.
Holly took it and froze.
What’s Happening to My Body?
For Girls.
She stared at the cover, sniffing. She remembered seeing this book in Nancy’s room years ago, back when twelve felt impossibly far away. Her throat tightened.
“What’s this gotta do with anything?” she croaked.
Mike rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very focused on the carpet. “Just… read page twelve,” he said. “And then I’ll explain everything after that. Okay?”
Holly looked up at him, eyes red and swollen, then back down at the book. She nodded slowly, still not totally understanding, but trusting him anyway.
By the time she finished page twelve, Holly had learned the basics—pads, how to use them, how to stop the bleeding. That didn’t make her feel any less freaked out. She still had no idea why it was happening in the first place.
When she stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room, Mike jumped slightly. “Did it… go okay? Anything… sticking?”
Holly shook her head, wiping at her face as more tears slipped free. “What’s happening to me?” she whimpered.
Mike made a nervous face, lips pressed together, then patted the cushion beside him. “Come sit,” he said. Holly eased herself down, curling slightly against him, still shaky.
Mike turned so he was facing her, trying to look calm even though his eyes were full of worry. “Okay, so… girls get this thing. Their bodies… change. You’ve noticed that, right?”
Holly nodded with a sniffle.
“Yeah, well… this is part of it. It’s called a period.”
“Like… like the period that comes after a sentence?”
Mike scratched the back of his neck. “I guess… if you wanna think about it like that.”
Holly blinked, trying to absorb it. “Why’m I getting it?”
“Well… I dunno,” Mike admitted, shrugging. “Boys don’t really get taught this stuff. It just… happens to people who are born female.”
“Does it stop?”
“After a week, yeah,” Mike said. “It gets easier each day, I think. Mom’ll explain more when she’s home.”
Holly nodded slowly.
She was getting tired, that bone-deep, Can’t-Keep-Her-Eyes-Open tired.
“You need anything?” Mike asked softly, voice low, careful.
Holly yawned and scooted closer, letting her head fall against his chest. She would’ve wanted Mom, but Mom wasn’t here. Mike would have to do. Mike was okay.
“Stay,” she muttered, almost too quietly to hear.
Mike’s hand came up awkwardly to rest on her head. It felt strange, but good. They hadn’t been close like this for long. Not until two years ago, when he’d saved her from Henry. Since then, he had become her safe place. Because Mike was a Paladin. And a Paladin’s job? Protect.
Holly let herself believe it.