Work Text:
I.
The worst part of the day, easily, was coming home from work. Not because of the house itself, but because of what was inside of it. Three spawns of Satan that Michael James Wheeler had helped create with his… yeah.
Jamie is a wonderful woman, who never asked questions and always smiled. She kind of treated Mike like a senile old man sometimes, patting his shoulder with a “that’s nice, sweetie.” It was clear who their children got their personalities from: not her.
Enter stage right: the three children. Jason, James, and Barbara. Jason looked like the perfect mix of the two; curly brown hair, brown eyes, and freckled skin that always stretched into a mischievous grin. He was the oldest, and therefore the leader of the troupe. He was seventeen years old, and made it his mission to ruin every moment of peace. James and Barbara were twins, who both looked nothing like Mike at all, all brown hair and unspeckled skin. Mike is surprised neither of them ate the other in the womb, since they are constantly chewing each other’s heads off. At fifteen years old, the children have already succeeded past anything Mike ever dreamed of in his life. Barbara has won multiple writing competitions, and James was the most popular kid in his class. Both were constantly hounded by their multitudes of friends and admirers.
After a gruellingly long moment, Mike sighs and finally opens the door to his car. It was a fucking Subaru. The jokes write themselves.
Today was Friday, which means the kids were all hopped up on weekend excitement. They bounce off the walls and eat all the chips and bring their friends over to do whatever the hell kids do these days. They order pizza and play music too loud and ruin Mike’s life.
It’s not that he hates the kids; he doesn’t. He wouldn’t. He just hates what they do to him. More to come on this later.
Dragging his feet inside, he finally opens the door to see all the kids giggling together on the couch, huddled over a bowl of popcorn.
“Oh, Dad, thank goodness you’re home!” Barbara runs up to the door, followed by her brothers. “The most terrible news has come across our feed!”
Mike didn’t want to deal with this, but Barbara’s eyes were rimmed red and James looked shaken. “Are you guys okay?”
James shakes his head vigorously. “No! We’re all devastated… Mom ran into her room after we told her and she hasn’t stopped crying.”
Mike sucks in a breath. Oh no. They figured it out. His life is ruined. “... What happened?”
Barbara holds up her phone to a news article, dated the very same day. In bold letters at the top, it was titled, “Famous New York City Artist Will Byers DEAD at Age 52.”
The world stops. Mike freezes and all the air in the room is replaced with carbon monoxide. He chokes on nothing, feels his vision going black. This is infinitely worse. “W-What happened?”
Barbara hiccups over her tears, and James hugs his sister close while stroking her hair. Jason looks up, eyes glistening and wide. “They haven’t announced the cause of death. We just thought you should know.”
“Oh my God…” Mike falls against the couch, pressing the heel of his hand over his forehead. It was too late. He would never see him again. They would never reconcile over their dwindled friendship. Mike could never bask in his warmth ever again, love burning past the shame and guilt. “I can’t— I can’t believe this would happen…” Cold tears puddle and drip down his cheeks, falling silently against the fabric of his shirt.
“Well, that’s because it didn’t.” Barbara giggles quietly, soon crescendoing into boisterous laughter with her brothers.
“WHAT THE FUCK.” Mike wishes he left the car on in the garage. With him in it.
“Dad, chill out, it’s just a TikTok trend. You’re lucky we didn’t record and post that…”
“Right, like this is so embarrassing…”
“Oh, I’m lucky? You’re lucky I don’t kick you into next week!”
James’ laughs speeds up as he whispers something into his siblings’ ears, and they start laughing so hard they fall to the floor.
Mike stands up and walks out the door. He needs to get out of here.
II.
Instead of renewing the family Spotify premium subscription, Mike decided it would be cheaper to all share one account. Jamie agreed, though the kids were reluctant at first. About an hour after they proposed the idea, the kids were on board, and even seemed excited about it.
It turned out to be a genius idea, until the second month rolled around. Tuesday mornings were the worst, since Mike ran the high school’s creative writing club after school and had to prepare for it before school started. Waking up was already hard enough; but waking up before 6 am? Forget it.
Mike opens Spotify and plays the only playlist he made on the app. His kids acted like it was blasphemous, but there weren't any insane genre shifts in his music taste where it would cause intense mood swings between two songs. More swings than he already has, anyways.
He presses play and lets himself relax as calming synth pop floods the speakers. The song is unfamiliar, but he might’ve just accidentally left Smart Shuffle on. This app has too many shuffle options, and somehow none of them mix the songs well.
Mike starts catching a vibe, but then the lyrics start.
It’s fine. It’s cool.
You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.
Oh. This song has a little kick to it.
I don't wanna call it off
But you don't wanna call it love
You only wanna be the one that I call "baby"
… What the hell?
Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling
You can say it's just the way you are
Make a new excuse, 'nother stupid reason
Good luck, babe (Well, good luck)
Mike Wheeler wishes it was legal to have a loaded gun inside the glove compartment in New York. His grip turns white around the steering wheel. He hopes he hits as little traffic as possible on this commute. The speedometer reaches unholy speeds as Mike tries to get past every yellow light as fast as possible.
When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night
With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife
And when you think about me all of those years ago
You're standing face to face with "I told you so"
Tears run down Mike’s face as he realizes the light ahead is now red. He has to sit through this entire song. He thinks he’s going to be sick.
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
The woman’s voice echoes in his ears even after the song fades out. He sits there, staring at the changing light until the person behind him honks their horn with the ferocity only available in cities.
The light in front of him turns green — the last light before merging onto the interstate. The next song starts up with a light synth beat, and Mike sniffles embarrassingly. Only four minutes into his drive and he’s still a mess. At least now the Smart Shuffle stops for a few songs, and he will never have to hear that song again.
It's fine, it's cool
You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth
… No.
“What the fuck?” Mike skips the song, only for it to start over again. He violently presses on the skip button, but the same beat starts over and over every time. He can’t check the playlist or pull over — he’s in the middle lane, with traffic on both sides. He must persist.
After thirty minutes of listening to this godforsaken song, a new song pops on. Mike weeps in joy, genuinely laughing in relief as the Chappell Roan no longer defiles his mind. It must be another smart shuffle song, though because the strum of the guitar is unfamiliar.
A pity she does not exist, a shame he's not a fag
The only girl I ever loved was Andrew in drag
There is no hope of love for me, from here on I go stag
The only girl I'll ever love is Andrew in drag
“I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF.”
The song ends and a now-familiar synth starts up. Mike groans and almost punches a hole through the window. Fifteen more minutes of Good Luck, Babe passes by, and Mike finally reaches the staff parking lot. He slams the stick into park as soon as he swings into the closest spot, and he exits out of Spotify. Taking a haunted breath, he reopens it and nearly chucks his phone straight across the dashboard.
His entire playlist is gone. On it, there are now twenty-four hours of Good Luck, Babe and one singular record called Andrew in Drag.
Mike starts to realize the Spotify plan was a terrible idea.
III.
After an excruciatingly long month of restoring his Spotify and wasting money on buying his children their own subscription, Mike finally finds peace. Jamie is at work during dinner today, so he finds himself cooking some chicken fingers and broccoli.
The kids drag themselves in at five, moaning and groaning about how hungry they are.
Barbara makes an annoyingly long whining noise while cradling her stomach. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.”
James rolls his eyes and tosses his back pack across the floor. “Oh yeah? I’m so hungry, I am the horse.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Does too!”
Jason scoffs, throwing his backpack onto the couch. “You must not even be that hungry then. I’m so hungry I could eat Will Byers.”
Mike’s face falls and he looks up at his children with a murderous expression. “...Excuse me?”
Jason innocently quirks an eyebrow. That little shit. “Uh, I said, ‘I’m so hungry I could eat Will Byers?’ Dad, are you okay?”
Mike wishes chicken fingers and broccoli warranted suicide. “I think I’m going to die in this house.”
IV.
Mike walks into the house, twirling his keys on his index finger. He feels light for the first time in a while, especially after maintaining normalcy. For once, the ring on his fourth finger doesn’t weigh him down. After his kids pulled the hunger prank again, he attempted to rip off the fridge door and throw it at them. He did not succeed, but at least they haven’t tried anything in a while.
It might help that tomorrow he’s going to the city to meet up with the entire Party for the first time in a year. A whole weekend free from the grubby hands of his dubious children. A whole weekend in an apartment with Will (and everyone else). Long, romantic walks with Will (romantic sigh), the New York skyline in the distance (the others will trail behind or something). Lucas and Max have each other anyways, while El and Dustin live life vicariously researching abroad. A whole weekend for Mike to find freedom for the first time this year. No children, no responsibilities.
Before the wondrous date had been established, Mike was sick and tired. He makes close to no money and gets no bitches. No one laughs at his corny jokes or looks at him from across the room. His kids’ pranks ceased when Jamie told them to stop, but now she looks at him more distantly. Like his mother used to look at his father. Like he was never part of this family in the first place. His children have picked up on it and carry guilty expressions every time they’re alone with their father.
When he walks in the kitchen, he might as well not exist in the first place. The kids surround a laptop, no longer giggling like they usually do. Jamie stands over their shoulders with a horrified expression, hands over her mouth.
“Okay, what is happening?”
They all jump, slamming the laptop closed. “N-nothing!” Barbara squeaks at the same time Jason yells, “THE FUCK?!” James just screams. Jamie scans Mike up and down, trying to put something together. She sends a dark look at Mike, like she’s blaming him for something that’s already been taken care of.
Mike breathes incredulously. “What the hell. I’ll bite. Why not?! What is it this time?”
Mike fears he knows exactly what it is. He doesn’t know how it's even possible his children have gotten to this point. He used his extra secret email, only used faceless pictures, and has a two-step authentication factor on.
Jamie grabs the laptop and jousts the screen in front of Mike’s face, large tears streaming down her face. “Explain this.”
In front of him blares the account sign up for Grindr, red font exclaiming that his email is already in use. Yeah. Mike might be a little fucked.
“... What is this?”
“... Michael… God, I should’ve known. I cannot believe our own children knew before I did.” She turns away, dramatically rushing towards the front door.
“Jamie —”
“NO! You don’t get to do this… to feel sorry for me. I… I need a minute.” She rushes past him out the front door in a grand performance.
The kids watch their mother disappear from behind the door. “Well, shit! I didn’t think a notification spam prank would end up like this.”
Mike wishes his kids were young enough that it was socially acceptable to ground them for thirty years.
V.
Jamie and Mike sat at their reserved table, two rings between them on the table out of their respective boxes. Jamie saw Mike through a bittersweet, tearful smile, and held his hands on the table. “I know.”
Mike exhaled out of relief, unsurprised by her reaction. She was always too smart for her own good. “... I’m sorry.”
Jamie laughed quietly, the tears on her cheeks drying across her skin. “I think I always knew. Silently.” She took a deep breath. “Mike, look at me.” His eyes remained glued to the two rings on the table. He thought he would never let go. She sighed. “I know it’s not your fault. I know why you did it. I know who… who he is.”
Mike lowered his head, hoping his hair hid the teardrops webbed across his eyelashes. “I really am sorry. I just can’t help it.” He silently curses himself for being so weak. “I really tried to love you. I tried so many times, but I just can’t.”
“Mike, really. It’s okay. I know.” Mike looked up at her for the first time, the image of the twin rings inversely burning his eyes. She laughed, her eyes scrunched at the corners.
Jamie has always been such a lovely woman. She reminds him of El, with her quiet understanding and natural curiosity. He should’ve known that this relationship would end similarly, but he was too stupid to see it.
He’s also too stupid to recognize that his children would not be tempted to seize their cruel entertainment. He walks down the stairs from the empty bed and is greeted by every colour on the planet. Hanging from the ceiling is a DIY banner that reads “happy divorce,” followed by a rainbow and a bisexual pride flag.
“What the fuck is this?” Mike hopes he wakes up from this nightmare and simply dies.
“Mom wants to file for a divorce.” Jason waves pride flags from between his fingers.
“... That’s not even the right flag.”
Barbara blinks from behind the counter, almost dropping the rainbow cake. “How? You’re married to mom and you like men.”
Mike cannot believe he is having this conversation with his kids. “Blue white and green. Get it right next time.” He walks back up the stairs, grabbing his suitcase and decides New York City can’t wait any longer.
+ I.
The kids sat on the couch while their parents had the divorce finalized. They awaited their sentencing of custody. Jason pities his siblings for having to wait two more years than him to gain autonomy beyond the law.
Their parents walk down the stairs, holding papers with splotchy ink sealing their fates.
James digs his palms into his face. “Well, what’s done is done.”
Jamie poorly hides the irritation on her face. “We need to give you some empathy, boy.”
Mike waves his stack of papers in the air, passing them off to the children. “There you go, kids. Your master plan has been fulfilled. You outed your father after torturing him and now your parents are no longer trapped in a lavender marriage. Congratulations are in order, though I have no interest in giving them.”
The kids flip through the papers, but something is wrong. “Dad, what is this? This is just a bunch of random words printed on stock paper. I don’t know much about divorce papers, but these are certainly not official and assigned from court.” They reach the last page and stop breathing. In the same font and black ink from their own family printer, read the words, divorce cannot be finalized due to lack of a marriage certificate.
“What? But how?” James stutters as he flips through the stack of papers.
Mike deviously smiles, victory bubbling up his throat. “You got your personality from me, after all. You really thought you could out prank me?! YOUR MOTHER KNEW THE WHOLE TIME!”
Three jaws dropped so low they hit the ground and rebounded painfully. “WHAT?!”
Jamie laughs, nearly falling to the ground. “Well, your father is married. Just not to me. Thankfully, I avoided that a long time ago.”
Barbara is the first to regain her grasp on words. “But then who? Why? Where? When? How?” Correction: Barbara is the first to barely regain her grasp on words.
“Well, well, Will. You’re so hungry? So lucky? More like so DEAD and so GROUNDED.”
No other than Will Byers walks through the front door. That door has truly seen everything. “You called.”
Jason’s jaw dropped impossibly lower. The children grow further into hysteria. “What. The. Fuck. No way. NO WAY.”
“Mike, what did you do?”
Mike grins so wide his children are scared. They’ve never seen him smile so big in his whole life. “Parenting. You know, teaching children lessons. Anyways, this long distance over the past few years has been truly awful; I’m sure Jamie agrees. El’s not the only one missing her wife.”
James rocks himself erratically on the couch. “My life is a lie my life is a lie my life is a lie…”
Well, a lesson was certainly taught that day.
The three children must start therapy immediately.