Chapter Text
Christmas Day, 2002
The path up to the Wheelers' house was paved with thick dark ice, forcing Mike to walk along the grass up to the front door. He could just make out his family sitting around the dinner table, their silhouettes fragmented behind the half-closed blinds. Mom, Dad, Nancy and Holly. All together.
He shuffled up onto the front step, one foot propped up to avoid slipping, his hands numb as he fumbled for his old key, slotting it into the lock before stepping in.
He was just kicking his boots off at the front mat and relishing in the warmth when his mother, Karen, appeared from the kitchen door, eyes wide. The shock on her face slipped into familiarity and she rushed towards him.
"Hey, Mom" he addressed her as casually as he could, grinning widely despite his dry mouth
"Michael!" She gasped, then stopped herself. "We- we weren't expecting you tonight. We thought you were eating at home?" She was already pulling the coat from his shoulders, eyes searching his face. She looked pale.
“Yeah. Yeah.” He let her take it. “I decided to show up anyway. Is that alright?"
Karen blinked at him. "Um. I guess. Why? What's been happening at home?"
He caught Nancy in the corner of his eye, hovering silently by the kitchen counter, almost translucent. “It’s fine. I just… needed some air.”
"What? From your wife..?" She raises her eyebrows.
"No. No. She knows I'm here. Listen Mom, it's fine. Can I sit down? I've been up all day, I haven't eaten. I'll explain everything, okay?"
Her nostrils flared as he spoke, lowering her voice to a sharp mutter. "Michael-"
"Please, Mom? I just want dinner at home"
"Fine. Fine, just-... Go sit down" She huffed, staring at him for a beat longer before turning back towards the kitchen, shaking her head as she went.
He nearly bumped into Nancy as he entered the room, stopping in front of her. She quickly sat down without looking at him.
His younger sister Holly was staring at him through her lashes as he made his way to an empty chair. He almost didn't recognise her with her thin dark eyebrows drawn above her eyes, hair tightly crimped and half up. He supposed that was stylish these days.
Mike kept his head down he sat down by his father, picking up a fork.
“Long drive?” Dad asked as Mike settled beside him, eyes fixed on his own plate.
“Uh. No, I didn't drive,” Mike told him stiffly after a beat.
"You walked all the way from Loch Nora?" Holly interjected, lifting her head.
Mike laughed despite himself, rubbing his eye with his knuckles. "Yeah. It wasn't too bad, just icy. Plus I got these.." He gestured to the headphones around his neck, smiling at her.
His father scoffed, letting out a laugh through his mouthful of turkey. "You're out there making millions and still rocking the ol' grados? Those must be ten years old by now."
"Millions is... That's an overstatement" Mike chuckled dryly as a plate was placed in front of him, meat and vegetables coated in thick dark gravy.
"Don't be so humble, son. Fifty thousand copies sold worldwide, that's nothing to sneeze at"
Karen sniffed loudly, making Ted look up at her blankly.
"I guess, yeah" Mike responded, rolling his shoulders.
"Got all three of them myself the day they were published. Did I tell you that?" His father continued, smiling at him in a way that made Mike shift, teeth gleaming in a way that seemed sharper than normal.
He swallowed, then looked up at him. He hadn't really looked at his dad in a while, not ever properly. He felt flushed. "You didn't. Thanks... did you.. like, like them?"
"Ha!" His father barked, tipping his head back and smacking the table. "Well, I can't say I'm the target audience. But you did good, son, real good. Hey, Karen, pass some of that here"
He gestured for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table. His mother, who was still hovering in the middle of the room reached for it. He took it and began pouring Mike a tall glass, then himself
"To our son. The author!" Ted raised his glass, sloshing some wine onto the tablecloth. It was only then that Mike realised just how drunk he was.
They ate comfortably enough, the surprise from his appearance fading into the background. They chatted, laughing among themselves until they were all full. He drank quite a lot of wine without meaning to, but it was nice. He felt warm.
“Be right back.” Mike murmured with a smile. He stood from his chair and drifted out of the kitchen.
He reached the bottom of the stairs, heading for the bathroom, when he stopped. Something tugged at the back of his mind and a tightness began to press in his chest. Before he realized it, his feet were moving back, past the half-open kitchen door where his family sat and ate.
The basement door was ajar. Light spilled out, too bright, sterile. His D&D board lay open, pieces frozen mid-move, as if the game had been paused for minutes rather than a decade and a half. His desk was draped, familiar, yet the shadows under it pulsed slightly. Mike crouched, pulled the walkie-talkie from beneath the desk, cold plastic in his hands.
Without thinking, he crawled into the small space under the desk, slouching stiffly as he studied the walkie-talkie He pulled up the antenna and fiddled with the knobs, making it crackle with static. He pressed the radio to his ear almost instinctively, half-expecting something to happen. He listened to it hum and buzz against his ear, closing his eyes.
The static crackled again, and if he focused hard enough he could imagine a voice on the other end below the static. Nobody in particular, just someone trying to get through. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, squeezing them hard as he pressed the plastic against his ear. He sniffed, lifting a sleeved hand to his face to scrub at his eyes as he put the radio down, letting it just buzz in the background Mike sank fully against the wall, letting the radio rest by his feet, palms pressed against his sockets.
"Mike?" Nancy's voice cut through his trance, and he found himself suddenly embarrassed. She was stood with her hands clasped in front of herself, watching him closely.
"Oh-" Mike responded, looking around at his position. He let out a laugh as she approached. "I uh, think I had too much" he told her honestly, oblivious to how red his eyes were now.
She let out a huff of amusement from her nostrils. "May I?" She asked, gesturing towards the desk.
"Oh, sure..." he shifted to the side, allowing room for her.
It was a strange sight for sure, seeing Nancy sitting in his little fort. Twelve year old Mike would have had none of it, but he found himself laughing
"This is cozy" she said, grinning back at him. "Still smells like farts after all these years"
He laughed again, not being able to contain it. His eyes still felt wet, and he imagined he looked ike a wreck, teary-eyed and drunk under a desk with his sister. "Nobody's thought to change it up since I moved out?" he asked.
"Doesn't look like it.." she said, looking around the space.
"Why was the light on then?"
"Huh?"
"The light was on when I came down. And the door was open like somebody was just in."
She pursed her lips, looking puzzled, then just shrugged. "Dunno. Weird"
He watched her shrug it off, but his eyes lingered on her for a few moments longer, before letting out another snicker under his breath. "Weird"
"Why did you come home?” She asked, looking back at him.
“I just.. wanted to come home..”
“Is everything alright?” She squinted at him, tilting her head as if trying to read his face.
“Everything’s fine.. Just home. The ol' ball and chain, y'know” he joked, but quickly dropped his smile at Nancy's flat expression. He looked down at his hands in his lap instead.
"That was a joke, by the way," he added
"Didn't sound like a joke" Nancy tilted her head, her eyes fixed on his face as she shifted beside him, moving closer.
“We've been fighting,” he clarified in Nancy’s silence.
She hums in response, nodding at him as he spoke, just listening.
“Nothing in particular, just everything. You know, I try to be a good husband, but everything I do just makes her mad. I mean, I got her flowers and everything and it only made her angrier" Nancy's brows raised at his words, but she didn't say anything yet.
"I don't know anymore. I just don't think I'm cut out for this.."
“Is there a reason why she's so mad at you?" Nancy asked pointedly
"No. I don't know. It's the drinking, I guess. Being out. Being quiet. But when I'm home, y'know. I try.." he explained himself clumsily. "I take her out to dinner, buy her gifts, take care of the kids. What else could she want?"
Nancy bit her bottom lip, brows still raised. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it, taking a breath.
"Are you happy with her?"
"Of course I'm happy with her. She's my wife."
Nancy sucked in a breath but dropped it, shaking her head. "Well at least you're doing better than I am. I’ve never had a stable relationship in my life, at least you’re married”
He glanced at her, forcing himself to make eye contact. Then he sighed through his nostrils, not knowing what to say.
“I'm not cut out for this..." He repeated, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur.
She paused at his words, her eyes widening a little in concern. She doesn't respond for a few seconds
"Mike..." She closes her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. "You do your best. I think you just need to get out of your head."
“What are you doing down here?” Holly suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs, making Mike jump, “why are you under a desk?”
“Mom’s wanting us back in the kitchen for dessert”
“Actually, I was gonna go home” Mike decides quickly, feeling feverish all of a sudden.
“What?” They both turn to stare at him.
“You just got here though..” Holly said, surprising Mike with how genuinely disappointed she was.
"Mike, don't go" Nancy agreed.
He got up from under the desk, trying to mask the way the room swayed by propping a hand on top of it as he stood.
“My family’s expecting me. I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry” he said, looking between both of them.
“Are you okay?” Holly asked in concern.
“I’m fine. I just drank too much..” he said, moving to walk past her. Then he stopped, looking back down at her. Again, he felt like crying. There was something about this basement, he couldn’t handle it. It made him feel sick.
“C’mere..” he said to her, then he pulled her into a hug. He could feel that she was caught off guard by how stiff she was in his arms, but she hugged him back nonetheless.
He glanced at Nancy as he pulled away, giving her a half smile that didn't meet his eyes.
"Mike," Nancy called as he turned, making him stop once more.
"Listen I'm sorry-" he started, then stopped himself. His feet were already moving up the stairs.
Mike didn’t remember saying goodbye to his parents. But he found himself outside once more, his head spinning horribly as he closed the door behind himself.
His foot immediately slid on the ice of the front step, causing him to fall backwards. His head hit hard against the door, making the sky above him warp. For a moment he was convinced he'd cracked his skull open. He scrambled for his glasses on the ground before finding them, clumsily shoving them back onto his face.
"Fuck..." he huffed, struggling to get back up as he rubbed his sore head. He ungracefully rolled onto the grass, fighting to get his footing. He stumbled as he stood, hands aimlessly moving in front of himself in case he fell again.
"Oh, Christ.." he muttered to himself, taking a few clumsy steps forward, and then he kept walking, sliding every few steps. He found himself back in the street, walking through as many grassy patches as he could to avoid the ice. He didn't quite know where he was going, but he could make out the warm glow of a dimly lit bar in the distance through his hazy vision.
He shivered, the icy wind clawing at the edges of his thin hoodie, and cursed under his breath once more. His head spun, stomach heavy.
He pushed the door open and was immediately hit by the warmth and the smell of beer and fried food. The place seemed subtly… synthetic, like someone had rearranged the angles and light while he wasn’t looking, Faces blurred around him, smiles too big, voices too high. He kept his gaze to the floor. The chatter of locals and clink of glasses made his head spin but at least he was out of the cold. He slumped onto a stool at the bar, almost sliding off it entirely as the bartender, a tall man with curly hair and an easy, if not too-wide smile, looked up.
"God be damned. It's Mike fucking Wheeler!" He regarded him cheerfully.
Mike cringed, folding his arms on the table in front of himself. It felt sticky under his hands but he couldn't find it in him to care.
"Hey bro, don't you recognise me? Dan Miller? We went to school together, man!"
"Yeah, hey man.." Mike mumbled, blinking heavily as he lifted his head from his arms. He didn't recognise him in the slightest.
"I heard about you. Beyond the Creek, yeah? Good shit. I haven't seen you around lately though, you still in Hawkins?"
Mike just hummed, before interrupting Dan's next words. "Can I get a beer?"
Dan bit his lip, looking down at him. He then chuckled, still smiling at him. "How's a water sound? You don't look too good.."
"No, I want beer-" but Mike's protest was interrupted as a glass of water was sat in front of him. He stared at it before lifting a hand to pick it up, holding the glass as if it was foreign.
"It's crazy seeing you here. I thought you moved away. Everyone else has, I don't blame them. I told myself, as soon as lockdown was lifted I'd be out, on the road. It's been over a decade though and I'm still here. Still, I figured a big star like you would have been moved long ago. Who's gonna write the next big hitter if you get eaten by a monster?"
"Ha, ha.." Mike laughed dryly, trying to play along with his joke. "No monsters here, just... good old civilians..."
Dan leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of himself, brows furrowed.
"Hey, you need a ride home? I clock out in ten."
Mike barely remembered the ride home. He just sat there in the passengers seat of Dan's car and stared out of the window at the leafless trees whirring past, white with frost. He swore he was getting drunker by the minute, or he was just exhausted.
Eventually he got to his front door, watching as Dan drove off into the night. He took a few moments to himself, slowly breathing in and out, shivering in the cold.
He fumbled with his keys for a while, hands white, numb and shaking. They fell from his hands, falling onto the concrete by his feet.
He stooped down to grab them, and when he looked up he was startled by the sight of his wife at the front door. She stared down at him, jaw clenched, lips twisting in silent rage. He didn't have the chance to say anything before the door was loudly slammed back in his face.
He sighed and opened it again, stepping in and closing it behind himself.
"Faith.." He called out for her softly, padding through the house, following her into the kitchen.
"Where are your shoes?" She muttered, moving empty plates from the kitchen table into the sink, running the tap.
Mike looked down at himself, noting his wet socks, practically frozen to his feet.
“Oh,” he said faintly. “I-.."
"You've been gone for three hours. 'Gone out for air', my ass" she hissed at him, back to him as she scrubbed at the plates. "Gone out to the bar more like. Lost your fucking shoes and coat on the way it seems too."
"I went for a walk.."
She barked out a laugh, dropping the plate harshly back into the soapy water, causing it to splash around the sink and onto the floor.
"Do the dishes. Don't come to bed" she snaps, giving him a shove as she passes.
He stood there for a moment in silence, looking from his wife to the sink, drunk and useless.
He moved stiffly up to the dishes, picking the plate back up to begin washing it himself. He felt completely numb, his head still swimming, joints aching from the cold alone.
He was completely lost in thought when he caught sight of his son in his peripheral vision, turning his head to look down at his youngest.
"Hey, bud..." he greeted him softly, "you okay, Theo?" he asked him, stooping down to pick him up into his arms.
"Sorry, I'm all cold and wet right now. You don't mind, do you?" He asked with a smile, keeping his voice soft as Theo stared at him, exhausted, eyes glassy.
He gave his head a few kisses before stepping out of the room. He slipped on his wet socks, stumbling for a moment before catching himself with a chuckle. He made it upstairs, into his son's bedroom. Up here he could hear shouting from the other room.
Theo began to fuss as soon as Mike set him down, but he hushed him to hear the conversation better. But he barely had the chance to before his eldest at thirteen, stormed into the room.
"Oh, now you're home! Great! Did you enjoy it? Have fun out getting drunk?!" Jane shouted at him, pointing a finger at her father.
"Woah, Jane!" He held his hands up at her. He could hear his son whimpering behind him. "I'm sorry. I just had to get away, to get some air. I'm back now"
"Well, I wish you never came back! I wish you'd stayed there!" She shouted back at him. She had dark bags under her eyes, if anything she looked more of a mess than his wife did. She ran out and into her room down the hall, slamming the door so hard it made Theo start to cry.
Mike was speechless, finding himself opening and closing his mouth with no noise coming out. He was not equipped for this tonight.
"See what you do?" Faith span around, glaring daggers into Mike.
"What did I do? What did I do?? I apologised, didn't I? I was already here, I told you, I just-"
"No. No, no. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of you. I can not do this anymore. I can't deal with it anymore!" Faith shouted back louder, causing Theo to wail behind them, gasping through his tears.
"It was stupid, I know. I was being impulsive. I shouldn't have left, I know"
Faith's nostrils were flaring now, her eyes wide, lined with stress. "Do not apologise to me right now, Mike. Just don't. I let this shit fly one too many times."
Mike took a step back, his own anger bubbling up. "What, because I wasn't there for one night? I didn't realise Christmas was that important to you, it's not like we don't do it every damn year!"
"It's for the kids" Faith responded through gritted teeth, raising her hands towards him, stiff and curled like she was physically restraining herself.
Mike breathed in through his nose, swallowing hard. "Well, you're not the mother of the year either. Are you?" He retorted dryly. He glanced at Theo, who was still crying loudly, before turning and storming out of the room.