Chapter Text
“Here you go, buddy. Nice and easy,” Lucas eased Mike onto his bed. Mike tried holding his own weight up, tried not to be a complete mess, but everything just felt so heavy.
He hadn’t meant to get this drunk. It had just been a stupid house party thrown by one of the older guys on the basketball team. They’d won their first game of the season and wanted to celebrate. Mike normally didn’t even go with Lucas to these things, preferring to spend his weekends tucked into his dorm room alone, reading comic books or watching movies.
But Lucas had insisted, saying Mike had to go because it was Lucas’ first college basketball game, and Mike would be a shitty friend if he said no. The other reason he was so insistent went unspoken.
Because it was November 6, 1991. Two years since… well. And neither of them wanted to be alone.
Last year, the five of them had spent the anniversary huddled in Mike’s basement. They lit a candle under the table where Mike had hidden El all those years ago, ate waffles, and talked about happy memories of their friend. It had been nice. Painful, but nice.
This year was different. Mike and Lucas were together at Indiana University, but everyone else was scattered. Dustin was in Chicago, buried in mounds of homework. Will was at NYU. He and Mike had spoken briefly on the phone that morning, but neither of them had had much to say. Max was still in Hawkin’s, working as Jimmy’s assistant at the WSQK. She had tried to get off work for the weekend to come visit, but apparently Jimmy had some family thing to take care of. He had offered Max time and a half to pick up another shift, and since she was trying to save up enough to be able to start college next year, she wasn’t in a position to say no.
So Mike agreed to the party, because he didn’t want to be away from Lucas. And he figured it would probably do him some good to get out of his dorm.
But it had been a mistake. The memories were too close to the surface that night. When someone bumped into him, it was a soldier throwing him against the van. Someone dropped something, and he was ducking away from gunfire. The alcohol helped numb his senses. So he drank more. And more. Eventually, he was drunk enough that he could stand by Lucas’ side at the beer pong table without flinching, cheering and clapping along with everyone else. And he even started to think he could handle it.
But then Shelly was there. They had first met during orientation week, both in the writing program. They had bonded over their mutual hatred for coming up with fun facts about themselves. She was nice. She was pretty. And when she had asked Mike if he wanted to get coffee sometime, Mike hadn’t had a reason to say no.
They had started dating casually, but it was already starting to fizzle out. Mike just… couldn’t do it. And lately he’d taken to just avoiding her completely.
But then she was there, leaning into his side as they cheered Lucas on. Looking at him through her eyelashes. Whispering into his ear.
Mike shoved her away before he even realized what he was doing. He stammered out an apology, then made a break for the bathroom.
Lucas had found him there, some indeterminate time later, clutching the toilet bowl, his head hanging limply against his shoulder.
Mike wasn’t entirely sure how they got back to the dorms. But Lucas seemed to have a handle on things.
Lucas knelt in front of him to pull his shoes off. Embarrassingly, Mike felt tears scratching at the back of his throat. He forced them down. Always forcing it down.
Then there was a cup of water in front of his face and two little red pills and hands pushing him softly to get him to lie back.
“Feet up, that’s it.” Lucas was holding the blanket up with one hand, guiding Mike’s legs with the other. He was being so kind, why was he being so kind?
“Alright man, sleep it off. Bucket’s right here if you need it. You’ll feel better in the morning.” Lucas draped the blanket over Mike’s body before heading for the door.
“No I won’t,” Mike mumbled. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, didn’t mean for Lucas to hear. But Lucas did.
And because Lucas was kind– a kinder friend than Mike deserved– he turned back. “What?”
Mike turned his face further into his pillow, needing the world to be dimmer. “I won’t feel better,” Mike repeated. He probably shouldn’t have, but his brain was mottled with vodka and he was so tired.
Mike felt a solid hand pat his shoulder through the blanket. “Aw, man. Cheer up, yeah? Hangovers are basically what college is all about.”
Lucas didn’t get it. None of them got it.
Mike would never feel better. He didn’t deserve to.
“I was going to break up with her,” Mike confessed to his pillowcase. Words he had sworn he would take to his grave, now trapped between skin and cotton.
“Who, Shelly? Yeah man, I kind of figured that one out.”
“Not Shelly.” Mike sighed. He never even should’ve dated Shelly. It had been unfair to her. But his friends were all moving on, and he had thought he might finally be able to move on with them. He thought maybe enough time had passed.
But it hadn’t. Every time she touched him, every time she smiled at him, every time she said his name. All Mike felt was shame.
He didn’t deserve to move on. He didn’t deserve to forget.
“El.”
Lucas was silent for a while. Long enough for Mike to wonder if he had left. It would probably be for the best. This was his burden to carry. Alone.
“Mike.” Lucas hadn’t left. Him and his stupid kind voice and his stupid kind hands were still here. “Mike, come on, look at me.”
Mike shook his head against the pillow. He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t let Lucas see. But Lucas was strong, stronger than Mike. And his hands were pushing his shoulders, forcing Mike to roll onto his back.
Lucas’ eyes darted around Mike’s face, a crease forming between his brows. “What are you talking about?” His tone wasn’t even accusatory.
Mike wiped under his eyes, trying to play it off like he was fixing his hair. “Nothing, man. Shelly.”
“You were going to break up with her?” Lucas asked, and despite what Mike just said, they both knew he was asking about El.
Mike looked up to the ceiling. He shouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t mean to. But the alcohol had knocked it loose, and now gravity was doing the rest.
“That day. That whole month really.”
Lucas slowly eased himself onto the edge of Mike’s bed, his eyes locked on Mike’s face. Mike wished he would go away. Wished he wasn’t here, listening.
“So why didn’t you?” Lucas asked gently.
Mike shrugged. The movement felt disconnected from himself, like he wasn’t the one controlling his brain anymore.
“Wasn’t a good time. Always something to do. Figured… I’d wait until after. But then there was no after.” The words started pouring out of him, slow at first, then quickly gaining speed. “She disappeared and- and she was too far away and I tried to get her to come back,” he was babbling now and he knew he wasn’t making sense. None of it made sense. “She was dying and she told me I had to understand and she said she loved me and I couldn’t even say it back. I couldn’t s- say it!”
Lucas was hugging him and Mike was full on sobbing into his shoulder.
“I couldn’t say it back! She was dying and I couldn’t say it b- back!” He kept repeating it through wrenching sobs, and he couldn’t breathe, and it was all too much. “And it is all- all my fault. All my fault.”
Mike clutched desperately at Lucas’ shirt. He knew he shouldn’t, knew he should be stronger than this. But Lucas just held him back.
“Mike, no,” Lucas said emphatically. “Listen to me. It’s not your fault. Okay? It’s not your fault.”
Mike let out an embarrassing hiccup. Lucas pulled back just enough so they could look at each other.
“Breathe, Mike. It’s okay. Just breathe.” And Mike tried, he tried, he did. But there was no air left in his body.
“Look at me, Mike. Look at me. You’re okay. Do what I do, okay?”
Lucas took exaggeratedly slow, measured breaths, waiting until Mike was finally able to match his pace.
Eventually, the panic faded. When Mike’s breathing had leveled, Lucas guided him to lay back down.
“You’re okay, Mike. It’s okay. Go to sleep,” he soothed. Mike felt a gentle hand rubbing softly up and down his back, like his mom used to do when he was sick, and a new wave of tears surfaced. Softer this time, quieter.
Mike closed his eyes, desperate for sleep to take him and finally let this day be over. The hand didn’t leave his back, and slowly his mind drifted away.
In the last moments before he lost consciousness, a final confession slipped from his mouth.
“I killed her.”