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Mike Wheeler was fine, thank you very much.
Honestly, he felt fine most of the time, despite what everyone thought. He went to school, participated in class when he wanted to, hung out with his friends. He took care of Holly when it was his turn. He started researching colleges, thought about what his life would look like after Hawkins.
So it was really goddamn annoying that his friends and family were treating him with kid gloves.
They were trying to be subtle about it, he assumed, but none of them were ever very good at subtlety.
Will was probably the most overt. It felt like he was checking in with him almost every day–are you sleeping? Are you eating? It was stupid. He sat with Will and the rest of the Party at lunch, so yes, obviously, he was eating. If he was eating less than normal, well, maybe he just wasn’t as hungry as he used to be.
Dustin kept trying to get him to talk about her, to theorize about what happened that night. He let him talk it out, let Dustin process his thoughts and emotions, even offered a shoulder to cry on on the occasion it was needed. But he didn’t want to participate in that conversation. He couldn’t, for his peace, so he changed the subject whenever he could. Sometimes, Dustin pushed too far, and sometimes, Mike responded somewhat explosively. He felt bad about it, but he also wished Dustin would learn to take a hint.
Max and Lucas were impossibly both the most and least subtle about it. It actually took him a while to notice what they were doing–or not doing. Any time the Party was together, Max and Lucas chose to sit away from one another. They barely looked at each other, in fact, until they were leaving. He understood what they were trying to do, and appreciated it, even, but it was just making things worse.
It just reminded him that things were different now.
Nancy was the most annoying about it. She never said anything, but he could see the worry in her face. The way she looked at him was nothing short of pitying, and god did he hate it. He didn’t want that. He just wanted to go back to normal, as normal as possible. Living with her was hard. He could feel her silent judgment anytime he stayed up too late. When he swiped a drink from their mother’s disgusting wine. When he refused to visit their parents in the hospital. As she locked the knives away, somewhere unknown. He hadn’t asked where.
He hated it.
When the looks and the intentional distance and the questions got too much to bear, he hopped on his bike and took off. He never started with any destination in mind, but he always ended up at the same place: the woods near Will’s. The place they’d once called Mirkwood.
If he thought about it, it would be easy to see why he was drawn here. This was where it all began. That fateful November night, out in the rain…
But he didn’t think about it.
In fact, he thought very hard about not thinking about it. He took in the crunch of the leaves under his shoes. He felt the sap on the trees, sticky between his fingers. Noticed the way the branches canopied the sky. Listened for birds, for the bubbling of a brook in the distance.
Avoided a very familiar spot.
It always worked, eventually. His breathing would even out, his heart would stop stuttering. The tightness in his chest loosened, and just like that, he was fine again. He could handle this. Was handling it. Just fine, like always.
He would have continued being fine, too, if not for fucking Hopper.
It happened at school. One minute, he was in his math class, learning the laws of sines and cosines, and the next, he was being called to the guidance office. Ms. Kelly had fled in the exodus of 1986, and her replacement, a squat old woman named Mrs. Parker, had strictly focused on student schedules and class credits. It wasn’t unusual anymore for a student to be called to her office for a last-minute change to ensure they graduated on time.
So when Mike entered her office to find Hopper, he was pretty flustered.
“Uh, hey Chief,” he said slowly. “Is there a problem? Are my parents okay? Is it Nancy?”
“Hey, kid,” he said gruffly, standing. “Your family is fine. Sit.”
Mike, stunned, did as told, dropping his backpack by his feet. “What’s going on? Where’s Mrs. Parker?”
“Mrs. Parker generously offered me the use of her office.” Hopper sat bodily in the rolling chair opposite Mike. “I, uh… I wanted to check on you.”
“What?” Mike asked, completely taken aback. This was weird. Sure, he and Hopper had been on much better terms since his return from Russia, but it wasn’t like they were friends. This was completely out of character. “Why?”
“Joyce is moving in,” he said. “With the boys.”
“Okay?”
“We need more space.”
“Sure. That’s cool, I guess,” Mike responded. He still didn’t understand what was happening here.
“Mike,” Hopper said, clearly exasperated but trying to keep it reined in. “We need El’s room.”
Mike felt suddenly drained. “Oh,” he said after a beat. He forced the words around the lump in his throat. “Okay, that’s… okay.”
Hopper eyed him warily. “There’s some of your things in there. And… she’d want you to have some of her things.”
Mike nodded. “Uh huh.”
He could feel that same indescribable feeling from his place in the woods again, but here there were no trees, no leaves, no birds to ground him. He stood quickly from the chair, not caring as it toppled over behind him, not caring about Hopper’s startled expression, as he mumbled something about the weekend, grabbed his bag, and made for the door. He didn’t realize he was running until he heard the scratch of his sneakers on the tiled linoleum floor. He kept going, ignoring the pulsing beat of his heart, ignoring the thought that hers never would again, until he reached the old picnic table where the Party gathered before crawls just a few months ago.
He collapsed heavily on the bench and focused on his breathing, in; two; three; four, and out; two; three; four. He paid attention to the leaves under his feet. The drops of rain falling from the sky. Tried all of his usual techniques, but none of them seemed to be working. Why weren’t they working? He slunk to the ground, hands over his ears, willing himself to be fine, to keep being fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine–
His friends found him there a few minutes later.
“Hey buddy,” Dustin said cautiously, as he, Lucas, and Will inched closer.
“Mike,” Lucas said pleadingly. “What can we do for you? How can we help?”
Will didn’t speak, just moved closer still, and laid a hand on Mike’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch me,” Mike bit. How could he? How dare he try to comfort him when he was the reason for all of this. He must have known about the changes at Hopper’s cabin. They were being made for him.
Will jumped back like Mike had physically struck him. Tears were already trailing down his face.
Mike couldn’t keep himself from rolling his eyes. Trust Will to overreact, like always. “Hopper was here. He told me about your good news,” he said. The words tasted bitter as he said them, but he couldn’t help himself. They were coming out almost before he realized what he was saying.
Will took a step back. Mike heard the others ask what he had meant, but paid no attention to it.
“Mike, come on, you’re not being fair,” Dustin scolded.
Mike stood up and rounded on him. “And you are? I’m doing what you wanted, Dustin, aren’t I? I’m talking about how I’m feeling.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Yeah, dude,” Lucas chimed in, “we know you’re grieving, but right now, you’re being a dick.”
He didn’t care. This felt good, and it had been so long since he had felt… well, anything.
“And you’re never a dick about anything, right, Lucas?” he shouted. “You think you’re being so sensitive by refusing to interact with Max in front of me? News flash, Lucas–that’s not being sensitive, that’s just being stupid. If my girlfriend was here, I wouldn’t be hurting us both by staying away from her! But she’s not, she’s not here, and she won’t ever be here again.”
Oh god.
Every little thing came crashing into him at once with the weight of a freight train. Every feeling he’d been pushing away boiled up and spilled out of him, until he was once again on the ground, this time on his hands and knees, trying to take in deep, heaving breaths and failing, choking on the lump that wouldn’t leave his throat. His eyes burned from the tears they shed.
He’d said it. He’d acknowledged that she was gone, truly and forever gone, for the first time, and he hated himself for it.
And worse–he hated her a little for it, too.
He felt Will’s hand on his back, and it helped.
“Breathe, Mike,” Dustin said from somewhere in front of him. “In and out.”
Lucas crouched next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Mike, it’s not the same, and we know that, but if it helps… we miss her too.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice yet, and focused on breathing as instructed. When he felt like he could, when his breathing was labored but somewhat normal, when his heart wasn’t pounding in his ears, he sat back and let his legs tumble out in front of him. He felt spent.
Sitting with his friends in the woods, in the rain, he felt something in his chest loosen.
“I’m sorry, guys,” he said eventually, sincerely. “I know you’re all trying to help. Everyone’s trying to help. It’s exhausting.”
“We know, buddy,” Dustin said, just as sincerely.
Will placed a hand on his foot. “It’s okay if you’re not okay. You know that, right?”
"I miss her," Mike said, the words scraping out of him. "I miss El so much."
It was the first time he'd said it since that night. It hurt. But it also felt like something loosening, like finally letting go of a breath he'd been holding for months.
Mike Wheeler wasn't fine. Wouldn't be fine for a long time. But he'd said her name, and his friends were still here, and this time, he didn't have to pretend otherwise.