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Max stands on the sidewalk outside of her house. She swings back and forth from her heels to her toes, waiting impatiently. This was the third time Mike had driven her to her routine hospital checkup. Or was it the fourth time, maybe? She had lost track. She peers around the bend, trying to catch a glimpse of his car pulling into her street but it was nowhere to be seen.
Mike was always late no matter what time she told him. It was like he did it on purpose just to annoy her. She swears that’s why he does it, actually, because Max hates being late.
Don’t get her wrong—she was appreciative of the gesture. When Mike had offered to drive her to the monthly appointments she’d initially said no, because she did not trust that boy's driving. Secretly, though, she didn’t want to be any more of a nuisance than she already was to the party.
It was hard, you know, the whole ‘losing almost 2 years of your life to a coma’ situation she had going on. While her friends were out fighting interdimensional monsters, she was stuck, laying in bed, useless. Lucas had spent more time attempting to wake her up than he had on trying to stop the world from ending.
Sometimes she wished the world had just moved on without her.
The main reason for declining was Mike’s shitty driving, though. Obviously. It wasn't that last part. She was over it now.
A sharp horn snaps her out of her spiral as Mike swerves his car into a parked position in front of her. He mounts the curb and Max curses, jumping back. For once, she is pleased that his driver’s window is open.
“Nice going, asshole!” She shrieks, “Could’ve killed me again!”
“I wasn’t the one that took you out in the first place,” he snarks back as he turns off the engine and mumbles an ‘I wish’. He leans over the console of the car to push open the door for her. It clicks and swings towards her, and she clambers in.
“You don’t know that,” Max deadpans, her eyes boring into Mike’s, “I’m honestly surprised your ‘unique brand of idiocy’ didn’t kill me first.” She nods dumbly and pouts her lips at him. It was her best impression of the stupid puppy dog face Mike always makes when he wants something to go his way—or when he’s looking at Will.
Oh yes. Max knows things and she’s known for a long time. He shoves at her face, playfully.
“Hey, I’m the one driving you around here,” he laughs, still batting at her face as she keeps repositioning herself, mocking him. “Have some respect, Maxine.”
She bites at his hand, “I hope you crash and kill us both”. Mike squawks as he turns the ignition key. The car roars and begins to rumble slowly. He looks over at her expectantly.
“What?”
“Safety first,” he tuts at her.
She huffs and stares at him for a moment. A staring contest ensues, neither of them wanting to break first. Mike doesn’t let up and Max cannot be late so she reaches over her shoulder and yanks down her seatbelt. It jitters with the force of her tugging it down and into the clip.
“Let’s ride!” She exclaims sarcastically and shuffles in her seat, bouncing back to face the front. Max tucks her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms over her chest. She settles. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Mike grin and shake his head at her before he shifts into first gear and pulls the car away.
The drive is mostly silent. They always are. A comfortable air hangs between the pair. They’re more similar than they like to admit, Max and Mike, but neither of them care to talk about it.
They’re both ‘bottlers’, Max thinks. Screwing a lid on their emotions, suppressing them. They won’t tell anyone anything if they can help it. Still, she wonders what goes on in Mike’s head. Probably not a lot.
She kind of wants to squeeze in there and explore, uncover the reasons behind all the decisions he has made. As much as she adores El, she’s glad Mike and her are not an item anymore—Max never understood what she saw in him.
It doesn’t matter anymore, they didn’t work and broke up after the Mindflayer’s demise. Something about being ‘on different paths’. It's not as if she’d been saying that for years, but does anyone ever listen to her?
Mike doesn’t. He’s too headstrong. Too pushy. Too much of a self-righteous asshole. He never takes no for an answer and he never admits when he’s wrong.
And Max is a hypocrite.
She hinges forward and fiddles with the radio, her fingers twisting and turning the variety of knobs. It won’t turn on.
“Dude, your car’s a piece of junk.” She waves a dismissive hand at it and sulks as she flops backwards. She kicks her feet up onto the dashboard.
“Feet off the dash,” Mike scolds, “and no she isn’t,” eyes still on the highway as he tries to shoo her feet off. Max doesn’t move, a disgusted sneer etched on her face.
“Did you just call your car a ‘she’?”
She watches as a light flush slides its way up his neck, one hand fidgeting awkwardly on the wheel while the other snakes down to change gear. He’s a freak but at least he is good at multitasking. He rolls his eyes, “uh—Yeah. It’s what all good car owners do, and I’m a good car owner. Feet.” He grabs at her ankle with his free hand, nudging her legs down and off of the dashboard.
“Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” she jeers, but allows her legs to be pushed down. They thud onto the floor. She pauses. Her eyes glint with mischief and she gives Mike a poke to his side, “does Will know you're cheating on him with your car?”
If Mike wasn’t red before, he is now. Crimson blooms over his cheeks, his face burning with embarrassment. She smirks—she’s winning. His mouth gapes open and closed repeatedly. Like a sad, little gay fish.
Max almost feels bad. Almost.
Mike flusters as he fumbles with the blinkers, his brain surely in overload.
“Will and I aren’t dating.”
“Yet.” Max teases.
Mike’s head snaps in her direction—glaring—and the car begins to drift.
“Woah-hoh-hoh, eyes on the road dipshit!” Max obnoxiously grabs onto the assist handle above the door. “Really, for someone named Wheeler you are an awful driver.”
Mike grips the steering wheel and takes control of the car again, his hands sliding in a circular motion over the leather as they manoeuvre round a corner. Mike grumbles at her, “uhm, which one of us here has the licence? At least I can drive.”
“Are you sure you can?” She chastises, “I’m starting to think you have a death wish.”
Mike ignores her as she reprimands him and keeps driving. His eyes burn a hole through the windshield.
They’ve been driving for a while now, and the sun has naturally shifted. It beams down through the front window of the car and Max has to shield her eyes when she contorts her body around to face Mike. She squints at him, honing into the little silver balls glistening above and below his eyebrow.
When had he gotten his eyebrow pierced? This was a nice, new little addition to Mike Wheeler. Max appreciated his recent attempts to loosen up a little, give himself some edge. It suits him—she thinks so, anyway.
He catches her stare and takes a breath as if he’s going to say something. She narrows her eyes at him, a silent request—Tell me about that piercing of yours. She watches as he softens around the edges. He sighs.
“Max, I just wanted to—This is so random but I felt—I’m sorry.”
Well, that was not what Max was asking for but she’ll take it. Another new addition to Mike Wheeler—him apologising!
“What are you sorry for? Your awful driving?” Her face cracks into a wide smile and she doubles over laughing. She really did find herself hilarious. Max realises quickly that she’s the only person in the vehicle cracking up, “oh you’re serious?”
“Forget about it,” Mike stammers, “it was stupid, ignore me.” Max notices a look of regret, or maybe even disappointment, flash across Mike’s face. It disappears a split second later and he chuckles. “I know you noticed the eyebrow piercing, c’mon make fun of it.”
But Max doesn’t care about his newest attempts at being cool anymore. She places a soft hand on Mike’s arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“Hey, no. Mike you’re not—Oh my god I can’t believe I’m saying this—You’re not stupid,” She squeezes again, “talk to me.”
She searches his face for a clue, something to explain his sudden change in demeanor. Usually he would be all for her argumentative banter, usually he’d make a snarky quip directed back at her—but this time, it was different. This time, he was opening up to her. This time, she was ready to listen.
She watches Mike’s lips press into a tight line before his teeth slide over them. He gnaws at his chapped lips in contemplation, eyebrows furrowed, mind occupied. The car tilts as he turns into the hospital parking lot. He doesn’t look at her, he focuses on the road in front of him, but decides to speak.
“I really did mean it. I am sorry—for everything.”
Max still doesn’t understand, and a look of concern rests unchanging on her face. She doesn’t interject. She lets him explain. He would get there, eventually.
“Those months you were—when we didn’t know if you’d—,” Mike’s voice breaks ever so slightly, “when you were in the hospital. I barely visited you.”
The confession is so raw, so fresh—for them both—and yet, Max surprisingly isn’t angry, she isn’t even upset at him for it. She gets it, she really does. Mike swallows with great difficulty, trying his best not to choke up.
“I wasn’t there for you or for—for Lucas, for crying out loud! I’m supposed to be his best friend and I didn’t sit with him by your bedside. Or–or make sure he was getting out and not spiralling in that—bleak hospital room,” His eyes begin to well up. Max can see the glimmer of tears forming in his waterline, she lets out a heavy breath.
Mike squeezes the steering wheel in frustration, and the sight makes Max’s heart feel tender. She wants to say she can’t believe he’s been holding all of this in, bottling it down. But… that would be a lie.
The car comes to a stop at the curb and Mike unevenly sighs—he can’t look at her.
“I was selfish. I was too busy thinking about everything happening with El and—and Will,” he laughs wetly and Max does too. A bittersweet smile tugs at her cheekbones as Mike tumbles into his next thought. “I focused on my own stupid issues that weren’t even that fucking important in the big picture and—and you were,” his chest heaves as he breaks into sobs. His hands shake as he chews on his fingernails.
“You were dying Max. You were going to—to—to die for all we knew! And I—I was just fucking around!”
Warm tears cascade down Max’s cheeks and pool under her chin. She can taste the salt on her tongue as they slip through the cracks in her mouth, lip quivering.
She knew Mike, knew he cared deeply about things but she would never have guessed that he felt this way—that he’d felt this way about her.
This isn’t something they do. They don’t talk about their emotions, especially with each other. No, they bite at one another. Constantly being told by their friends to ‘cut it out’. They were antagonistic, nipping at the other’s heels. Still, Max knows deep down that Mike cares for her. It’s just… different hearing him admit it.
He looks over at her. His eyes are bloodshot, stinging from the tears still dripping from his eyelashes, and something inside Max springs to action.
She wraps him up in a comforting embrace as he weeps. The console in between them is digging into her ribs and Mike’s tears—and snot, most likely—are making the collar of her shirt wet. Max can’t find it in her to care. She can’t remember the last time they hugged.
Mike shudders against her, and something in her chest aches. Fuck it. She throws all her inhibitions out of the car window and reaches her hand up behind him, cupping his head. She gently strokes his hair, consoling him.
Mike pulls back an inch to speak but when he meets her eyes the words get caught in his throat and he collapses back into her. He mumbles something into the side of her head and she shushes him.
“Mike, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” she whispers to him, “I mean, I probably have a right to be, but I’m not. When I woke up—,” she stops herself short before she can admit too much. She drags a neglected breath into her lungs then breathes out all of her doubt. An admission for an admission. A secret for a secret.
“When I woke up I felt so happy until—Until I realised nothing had changed. I had been holding the party back. Vecna was still out there.” Mike shakes his head against her, she can feel his nose rub against her shoulder. “No, don’t shake your head, listen to me. You were out there living your life and on the side planning on how to kill that bastard.” She hears her own voice turn rough with hatred.
“You did exactly what I would’ve done,” she says, wistfully, “I can’t be pissed off at you for that. Yeah, I guess it’s a little shitty that you didn’t visit me but we were teenagers. We’re all still teenagers. Teenagers aren’t supposed to have it all put together yet. Fuck, I know we don’t.” She lets out a self-deprecating chuckle.
Mike’s body shakes, but this time he isn’t crying, he’s laughing with her. A silent understanding settles between them. Max kisses the top of his head.
“Hey.” Mike looks up at her, his eyes glinting with a brightness that wasn’t there before. Max feels light. She beams at him, “I’m proud of you, Wheeler.”
“I’m proud of you too, Zoomer.”