Chapter Text
Right now, it's being the worst summer ever for Mike Wheeler. Even though a few weeks ago he had some —really— cool vacations at his cousin's house, it was in a kind of shitty town, but since it had a beach, the Wheelers liked it a little more, but not all of them. Mike hates the beach; he thinks there's no worse place than a beach. Every time he sees a beach, he wants to run until he gets to some cold, cool and dry place where he can get under a blanket and sleep comfortably like he's 11 again. He knows that it will never happen, but that doesn't stop him from dreaming about it, and in fact, it's a very recurring dream. He and his ex bestfriend (Will), playing DnD all the night, obviously his other friends are there —Lucas and Dustin— but he feels like they're in the background, just annoying a little his thoughts about the boy he has in front of him. And anyway, even though Mike won't admit it, he misses Will. Ever since he moved to California with Him, he feels a bit lonely. He usually blames it on missing his girlfriend, but when he thinks about what happened and his feelings at night, he knows it's not because of El, it's because of Will.
Let's change the subject, only a little bit, because although it may not seem like it, Mike thinks most of the day about Will and how they didn't keep in touch. He knows it was his fault in some way, because during their argument (the last time he saw Will, by the way) he literally yelled at him, — It's not my fault you don't like girls —. Mike still thinks about it, but since Will isn't gay—according to Mike—he convinces himself that nothing is wrong and that maybe Will has forgotten about it. After all, Mike still tells himself that Will is his best friend —and the only one he will allow himself to have for now—. But that's not the point now. The point is that Mike hates this summer, all sweaty and hot in the sun, with his room fan blasting. And the fact that he can't go to the basement, which he feels more like his own than his bedroom, is just one more detail that makes his summer even worse. In case that the why wasn't obvious, Mike can't go to the basement because it's unbearably hot, and carrying the fan from his second-floor room down to the basement would be too much of a hassle to do three times a day.
Mike, who was spread out on his bed, smoking a cigarette without much interest in it, since he didn't even notice when it had gone out when he reached the end and beginning of the filter, he simply sighed and closed his eyes tiredly when he noticed that his house was finally in silence. But as soon as he relaxed and stopped overthinking every decision he'd made, he heard the chaos again: his mother yelling at him to hurry up and rush off to pick Holly up from summer camp, which had been canceled a month earlier due to a problem. In the background, Nancy was yelling at her mother, —I can't go, I have to go to the dentist in 15 minutes. The two of them argued for about two minutes until his father sighed loudly enough to be heard throughout the house. He was sitting in front of the television reading the day's newspaper while drinking an herbal tea that Karen swore was good for headaches—which, according to Ted Wheeler, was a lie.
After that little bit of chaos subsided just long enough for Mike to notice that he still had the cigarette and that, since he'd been smoking with the window closed, being the absent-minded idiot he always was, his room and he smelled like cigarettes. Obviously, he didn't want another scolding from his mother, so he hurriedly jumped out of bed, put on a lot of cologne and perfume.
and after that he obviously went straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and rinse his mouth several times, praying that the strong smell of his shitty Red Point cigarettes would go away. His precious Marlboros were gone, and he had to buy the first thing he saw: those horrendous Red Points that he hated more than anything in the world. Well, he hated his father more, but you get the expression.
after thinking for about very valuable 5 minutes considering that he has to change in order to look as decent as a depressed 17-year-old teenager can be. After tidying himself up a bit (changing his pajama pants for worn-out low-rise black jeans that were almost gray from wear, and putting on a studded belt and his faded black Converse sneakers, which he still loved), he remembered that his room still smelled of cigarettes, and if he didn't hurry, he would smell the same. In a moment of desperation, he thought about what to do and it occurred to him that he could put his fan to a very good use:
put it in the doorway facing his window, which he would open, making the smell dissipate faster. And obviously, he would also spray a lot of air freshener and perfume. The biggest problem now was that he only had 5 minutes max before his mother would hurry him up—for the third time in a row—and he would have to leave. Trying to be as logical and productive as possible, he yelled to his mother from his room.
— I'm going mom! Just give me a minute! Okey? Just DONT come in! I'm... i'm.. uh.. i am changing my clothes off! I am naked!
But the instant he realized what he'd said, he regretted it somewhat—quite a bit—embarrassed. But simply not knowing how to remedy his embarrassment, he continued spraying even more air freshener, praying it would be enough. When he figured it was good, he put his cigarettes in his 'hideout' (a box he'd had since he was a kid, which he used to swear was sacred since his grandmother gave it to him before she died. He wouldn't let anyone touch it, so now everyone got used to that and didn't touch it. He started using it to hide things. Honestly, Mike didn't give a damn about his dead grandmother, but since it benefited him to be a sad grandson, he wouldn't refuse, being somewhat 'sensitive' about the box and all that crap). After putting everything away, he quickly put the fan back in its original place and closed the window, then, just in case, put even more air freshener.
After that, he adjusted his shirt as he left his room. As he stepped outside, he saw those family photos he hated in the upstairs hallway. Not because he hated his family or the photos themselves, but because he hated how he always looked 12 or 14 in them, and his hair had way too much gel, making his curls look flat and dry. Mike looked away from the family photos and simply continued walking until he reached the bottom of the stairs and got into the car with his mother.
His father wasn't coming, so it was pointless for Mike to go since Holly didn't care whether he went or not. But since he was already a bit tired, he didn't want to waste his few and last energies of the day having a small argument with his mom.
The summer camp which was in the It was outside the town, obviously a bit far, but not too far; the trip would take about 35 minutes. Mike spent most of the trip in silence, staring out the window from the passenger seat. It wasn't until his mother started talking that he really started to listen. He wasn't really hearing anything, but when he heard the name "Will" come out of her mouth, he couldn't help but overhear.
Mike, now a little more attentive, glanced at his mother and readjusted his position. He continued staring at his mother, cursing himself for still being even slightly aware of Will and the things people were saying about him. Mike sighed silently (a habit he has when he is about to speak).
— Sorry Mom, I didn't hear you say that. What about Will? — Mike said, somewhat expectant about the answer his mother would give.
Karen turned slightly to look at her son and say — Uh, i said that if you remember Will, i mean, of course you do. But my question is: do you remember how close you guys were? — The tone of her voice sounded strange and indecipherable to Mike; she seemed annoyed, nostalgic, and a little uncomfortable. And if it wasn't obvious, slightly disgusted.
Mike didn't take his eyes off his mother and then said, — Uh... yeah! Of course I do, I remember Will. Oh, nothing happened, I'd say, we just stopped talking so much, nothing important, — clearly hoping his mother would buy that story.
— if you say so... — Karen said, It was easy to see that she didn't entirely believe what her son was saying, but even so, she didn't pressure him further. The rest of the trip was filled with a deafening silence that seemed like it would kill Mike if it continued like that.
After that, they arrived at the campsite. Mike got out of the car and closed the door behind him. Karen gave him the keys and said,
— I'll lose them in my bag, keep an eye on them for me, okay?
Mike nodded and not so gently said to his mom
— Sure, no problem i guess.
Then he put the keys in the right pocket of his jeans. After entering the camp and waiting for Holly, one of the counselors attended to them and said that the purple cabin have only been started getting prepared for a few minutes ago since they had just returned from an activity, which left Karen and Mike waiting at least 45 more minutes.
Or maybe Mike was just exaggerating because he was bored and didn't know what to think or do.
During that time, Mike's mind wandered to places he had never dared to explore in his almost 18 years of life. First, Mike thought about how crabs are so nice and yet people treat them badly. Then that thought led him to realize that drawings of crabs are always red or orange, even though real crabs are cream or lilac. Then that thought shifted to a tomato. That tomato reminded him of Will and how much he missed him deep down. But his thoughts were interrupted by his mother telling him:
— Mike cover up that thing.
Mike, confused, turned to his mother and said
— Cover what? — He became increasingly confused and didn't understand what his mother was talking about.
— You know what Michael — Karen said, increasingly disgusted with her own son.
Mike looked at his mother confused, as if to say silently —I genuinely don't know what you mean, mom.
Karen sighed in annoyance and said in a voice that grew more frustrated and disgusted with each passing second, — Your ear, Michael, your ear — as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Mike, still somewhat confused, looked at his mother with a smug expression until he remembered and figured out what was bothering her: a few years ago, Mike had gotten a regular earring in his earlobe, but without realizing it, he'd gotten it in his right ear. And if it wasn't obvious enough, it meant that Mike had unknowingly gotten the piercing on the 'gay ear ', and since he didn't dare get it in the other ear, now his mother and father were always telling him to cover it up with his long hair, which they were already pretty much disapproving of.
Mike, not wanting to annoy his mother any further, nodded gently. He covered his ear, leaving one of his curls loose.
Karen sighed and nodded slightly in approval, then said in a tone that suggested she wasn't really worried about Mike, but about herself.
— You know I tell you that just for you, I just.. I just dont want people to think you are a... you know
— A what mom? A what?
— Michael, dont be like that, I'm your mother, I worry about your reputation. If people start to think you're a... you know, your reputation would be ruined, just like the whole family. It would be impossible to clear our name when you act like a... a... — Karen's tone of voice grew lower and lower, overflowing with disgust.
Mike looked at his mother with disgust and said in a low, resentful voice
— a what? Just say the word mom.
— a fairy Michael, a disgusting fairy.
Luckily for both of them, Holly arrived at that moment with her belongings, jumping into her mother's arms and then into her brother's. Holly hugged Mike more calmly, as if she didn't have so much energy, since, of course, camp have been exhausting.
— Mom, can we go drink icecream before arrive home? — Holly said while still being at the side left of Michael
Karen sighed and said in a more cheerful tone, — Sure, sweetheart, let's go. — Then she turned to look at Mike and said, — Keys. Expecting Mike to give them to her
Mike nodded and gave the keys to his mother as he and Holly headed to the car. Once inside, he sat in the back next to Holly, purely on her whim, since she supposedly missed her brother. It was clear she was just teasing him, but Mike couldn't blame her. If he were Holly, he'd tease himself too. And anyway, Mike could tease Holly as well.
When they arrived at the ice cream shop, Karen didn't order any ice cream. Mike ordered mint chocolate chip and lemon, while Holly ordered dulce de leche and vanilla— a horrible combination if you ask Mike.
The atmosphere was tense for the rest of the day, or so Mike assumes, since he doesn't remember anything what happens the rest of the day, because when he doesn't feel like talking or having a real conversation, he simply tunes out and lets things take their course with monotonous, empty words and chatter.
When he got home, he just collapsed onto his bed and put on some simple pajamas: a black t-shirt from one of his favorite band (Misfits) and some low rise baggy navy blue pajama pants, he doesnt re,eber the last time he cleaned them, but he didnt really cared about it. Yes, I know it sounds awful, but I swear he looks good in a dumb but cute way
Changing the subject, let's return to Mike's thoughts, because ever since his mother mentioned Will, everything has gone from bad to worse. He spent the whole day thinking about Will and how he had sent so many 'love' letters to El but hadn't sent anything to Will. So he got to work, grabbed a new lined sheet of paper, a pen, and started writing nonsense for Will. It was a pretty childish letter, but he thought Will would like it. The letter said:
— "uhhh hi Will, i know i've been an asshole because you know, i didn't sended you anything while I wrote letters to El every week, well, honestly I miss you a little and I still consider you my best friend, probably always will, and ehem i dont know what to say. Bye dude, see you I guess. Ignore how weird it is that im literally making expressions on a letter, fine?".
To be honest, the letter was crap. His blurry handwriting saying he missed him and some other nonsense that Will probably wouldn't care about And in the space he had left, since he hadn't really written much, Mike sighed and, not knowing what to do, made a drawing that could easily be mistaken for one done by an elementary school child. The drawing was simple:
Will and Mike Standing together, Mike was wearing his normal clothes (a hellfire t-shirt), and Will, for some reason that even Mike didn't understand, was wearing his wizard's outfit. He looked awful in the drawing; the stars were distorted, and his hat made him look like a witch. There were some small trees and a big sun on either side of the drawing. It was a really childish drawing, when you think about it.
When Mike was satisfied with the letter, he simply put it in his special box, so that if he dared to tomorrow or someday, he could mail it to Will. At the very bottom of the letter, Mike wrote two simple words that held considerable meaning for him.
— "Love, Mike".
The following days passed until a full week had gone by since he wrote the letter, and from that day on. Mike found himself writing three letters a day, all to Will, and only one to El, which, well, it was clear he'd written it half-heartedly. Mike sighed and said to himself
— I totally should send this to Will.., and El obviosly.
In that very short period of time (7 days), Mike had written around twenty three letters to Will, each one deeper and longer than the last. In almost all of them, he put the date and time he was writing it in the upper left corner.
When Mike had accumulated a total of twenty three letters, he decided it was time to mail them all to California so Will could have them. Although Mike was embarrassed to admit it, he desperately wanted Will to read the letters and like them. Getting back to the point, Mike dressed as usual: some low-rise a little baggy jeans, but not excessively, a studded belt, his usual black converse, and since it was rarely cold considering that it was the middle of summer, a dark red sweater (think of it as a more Boris Pavlikovsky on the scene on the swings with Theo or a Miles Fairchild way). After that, he tried to put the letters in a blue envelope with a yellow ribbon that he stole from Nancy's room while she was showering, and at the top in one corner it said on a yellow cut-out star:
— "To: Will
From: Mike".
After that, he put the envelope in his bag and quickly went downstairs and left the house without saying goodbye. He didn't even know why he would say goodbye if he didn't even know if anyone was home. Then he quickly got on his bicycle, but as soon as he tried to start pedaling, he noticed that the tires were flat, so he walked to the post office. Mike was walking quite slowly because he wanted to look 'cool and chill,' which didn't work out well since he's an idiot and almost tripped and fell while walking at 1 km/h. Getting to the post office took longer than Mike expected: 45 minutes. Yes, it took him that long, since the post office was in the center of town and he lived not far from the center, but it was still far enough to get tired, and considering his incredibly slow and miserable walking speed, it was obvious it would take a long time.
When he arrived, it was full of people doing a wait line/queue [idk if is right the word] so in the long wait he started to just check out the place, the Red and dark blue walls were a little old. After glancing around the place, he decided to observe the people, as he needed something to entertain himself while waiting in the long line. There was a girl; she had blonde hair and wore clothes typical of the time: dark blue jeans, a Guns N' Roses t-shirt, and classic white Converse sneakers. The next person in line was a guy; he was quite attractive, to be honest. He had black hair in a short, messy, choppy cut, which reminded Mike of Eddie, but without the curls. Then there was the guy in front of him with a girl who could be his girlfriend. The guy was wearing slightly baggy, really low-waisted jeans with a plain black tank top. He had a realy blonde buzz cut and tanned skin. The girl next to the guy was a blonde with very long, silky hair, wearing a pink t-shirt with a logo and a bandana on her forehead that gave off Axl Rose wannabe vibes. The girl was also wearing low-rise white jean shorts and basic shoes.
Mike, somewhat bored, couldn't help but glance at himself in a mirror on the wall next to the decorations. He 'fixed' his hair, or rather, tousled it, his long curls mingling together. (Think of it like a mix of Boris pavlikovsky, miles fairchild and S4 Mike.) And then he checked if his 'really masculine' black pencil eyeliner was looking good, which was honestly looking fine, or at least, not so bad
When it was Mike's turn, he got straight to the point and told the employee
— Uh, hi, hello, I'm a bit lost right now, do you know how I can send something by mail to California? —. Mike said
— Oh! Sure thing, good morning by the way. Yeah, just give me what you wanna send and i will, fine? — The employee said, then after a few seconds of silence to see if Mike wanted to say anything else, he nodded and added in a kind voice, but that he clearly wanted to tell Mike to fuck off. — Right now for all the summer holidays and stuff, people have been sending a lot of stuff so it might take two whole weeks, sorry if you have to wait that much.
Mike and the employee talked until Mike understood, and he sent the letters to Will's residence.
When he got home, he started wondering why he hadn't inflated his bicycle tires or driven his damn car instead of walking so far. But oh well, it was too late to complain, so he kept walking until he got home and collapsed on his bed, where he saw the damn twenty three letters for Will, which he had forgotten to put in the envelope that would soon arrive empty in California, Lenora.
Mike groaned loudly in frustration against the sheets and quickly took a cigarette from his special box, lit it with trembling hands, then went to his window to smoke. A few minutes later, Mike took off his shirt because of the heat and turned on his fan. He likes it cold. Mike sighed a few more times as he took desperate drags on his cigarette, hoping it would magically send the letters to California.
The days passed and Mike continued with his boring routine (according to him). He woke up at 7 a.m. so he could rest in his bed and feel like he'd overslept. At 7:30 a.m., he got out of bed and dressed, skipped breakfast, and went straight to his front door where Eddie was probably waiting to take him. They usually talked a lot on the way to school, but that day Eddie seemed tense and exhausted.
— What's wrong?
Mike asked abruptly, cutting the tense silence with a switchblade.
— Nothing — Eddie said, dodging the subject. His shoulders tensed, and he pretended to hum the song playing on the radio, but he clearly didn't know it and struggled to keep the rhythm with his lips.
— Something happened, come on, tell me. Mike persisted, trying to make conversation with Eddie, while changing the radio station since neither of them could stand the 80s pop on that frequency. Mike settled for a simple classic rock tune; it wasn't the best, nor his favorite, but it was better than Madonna.
— It's not such a big deal. Eddie said, refusing to talk about whatever was wrong with him.
— Then tell me.
— Why are you so insistent? It's nothing— Eddie said, Mike was getting on his nerves, for the fourth time that week and it was only Tuesday
— because I want to know
— It's nothing, stop messing around, idiot
Mike smiled as if he were some kind of superior being and said —If it's nothing important, then tell me— as if he had won some kind of invisible or perhaps just non-existent
Eddie sighed deeply, took a joint out of his pocket and lit it with a great effort since his lighter was about to die.
— I screwed up
— Seriously? I can't believe it. You screwed it up for the first time ever
— Fuck you
— Okay, okay, what happened? Why do you think you screwed it up?
Eddie took another drag of his joint and let the smoke out, gathering his courage to then say — Do you remember that place where you and Robin always wanted to play? That weird bar full of Sex Pistols pictures?
— Which one? There were two, one with a weird crown at the bar and another with a Courtney Love dress hanging on the wall above a table.
— The Courtney Love one, that Robin almost has an orgasm on that ugly ass dress
— Fuck you, the dress was cool as fuck
— Yeah but Courtney is not
— Yes she is??
— Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, just listen. You remember we were going to play there, right? Well... I messed up and we're not going to play there anymore. In fact, I'm banned from there, apparently.
Mike stared at Eddie in shock. He sighed in annoyance, snatched the joint away, and took a drag before saying, trying to remain calm — I'm going to kill you
— You told me to tell you. You promised not to get angry! Eddie blurted out, running a hand through his hair as if he wanted to smooth his invincible curls.
— I didn't?? Mike said defensively
— Shut up— Eddie added, wanting to have the last word
Mike sighed, taking one last drag of the joint before handing it back to Eddie.
— Why?— Mike exclaimed, breaking eye contact with Eddie and turning to look out the car window.
— Why what?
— Why are you banned from there?
— It doesn't matter. Eddie said in an irritated whisper, taking the last decent drag of the joint before rolling down the window and throwing it away.
— It does, and a lot
— I almost set fire to a dressing room while I was talking to the owner last night. Eddie admitted, somewhat embarrassed, but you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes as he recalled the absurd scene.
— How is that even possible?— Mike said, incredulous at Eddie's idiocy and the idea of setting a place on fire without realizing it.
Eddie simply shrugged, ending the conversation.
The rest of the drive to high school was awkward and tense. The silence seemed to be weighing Mike down like a physical burden. Mike closed his eyes, resting his elbow on the edge of the car window and then his chin on his hand.
— And? Eddie said, ending the silence that seemed very close, maybe way too close, to killing Mike.
— And what? Mike asked, without much enthusiasm for starting a conversation.
— What is going on wrong with you? I mean, it seems like you haven't slept in days, you're in a worse mood than usual, and yesterday you didn't make fun of Max when she broke a string on his bass— Eddie explained, partly curious, partly annoyed, and partly worried.
— I don't know, I feel kinda sick, like, yesterday I threw up a lot, and the fact that I have to go to classes in the summer is ruining me. All because I did badly in one class, and I should point out that I got a 4, which I wouldn't say makes me deserve to go until February.— Mike snapped, growing increasingly angry at that damn teacher who had ruined his vacation. Although Mike himself knew he was somehow lying to Eddie. But it wasn't entirely lying, was it? It was omitting parts of the truth, like the fact that Mike was in such a bad mood because he remembered Will's existence.
— Don't lie to me Mike, I know you, that is not the real reason of whatever is wrong with you these days. And if you were angry for that, you would laugh even more than usually for Max's broked string. Eddie said, who knew Mike perhaps better than Mike himself, because he could recognize his mood swings and the right or wrong reasons for them, much better than Mike himself.
— Ugh, I think that is because I remembered Will, you know, that kid I told you was my best friend, the one you said was a crybaby because of how I described him.
— Hmh...— Eddie hummed, his gaze fixed on the town streets. — What's wrong with remember that boy?
— When I told you about him, I avoided the part about how I was an idiot to him before he left. And that's why every time I think about him and I feel sorry for him because I was such an idiot to him and how I was dating a girl who was to be his sister, and I dont know why I felt superior for having a girlfriend and him not and I ended up excluding him and almost leaving him alone and I didn't even say goodbye, and the last thing I said to him was during an argument: "It's not my fault you don't like girls." And I think I was wrong, well, I know I was, and now I miss him, and I know it's my fault because he was just a good friend, and and and... Mike said, speaking faster and more hurriedly.
—Okay, okay, I get it. You messed up with your boy and you're sorry about it? Now stop saying "and" all the time it pisses me off— Eddie said gently, trying to calm Mike down, which didn't work, but at least he tried, right?
—Yeah, exactly, it's just that now I'm way more guilty than before because I realized that I've been sending letters to his sister every week for almost three years and I never sent him anything— Mike said, ashamed of his idiocy and the lack of empathy he had shown towards Will in previous years.
— Then write to him a letter or something. Eddie said, giving a safe answer that probably wouldn't end with Mike getting stressed out and yelling into the void.
— Yes, I already did it, in fact, in the last three weeks I've already written 23 letters. Admitted the dark-haired man, somewhat shy about the dedication he was giving to the letters for the boy he was estranged from and hadn't spoken to since 1995.
— Then send them to wherever the guy has moved to. I don't think he'll be mad about that or anything. Maybe he'll be annoyed that you gave him attention after all these years, but it's not like he gave you any attention either— Eddie added, continuing with the confident and peaceful answers, because although he liked to argue, he didn't like it with Mike, since the boy would leave him with a migraine that would last for weeks.
— I tried to do that a few weeks ago, but after walking for over an hour and sending them to Lenora, I returned home and found them delivered. Basically, she received an envelope with her name on it, but it was empty inside— Mike thought for a few seconds and added —I don't know how I didn't notice how light it was— Mike sighed and glanced sideways at Eddie with those puppy-dog eyes that seemed to be desperately asking for a cigarette.
— That's bullshit, dude. Tell me you didn't put any effort into the envelope, because if you did, it'll seem like a joke. Something similar happened to me, and they thought I was telling them they didn't deserve anything. I don't know if the girl was crazy or if I'm just an idiot for not thinking of it before.
Eddie said, then added in a somewhat disappointed voice
— And no, Mike, I don't have any more cigarettes, at least not in the car. You smoke more than me, and I smoke a lot. You're starting to worry me a little.— Eddie sighed, then, noticing they had arrived at Michael's high school, he stopped the car and said— Anywaysss, here we are, ill take you to your house at 1pm right?
Mike nodded and got out of the car. He grabbed his backpack, which was between his legs, resting on the floor of Eddie's car, and slung it over his shoulder. He went straight to the entrance of the high school and went inside without much thought, since that day they would be given a test covering all the material from the year to pass the grade, and Mike had come prepared with a plan to cheat so he could leave before his school's tutoring sessions.
Mike sighed, somewhat tired, and slumped down at his desk. He tried to take the exam without being seen cheating, which he managed, but he still got a 5 because he'd made a mistake with the answers he'd prepared to cheat. To pass the exam, he needed at least a 7, and this teacher wasn't going to give him even 0.5 points, much less two more. And even less so knowing that Mike wasn't a very good student, at least not in his subject, since Mike loved other extracurricular subjects like literature, geography, and history.
When Mike saw his grade, he wasn't even disappointed; he was expecting a bad grade. The only thing that worried him was his mother. When he was like 14-years-old he started to think that his mother wasn't human, but some kind of religious being created to exaggerate and punish.
Mike went outside and didn't see Eddie's car, so he waited for about 5 minutes. Those 5 minutes turned into 15, then 15 into 30, and finally 30 into 45. Mike sighed in annoyance and started walking home, which was quite far away. He arrived after walking for an hour and a half. This meant that instead of arriving home at 1:15 pm, he ended up arriving at 3:10 pm.
When he got home, his mother asked him why he took so long, but Mike simply ignored the question. Then, his mother, even more irritated that Mike had ignored her, sighed and said
— Fine... now, What grade did you get on the exam? Will you have to keep going for a few more weeks until February?
— Yeah, i got a 5.
Mike said, already expecting his mother to scold him for failing the exam.
Karen sighed in annoyance and said in an apathetic tone
— If you don't pass the next exam to stop going to February, I'll take away your guitar.
Mike was shocked but said nothing. He simply stormed off to his room, storming up the stairs to the second floor with heavy, immature steps. When he reached his room, he slammed the door, undressed, and collapsed onto his bed, going to sleep even though it was 3 PM. To be honest, he didn't really care about going to bed early, because he knew tomorrow he would wake up as if he'd gone to sleep at 9 PM instead of 3 PM.