Chapter Text
It’s been 3 years.
3 years since El died despite me realising that I only truly love one person that way, it had always been Will, my heart still breaks over it, I should’ve just told her she deserved someone who loved her and didn’t fake their way through the relationship.
3 years of absolute hell.
3 years of having to cry internally and never revealing my true feelings because that means having to relive every moment, every feeling, every suicidal thought.
3 years of smoking, drinking and cutting just to get even a few moments of peace makes it worth it.
I’ve changed
A lot
I’m still a straight A student
But now I’m getting detentions left right and centre, and I swear I end up in fights every other day, which I never initiate first.
I guess you could blame it on my “loud opinions”
A few months back I made it public to all those who I knew and could be bothered to remember, that I, Mike Wheeler is in fact gay, and I will voice my opinions shamelessly despite my father’s constant criticism and abuse.
After all I am who I am why should I have hide that?
After another long restless night of crying and reliving all the times I’ve messed up silently, I woke up. I feel so stupid, it was only me who couldn’t accept the truth, that can’t move on from the past.
The thoughts from last night swirled in my head
I should have died instead of El
Dumbass, dumbass, dumbass
Accept the truth
You’re the reason eleven is dead
Will, his hazel green eyes, his beautiful brown hair, the way his eyes light up as he smiles a genuine smile something i hadn’t done for a long long time.
I sigh, throwing on my t-shirt, hoodie and joggers.
My Swiss army blade I got for my 14th birthday in my pocket. i headed to the bathroom and I lock myself inside.
I lean over the sink. The mirror reflects my tired, pained expression.
I take the blade and press it against my forearm slowly cutting my skin deep.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
I counted in my head. I wince slightly, the hot, sharp stinging sensation however a familiar one, didn’t take away the fact that it felt like his arms had been dipped in lava.
Each arm gets five cuts before I stop.
Warm dark beads of blood emerged from the newly made cuts, adding to the growing collection of scars dating back to over a year ago.
Relief flooded my body, the thousands of overwhelming thoughts giving him a migraine slowly drained out of his brain, finally giving him some peace.
I hold me breath as I turn on the tap and hold my arms under the cold water, watching as it slowly turns redder and redder by each passing moment.
Turning off the sink, I open the sink draw and find the bandages I hide there.
After months of practice I can wrap both my arms with perfect precision within seconds.
I’m back in my room packing my school bag.
“MIKE GET DOWN HERE BREAKFAST” I head Nancy yell from the kitchen
SHIT
“COMMINGGGG” I shout as a response.
I sprint down the stairs almost tripping on the last step and in result bang into a horrified holly, who seems to get over the incident pretty quick.
I grab an eggo waffle which is waiting on the table.
I’ve eaten one everyday since the day after El died as a sort of tribute to her.
I miss her so much.
I grabbed my bike from out shed and biked to school.
“FUCKING HELL MISS DIDN’T WE LEARN THIS LIKE WHAT 5 YEARS AGO?” I shout at the teacher still chewing on a stick of gum intentionally smacking my lips as loud as possible.
“detention Mike principals office now” Mrs Norman said in a bored voice.
All teachers were aware of my reputation of getting into more trouble in a week than a normal kid could get into in a lifetime.
“whatever” I say as I roll my eyes and strut out of the classroom.
As I close the door I hear the teacher sigh a huff of relief.
Honestly, I don’t feel like seeing Principal Higgins for the second time today so I skip.
I know if I do go I’m gonna get at least another hour of detention added on to the amount I already have.
There’s only a few more hours until school ends so I just head to the library.
I’m used to the drill skip class and stay at the library until closing time.
As 5:30 came around I quickly pack up my stuff that was scattered across a small wooden desk I had been using.
Unfortunately being home by 5:45 was a strict rule for me and each time i break it my father abuses me.
I subconsciously rub a bruise on my shoulder from last week.
While walking out I wave to the librarian, and I leave the comfy sanctuary of happiness to go home to basically what is a fucking rigged game that always ends with me being beaten up.
As soon as I got home my once again drunk father welcomes me home.
“WERE’VE YOU BEEN YOU FILTHY FAGGOT” yells Ted Wheeler as soon as he closes the front door pinning me to the wall.
I flinch violently despite having experienced this many times in the past, the language and slurs used aren’t something I think I can every get used to. His harsh cold tone sent a shiver of fright up my spine.
“i- i- i- I was at- at the library” I stutter quietly
“YE SUREEE BET YOU WERE YOU’RE TELLING MEEEE YOU WEREN’T OFF SUCKING DICK AGAIN” his father continued to yell “GO HOOK UP WITH THE BYERS BOY HE’S ALSO A FUCKING FAG YOUR’RE BOTH PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER” my father continues to yell “I BET IT WAS HIM THAT INFLUENCED YOU INTO TURNING INTO- INTO A FUCKING GAY HUH IT’S TRUE ISNT IT?”
He lets me go to grab a bottle of wine on the table, and I stumble forwards gasping.
“don’t you dare bring Will into this you fucking homophobic asshole” I snarl back, fists clenching the chair i stood behind, my knuckles paper white.
“WATCH YOUR SHITTY LITTLE MOUTH YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING” Ted continues his yells only growing louder.
“NO I KNOW A SHIT TON MORE THAN YOU DO” My voice quivering slightly now raised the same level as his father.
Then silence the tension is thick and heavy. I already know what was coming and know it’s going to be painful.
My fucking father holds the bottle of wine he’s holding and threw it at my head. Although I manage to react quick enough and duck as the glass bottle hit the wall behind me leaving glass shards all over the floor and some on my clothes and hair. As I was distracted by that I didn’t see my father’s fist on its trajectory right into my jaw.
The pain blinded me and I stagger backwards hitting the wine drenched wall and fall to the floor.
Broken glass pierced my back, and I gasp from the pain. Tears streamed down my face
More slaps from my father attacks my face which feels like it had just burst into flames. I can barely open my eyes anymore. And it hurts so much I don’t realise I’m crying until a tear leaks into my mouth.
I feel his angry fists grab my shirt and pull me up.
“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE” he shouts at me sounding more sober than ever before
As soon as he got home he was welcome homed by his again drunk father.
I scurry quickly our of the house. I don’t really consider it my home anymore, not ever since I came out and my father basically disowned me.
The cold night air hit me hard, I started shivering cold blood stick trickling down my back.
The streetlight by the house illuminates my bike which I had left chained to the side of it.
I quickly unlocked it, swung my backpack on one of the handles and rode away.
As I rode to the Byers house, tears stream down my face slowly and quietly. My face and arms covered in deep purple and yellow bruises which included both cheeks his right eye, and his forearm and shoulders.
I’ve never told anyone about this.
not my family, not my friends
Not even Will.
Usually after I get beaten I would hide in my room 24/7 occasionally sneaking when no one was around the find some food, or make another excuse about how another fucking bully had fought with me for spray painting a pride flag on the wall, which however was a good excuse for the bruises not a good one for the broken glass in my back.
Maybe it’s finally time to tell someone, after all I can’t think of a good enough excuse for all the injuries, shards of glass everywhere and my hoodie being covered in wine. Even the bruises were worse than the ones I get from bullies.
Even though I’ve rode this route for most of my life, the journey feels unfamiliar.
Minutes feels like hours.
Every meter I travel feels like a step into a new world.
I finally arrive.
I exhale a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
I got off my bike and leave it in the bush outside Will’s house. I walk up the brown weathered door.
My entire body shook from the chilly midnight breeze. My hands trembling as I raise it to tcheck the watch
12:06am
Maybe they’re already asleep
Why wouldn’t they care about me anyway?
I should just go
I don’t want to live
It’s my fault El’s dead
It’s my fault I’m injured
I want Will
The thoughts begin to overlapping each other, replaying and growing louder until it sent me into another spiral of self-doubt and anxiety.
I gripped the knife tightly fiddling with it. I felt the blade pierce my delicate palms, the cuts on my arm from this morning reopening from the amount of movement. Thick crimson blood trickling down my forearms down the my hands.
I felt a searing hot pain in my head like its about to split open in half, my wrists almost numb from pain.
God I feel shitty, I’m not going to last.
I’m turning away about to go to god knows where when I see light coming from the house. The small gap under the door suddenly beaming with light.
I can hear muffled voices and footsteps coming from inside.
I know that Will, Joyce and Hopper are definitely home I’m not sure about Jonathan though.
Suddenly I feel nauseous as fuck, I double over and throw up on the ground.
My hair messy, glass shards still making the occasional appearance.
My face covered in dried blood from his hands, my back covered with small, infected filthy cuts from the glass bottle, some shards still wedged deep in his skin.
What if I die right now
Wouldn’t it be better for everyone
And I might get to see El again
My inner monologue mocks.
“kill me now, kill me please” i groan weakly.
He had fallen on the floor, curled up in a ball, beaten and fed up with life.
“MIKE WHA- MIKE” it was Will sounding more panicked than ever before.
With squinted eyes, I saw Will, his perfect brown hair, perfect hazel eyes, perfect everything.
“W- Will i- ” I groaned weakly, my voice drowned out by the shouting and approaching ambulance sirens
“I love you” I finish in my head as my eyes closed and I didn’t feel any longer.