Chapter Text
‘’Fuck,’’ Mike groaned as he stumbled down the street.
It was the middle of the night and he was wasted. He wasn’t even sure where he was headed anymore.
He just needed to clear his head. And mostly he just needed to forget.
The look on her face. The disappointment. The disgust as she held one of his magazines between two fingers, as if afraid she might catch something just by touching it.
He could have fixed it. It was just a men’s swimwear magazine. Nothing vulgar.
But somehow, she knew.
She connected the dots and figured it out.
Figured out what he was because you don’t hide men’s swimwear magazines under the loose board in the floor because you really like swimwear.
He stumbled upon a park. An abandoned one. It was near sunrise at this point as his legs unconsciously carried him over to the swings.
He sat down on one, the metal construction creaking under his weight. He leaned his head against one of the chains, closing his eyes as he felt the tears form.
He thought back to what happened all of those years ago.
About Will. They used to be friends back then.
Best friends.
God how he hated those words.
But he was the one who said it, wasn’t he?
Best friends.
Those two words were burned in the back of his head. Like an echo.
The hopeful face Will made when he said those words.
And then he killed it. Set it on fire and poured gasoline all over.
Best friends.
He shook his head, running his hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration.
He hasn’t spoken to Will in years. He stopped writing letters. Stopped answering his calls. Always talked his way out of meeting up with the Party.
Instead he spent most of his time buried under mountains of work.
Writing didn’t cut it. Of course it didn’t.
He was working in an office. An accountant.
A fucking accountant. At least he was good at maths. It was an easy job that paid well enough. He was bored out of his mind.
Every day the same. Over and over and over.
Wake up.
Eat.
Work.
Sleep.
Reproduce and die.
He shook his head. That’s what Nancy said all those years ago Vecna told her before he took Max.
Mike has been thinking about these words a lot lately.
One day a new coworker showed up. A pretty girl, only few years younger than him. Same hazel eyes. Same light brown hair. A gentle smile. Shy. It was easy enough. And she seemed interested in him. Why not, he thought to himself back then. This would be easy. Just like his job. Kept him afloat enough. That’s all he needed.
God the disgust in her eyes as she held the magazine out to him.
He had never seen her like this. Didn’t know someone’s face could look like that.
Those same hazel eyes were looking back at him and all he saw was hatred and betrayal.
He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. It would only be more lies.
And he was tired of lying. So he stayed quiet. Allowed her to let it all out. Yell at him. All those words he’s thought of himself all along.
When she was done, sobbing on the kitchen floor, the magazine laying between them, he simply grabbed his wallet and keys and told her he wouldn’t be back until morning. Gave her time to pack all of her things and leave without having to face him again.
A year. They have dated for a year.
He didn’t love her.
Couldn’t.
But her grew to like her.
She was a nice girl, she really was. And she deserved better. He knew she did. And he knew this wouldn’t last. He knew he’d mess it up. He always did. He was sure all of his exes hated him for one reason or another. Not all of them knew. But they sensed something was off when he barely ever initiated any sort of intimacy with them.
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was faint blue. The sun was almost up.
He pushed himself up from the swing. His head was pounding. Slowly he walked towards his apartment.
It took him two hours to get back home. He wandered far off last night.
She was gone. Of course she was. He wasn’t expecting anything else.
The magazine still laid there on the floor between the kitchen and the living room.
He walked right past to the bedroom. He crawled on the bed, only kicking his shoes off as he pulled the sheets over his head. He felt empty. And so, so tired.
A week has passed and he barely left his bedroom other than to use the restroom or pick up the delivery from his doorstep.
He called in sick to work. Said he probably has the flu.
When he ordered food, he barely touched it. He was sure he smelled horribly. In fact the entire apartment must smell. There were take out boxes everywhere and half-finished cans of beer.
He didn’t care. Why should he?
Nobody was going to show up here anyway.
They all thought he was happy.
Last time he talked to Dustin, because of course he was the only one stubborn enough to force him to hang out, was about a month ago.
Nobody bothered to think about Mike when he has pushed everyone away. Especially the one person who he wanted the closest.
The only person he actually wanted close.
With a groan he sat up and pushed himself off the bed. He made his way to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as he pulled his boxer briefs down a bit and started to piss.
He was washing his hand, avoiding his reflection in the mirror when he heard a sharp knock at the door.
He flinched.
No.
It must be her, but he couldn’t let her see him like this. Prove that she was right about him all along.
He quietly tiptoed over to the door, making sure he avoided all the squeaky floorboards as he peaked through the peep hole.
In that moment, his heart stopped beating.
It wasn’t her.
It was much, much worse.