Chapter Text
The week Mike returned from California, he learned how to shoot a gun.
"Get up," Nancy had told him one morning, barging into his bedroom late into the morning. Her hands were on her hips; her hair was in a ponytail.
Will was already up, evident from the empty mattress on his bedroom floor. Rolling over on his pillow, hair covering his face, he groaned.
"Come on," Nancy demanded. "We have to get going."
"What are we doing?" He yelled into his pillow. As he peaked to the side of it, he saw Nancy had gotten closer. She was sifting through his drawers, in fact. "Nancy. What are we doing?"
"You're learning how to shoot," she informed him, throwing a shirt at his face.
"I'm what?"
She enunciated the words again. "You're learning how to shoot."
"Nancy, I don't think that's a good idea." He scrambled the shirt over his head, searching his floor for pants.
"We're doing this. Stop complaining. If you're ready within two minutes, I'll even let you eat breakfast." And with that, she left his room.
He barely even had time to think before he was pulling on pants, nearly tripping on Will's backpack. It was hard, living with three more people in the house. He'd never complain about Will, though. Running down the stairs, he caught Nancy's eyes, who was standing by the door, holding her car keys and looking a little pissed off.
"Give me a second," he snapped, grabbing pop tarts from the pantry.
As they left, their mother yelled from the kitchen, "Be safe!"
Driving in relative silence, Mike took his proper time to wake up. He squinted out the window at the chaos that was Hawkins. People were still moving out of town. Downtown was still wrecked. The high school was still a temporary shelter, housing those whose homes had been destroyed and providing food, blankets, and medical attention. His friends' houses still stood—thank God—but the mass majority of Hawkins was an utter mess. It still felt surreal to Mike to be in Hawkins at a time like this; he selfishly wished he was still in Lenora with the Byers.
Can't go back there, his mind reminded him. Too full of bullet holes and broken shit.
The apocalypse had barely begun in Hawkins, and yet, Mike was exhausted with it. Everything was different, now, and he never was given time to adjust.
"Grab that," Nancy instructed, pointing to the sawed-in-half shotgun in her backseat. Before he could leave the passenger seat, she opened the glove box to reveal a revolver.
"What the hell?" He muttered, confused by where she got all these guns.
Nancy only rolled her eyes in response.
The sun shined a bit too brightly for Mike as he surveilled his surroundings. They had driven to the woods over by the Byers' old house. Mike knew this road like the back of his hand. He wasn't sure why they were pulled over on the side of it, though. He followed his sister, knowing better than to ask questions.
She led him through the woods until they hit a small clearing, where there were three tree stumps with glass shards all over them.
"You've been here before?" He asked, scanning the lack of life in the area.
"Jonathan and I did once." Out of her bag, she held empty wine bottles—their mother's. She set them up while Mike just watched. Holding up the gun to him, she spoke. "Safety switch. On at all times, Mike, unless you're actively shooting at something. Bullet chamber," she showed him. "You load it." She inserted one bullet, then handed him more. "Show me."
He followed her instructions, careful to not drop the bullets. His fingers shook as he did so.
She tapped on the shotgun he held, holding it up to his face. "Line up your target with the barrel. You don't actually need to close your eye, Mike. You can keep both open. Okay. Once you have the target, aim and shoot," she instructed.
He shifted nervously. "I don't want to."
"Mike," she responded sharply. "You're my brother. You're not dying. You're learning how to shoot."
Still puzzled, he held it up. She steadied it and adjusted his head. He didn't want to pull the trigger, though. He couldn't.
"Just squeeze the trigger. The worse you can do is miss."
He obeyed, squeezing the trigger. But it was louder than he expected, and before Mike could even process what had just happened, he was on the ground crouching. The shotgun was discarded on the ground despite him not remembering dropping it. His hands covered his ears, squeezing his head.
"Hey. Breathe," Nancy said, her hand light on his back. "You're safe."
He followed her breathing, calming down. Falling down completely to sit on the ground, he realized that he had missed the bottle. He groaned into his hands.
"It was your first try," Nancy interrupted his brain, as if she knew what he was thinking. "You can try again. But… Mike, are you okay? Why are you…" The question lingered in the air despite not being said.
Mike looked up from under his bangs, trying to focus on his sister. "There was a… A shooting. In Lenora. Military looking for El."
"They shot at you?"
"Yeah. Me and Will and Jonathan and the two agents Owens had staying with us. We barely made it out. Argyle got there right in time." If Mike was really being honest, he'd tell his sister how if he looked at his hands for too long, he still saw the blood of the agent on them. He'd tell her how he's terrified for the Fourth of July and the fireworks, because loud noises reminded him of being shot at. He didn't know how to put his fear into words, though. In the grand scheme of the world ending, it seemed so… Lame.
Nancy put her arm around him, squeezing his shoulder. "Mike, that's terrible. I'm sorry that it happened to you. You don't have to learn how to shoot a gun. It's just… I need you to know how to use a weapon, at the very least."
"I know. I don't know… Maybe with time, I could get used to guns. But the sound still…"
She nodded in understanding. "We'll test your swing later. But… You know, there's probably going to be a lot of—" She gestured at the guns. "—in our future. Can you handle that?"
"I'll have to, won't I?" He dryly laughed. "I doubt Hopper will let us do any fighting anyways."
"Either way, I need you prepared."
"Lucas said that you… Vecna gave you a vision." He raised his eyebrows at her in question.
She rested her head against his shoulder as she answered. "Yeah. It was just his plan, I guess. He showed me the gates opening and everything happening and… You and Holly and Mom, all dead."
Mike's heart dropped. He hummed in understanding. After a few minutes of just being in her embrace, he thought of an idea. "Can you just shoot some for now? For me to get used to the sound? Then I can try shooting them… Another day."
"That's a good idea." She ruffled his hair as she got back up. He kept his ears covered but forced himself to watch her as she shot.
When Mike first hit a wine bottle properly, it was with his hair tied up—courtesy of Nancy—and after hours of missing. He found out that he was better with shotguns, for he could steady them easier. He still flinched every time he fired, but he was better at shaking off the feeling.
He didn't miss the pride in Nancy's eyes when he hit three in a row.
At the beginning of the end of the world, Will stopped speaking.
It wasn't an unknown concept to Mike. When they were younger, Will went days without saying a word. It was usually because of Lonnie or the kids at school. It was fueled by stress. Back in the day, when they were six years old, Mike would hold Will's hand and speak for him. If Will agreed with what he was saying, he'd squeeze once. To laugh, he'd squeeze three times. To say no, he'd squeeze twice.
His longest stint of not saying words lasted almost two months when he was eight years old. This was when Mike took it upon himself to learn Morse Code and teach it to Will, for he missed his best friend despite the other being right next to him. He tapped .. / -- .. ... ... / -.-- --- ..- on Will's wrist and vowed to never make Will feel like this ever.
He failed. Of course, he failed.
Jonathan and Mrs. Byers assumed Will's silence was because of Vecna. Mike knew better, but he didn't tell them. What would he say? My best friend stopped speaking entirely because I didn't talk to him for almost a year and messed up everything. He already knew Jonathan blamed him for it; he felt every dagger Jonathan stared at him at meal times. Mrs. Byers would helplessly look at Mike, for he was the one who usually could break Will out of his spells of silence. This time, he seemingly couldn't.
He still tried, though. When Mrs. Byers looked for cheap hotels in town that first week, Mike butted in—with the help of Nancy—and suggested they stayed at the Wheeler's house instead.
"It'd be like a sleepover," he'd pitched, flashing a smile at Will.
Will stared aimlessly at his plate, expression blank.
Still, Mike didn't stop trying. As he set up the spare mattress on his floor, Will hovered by the door—almost like he was afraid to enter Mike's room.
Mike dug through his closet until he found what he was looking for. "Here," he told Will, forcing his old stuffed dinosaur into his hands. It was green; it was the dinosaur he used to always sleep with unless Will was sleeping over.
Will had frowned at him, his face whirling with confusion.
"Your tiger is in California," Mike offered as a response. He felt terribly bad that the Byers couldn't get their belongings back; they had tried to call Owens, but he hadn't responded. For all they knew, the military had commandeered it all.
Will's frown didn't leave his face, but he held the dinosaur close to his chest. He rocked back and forth on his heels, unsure of what to do with his body.
Trying to provide comfort, Mike tapped loudly on his desk: .... --- -- .
Will exhaled, giving in to the mattress and laying down. He hid under the covers, a sight that Mike was so familiar with from their youth. He didn't carry all of his feelings on his face anymore, though. He became good at hiding; he hugged the stuff dinosaur to his chest, trying to focus on the pressure. The blanket rose and fell with his breathing.
Mike mirrored him and collapsed on his own bed, getting as close to the edge as he could. On the bed frame, he tried again. --- -.- .- -.-- ..--.. He asked.
-. --- Will responded, pulling the blanket off his face.
-- -.-- / ..-. .- ..- .-.. - ..--.. Mike asked, nervously eyeing Will up.
Will only sighed. -. --- Then, .... . -. .-. -.--
"We'll kill him," Mike whispered. They had to defeat him one way or another.
-- .- -.-- -... . Will slowly said.
Mike caught his hand after he completed his word. Will's clammy hand in his, he squeezed it—couldn't help himself. "We will."
Will continued to not speak for the next few weeks, much to Mike's personal dismay. He did his best to keep his spirits up as the military moved into Hawkins, enforcing a strict set of rules and curfew for every resident who remained in town to follow.
"You don't reside here anymore. You should go back home," one military man told Mrs. Byers. He and a fellow military man stood in the entrance of the Wheeler household, arms folded across their chest, quizzing the Byers as to why they returned to Hawkins. Mike, Jonathan, and Will sat in the living room as Mrs. Byers and Mike's mom argued back.
"We've returned. Obviously." Mrs. Byers spelled out, not afraid to glare up at the men.
"In Lenora, you housed a Jane Hopper," the agent accused, voice low and mean. "Where is she now?"
Mrs. Byers gritted her teeth. "She's still in California with her birth grandparents," she lied.
Although Mike's mom didn't know the truth about everything, she backed her up with ease. "The only people living in my house are my family, Joyce, and her two boys," she spoke sweetly. "We obey the law in this household. Don't you worry, sir."
"What's the name of her grandparents?"
"I'd have to look around for that," Mrs. Byers lied again. "Her birth mother is, uh, out of the picture. And you know her father…" She raised her eyebrows.
"No, I don't," the agent bluntly replied.
"Police Chief Jim Hopper," Mike's mom spoke for her—for she still believed Mrs. Byers had been in a relationship with him for years. "He passed away last summer in the mall fire." She raised her eyebrow, as if asking, don't you know this?
This seemed to carry some weight with the agents, for they backed off a bit. "If you hear anything about her, you must tell us. Okay?"
"Of course," Mike's mom said, while Mrs. Byers grunted in agreement.
"We need to do a health check-up on everyone," the other agent informed them.
Both mothers' eyes narrowed. "What kind of check-up?" Mrs. Byers asked.
"Just swabbing the mouth to make sure no one is ill from the air quality," he smoothly answered.
"We have everything ready to go right now. Won't take more than five minutes," the other agent added.
Jonathan glanced at Will, worried. The boy's gaze was stuck on the floor. The mothers said yes, for it was easier to give in than argue with the military—especially when they were still butt-hurt about not knowing where El was—and went to retrieve Holly and Mike's father from their respective bedrooms.
The agents opened a bag on the coffee table, tracking some dirt inside the house. They pulled out swabs, solution, and a container for them to be transported in. They stood in front of Jonathan first.
"Name?" One agent asked, pen in hand.
"Jonathan Byers," he grumbled.
"Open up." He moved the swab around his mouth for about twenty seconds before removing it. "All done."
Then, it was Mike's turn. "Mike Wheeler," he told them, trying not to look too annoyed. "Err, Michael." He opened his mouth, ignoring them. He was more worried about Will than himself.
"Name?" The agent asked Will.
Jonathan started to speak, "He's—"
"William Byers," Mike interrupted. "He lost his voice from… Uh, too much karaoke last night."
The agent eyed him like he didn't believe him, but he wrote down Will's name anyways. Will balled his fists up as he opened his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. He squirmed in discomfort as they swabbed him. When they completed it, Mike let out a sigh that he didn't know he was holding.
Carefully putting his arm on the back of the couch, casual so that it wouldn't look like he was trying to touch Will, he tapped the boy's shoulder. --- -.- .- -.-- He repeated until the agents went to the kitchen to swab the rest of the family. Will's face twitched—a semblance of a smile—but quickly went blank again. Mike kept his arm behind Will's back until the agents left the house entirely.
Before Will got up, he tapped on Mike's knee: - .... .- -. -.- ...
Will's voice slowly returned over the next few weeks. It started off slow, only mumbling a few words at a time—usually thank you or okay or sleep. Eventually, he spoke more full sentences, although it ebbed and flowed. Mike switched between talking to him verbally and with Morse Code, just like he always had.
By the time June approached, the military had fully taken over Hawkins. The residents who wanted to leave had their chance; now, to leave or enter town, one had to get permission from the military first. It wasn't just downtown. The military had literally fenced in every road into Hawkins—which wasn't many to begin with—and the residents inside the town were now being watched at likely every moment.
When he wasn't helping his mother around the house, Mike was training with various members of the Party Extended—a phrase that had naturally coined for the larger group who knew about the truth. Dustin and Lucas often went with him, too. Even Erica occasionally tagged along, even though Lucas was apprehensive about it. At Steve's house, he would teach the boys how to use various weapons, like spiked bats and knives and anything they could find in his garage. It turned out that in his free time, he researched different combat methods. Robin mentioned how she had never seen him go to the community library at Hawkins High School before—the actual library was occupied—since he'd been in school.
Other days, Jonathan would teach the boys how to throw proper punches in the Wheeler basement. Will often joined them for this, but he never actually participated. Instead, he just watched as Mike and Dustin aimlessly threw their fists at old pillows. Lucas didn't need the practice, much; his swollen eye was just calming down.
On the days that they visited WSQK, which Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, and Steve had taken over as official non-commercial employees, Nancy let them practice shooting in the field. Mike stuck to the old shotgun that Hopper gave him—he'd previously used it mostly for hunting—and learned how to hold it in a way that didn't hurt his shoulder as badly. Lucas didn't like using guns, and Will was better than anyone expected. Similarly to how he'd been with learning how to fight, he'd taken the shotgun from Mike, shot it perfectly once, and went back inside.
Mike didn't have to ask why he knew how to shoot one; he knew Lonnie had been the reason he had to learn in the first place.
"It felt different," Will noncommittally mentioned as everyone sat in the basement of the Squawk. Jonathan had just dropped off Argyle at the airport—a government-sponsored flight back to California—and Hopper, Mrs. Byers, and El were the only ones missing. Them and Murray, who was off doing whatever he did—Mike never bothered to ask.
"What did?" Lucas asked.
"Holding a gun."
Robin quizzically examined him from her seat on the couch next to Steve. "When was the last time you had one?"
"Back in… Uh… 1983?" He was met with the stares of everyone in the room, mixed expressions on their faces.
"Did you… In the Upside Down?" Nancy tiptoed around the topic.
Will shrugged. "I mean, everything's still fuzzy from back then, but… Yeah. I had it before I got taken. 'Cause I was getting ready to shoot whatever was chasing me… Uh, yeah."
Mike felt an unconscious urge to get closer to Will where he was standing; the boy was trembling and didn't seem like he even noticed it. Instead, he bumped against Lucas, who stood next to him. But instead of bumping him back, like Will always did, Lucas just shot him a look, frowning.
Will never talked about the Upside Down much—not to anyone in them Party Extended, at least. He'd told Mike snippets of what happened at sleepovers, but everything else was reserved for either his mother or whatever doctors he was seeing at Hawkins Lab. Mike knew better than to push him to talk about it more than he wanted to. So when Will whispered to him about hiding in Castle Byers from the demogorgons and shooting at one, Mike kept it to himself. All he did was hold his hand and listen.
He couldn't go and do that in front of everyone, though. He tried to meet Will's eyes as best as he could while Will answered the group's questions.
"What else do you remember?" Erica had bluntly asked.
"Not much, to be honest." Will subconsciously picked at his fingers. "Running, hiding… The coldness, the sounds of demos… After I fell, I kind of forgot anything else that happened."
"What?" But Mike's voice came out sharper than he intended. He didn't know about a fall. He supposed it made sense, though, for Will's body had been poked and prodded for weeks after he was found.
Will tensed. "Uh, I fell. In the Upside Down."
Mike noticed that only Jonathan didn't seem surprised by this information. Everyone else, though, wore shocked expressions.
"What do you mean, fell?" Dustin asked.
"From a tree," Will slowly answered, staring at the floor. "A demo was chasing me… Uh…"
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Jonathan interjected.
"I think this is kind of important information," Lucas snapped, ever so protective. He met Mike's gaze, as if expecting him to side with him.
Mike tried to give him a look—an it's Will look—but it fell flat. "Do you remember what happened after?" He asked Will instead, trying to divert from his apparent fall.
Will flinched hard at those words. He swallowed nervously—clearly not trying to have such a reaction—and gave Mike an I'm sorry look. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Will, I know it's hard," Nancy spoke carefully and slowly. "But information is important when fighting against Vecna. We need to know what we're up against."
"Knowledge is power," Robin quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
Still, Will's discomfort was more than obvious. His lips were pursed; he avoided eye contact with everyone in the room. "We know what we're up against," Will argued quietly. "My… It doesn't matter."
"It could matter," Dustin gently reminded him. "I mean, we technically don't know why you were even kidnapped in the first place."
"Does that matter?" Jonathan responded, words sharp. He folded his arms, conveying that they were not talking about it. "It happened years ago. Vecna's motive could've changed. It—"
"It could matter," Nancy interrupted. "We don't know why he chose Will. We don't know why the Upside Down is stuck on the day he went missing. We don't—"
"Wait, it's what?" Jonathan interrupted her right back. The two shared an irritated glance but pushed their feelings down.
Mike wanted to throw up. Or scream. Or cry. He wasn't sure.
"It's frozen in time. November 6, 1983," Steve filled the silence.
"That's…" Lucas trailed off.
"Impossible," Erica finished for him. "It should be impossible. But for some reason, it's not."
"We can't assume we know the logic to this. The Russians, the Mind Flayer, Vecna… We've never put together why they're all connected," Dustin pieced together. Slowly, he looked at Will—as did everyone else.
Will refused to take his eyes off the floor. Mike thought his heart was about to beat out of his own chest; he hated this conversation.
"We need to know everything that happened," Nancy said, determined. Her notebook was in her lap; it was like she was conducting an interview for the Hawkins Post.
Mike fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, by that logic, you need to know El's side, too." All eyes looked at him instead of Will—something he was secretly happy to do for his best friend. But people weren't looking at him with understanding; no, they just looked confused. Mike cleared his throat. "We found El the night he went…" He couldn't say the word missing. "Whatever she went through, whatever happened in that lab… It has to be connected, too."
"El's had a lifetime of trauma," Dustin intervened, his frown deepening. "You can't ask her to recount that all to us."
Mike snorted; he couldn't help it. "You're asking the same exact thing of Will." Lucas' eyebrows shot up, but Mike didn't care.
"That's different," Erica agreed with Dustin. "El grew up in the lab. She wasn't targeted by Vecna." Like Will was went unspoken.
Mike's annoyance rose in his throat. He couldn't help but begin pacing, for his friends were starting to piss him off—minus Will, of course. He only stopped when he was right in front of Will, noticing the boy's hands were trembling. He squared to the rest of the group except Jonathan, who sat next to Will.
"El already had to relive her… The lab in Nevada. None of you were there. We were," he gestured to the boys behind him. "But do you think Will has just magically forgotten his trauma while he was in Lenora?" He couldn't help but be mad on Wills' behalf; he was the one who held Will when he cried at night after he was rescued from the Upside Down. He was the one who saw Will possessed. He was the only one outside of Will's family who even remotely knew what Will had gone through.
"Mike…" Lucas started, but Mike didn't let him finish his sentence.
"If Will or El are going to tell what happened to them, it's going to be on their terms," he demanded, eyes scanning the room, daring for anyone to disagree with him. "You don't get to—"
"Mike." This time it was Will who interrupted him.
He turned around, seeing Will's sad smile. He tried to convey to Will silently, you don't have to do this. You don't have to tell anyone.
"Dustin and Nancy are right," Will said, voice soft.
Mike felt his heart drop. His arms fell helplessly to his sides.
"But Mike is also right," Will added. He shifted in his seat. "I'll talk to El when I see her later. You're right—" He glanced at Dustin. "—El and I are probably connected to Henry in ways we don't realize. But El and I need to talk first. We'll talk. We'll decide what we want to tell everyone."
Mike bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't like this plan, but if Will agreed to it, he wouldn't object. All he could do was support him however possible.
"We don't know how much time we have," Nancy spoke, accepting his terms but still hesitant.
"I know. If anyone needs to compare stories, it's me and El," Will insisted. "We'll make sure we're on the same page. If we have time and are okay with it, we'll tell everyone."
"I don't like it, but I'll take it," Lucas said. Dustin grunted in agreement.
Will's lip twitched, and he eyed everyone carefully. "You don't need to like it. None of you do. El is my sister. Asking me what happened to me is one thing, but asking El… She is not being forced to tell anything she doesn't want to. She's done enough for us already." His words were sharp and defensive. They weren't Will's typical sweet tone, laced with affection and comfort. They were… Well, he was being an older brother. Next to him, Jonathan nodded in agreement.
Lucas, Dustin, and Erica shared a look, as if they wanted to argue back, but they decided not to.
Good, Mike thought. We don't need to be getting in stupid fights when the world is ending.
Later that day, El, Hopper, and Mrs. Byers visited the Squawk. It was a rare occasion to have everyone in the same room at once; Mike was looking forward to it. He knew he should probably talk to El at some point about everything that had happened between them, but there were more important conversations to be had.
El and Hopper were stationed at Hawkins Lab and Hopper's Cabin. She often stayed at the lab for Owens—who had shown up one day with a whole squadron of agents and waltzed into the lab—to do tests on her. This was also where she did some of her training, for Owens could do whatever science stuff he did to take notes on her progress. Mrs. Byers tagged along whenever it was for stuff at Hopper's cabin; she avoided the lab still. Mike couldn't blame her. He felt queasy whenever he thought about what happened there.
With them at the lab was Max, who had been secretly transferred courtesy of Owens. It was easier for them to keep an eye on her this way. It made everyone feel better, for outside her room stood armed agents. The Party was allowed to visit with pre-authorization, and they had to use a path through the woods from the Squawk to get there. To the outside world, the lab was still closed off and shut down. To the military, Owens was running tests on the air quality and theorizing on what had happened that Spring. He conveniently left out the occasional visitors that came to the lab.
Since the earlier disagreement, the Party Extended had been practically walking on eggshells around Will. Will either didn't notice or didn't care; instead, he stuck to Jonathan's side, listening to his Walkman and drawing in his notebook. Mike rotated between sitting across from him, pretending to read but definitely not, and trying to ease the tension with everyone else. He didn't understand why everyone seemed so eager to put pressure on Will and El. They had been through enough, in his personal opinion.
During a walk outside, Mike saw El in the field, emerging from the woods. Mrs. Byers must have met them by the lab, for she trailed behind with Hopper. Mike waived excitedly; he had been waiting to see her. She ran to him; he met her halfway. Throwing his arms around her, he squeezed her shoulders.
"Missed you," he said.
"You too." She stepped back, her smile not quite reaching your eyes. She straightened her back. "Mike."
"Yeah?"
"Can we talk before we go inside?"
"Of course, El." I can warn her about the Party's idea, he thought. This is the perfect time to tell her she can say no.
They sat on the steps outside, waiting for Hopper and Mrs. Byer to go inside before they talked.
El took his hand. "Mike… I want us to talk."
"Okay. Of course."
"Your speech at the pizza shop…" She started—
And Mike felt his heart fall to his feet. He'd been intentionally not thinking about that, thank you very much.
El didn't seem to notice his nervousness, though. She continued. "You were kind. You helped me."
He perked up a bit at that. "I did?"
"Yes. You reminded me what I was there for. I was not there to die." She hadn't told anyone the exact details of what happened during the fight. "I was there to save Max. To stop Henry."
Mike frowned to himself; he didn't expect it to go this direction. He just nodded, encouraging her to continue.
"You are a good friend, Mike. You took care of me when you found me. You taught me what friends are. You reminded me of this in your speech." She paused, as if thinking of what to say. "But you also lied."
"What? No, I didn't," he contested, feeling his face heat up.
"Mike. I am not mad. You do not have to lie to me. Your speech… I heard Will."
"What?"
"I heard him encourage you to speak. I could hear him and you and Jonathan and Argyle." She squeezed his hand, continuing. "Will and I… He is my brother. Your words… They hurt him."
"You could feel him?" Mike was confused, trying to follow along. He ignored the sting in his chest at the accusation that he had lied. That he had hurt Will.
She sighed. "Not exactly. He is my brother. He is my best friend. So are you. So is the Party. I know him, Mike. He held me when I cried in Lenora. He brushed my hair when I was too sad to get up. I held him when he cried, too. Mike… You made him cry a lot. So did the Party. He was so lonely in Lenora, even with me there. He missed you."
"I know I messed up with him. But we talked, El. We made up." He still didn't know where she was going with this, what Will being sad had to do with Mike lying.
"No, Mike. Your words. When I was in Max's mind," she said slowly. "You said that you… Your life started when you met me. You said that in front of Will."
Mike froze.
"I know you did not mean it. It's okay. But Will does not know. He is my brother, and I love him. I will always protect him. You hurt him."
Her words hit him sharply; he felt like he couldn't breathe. El still held his hand, though; her grip was strong. He refused to say anything.
"I love you, Mike. But you cannot keep hurting my brother. You cannot keep lying to me. We are going to fight Henry, and we are going to kill him. But I need you there for me, Mike."
"I am here—" He tried to interject, but she interrupted him.
"I need you there for me as a friend. Do you understand?" She waited patiently as he processed her words.
"I—I'm kind of confused," he admitted, feeling his eyes tear up.
El gently smiled, ever so understanding. "What confuses you?"
"I—I thought we were okay. After I told you… I told you… You know. This is all just… This seems out of nowhere."
"Mike. We have not been okay for a long time. And that is okay. We should not have dated again after last summer," she told him. "I needed a friend. And you needed your friends. I did not need a… A boyfriend."
"But… But—" He sputtered.
She was calm and collected as she spoke, basking in the warm sun and gentle breeze. Even though Mike's hands were clammy, she still held them. "I love you as a friend. I am not in love with you."
Mike believed that the world stopped moving in that moment. He wanted to pass out. He wanted to storm off. He wanted to yell. He wanted his mom. Instead, he said nothing. Sparing a quick glance at El, he stared at the ground. Squeezed his teeth together hard.
"Mike. Are you okay?"
He shook his head back and forth, blinking the tears away from his eyes. Oh. He was crying.
El put her arms around him, wrapping him into a side hug. "You are my best friend. I will always love you. I will not lie to you, though. This is why I am talking to you. Okay?"
He nodded, sniffling into her shoulder. His mind whirled: She thinks I'm lying. She knows the truth. She hates me. Make it okay. Need to make it okay. I lo—can't say that. No lying. The truth… The truth. She doesn't need me. Doesn't want me. I want… God, I want my brain to shut up. Friends. We're friends. We're… Fuck. Need to fix this. Find a way to fix this.
"I want to find out what I like. I want to save Max and kill Henry. I want my friends beside me when I do this. If we lie to each other, we hurt each other. That makes us… Vulnerable—" She said the word slowly, sounding it out. "—to Henry's attacks." She squeezed his shoulder. "We have been lying to each other for a long time. We cannot keep doing that."
His words finally caught up to his brain. "But—but what about the painting?" Mike choked out.
El blinked. "What painting?"
"You know… The one you asked Will to make, with the—"
"Mike." She cut him off. "Will paints what he wants to paint. He makes drawings for me, but he does not paint for me. I told you this before. He did not show anyone his paintings."
Mike had already felt he had been stabbed, but this was like the knife inside him had been twisting, causing nothing but pain. He didn't want touch right now; he jerked away from El, out of her grasp. He was still crying, but he couldn't form any words.
"Mike—" El tried to reach back out to him, but Mike stood up, stumbling.
He was dizzy and a little delirious. "I'm okay," he muttered. He robotically wiped his eyes. He felt out of control of his body as he turned away from El. "I'm okay. I'm okay." He began walking automatically towards his bike. El didn't follow. His ears were buzzing, and all Mike could do was whisper to himself as he biked was "I'm okay."
Somehow, he ended up at the quarry. He wasn't sure how he got there; his mind was cloudy, and he felt nauseous. He had biked there, but his legs didn't hurt. No, they felt numb. Fake. He sat at the edge of it—the same exact spot he had jumped off all those years ago.
After what felt like hours of silence, sitting there and listening to nothing but the rustle of wind against trees, Mike heard it.
Behind him, a clock chimed.