Chapter Text
Mike's aware that his loud mouth tends to get him in trouble, but until the last few days, Mike thought he could say he was having a decent summer.
He was getting ice cream at Scoops Ahoy, he was going to the movies with his friends, he was hanging out with El every day like boyfriend and girlfriend should. He was kissing her a lot. He was growing up. He was doing everything right.
Because that's what he's supposed to be doing, right? And he likes it. He loves hanging out with El, she's the coolest girl he knows. She's pretty and nice and likes him. She likes kissing him. And Mike… he likes it too. He thinks. It starts to feel like a chore after a while, and he never knows where to put his hands, but he puts up with it. And El’s not into D&D, or his taste in music, or really any of the things he likes, so he's not sure what they'd do instead. So they kiss, and that way his loud mouth doesn't end up filling the void and messing things up.
It feels like Mike has found some trick of the trade. As long as he's with El, kissing El, he's grown up. He's moving up in life, he's a normal teen. Normal teens don't play board games and do nerdy things— they kiss their girlfriends.
So what if it feels a little wrong? He's doing it. He's putting in the effort, he's focusing on his girlfriend as he should be. It's close enough.
Maybe the feeling of it being natural and easy comes with time. Lucas seems to have no issue, but maybe that's because he and Max have more things in common.
Mike and El don't take the time to find shared interests. They just kiss. And that's fine, because serious relationships don't include board games and comic books. Mike just needs to get over himself and stop thinking about that stuff when he’s making out with El.
Will doesn’t seem to understand this, but Mike doesn't know how to explain that it's just a part of growing up. Maybe it’s because part of him still longs to sit down and play a campaign like Will does.
Being around Will in general is a little hard since he started dating El. Mike knows that sounds awful, but he doesn’t know what to call it exactly. He'll meet up with the party after hanging out with El and just see Will, and part of him just… freezes. When his gaze falls on his soft brown hair, wide hazel eyes, and the mole by his mouth, something inside him seems to go wonky. His heartbeat quickens, his fingers shake, his throat closes up. So he avoids looking and pretends he doesn't catch the hurt on Will’s face.
He doesn’t know what's wrong with him. He doesn't like being shitty to Will, but he doesn't know what else to do. Sometimes he'll be with El and suddenly be reminded of Will, and a sharp pain of wrongness stabs his chest. There’s something about the two of them that’s scrambling his brain.
It didn’t feel like this before, when Will was gone and El was with him, or when El was gone and he was by Will’s side. It’s like now that they are side by side, existing at the same time, Mike’s brain doesn’t know what to do with it, so it keeps mixing them up. When he’s with El, he’s thinking of things that he should be thinking with Will— the arcade, D&D, Star Wars, and comics. And when he’s with Will, he’s thinking of—
He doesn’t know what he’s thinking of. There’s just a weird electric feeling that spreads from his chest to the very tips of his fingers, emitting a frequency of wrong that only he can hear when he’s near him. The point is, they’re confusing him.
He thinks it's because Will keeps asking them to play D&D. Kid stuff. Things Mike is supposed to be outgrowing. Being around Will halts his process of growing up and leaving those things behind, therefore messing up his relationship with El. That has to be it.
He hopes Will sees where he's coming from soon. Because every time Will looks at him with those pleading eyes, desperate to be heard, it makes it even harder for Mike.
Then one threat from Hopper leads to him telling a stupid lie to El, and suddenly she's breaking up with him right outside Starcourt Mall and prancing off with Max. And it feels like everything he had done this summer was for nothing. It almost feels like, by breaking up with him, El's taking something away from him. Not just their relationship, but his proof. His evidence that he's no longer a kid, that he's someone who has a girlfriend and kisses her and is a normal guy that wants to grow up.
Because without her, all he's left with is Will begging to play D&D, and his body locking up at the sound of his voice again, an odd buzz spreading through his body that leaves him jittery and nervous. And he can’t have that.
So he opens his stupid mouth and wallows with Lucas, spewing bullshit about women and their crazy behavior because it has to be El's fault that he's like this. It's El's dismissal of him and Will’s refusal to grow up that’s leaving him like this. It has to be. Because he's doing everything right.
He's not the one that's wrong. It's them. They're confusing him. So he pins the blame on them, and he knows it's bad, he does, but it's all he can do to save himself from scrutiny.
But it all reaches a head when his loud mouth betrays him once again. He's standing outside the garage with Will, begging him not to leave while the rain storms and Will snaps about how Mike’s ruining the party, and he says it:
“It's not my fault you don't like girls!”
He's not sure why he says it. It's not even related to what Will’s complaining about. But he just blurts it out because he needs Will to understand that Mike has to grow up. He has to make it work with El. Because if he can’t…
Well, he doesn't want to find out what that means.
But Will isn’t swayed, and pedals away into the pouring rain. And the anguish Mike feels in that moment is so sharp and tangible it could be an open wound on his chest, exposing his heart to the furious storm.
It's that pain that forces him to leave his turmoil behind and go to Will. He drags Lucas with him and bangs on his door, desperate to fix things, desperate to not be the ‘bad guy.’ But most of all, desperate not to be the reason that Will’s deep hazel eyes are downcast and stormy.
No one's home, so they start trekking through the woods, and fear bubbles in Mike's throat that something bad could've happened. Will’s run into trouble in these woods before.
So when he sees Will's frail, soaking wet form outside a destroyed Castle Byers, he almost wants to breathe a sigh of relief. But even though he's spent the whole summer avoiding Will’s eye, he still can tell in an instant when something's wrong, and his instinct to protect him will always ring louder than any feeling of wrongness could.
“Will! What happened? Are you okay?” He exclaims, an awful suspense curling around him as Will lifts a hand to the back of his neck and turns slowly, tumultuous emotions swirling in his eyes. Mike wants to soothe the terror. He wants to wrap his fingers around Will’s wrist and gently pull him closer so Will can look up at him and whisper what’s causing him pain.
He doesn’t understand why he wants that so bad, and it freaks him out a little. It’s not like it’s inherently bad to care about his friend, but it just feels… different. It feels like he’s caring too much, feeling too deeply.
This is why being with El is good. With his focus on her, he doesn’t get confused. His gaze doesn’t linger where it’s not supposed to, and his fingers don’t twitch to reach out to places they shouldn’t. He needs El to keep his brain occupied. Otherwise, it goes haywire all over again.
“He's back,” Will answers ominously, and Mike feels Lucas still beside him at the same time he tenses. They all share a glance, understanding what Will’s saying.
The Mind Flayer's back, somehow. He doesn't understand how exactly this could happen, considering they closed the gate, but he trusts Will wholeheartedly. If he says it's back, then it's back.
This summer is turning out to be incredibly shitty, in the end.
The heavy rain splatters loudly against Mike’s raincoat, drenching his bare legs, and it occurs to him just how cold Will must be, completely soaked in just a t-shirt and shorts. Instinctively, he takes a step towards Will — to offer him his raincoat, pull him somewhere dry, something — but Will meets his gaze again, long, wet eyelashes delicately framing his fearful eyes, and that traitorous, unnameable thing in Mike short circuits once more.
He stops short, pulling back clumsily, and he sees the hurt on Will and Lucas shoot him a quizzical glance in his peripheral vision, but he just swallows thickly, fingers fidgeting at his sides.
But Will’s focus is quickly torn away from Mike, as he twists his head from side to side, a new kind of panic blooming.
“What's going on? Is it the Mind Flayer?” Lucas asks nervously as Will searches the trees.
“I just— I thought I heard something earlier,” Will breathes, running a hand through his wet hair.
That springs Mike back into action, standing tall in preparation to protect. “Like a monster?”
Will shakes his head jerkily, wiping the water off his face. “No, like— like a voice. A person shouting, maybe.”
Lucas tentatively makes his way over to Will’s side as he listens for something, putting a hand on Will’s back in comfort. An odd feeling rises in Mike’s throat at the action, almost like bile he has to suppress. Shame, because he should be the one comforting Will. That’s always been his role. And he’s failing now, and doesn’t know why.
But there’s also another feeling mingling there, something sharper and crueller. Almost like he’s mad at Lucas for taking his place.
“Let’s go back to Mike’s,” Lucas says gently to Will. “We’ll call the girls and figure out this whole Mind Flayer business.”
Will searches helplessly around him one last time before relenting, giving Lucas a weak smile. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly, and lets Lucas guide him over to his abandoned bike.
They collect Mike and Lucas’ bikes from where they dropped them by the Byers house and slowly make the trek back, the harsh patter of rain and their pedaling filling the tense silence.
Will’s hands clutch tightly at the handlebars, his gaze distant and out of focus. Mike knows what he must be thinking about— the possession, the spying, the pain that occurred last time they dealt with this monster. And Mike wants to comfort him, he does, but he’s too scared of saying the wrong thing again. So he keeps his loud mouth shut and lets the silence continue.
He’s too caught up in his head to notice anything wrong until the harsh squeak of Lucas braking abruptly pulls him out of his stupor. Will and Mike share a confused glance before following, twisting their heads back to Lucas once they’ve stopped. Lucas has his feet planted firmly on the ground, head tilted as he listens attentively to his surroundings.
“What’s—”
“Shh!” Lucas cuts him off, holding a finger to his lips before raising it higher towards the sky, directing them to listen.
And that’s when Mike catches it— quiet under the heavy storm, but there. A voice. A man, specifically, that much Mike could tell. And it’s getting louder.
Lucas and Mike turn to Will, communicating a silent question: Is that what you heard?
Will nods hesitantly in confirmation, fingers flexing around the handlebars. They all take a moment, catching short glimpses of the voice through the rain, but Mike can’t help but feel that they have larger priorities than a man in the woods.
He adjusts himself on the bike, preparing to move on. “It’s probably nothing guys, we should keep—”
But Mike stops short when the man’s voice rings louder, the word on his tongue finally decipherable. “El!”
They all freeze, eyes wide, breath catching. Mike almost expects it to be some fluke, but then it happens again.
“El!” the man calls out, rough and desperate. “El, are you there?”
It’s not a voice Mike recognizes. It’s deep, definitely older than them, but not as gruff as Hopper. It doesn't sound like Jonathan or Steve either. The point is, it doesn’t sound like anyone who should know the name El, and that's what puts him on edge.
They all stand unmoving on the side of the road, exchanging panicked glances as they struggle to come up with what to do. Hide? Confront the guy? Run and warn El that someone’s looking for her?
In the end, they don’t need to make a choice, because the thud of incoming footsteps reaches his ears and a body breaks out of the forest line, stumbling disorientedly into the middle of the road. They all scramble back, and Mike reflexively places his body in front of Will’s as they take in the man.
He’s definitely a few years older than them— around Steve’s age, maybe. It’s hard to catch any defining features because he wears a navy bandana on the lower half of his face and keeps whipping his head around, as if struggling to process his surroundings.
Rain soaks him to the bone, allowing Mike to notice his broad shoulders under his jacket and the way the fabric clings to his arms. The guy stressfully runs a hand through his wet hair and adjusts the strap of his backpack on his shoulder, and Mike’s eyes follow the movement, almost entranced by the way his back muscles flex.
There’s water surrounding him, but for some reason, his mouth feels dry. It must be fear, he reasons. He’s concerned about this mysterious man.
But there’s nothing concerning about him. If anything, Mike feels drawn to him. He finds himself wanting to step closer and get a better look. He’s no one Mike’s ever seen before, and yet he feels glaringly familiar.
And finally, the man’s eyes land on them, and he goes rigid, eyes widening like he was seeing a ghost. Mike can hear Lucas and Will’s quick, tense breaths near him, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the stranger. The guy looks like a thousand revelations are passing between his eyes, and he unthinkingly takes some quick steps towards them, closing some of the distance.
They shuffle back in response, and Mike throws his arms wider over Will and Lucas, although his arms shake a little as he tries to hold firm. Not because he’s afraid, but because part of him feels like it’s not necessary.
This guy isn’t a threat. Mike isn’t sure how he knows this, but as they lock eyes, he feels it. He’s not dangerous. He’s something else entirely, and Mike feels helplessly drawn to it.
Upon their movement, the guy raises his hands gently in surrender, chest rising and falling as he breathes in deeply. Mike pretends his gaze doesn’t drop to the movement, trying to focus on the guy’s eyes.
His eyes, which — now that the man was still and closer — looked so familiar. Mike’s seen these eyes before. He feels flushed under their gaze, and it alarms him. He doesn’t get what’s happening to him again— first the mess with El and Will, and now this random man? What's wrong with his brain?
He opens his mouth to interrogate the man — who are you, how do you know El, why do I feel weird around you — when the man pulls the bandana down, exposing the rest of his face, and he hears two twin gasps beside him.
Mike’s heart lurches into his throat, constricting his airway as he takes in his face. Because he knows that face. His eyes have wandered along that strong nose, those bunny teeth peeking out between parted lips, that mole beside his mouth. He’s catalogued every detail of that messy brown hair, those long eyelashes, and that pair of enchanting hazel eyes, over and over again, to the point where it burns behind his eyelids when he kisses his girlfriend.
“Holy shit,” the man breathes, gaping in shock, and for once in his life, Mike doesn’t need a trick to stop his loud mouth. For the first time, he’s truly struck dumb.
Because it’s him. Older, taller, and different, but it’s him.
The man standing in front of them, somehow, is Will.