Chapter Text
“Okay,” Mike said, voice low and dramatic, “the dragon’s wings unfurl. Its shadow covers the entire clearing. This is it. Final round. Make your choices wisely.”
Lucas immediately pointed at Dustin. “Don’t let him go first. Last time he went first, we all died.”
“That was ONE TIME,” Dustin snapped, offended. “And technically we only mostly died.”
Will laughed under his breath. “I don’t think ‘mostly died’ is a thing.”
“It is in my heart,” Dustin said, clutching his chest.
Mike smacked the table. “Guys! Focus! This is the climax. The big finish. The moment of—”
“Of Dustin’s terrible plan,” Lucas muttered.
Dustin threw his hands up. “Oh my god, you haven’t even heard it yet!”
“That’s why I’m worried,” Lucas shot back.
Will leaned forward, eyes bright. “Okay, okay. What’s the plan?”
Dustin grinned like a man about to commit a crime. “Simple. I run directly under the dragon—”
“NO,” Lucas and Will said in perfect unison.
“—and then I use my grappling hook—”
“You don’t HAVE a grappling hook,” Mike said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I improvised one!” Dustin said, gesturing to his character sheet. “Look, right there. ‘Improvised grappling hook.’”
“That’s a fork tied to a rope,” Lucas said.
“Resourcefulness,” Dustin corrected.
Will was laughing now, shoulders shaking. “Just let him try it. If it fails, it fails.”
Mike sighed, but he was smiling too. “Fine. Roll for it.”
Dustin cracked his knuckles, shook the dice dramatically, and let them tumble across the table.
A perfect natural 20.
Lucas’s jaw dropped. “You’ve GOT to be kidding me.”
Mike stared at the die in shock. “You… successfully hook the dragon.”
Dustin pumped his fist. “YES! Bow before my genius.”
Will grinned. “What now?”
“I climb it,” Dustin said proudly.
“You climb the dragon,” Mike repeated, voice rising slowly, as he built to the end of the campaign.
“And suddenly, right as you—“
Before anyone could react, a voice floated down the stairs.
“Michael! Come up, we need to speak!”
Mike’s head snapped up. “Mom! I’m in the middle of something!”
“Now, Michael!”
He groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Ugh. Pause the campaign. Don’t touch anything. Don’t move anything. Don’t even breathe on the minis.”
Lucas smirked. “Sure, Dungeon Master.”
Dustin was already reaching for the dragon figurine. “What if I just—”
“Dustin, I swear—” Mike said, scrambling up the stairs.
Mike burst through the basement door, his hand still on the doorknob, his stance apprehensive.
“What, mom?”
Mrs. Wheeler crossed her arms, house phone in hand. “Don’t use that tone with me Micheal. I just needed to speak with you about something.”
Mike fully unsheathed himself form the cover of the basement door, mirroring his mothers stance and raising an eyebrow.
Mrs. Wheeler sighed before continuing. “There’s a problem. At your Aunt Margie’s house.”
Mike furrowed his brows. Aunt…Margie? Where had he heard that name before?
“Kids are going missing left and right in her town.” Mrs. Wheeler explained, a concerned expression on her face. “Your aunt thought that by sending your cousin to camp for the summer he might escape their cursed town, but consequently it seems as though it’s only gotten worse.”
Mike’s expression of confusion dropped to one of utter dread with an alarming speed. Wait.
Oh hell no.
“Mom, you don’t mean—“
“I mean, poor Richie,” Mrs. Wheeler began again, speaking entirely to herself now. “Living in a town like that. Could you imagine?”
Mike scoffed. Oh boy, could he.
“At any rate, Aunt Margie will be sending Richie over to us for the rest of the summer. Just to keep him safe.”
Mike couldn’t help but display every once of annoyance on his face. He’d always had a problem with hiding his emotions, and if the summer so far wasn’t a testament to that, he didn’t know what was.
Listen, he and Richie were chill-ish now. Sure, the identical cousin duo hadn’t spoken since they left camp two weeks ago. I mean, Will certainly sent enough letters and racked up a big enough phone bill for the both of them times three. But that was fine.Because they weren’t friends. They just were cousins. And, sure, they’d made up by the end of camp, but Mike was sure enough that he wouldn’t have to see Richie’s face— well technically also his face— for another year at the very least.
They were cousins. Identical in physicality, yet and still they couldn’t be more different. And to a cousin stealing his best friend? He was obliged to be cordial, nothing else.
Mike turned his attention to the window. The early evening sun cast a bright orange haze over the street below, and fireflies had just begun their dissent on the street. Despite the late hour, the air outside seemed sway with the heat of late July, and trees swayed in the light breeze.
What a beautiful, peaceful summer. That was about to be ruined by his loud mouth cousin with a mind of his own and a face that was not so much his own. Mike was older, after all.
“Does he have to?” Mike grumbled.
“Micheal!” Mrs. Wheeler turned to glower at her son, her hands on her hips. “He is in peril! Do you want your cousin dead?”
“Are you offering?”
Mrs. Wheeler scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning to hang up the phone she still held in her hand. “He’s coming to live with us for a month and a half and that’s final. He’ll be staying in the basement.” Mrs. Karen turned, a look of pleading on her face. “Please, do try to be agreeable. He’ll be arriving tomorrow.”
“TOMORROW?” Mike shouted, in tandem with an another voice not far behind him.
Mike spun around, catching the eyes of Will peaking his head out the basement door. His eyes widened upon his being caught, but the unmistakable excitement he was surely feeling was hard to miss on his face.
“Oh, hi sweetie.” Mrs. Wheeler smiled sweetly. “Are you boys getting hungry?”
“No, Mrs. Wheeler, I’m alright. Thank you!” Will stuttered out quickly, stumbling over his words before turning and giddily descending back into the basement.
Mike’s stomach gave an all too familiar twist.
“Juussst great.”
Time for round two.