Chapter Text
“𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵!”
Before his day had even started, Mike Wheeler was already running late.
After putting off packing until the very last minute AND snoozing through his alarm, he was now left with a whopping 30 – now 29 minutes to get ready and tackle the hell of a day he had ahead of him: moving to his dorm and stepping into his new life as a college student. The day he was finally walking into a brand new chapter- one he’d awaited for so long yet dreaded when the day finally came.
He practically sprung out of bed with all the nerves coursing through his body, caffeine no longer being needed to get him through the day (𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦).
Despite the sudden burst of energy, Mike was so overwhelmed that he felt his brain short circuit in real time. All he could do was stand there for a second, completely paralyzed as his eyes darted across his room in desperation to find where to even begin. They landed on the pile of clothes sprawled out across his bed, particularly on a grey & black striped long sleeve he’d only worn for some errands a couple days ago. 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, he thought to himself as he scrambled to throw it on along with a pair of ripped jeans.
He then made his way to the bathroom, wanting to try and freshen up the best he could with only one problem standing in his way: he heard Nancy singing along to some pop song playing on the radio, taking her sweet precious time in the shower. 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵.
Immediately darting back, Mike moved onto the next step in his mental plan - step one: look alive, step 2: pack whatever the hell you think you’d need for the day.
He then went to grab his bag, only to soon realize that he had absolutely no idea where he’d last put it. 𝘋𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵. After scrambling around his room like a madman in a desperate attempt to find his bag, he then did a double take at his desk chair and realized it was behind it the entire time - there was a heaping later of clothes coating it in a protective blanket, almost like an invisibility cloak sent straight from hell just to torment him.
Though he meant to pack ahead of time about a week ago, unfortunately that happened to be the same day Dustin came barging in with Lucas to urgently talk about his new girlfriend, Stacey, and his new “stupid girl problems” as described by Lucas (though Mike agreed).
Regardless, he needed to pack. Like, right now.
Out of desperation, he spotted a medium-sized cardboard box that was only used to store a bunch of old notebooks. He frantically went to grab it and started shaking the box to dump everything onto his bed, no hesitation or care in the world for the mess he was making amidst the chaos.
He’d try to pack whatever he could find that he thought would prove useful: random knickknacks he had lying around, about half the school supplies he would actually come to need, more clothes after flipping through whatever was sprawled on the edge of his bed or that’d spilled onto the floor (some being tossed in the laundry during the process), a blanket he’d had since he was little since he felt as though it wouldn’t be his room without it, some comics, and some rings he’d found laying inside his dresser.
Finally, he started rushing to take his posters down to top it all off, moving so fast that he nearly ripped the corners off one of them.
Eventually he made his way over to a particular painting he’s had on his wall since freshman year. He slowed his pace to remove it with extra caution, catching a glimpse at every brush stroke in awe that Will ever made such a thing for him. Well, that El 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 Will to make such a thing for him, he corrected himself. He found himself almost entranced, thinking back to that time and how different life was then compared to now.
It took the sudden sound of the bathroom door opening to snap him out of it, taking a glance at the neon green numbers on his alarm clock that made him realize he now had 12 more minutes to pull himself together. 𝘛𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵. He rolled up the painting just as it had been long ago, tossing it into the box as he bolted back to the bathroom that was now too humid for his comfort.
Swiping the build-up off the mirror, Mike took a humble peek at himself. You’d think he’d look less like hell after sleeping like a princess - instead he looked more like a starved vampire, one that was dehydrated and in need of a new victim to leech off of. In other words, he looked fucking exhausted. He brushed his teeth and did what he could to look alive, splashing his face with some ice cold water and trying to fix up his messy hair the best he could. He was finishing up when all of a sudden, he nearly had a goddamn heart attack.
“BREAKFAAAAAST”
Holly's voice echoed from down below the stairs, loud enough to wake even the dead.
“COMING,” he shouted back almost involuntarily, irritated despite this being another typical part of his morning routine. Yet despite everything feeling the same as any other morning, he knew deep within that this would soon become one of the few cherished moments he’d start to miss.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Mike used to dream about growing up: living in his own apartment however he wanted, an independent life far away from whatever hell he found himself in back in Hawkins. No upside down, none of his loved ones being tormented or tortured by any evil being, no more stress, no more bullies, no more bullshit.
Now, he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with leaving it all behind just yet. He only knew that time had passed way too fast, that it only felt like yesterday when he’d plead to let his friends stay only 15 more minutes, urgent to wrap up their DnD campaign. The days of sleepovers, trading comics and late-night movie marathons would soon come to an end. Time felt like a joke.
Whether he liked it or not, he’d now have to say goodbye to his bittersweet hometown. Just as in any of his campaigns, even the greatest of adventures would eventually have to come to an end in order to welcome in new beginnings. Despite knowing this all too well, Mike still felt as though he needed 15 more minutes to get everything together.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
With barely any time left, Mike rushed down to his seat at the dining table and tried scarfing up whatever he could before making his departure. He scooped up some scrambled eggs and whatever remained of the bacon, dousing them in syrup as he heard Nancy and his mother bickering about something they had seen on the news. He sprung back up from his seat, clutching the box he'd dragged down with him and was about to make his way straight to the door.
“Hey, Michael!” His mother called from across the table, causing the conversation at the table to come to a sudden halt. Mike paused in his tracks as if he’d been caught red handed, spinning on his heels as Karen rose from her chair.
Putting aside her concern for his being late, she approached him with a warm smile on her face, placing both of her hands on his shoulders.
“My baby boy is all grown up now,” she said with tears now peeking from her eyes, pulling him into a warm embrace. He hugged her back with one arm, trying (and struggling) to hold the cardboard box up with the other. He took a glimpse at his father as he pulled away from the hug, still too engaged in his newspaper to peer up. Typical Ted behavior.
“You know I’m still gonna call regularly and swing by for the holidays and all that, right?” He reminded her.
“Yeah, you better!” Holly called out with a serious tone, Mike knowing that she does NOT mess around about Christmas and Thanksgiving. She'd be the next to go and give him a hug, then Nancy as she started making sure he hadn't forgotten a single thing in that sad cardboard box of his, rummaging through it as Mike desperately tried yanking it back.
“Drive safe out there. I mean it.” Nancy told him piercingly, yet with care.
“Make sure not to hit any pedestrians,” Ted called out from his chair, still only focusing on his copy of The Hawkins Post. Mike smiled flatly in response, making his way to the front door with (almost) everyone saying their goodbye’s and wishing him luck.
Mike took only one step out the door before stopping in his tracks entirely, realizing that he’d entirely forgotten his wallet. And keys. And like a million other things. Shit.
Despite it all, he still felt as though he needed 15 more minutes.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The drive wasn’t so bad, especially when he had a pile of old CD’s and the radio to keep him company.
…
Okay, maybe it was a 𝘣𝘪𝘵 boring, but honestly, he felt as though he needed it. His window was cranked down, the road ahead of him stretching out with nothing but open fields and endless greenery surrounding him.
With the sun peeking up from the horizon and nobody yelling in his ear to shut up from singing with his whole chest, it was almost therapeutic. He felt as though he could conquer the world (or maybe the world would conquer him; the beauty is that he had yet to find out).
Though despite his seemingly cheery attitude, he was more so just running on delusion and sleep deprivation to get him going. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but feel scared.
Scared of what would come next, the possibilities being too open and endless to give him any peace of mind. What if he hated college? What if he was stuck with an impossible teacher, or just despised everyone that surrounded him? What if he was stuck doing a ten page essay only after attending his first class? Or 𝘨𝘰𝘥 forbid, a group project where he’d likely have to pick up the slack and make up for everyone else’s incompetence? What if he could never find good enough parking?
He knew spiraling into worry would do nothing but make him more miserable, so for now he chose denial - to block it out by dumping his whole heart and soul into shouting the lyrics to Queen’s “I Want to Break Free”.
All he knew for certain was that he had his future ahead of him, one that he could somehow find a way to make his own.
And to that, he embraced as he turned up the music’s volume just a tad bit higher.