Chapter Text
Mike was sulking.
Ok, sulking might not be the right word. He was really staring holes in the basement ceiling above him as he seethed in the darkness. Was it sulking if four people were around him, and all of them were asleep? He didn’t really know. What he did know is that there shouldn’t be four people. It should be three.
Mike grit his teeth as his eyes tore away from the ceiling to glance over at the couch, where red hair spilled over the edge. Because Max was here. Maxine Mayfield. “MadMax.” The newest little addition to their party (if he could really call her an addition). Her back, deliberately pointed away from Mike, was rising and falling like the other three boys around him. Mike, as always, was the last one awake.
Why was she here? She was a girl! Sleepovers were for boys! For the boys in the party! Max was not a boy, and she was not in the party, despite Lucas, Dustin, and Max begging. “Zoomer,” sure. Mike thought she needed to shut up. Sleepovers, most importantly, were for staying up playing D&D until Will fell asleep at the table; they were for eating chips and drinking soda until one of them got sick; they were for pushing and shoving and farts and burps and NOT GIRLS! Not Max, at least. Mike’s mind drifted to El. Hopper would barely let her step foot anywhere other than his cabin, and it was starting to drive Mike crazy. If Max got to be here, so should El! Better yet, El should be here instead of Max!
And truly, that would make Mike’s life so much easier. Max seemed to have a personal problem with every word out of his mouth, and Mike was five seconds away from breaking the “no hitting girls” rule to smack her. Over the past month Max had infuriated him more times than he could count, and for some reason, the other three still wanted her around. Why?— Mike couldn’t fathom. Had Max been their friend for years? No. Had Max been there when Will went missing? No! Had Max been there when El disappeared for a year? NO! Had she been there to witness people around them get slaughtered by monsters while they feared for their life? NO!
Or… well she had, hadn’t she? When Will got possessed? Mike kept remembering the concern in her eyes on that Halloween night. Mike swallowed hard and looked back at the ceiling. Lucas and Dustin had told him about what happened in the bus that day. He grit his teeth— maybe she wasn’t as estranged as Mike wanted her to be… but that changed nothing! She was still acting like she’d been there for years! And Lucas kept treating her like she was an angel on earth, like holy crap man calm down, she’s just a girl!
Mike glanced around at his other friends. They were all asleep: Will on the chair because no one wanted him to sleep on the floor (he was still recovering) while Dustin and Lucas were sprawled around on the old carpet. He looked back at Max, her spine pushing through her shirt. Asleep. She was asleep. Mike kept telling himself that. The blinking red clock to her side read the awful number 1:07 AM, and Mike groaned. He wasn’t going to fall asleep like this.
As carefully as he could, Mike slipped out of his sleeping bag and tiptoed to the edge of the stairs. He carefully avoided the creaky board and hopped up two steps lightly. With one last glance as his unmoved friends, Mike crept up the stairs to his living room. When he got there, he snagged a blanket off his dad’s recliner— normally he’d be snoring there, but he was on a work trip in Illinois— and fled outside into the freezing night.
Mike was always doing this, sitting out in the night waiting for tiredness to really hit him. He’d been a night owl since before he could remember, always unable to sleep until late; recently, though, it’d been so much worse. Mike couldn’t fall asleep until at least 1:30 or 2, depending on the night. It was just hours of tossing and turning until he accepted it would be morning. After what happened a month ago, it’d been closer to 2:30. He knew it wasn’t good, and being a Wheeler cursed him with a natural waking time of 6-7 AM, and God had he been tired. He was starting to think the darkness under his eyes was from that instead of worrying about Will 24/7. Sitting out listening to the wind rustle the trees and the owls hoot had always made the sleep come just a bit earlier, so here he was: sitting on the cold concrete steps that led down into his backyard, looking out into the woods with his back hunched.
He rested his head on his palm, his elbow piercing his knee. His joints were getting sharper, and they were starting to hurt. It wasn’t like he was going to be tall, Nancy was like 5’5”; everyone kept saying they were looking more similar, but Mike didn’t see it. He was still caught off guard by Steve Harrington calling him Nancy: it wasn’t like she had black hair, and Lucas always said his face was rounder.
Mike lost himself in his thoughts until the sound of a door sliding open made him jump out of his skin. He leaped into the air, blanket falling to the grass as he let go to brandish his fists at the intruder.
“Jezz, you’re jumpy,” a voice dripping with sarcasm said, and Max Mayfield stepped out into the moonlight, her red hair looking maroon. “Do you really think your fists would do anything if I was a demodog?” She chirped, a wry smile forming.
Mike huffed and retrieved the blanket to wrap back around himself. “I thought you were asleep,” he growled with a glare at her.
“Night owl,” she said with a ‘obviously you idiot’ lit to her voice that Mike sneered at. “What, did you think I was going to leave anyone alone after what happened to Will?” At that, she closed the door and sat on the steps. Her hands were wrapped around her biceps, as if that would do anything, despite it being a relatively warm night for winter.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” he huffed again, “I do this. Nothing ever comes.”
“Umm, hello? You are literally asking to get attacked by demodogs,” Max quipped.
“El closed the gate.”
“You take too many risks.”
“Umm, hello?” Mike mimicked, “I’m the most rational one of the Party?”
Max cackled, “Yeah, funny joke. You are literally always moping.”
“Yeah! And I have a right to be!”
Max narrowed her eyes, “And why’s that? What, are you sad about El? She is alive, you know?”
Mike glared at her again. He moved to sit down, hissing “Scooch,” at Max, and she obliged. “You barely even know her,” Mike shot.
Max sighed, looking into the woods. “I don’t think she likes me much.”
“Yeah I wonder why.”
“You’re an asshole, you know?”
“El only likes cool people,” Mike continued, ignoring her.
“Oh yeah, and that’s why she disappeared for a year.”
Mike flinched. Hard. He felt the rage burn a little hotter.
Max looked at him, then sighed again. “Sorry,” she said quietly, “I know you really like her.”
She’s the only one who seems to actually care about me these days, not that I get to see her often, Mike thought ruefully.
He paused for a moment, contemplating how to handle her surrender. Finally, he said, “Lucas and Dustin seem to really like you,” and he, too, surrendered.
Max chuckled, a smile cracking her face, “They like me a bit too much.”
“Yeah,” Mike said vehemently, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“Ouch,” she said, grimacing.
Mike cringed internally at how that came off, but it was Max. They were used to each other’s comments at this point.
Mike was just about to open his mouth and extend the olive branch when she said, “You know, in California I used to have tons of friends,” her tone wistful.
“Surprising,” Mike conceded.
Max punched his arm hard, and, shit, Mike actually hadn’t meant for it to sound like that.
“No no! I just mean—“
“That you hate me?”
“No! It’s— our party isn’t exactly doing numbers on the popularity scale, Max, and you’re only friends with us… so I just kinda figured it was the same before…” Mike trailed off, cowering under her fury.
“So you think I’m a loser?”
“I mean… yeah, but it’s not like we’re any better.”
“Alright then, loser, for your information it wasn’t the same in California. I had a bunch of friends, tons of skaters, couple girls, even a few of Billy’s friends liked me, thought I was cool,” she said, gaze fixed on the forest.
Mike studied her as he asked, “So then why us?”
“You stalkers wouldn’t leave me alone,” she laughed, “or, really, Lucas and Dustin wouldn’t. I think Will is scared of me, and you’re… you,” she wrinkled her nose at him, “I could tell something weird was going on, and I was intrigued.”
“Well you weren’t wrong…” Mike admitted.
“God, I was so far from wrong I twisted around and suddenly the entire world was wrong,” she laughed again, elation coloring her voice.
Mike shook his head, “And Will isn’t scared of you.”
“You might want to tell him that.”
“Nah, he’s just— he used to be better. A weirdo like us, but he liked people. You kinda met him at a weird time,” Mike corrected, biting his lip.
“Was there ever a time that wasn’t weird?” She asked.
Mike considered this for a second before answering, “Yes,” a sly smile spread across his face, “and then Dustin moved in and we’ve never been the same since.”
Max laughed, bright and clear, cackling and clutching her chest like it hurt. Mike found himself laughing along with her, a tension fizzling away, if only slightly.
When Max finally caught her breath, she punched him again, lighter, and said “You’re funny sometimes, loser.”
“Sometimes?” Mike scoffed, offended.
“Mmmm, occasionally. You should get that checked out.”
Mike snorted, deciding to pretend that was a joke.
“You’re real, though,” Max said quietly after a moment.
“Real?”
She sighed, “In Cali, a lot of the time people were just pretending to be your friend. A girl would talk to me so she could get to the skater I knew, or a skater would hang out with me only to pull my board out from under my feet and laugh. None of Billy’s friends were even the slightest bit kind, they were just kinda fascinated with me. Liked to mock me.” Her mouth was set in a line.
“How does that make us real? I’m still a dick to you.”
It was her turn to snort, saying, “Understatement of the century, loser. But that’s what’s real. You don’t pretend to like me. Some people, they just use you to get what they want. Not you four. You’re honest. I’d like to think it’s because you’re actually good people, but I really think it’s because you guys have— had— bigger things to worry about than hiding.”
Mike swallowed, something hard in his throat. Hiding, yeah. He never did that. Not with El, or Dustin or Lucas or Nancy or Max or Will. It wasn’t hiding if you simply left some things out. If you didn’t tell them. If you make them believe that’s who you really were.
Max went quiet, looking at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything back, she trailed her gaze back onto the woods. Wind whistled past the winter branches, making them rustle and bringing the sharp sting of December air. Max pulled her knees to her chest, curling up and shivering. He watched with curiosity, and then he held up one side of his blanket.
She furrowed her brows at the boy, then seemed to drop it, and she took the other corner and wrapped it around her own shoulders.
“Didn’t expect you to be a night owl, Wheeler,” She finally said after a pause.
He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m supposed to be. No one else is.”
“I am,” she countered.
“No shit,” he breathed.
“Ass.”
“I just can’t fall asleep anymore,” Mike blurted, filter escaping him.
“Me neither,” Max admitted quietly.
Mike shook his head, “No, it’s like, every time I try to fall asleep I just keep remembering—” Will, blood, demons, screaming, blistering heat, freezing cold, rot and ash and screeches and El, “remembering everything.”
“Like nightmares, but you aren’t asleep,” Max said, reading his mind.
Mike nodded. “And it doesn’t seem safe, either. Like with the party, especially Will, it’s just too much of a risk to let them fall asleep without someone watching them.”
“You’re a creep,” Max joked, but her tone was distant.
“I’d rather that than Will go missing again.”
Max cocked her head at him, “That really screwed you up, didn’t it?”
He glared at her something fierce. She glared right back.
Then she said, “When I close my eyes it’s just monsters. Monsters and blood. I guess you all have it worse than me, considering you lived it twice.”
“And Will.”
“Whatever happened there…” She trailed off, “You said he was different, right? Before? Do you ever wonder what he sees when he tries to sleep?”
“Nothing good,” Mike confirmed. “Almost every sleepover he has a nightmare. He says he’s used to them, but…”
“How can you tell?”
“His breathing picks up like crazy, and his eyes start moving around under his eye lids. A lot of the time he starts sweating like a madman, but he never talks about it. Never wakes up screaming. Most of the time he just stays asleep; it drives me crazy having to watch it.”
“Is that why you stay up?” Max asked.
“I’ve always been the last one awake, but after we rescued him from the Upside Down, yeah. I realized around 1 AM he starts dreaming, and I just like being awake in case something actually does happen.”
“So is he…?”
“Now? I don’t know. They’re more sporadic these days— or they were. I— I don’t think they’ve gotten better after what happened in November,” Mike admitted, suddenly berating himself for getting up. “Whenever I ask he just refuses to answer.”
“But you can tell?”
“I used to.” Mike clenched his jaw, remembering how Will used to tell him everything. Like when his dad left, or the names got a bit too much, or the bullies hurt him. “He doesn’t talk anymore.”
“He is quiet,” the girl who’d barely known them for a month agreed.
“He wasn’t always!” Mike burst. “He just— none of us talk to each other anymore! Dustin is spending more time with Harrington than us, and he seems to think we don’t want him around anymore! And Lucas hasn’t even told us he likes you when it’s literally clear as day! I only get two calls and one visit with El a week! And Will! He doesn’t even talk. Like something inside him died. Like that place killed it.” His voice was bitter, edging on tears.
“Like you’re hiding,” Max echoed, eyes trained on the ground and a funny expression on her face.
Mike swallowed down the stinging in his throat— the stinging that never used to happen. The stinging that means tears. The back of his brain whispered, you shouldn’t be telling her this. You don’t know her. She doesn’t know you. Why would you tell her everything? But there was something about Maxine Mayfield; something that was maybe the reason Mike didn’t want her around in the first place. Something that made it impossible for him to hide.
“You’d think after everything we’d trust each other more, but I feel like I don’t know them at all,” he admitted quietly. Maybe— Maybe he really didn’t. Maybe they didn’t know him either. He looked at Max. She was hunched, the blanket pulled tight and her lower lip pulled down.
Finally, she spoke, saying, “Is that why you don’t like me?”
“What?” Mike made a face at her.
She looked up at him, her blue eyes black in the night. “I’m just another person to hide from, right?” Mike gave her another face. “Oh stop it,” she chided, “what, you sneak out at 1AM to stare into the woods and expect me to believe you aren’t hiding either?”
Mike broke the eye contact, looking back out to the woods. “You snuck out, too.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t hiding,” and there was a hint of fear in her tone. Like she was taking a risk.
Mike scowled at her, but the sting was back. “I’m not hiding,” he growled defensively, then repeated “I’m not hiding!”
“I don’t believe you,” she snapped back.
“Then don’t!”
“Fine!
“Fine!” Mike bristled, anger returning.
“Then why don’t you like me? You’re just a dick to every random girl that comes along?” Max was angry again, too.
“No! I’m nice to El!”
Max made a face at him this time. “Keep telling yourself that, dickhead. I’m starting to think you’re just an ass to everyone.”
“You’re worse than me!” He cried.
She glared at him, “At least I treat Lucas and Dustin right!”
“And Will?” Mike argued, knowing it was too far.
“He doesn’t talk to me! How could I even begin to be nice to him?” Her grip was punishing the blanket, and her other hand was balled in a fist on her knee.
“Talk to him like a normal person! Like something isn’t wrong with him even though clearly something’s wrong with you!” Mike bit his tongue hard to keep anything else from coming out as he saw fury blaze in her eyes. He flinched back, expecting another punch, but it never came.
Max was curled tightly again. “If there’s something wrong with me, Wheeler, everything’s wrong with you,” she bit.
Mike made a sound halfway between a scoff and a snort. Max narrowed her eyes at him again.
When nothing happened for a minute, she snapped, “Are you just going to glare at me or are you going to say something back so we can continue this infuriating argument?”
Mike considered his options. He didn’t actually have to talk to her, but the other option was going back inside, and a dread settled in his bones when he thought about trying to fall asleep. His blood still roared in his ears, and maybe there really was something wrong with him. But there was a feeling creeping up his spine: one that said, maybe. Maybe she understood.
He hated it.
He hated a lot of things these days.
His nostrils flared as he said, “Why are you awake then? What’s so horrible that you’re awake?”
“Why would I tell you that, dickhead?”
“I’m just trying to continue the damn argument! Like you asked!” Mike cried loudly.
Max’s eyes widened, and she flashed forward, and suddenly Mike couldn’t breathe: his airways and muscles clamped tightly in a firm grasp.
“Are you trying to wake everyone up?” She whispered furiously, gripping her hand over his mouth tighter.
Mike tried to desperately pull away, but she followed him, and so he did the next best thing and licked her hand.
“AUGH!” She cried, not much quieter than he had been, and she pulled her hand away rapidly, shaking it furiously. When she decided that did nothing, she blindly wiped it on Mike’s shoulder.
He sized back, fighting her off. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted away from her, but she was stronger— much stronger, he realized— than him, and she pushed back, pushing them off the steps and onto the grass. They rolled, legs and hands flying everywhere. His head smacked against the hard winter dirt, and he grunted at the throb that it brung. She was getting on her knees, lunging over him to frantically smack him on the shoulder in some mockery of wiping her hand; though, it seemed like she was just trying to hurt him.
He surged up, tackling her again and pushed her into the dirt this time. When she stayed still for a moment, he scrambled onto his feet, only for a hand to wrap around his ankle and rip his feet out from under him. Tumbling down, his arms flew out to find any balance, but then a force plowed into his stomach and knocked the air out of him.
Max grappled until Mike’s hands were pinned under his back against the prickling, dead grass. “You know,” she gasped, a wicked grin creeping onto her face, “with all the bullies—” she gasped again, out of breath— “you’d think you’d be better than this,” and then she fully laughed.
Mike squirmed, ignoring the flare in his wrists as his spine stabbed them, and he swung his boney— as of the past few months very sharp— knee into her side, making her let out a garbled noise and roll off him. With the pressure of his stomach, Mike sucked in air like his life depended on it. And, despite it all, his face was very insistent on grinning along with her.
With a laugh, he pounced to stab his, again very sharp, elbow into her side, punching another laugh out of her like the pain was funny.
His eyes widened as she properly lunged at him again, and they were back to square one.
The two went back and forth until Mike’s bones finally ached, and his lungs blazed. They drew a tie standing, Max grabbing one of Mike’s wrists and him grabbing her other one, both of them pulling and shoving to free from the other’s grasp. They were both gasping and panting out laughs, unable to catch their breath, and tears prickled in the corners of Mike’s eyes, both from the pain and the uncontrollable laughs. His stomach was cramping, but he couldn’t stop. Max wasn’t any better, and their grips eventually loosened as they dropped to the earth, heaving on the ground.
After they caught their breaths, they helped each other sit back on the cold concrete steps, brushing off grass and dirt. Mike laughed again as Max shook her hair out, a mountain of dry grass falling out, still leaving a considerable amount.
She punched his arm again, but now, he realized, it was half hearted. She was much stronger than that. He punched her back, pulling his hits along with her.
She scoffed at him, and she said “I thought you couldn’t hit girls?” But there was humor in her tone.
Mike looked deadpan at her, mouth falling open. “Are you serious?” He asked, incredulous, “are you serious?”
She giggled, and hit him again.
“I’m going to have a bruise!” He protested.
“Oh the horrors!”
He huffed again, crossing his arms and hunching over. The reality of their fight was slowly setting in: how they ended up laughing instead of yelling. It was strange… normally Mike’s grudges were unmatched, to the point that they were infamous in their party. The anger that had fizzled away was… it was weird. A cloud passed over the moon, casting the world in darkness. Suddenly, he couldn’t make out the details of Max’s face, and her hair went as black as his. Something like fear creeped back over him, like he was tossed into the abyss alone. And that was weird too; when did he start seeing Max as… well… as a friend? Like he wasn’t alone when she was there. He tucked his arms tighter.
Max sighed in exasperation. “I will seriously hit you again if you start sulking on me.”
“I’m not sulking!” He argued, uncrossing his arms and sitting normally.
“That’s all you do, loser,” she laughed.
“So I’m just a loser now? No dickhead?”
“I hate that you noticed that,” she sighed, and Mike squirmed under her gaze, still unable to read her.
“I hate that you know when I sulk,” He mumbled.
“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not that hard to tell,” She pointed out.
“The other three never notice,” he pointed out in return, and she went quiet. The words settled heavy between them, a tangible understanding. Maybe they hadn’t known each other for their entire lives, but for some unfathomable reason, they got each other. Or… Mike got Max, but he didn’t know what the girl beside him was thinking. The darkness blanketed both of them.
“We don’t have to, you know?” She whispered.
Mike rested his head on his hand again, unable to continue to hold it up. “Don’t have to what?”
“Hate each other.” And Mike realized he was right: she, too, understood him.
He swallowed. “It would be easier, with the party and all, especially Lucas…” he admitted.
The cloud shifted, and the sudden brightness illuminated the dense furrow of Max’s brow. Her eyes were hooded, shoulders slumped in a mimic of Mike’s. She jerked up to look at Mike, her eyes going wide.
“What?” Mike asked, unable to muster the energy to match her.
“Lucas likes me?!?!” Her tone was the most surprised he’d ever heard it.
Mike snickered quietly, saying, “You just now processed that? God, you’re oblivious. Of course he likes you.”
Max groaned, burying her head in her hands.
“I mean, he’s all like ‘can Max come over?’ and ‘can Max play a rouge? She’d be so good as a rouge,’ and ‘Max just has the most perfect hair, right? And she’s soooo good at PacMan, like she’s perfect.’” Mike continued, doing a poor imitation of Lucas. A small part of him said he shouldn’t be telling Max this, but it was 2am, and his common sense was officially gone.
Max made a muffled sound between a laugh and a groan.
Mike cut off, unease stopping him. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Wait… do you not want him to like you?”
Max lifted her head to sneer at him. “Of course I want him to like me back!” She cried, though quietly so.
“Back?” Mike’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Yes, back, loser. I’ve liked him for weeks now.”
“Well that was quick,” he noticed.
“Oh and how long did it take for you to like El? A couple days?”
“Hey, that’s…” he trailed off with a yawn, and Max yawned along with him. “That’s different…” he finished quietly.
There was a heaviness in his bones now, along with the ache.
“Don't tell him,” Max whispered.
“So long as you don’t tell him I told you,” he bargained.
She stuck out her hand, quietly challenging him.
“Spit swear?” Mike challenged back.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust, then spat in her hand. As Mike moved to spit in his own, she cried “You’ve already licked my hand, just do it!”
With that she grabbed his hand, and he immediately gagged at the squelch in his palm.
“Ew ew ew,” she said as they shook, and Mike couldn’t help but snicker.
He couldn’t help but feel like they were swearing on more than secrecy.
“Let’s never do that again, yeah?” She asked as they let go. His eyes met her, and he knew she was swearing more along with him.
“Absolutely,” he promised.
She nodded, and dragged her hand across the concrete, once again ridding her hand of saliva. Mike followed suit.
Once they’d gotten as much as they could off, they yawned in tandem.
She sighed again, then said, “Let’s go to sleep, loser. I’m tired. I’m washing my hands first though.” She stood, then looked at him expectantly.
He got up slowly, grabbing the blanket. When they reached the sliding glass door he whispered, “We should use the ground floor bathroom, and when we go to the basement, avoid the second step, the tenth, and the floorboard to the left of the bottom step.”
“Why?” She whispered back.
“They creak,” he explained, “and Will sleeps light… even lighter than he used to.”
She nodded, and they slipped inside. Fumbling in the darkness, though as quietly as they could, they washed their hands and crept downstairs. He nodded at Max as she toed around their friends, who were all still asleep. Through the streetlight coming from the high window, Mike could make out Max’s expression as she made a face at him: she pointed to Dustin and gave him an incredulous look; the boy had started to snore.
Mike suppressed a laugh, and he crawled into the slippery sleeping bag on the floor. In all reality, he didn’t mind the floor. There was a rustle as Max settled on the couch. Then, so quietly he almost did hear it, “Night, loser.”
“Night, Max,” he whispered in return, and closed his eyes.