Chapter Text
Michelle Wheeler was growing more beautiful by the day.
Of course, if you asked Willow, she’d say that her best friend had always been beautiful. But Mike had gotten her braces taken off last summer, and finally convinced her mom to let her wear contacts instead of those blocky, coke bottle glasses (although, in Willow's opinion at least, Michelle had still rocked the dorky look so well). She’d grown her hair out past her shoulders and finally learned how to tame her wild curls, and at some point over the last few years she’d sprouted hips, and curves, and lost the baby fat that had once softened her cheeks, and other people were finally starting to notice what Willow herself had always known: Michelle Wheeler was pretty. Now boys would pull Mike aside in the hallway, slip their phone numbers into her pocket when they walked past her in the corridor, and talk to Willow just to ask if she’d put in a good word for them.
It turned the brunette’s stomach to see her best friend being treated like an expensive cut of meat, caused something ugly and almost angry to bubble underneath her skin. Jonathon had only smiled and suggested that maybe it was jealousy when she told him what was going on, but Willow couldn’t see one good reason to envy the newfound attention Mike was getting. If any of the boys at school started treating her that way, she would just feel grimy. Like bugs were crawling over her skin. Like she needed a shower. Obviously, she'd grow out of that feeling soon enough, when she met someone nice. It was just that high school boys were so gross - Lucas and Dustin excluded, mostly.
Michelle never seemed too put out by any of it, though, always brushing off potential dates with a smile and a quick lie about a sick family member or a test she desperately needed to study for.
It was halfway through junior year, and despite having defeated Vecna and the whole becoming heroes after saving the human race from total extinction thing, the Party still had to attend high school gym class. Which was a total waste of time, in Willow's opinion. She'd gotten more than enough exercise outrunning demos her entire life, thank you very much. But the school board didn't see it quite that way, so after an hour of pretending to guard the netball post while really just planning their latest D&D campaign, Michelle and Willow were the last girls left in the locker room. They were in the middle of debating just how late they could arrive to their Algebra 2 class without Mr Fischer writing them up for it when a basketball backbencher that got held back from Nancy’s year (Ben or Bob or something equally monosyllabic) stumbled through the doorway.
“Are you lost or something?” Mike snarked at the intruder, her arms crossed over each other and one eyebrow raised. “I don't know if you can read, but this is the girls' locker room.”
A smirk started to spread like an infection on the meathead’s thin lips. “I know that.” He said haughtily. “I was actually looking for you.”
Mike's eyes widened a fraction in surprise, and she took an unsure step back, pressing her arm against Willow’s side in a non verbal cue that they needed to get the hell out of there ASAP. It was almost laughable that the signals they'd learned fighting Vecna could still apply to smalltown jerks like this. Laughable if it wasn't also so terrifying.
“I’m sorry, but me and Will have to get going to Algebra.” Mike explained calmly, her voice still sweet as anything. “Mr Fischer, you know? We’re already late and if we take any longer the old guy’ll probably blow a fuse.”
“Will?” The guy snorted, stepping further into the room. “What kind of girl has a boy’s name? Is she some kind of freak?”
“It's a nickname, you dick." The dark haired girl shot back. "And you do realise my name’s Mike, right?”
“A pretty girl like you shouldn't use such ugly words.” The jock sneered at her. “All I wanted to do was invite you to a party, but now I'm thinking maybe I don't want you to come. I'm sure you can make it up to me somehow though.”
Ben/Bob took another step towards Michelle, and that was all it took for Willow to find her voice again. “Hey, asshole.” She spat in his direction. “She’s clearly not interested, so why don’t you leave her alone?”
“What did you just say to me bitch?”
He lunged at her this time, and Willow felt her fist connect with something solid before she even realised that she’d swung it. There was a sickening, crunching sound as the guy’s nose broke and multiple of Willow’s knuckles cracked, and all of a sudden blood was erupting out of his face like lava from a volcano.
“Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean to do that." Will swore, snatching her hand back. Her heart dropped and swayed like a pendulum bob in her chest.
This was bad.
Very, very bad.
The brunette felt Mike grab her and pull her toward the room's exit, but evidently not fast enough as a blinding pain exploded in her right eye socket (double fuck) before everything went black.
✯✯✯
Willow came to again under the dim fluorescent lighting of the nurse’s office.
She was lying on her back with something cold pressed against her cheekbone, soothing the splintering pain underneath. The brunette blinked her heavy eyes open, soldiering through the headache that was starting to bloom between them even in the low light of the room, to see none other than Michelle Wheeler grinning lazily at her.
“Welcome back to Earth, fellow alien.” She smiled. “How’re you feeling?”
“My face hurts.” Will slurred, pouting.
“Common side effect of getting punched, I’m afraid. I had no idea you were so sparky, baby Byers. That was totally badass.”
Willow winced and screwed her eyes shut again, trying to mentally reverse the events of the last hour. (Seriously, where were Vecna’s latent powers when you needed them?)
“Oh my God, I’m so screwed.” She whined, her words mumbled with her face smushed against the ice pack. “Do you think they’re gonna call my mom?”
Michelle shrugged, her smile still not dropping. “Probably.”
“Real comforting, Mike.” Willow scoffed, rolling her eyes.
“I thought you’d prefer honesty.”
“I’ve never so much as handed in a piece of homework late, how the hell am I gonna tell my mom I punched a guy?”
“Your mom has seen you take out demogorgons with your mind, I’m sure she’ll be fine if you just tell her the truth.” Mike said simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Some guy was getting handsy and wouldn’t listen when I said no. As my dad would say, ‘He was cruisin’ for a bruisin’.’”
“Ted Wheeler does not have a southern accent.”
“Maybe not. But it totally just made you laugh, didn’t it?” Michelle shot back with a knowing smile. Then, more thoughtfully, “Seriously, Will, your mom adores you, she’s not going to be mad. And that guy was being a total mouth breather. I kinda wish I’d hit him too.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Miss Wheeler.” The principal crowed from the threshold of the door, his polished shoes clacking loudly against the linoleum tiled floor of the nurse’s office as he entered. Willow shot up like a bullet. “Miss Byers, I think we should talk.”
“I’m staying here.” Mike said defensively, crossing her arms and pressing closer to the brunette now that they were both sat up in the nurse’s cot.
The principal waved her off dismissively. Ever since the world almost ended, every teacher at Hawkin’s High knew that the two of them were attached at the hip, and rarely put in the extra effort to separate them. Principal Higgins certainly wasn’t about to open to try that now.
“Before I say anything, I want you to know that I’ve already talked this through with your mother, Willow, and she fully agreed with my reasoning.” He began. “I understand you to be a student who gets good grades and has never caused me any trouble thus far. However, Hawkins has a zero tolerance policy for violence. Now, given that this is your first offence, we’re not looking at expulsion, but you will be suspended for three days, starting tomorrow.”
“A suspension?!” Mike interjected, indignant. “For punching that knucklehead? His skull's so thick, he probably didn’t even feel anything. And he started it, you know? He provoked us. Did he tell you that?”
Principal Higgins pressed his lips into a thin line, the impatience on his face could be read like a book. “Thank you, for your account of events, Miss Wheeler. But I have already received a full report from the gym teacher who discovered the three of you. Rest assured, Ben Stokes will be dealt with accordingly, but the fact remains that it was Willow who threw the first punch.”
Michelle scoffed. “Will, say something!" She urged, nudging the brunette's side gently with her elbow. "Argue your case. This is bullshit.”
“Just leave it, Mike.” Willow said quietly. Then, turning to the greying man in front of her, “I understand, sir.”
“Glad to hear it. I think we’re done here now.” Higgins flashed the girls a smile that lacked a single ounce of sincerity and left the nurse’s office the same way he arrived, the heels of his shoes click, click, clicking against the floor.
“God, he is such a bastard!” Michelle yelled out suddenly, jumping to her feet.
“Shhh! He’s probably waiting outside the door to hear what we say about him. Do you really want to end up in detention for the rest of the year?”
“But, Willow, he's such a hypocrite. This school has a zero tolerance policy for violence? Since when? Where was that last year when Jason and his lackies were beating up Dustin on the regular? It's like, as long as you’re an athlete wearing the school’s letterman jacket, you can just do whatever you want and get away with it. It’s bullshit.”
“I know, Mike. I know. But I'm too tired to fight the system today. I just want to go home.”
The black haired girl pressed her lips together, clearly some fight still left in her, but nodded wordlessly. “Yeah, okay.” She said gently, giving Will the once over like she was assessing her for injuries. “Can you stand?”
Willow rolled her eyes fondly. “I got punched once, Mike. I’m sure I’ll survive.”
“Yeah, in the head.” Michelle countered. “That’s the worst place you can be punched. Have you never heard of a concussion?”
The brunette grinned wolfishly. “You know, now that you mention it, it seems like the more you talk to me, the bigger my headache actually gets.”
Mike pushed her shoulder gently. “Oh, shut up, you. Now, let’s go home.”