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Mike has been avoiding the party for the last two weeks. Ditching every hang out, avoiding them at lunch. Hell, he even started avoiding the Byers house entirely. It was ridiculous, and Max has had enough. She may not get along with Mike well but she wasn't just going to let him hurt all of their friends. Whatever his excuse is, a weak and pathetic one most likely, Max is determined to ignore it.
Mrs Wheeler is kind when she lets Max in, a stark contrast to Max's own mother. A painful reminder of what she doesn't have, and what Mike Wheeler does. As usual Mr Wheeler ignores her, Max doesn't mind, in favor of the television instead. Holly's playing in the living room, dolls carelessly strewn about in a childish manner. Nancy appears to her right, plates and silverware in hand, setting the table. She smiles at Max, calm as usual. Another stinging reminder that Max doesn't have this, she doesn't deserve this.
Bitter as it may be, she doesn't think Mike deserves it either. What has he ever done to deserve a nice life. He's not kind like Will. He's not smart like Dustin. He's not passionate like El. He's not charismatic like Lucas. No. No, he's exactly like Max. Opinionated, loud, rude, impulsive. And yet, here she is. Stood in Mike's stupid hallway, watching as he gets the life she's always wanted.
Grunting, she pushes past the ugly jealous feeling and marches up the stairs quickly. Like a woman on a mission. Mike's door is shut, privacy being something afforded in this household, a necessity not a privilege. She hates it. Max knocks aggressively, loud fist banging against the door, contrasting with the quiet of the house. No one yells at her, no impending footsteps that make her cower behind walls Max had put up years ago.
In the recesses of her mind, she vaguely recalls cowering behind her mother, inactive in anything. Pathetic. Her heart squeezes, so Max knocks again.
He doesn't answer once more, but she knows he's in there, a vague sniffling sounds coming from behind the door. Max can't control the selfish scoff her brain supplies, the nasty thought of 'what's he got to be sad about anyway' cycling through her mind. Unlocked, the door swings open when she pushes on it, her body weight forcing her forwards and through the doorway. After she stumbles, she quickly gains her balance again.
Mike's bed creaks when he turns towards the door, a hand coming up to his face to wipe away tears. He glares at her but says nothing, turning back and stuffing himself deeper into his bed. And seriously, come on. Mike's life is perfect, there's nothing to complain about. What a selfish thought that is, Max is starting to sound like Billy.
Rolling her eyes, she walks around his room, nosying at his collection of figures and stuffed animals, scoffing at the books she's always wanted to read but could never afford, or was told she couldn't have. His room is messy, stuff thrown everywhere, but his desk remains remarkably clean, still, empty.
Hmm, odd. Mike's desk is never empty.
Done with her poking around, she jumps onto his bed, ignoring the grunt he gives her. Max would poke at him, rile him up until he explodes because she gets some sick sort of entertainment out of it, like he can replace Billy and be better than Billy. She pushes those thoughts deep down.
Seeing fit to do so, Max does poke him. Pain tugging on her heart when she sees his red eyes and flushed tear streaked cheeks. Interestingly enough, Max briefly wonders if anyone in Mike's family had checked on him or even offered any comfort. Which is a silly thought, he had the good life she wishes for, of course they did. Right?
"What?" He grumbles angrily. A biting sort of resentment pressing against the tip of his tongue.
Max glares at him. She doesn't want to deal with his irritability right now, he can turn that off for one god-damn moment. "You're avoiding us. "She states, "why?"
The mattress dips under her as Mike moves to face away from her, creaking under his weight. Max wants to scoff, wants to be mean because that's their entire friendship. But, deep down, she knows he doesn't need it. Not right not.
Not when his shoulders shake lightly and she can hear the soft little breaths that sneak out of him, the aborted sobs that Mike is desperately trying to keep in.
Max doesn't know what to do here, there's comic books in the corner, next to a tiger stuffed animal she swears Will also has. Maybe they match. Would that help? She knows Mike and Will have a special connection, one that can't break over something simple or a stupid fight. She grabs the tiger and a comic, x-men —she has to get him on some good comics, wonder-woman specifically— and then sits back down next to him.
She shoves the tiger in his face, wiggling it when Mike swats at her arm. Laughing when he clings to it like a lifeline anyway. Max pokes her head into his eye-line, leaning her whole body over his. It still pains her to see his eyes water, and she doesn't even like Mike all that much. The party must be rubbing off on her, softening the hard exterior she worked so hard to build.
She frowns at him. "What's wrong?" She asks gently, strikingly sincere.
He pushes her away, curling back in on himself. That must be Mike's defense mechanism, getting as small as he can so he turns invisible. Yeah, that's not gonna work.
Max asks again, "what's wrong?" Biting at her lips when she hears the shuddering breath Mike sucks in and how it gets stuck on the lump in his throat. Waiting with bated breath, Max glances around the room again, getting a good look this time. The mess is familiar, used clothes scattered about, awaiting for their return to the hamper; paired with other things, like snack wrappers and pieces of paper and empty bottle. Gross, but Max has seen worse. Her eyes draw back to his desk, its lack of books and pens thrown messily together, the absence of an old mug or two left for collection later. Now that Max really thinks about it, the desk doesn't look empty, it looks unused. She urges this time, repeating the same damn question, "what's wrong?"
Something about Max's tone or the utter sense of care must give Mike some courage, a strike of bravery running from Max to Mike. He mumbles, "I don't like El." Which is absurd, how could anybody not like El. She's sweet, and caring, and pretty, and enthusiastic, and smart, and so pretty.
With furrowed brows, Max laughs, a crackling sound from deep within her gut. She hits his arm gently, letting her hand rest there when Mike doesn't laugh with her. Oh? "Don't be ridiculous, Mike. Everyone likes El, she's amazing. I mean, how could you not?"
Clearly, that's not the right answer, or at least not the answer Mike was looking for. Maybe he wasn't even looking for an answer. He groans at her, hands squeezing the tiger. "No, not like that. It's just- ugh."
Max leans back over him. She wants to look at his face, see the expression he wears and interpret from there. Mike wears everything on his face, every emotion, every annoyance or frustration. He rolls his eyes at her, tucking his chin back into the stuffed tiger. "What do you mean? Just what? Tell me." She says. Not demanding, no, Mike deserves his privacy, no matter how much Max is infuriated by it. Max has no right to be upset about that, its not Mike's fault.
Mike grumbles, words getting lost in the fluff on the tiger. Max hums, tilting her head and barely stifling a laugh when he rolls his eyes once more. If she were her mother, Max would make a snide comment about how his eyes will 'get stuck like that'. Max doesn't want to be her mother. He talks again, louder this time, "I like boys."
And, well, isn't that something. It kind of turns Max's world upside down, shaking her to her very core. Max is not naive, not by a long shot —she's never had the privilege of seeing the good in the world— she knows what this means. What this world will do to Mike.
She leans her entire weight on him, crushing him in a hug they both need. "It's okay, that's okay." She mutters, arms wrapped around him as well as they can be. Stupid cover getting in the way.
Mike huffs out an annoyed sigh. Seemingly, he had assumed that Max would leave or maybe even worse. Max wants to scoff, hit him on the back of the head, call him a numbskull or whatever. She would never do that, never.
A sob escapes him this time, not stifled nor choked. A full, heartbreaking sob. "Max, I don't wanna be like this." He whispers, voice cracking with despair, terror. "It's terrifying." Max realizes now that she made a mistake earlier, the anger, the jealousy. Mike deserves the love he gets, the family that's stable enough to get by. Briefly, she wonders if she deserves that too.
"It's okay, you're okay." She says in comfort. How can she dispel his fears when they're real, when she's seen people live through it an barely make it to the other side. Max can't in good conscience make Mike's terror anything less than real, anything less than the truth. "You'll be okay, I won't let anyone hurt you okay. I'll bite people if I have to."
That gets him to laugh. A small one, through the crying and the sobs and flushed red cheeks. Max feels proud to say she did that. He sniffles this time, stutters around the lump in his throat, "i-i don't want my wh-whole life to change."
And yikes, he really is trying to shatter Max's heart. It hurts more, surprisingly. More than whatever Billy or Neil or her mom had to say, hurts a hell of a lot more. This time she cares, this time they can't escape it, not when the pain comes from within. Max can't protect Mike from that.
"It doesn't have to." She says, though it feels like a lie on her tongue. "If it does, fucking whatever, Mike. If people leave, you, we, didn't want them to stay anyway."She feels him shake with a deep breath. Watches him nod and rationalize her answer, agree for better or for worse. "Besides, you'll always have me yeah?" She asks timidly, quietly so that they moment is just for them.
He nods again, clutching hard at the stuffed tiger. "Yeah." He whispers back.
Later on, when everything has calmed down. They curl up together on Mike's bed, flicking through the pages of the comic Max had picked out, laughing together at everything. Max now knows she has nothing to be jealous of, not with Mike. She sleeps over, cuddled together in Mike's bed.