Chapter Text
Through the underground, through the cover of night
August 11th, 1988.
Mike Wheeler hated his life. Far from exaggerating.
He didn't used too, well he did but it wasn't this bad. this is a recent development. Either way. It was hard not to really hate his life anymore.
He laid on a rock hard bed, his spine yelling at him, he swore he felt it trying to break out of his skin. he was cold out of his mind. Nothing was warm anymore. Not even bundled in blankets and dressed in an old cotton sweatshirt with a coat over that.
He was in a bunker of people he barley knew, or well. Didn't try to know... After two years you'd think he'd feel guilty. Whatever... Plus ... It wasn't really a bunker. It was the basement of the library that was boarded up galore. He had woken up there, strange place with a bunch of people. They told him they all found their way there after the hoard take over, he thinks about fifteen people were in here. He didn't care enough to count. they decided to stop letting people in, turning away anyone else who came knocking, begging and crying. Well, He didn't get to decide. The adults did. Fuck them. Fuck everyone in this damn basement.
He had zero form of communication with any of his family, Friends, Will.
he turned down his side to face the damp probably on the bridge of molding soon wall. And stifled a sob. He had to run out of tears eventually right? It's been a year or more? He's honestly not sure. Time was irrelevant when there wasn't anything to look forward too.
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April 3rd, 1986.
It hasn't started right away. It was slow. Like waiting for water to boil but it won't unless you're not looking at. Nancy had called that metaphor stupid but Will had liked it so Mike was pretty proud of it.
The strange cold came first. Taking away the spring warmth that was coming. They bundled up the most they could, but Mike could still see the tips of Will's ears red from the strong chill. He watched his breath puff out. They used to pretend they we're dragons as kids in winter.
They, for some reason, decided to sit outside. Most likely because there was too many people huddled in the wheeler house currently. It had gotten overwhelming for the both of them. Breathing everyone else's air.
Mike could tell the sky darkening to welcome the upside down more, the sun overshadowed completely. The vines crawling slowly out of the cracks, seeping. It reminded him of the plant from little shop of horrors. He only knew that cause of Will, though he had enjoyed the musical, he wouldn't admit it quite yet.
He pulled his sleeves over his shaking hands, he really didn't want frost bite, he's seen the gross pictures, thanks to Dustin insisting when they were younger. He glanced at Will who was hugging his knees to his chest, resting his chin between them. Looking solemnly at what their life was now.
At least they were together. They could fight this, as long as they stuck together. Mike wasn't going to let that change. Not again.
"You think they figured a plan out?" Will whispered, scared of talking too loudly. Attracting something they didn't have the strength to deal with currently.
"Figuring. Dustin is probably throwing out every theory possible. They're probably mid argument." Mike sighed out. He was tired of everyone arguing recently. He knew it was from stress. Didn't make any of them closer to fixing this though.
"What're the chances him and Steve are in a yelling match?" Will laughed lightly, trying to ease the situation. Mike snorted, chances were very high.
"Uhm.. how're you doing? Have you felt... Him?" Mike asked softly, changing the subject, Will had tried avoiding it but Mike wouldn't allow that. His eyes tracing the back of wills neck were the scarf slipped down slightly.
"Not recently. Sometimes I wish I did. Instead of having this expectation that it's coming at any moment." Will explained, gloves fingers fixing his scarf back securely. Mike hummed looking from Will to the stilled neighborhood. Everyone went to a safe shelter, a bunker, etc. mostly in the town square, the school was pretty full from what he heard from Robin and Steve's trip down. "It's like a ticking clock. Any moment it could strike twelve, take us all down."
Mike frowned, "I just... Don't get it. Why he's waiting. We saw what he can do—" Mike gripped his jeans letting out a small frustrated growl.
"Nancy and the others got him pretty hard. remember?" Will knocked their knees together, Mike felt warmth bleed through him. He pressed his knee back, it helped to touch Will, to feel grounded.
"Yeah but— he's basically a god— practically a cosmic being at this point! From you know— Max's descriptions. How long does it really take him to heal?" Mike ran a hand through his hair, wanting to hit his head against a wall multiple times. He was tried of living in fear. He wanted to be a normal kid.
"Then... Maybe he wants to catch us off guard. Give us time to settle. And when were most comfortable... Take us out?" Will thought aloud, face uncomfortable at the thought.
"Ugh." Mike groaned, flopping back against the porch. Wincing at the hard concrete. "I hate this." He added in a grumble, he heard Will give a soft giggled and lay back by him. Much gentler than what Mike had just done.
"He won't be able to catch us though. Because if we stick together, all of us... We can take him down." Will whispered softly,
"You think so?" Mike turned his head to look at him, memorizing those hazel eyes all over again.
"Yeah, I really do." A smile stretched on Will's face.
"At least I don't have to crazy alone." Mike touched his pinkie against Will's sleeve.
"Never—"
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August 11th, 1988
Mike clutched a pillow, holding it as if it were a body.
He could hear voices, probably the hunting party getting ready to head out. Or coming back.
Mike didn't have much of a use down here. He really hated not having a use. But it was partly because he never included himself in this new little family, they insisted on calling it a family, it made him nauseous. He did help with the kids sometimes, it came naturally since he used babysit Holly and her loud friends. He helped patch up areas that demodogs have tried to dig through.
He only had two cassette tapes with him, one of the butthole surfers— he got called lame by Max many times for listening to them. And one of The Cure. He didn't even like The Cure. But he had it on him when this all went down, because of Will. He kept it just in case, because at anytime, Will could've gotten possessed. Now it was worthless. Just reminding him of his failure.
it was stuck with him. And even if he didn't like the band. He listened to it everyday. Even though it was bad memories, it reminded him also of Will. He didn't want to forget Will. That was his biggest fear.
He had his journal, that was already filled to the brim, mostly with letters to Will, he would give them when this was all over.
One of the guys got him another journal on a food run, even if he didn't like them, they seemed to care about him. Love him. Or at least pretend too. He was thankful for that. They probably pitied him overall. Some angsty teen who lost it all.
Anyways, He accepted it and tried not to cry like a loser. He did later when he was in bed alone though.
Now this one was already halfway full. Since he wrote to Will everyday. Sometimes he wrote to the party. Nancy.
He had Will's drawing binder with him. He don't know why he packed it in his go bag but he couldn't stand leaving it in his house... That was probably a big pile of rubble at this point, that's what it was when it... Happened. It had new drawings from what Will drew before... It...— He closed his eyes tightly,
He rolled on his back, picking at his chipped painted nails. Jane had given him black nail polish for his birthday, he was pretty sure the gift was influenced by Max. The bottle was almost gone at this point. He didn't know what his nails looked like without the polish anymore.
He replayed the tape again as he sat up, everyone was either in their bunks or sitting around the small fire. Community bullshit.
He wanted his party back. His people, family. He wanted will back.
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April 7th, 1986
"I'm not celebrating my birthday while the world is ending!" Mike groaned out, crossing to the kitchen, searching the cabinets. He heard Will snort, he tried not to smile at that.
"But we have too! Give us some joy in these dark times." Dustin whined, shoving his shoulder as he snatched the pop tart Mike was going for. Mike scowled but let it go.
He glanced out the window, if they didn't know better, one could assume it was nighttime. But actually it was noon. Everything was just overly dark now. It threw him off, he felt constantly tired now. Melatonin reacting or some bullshit that Dustin explained.
"You can celebrate. Just not my birthday." He deadpanned,
"We'll throw a party and disguise it as Mike's birthday! Jane come help me!" Dustin called, Jane stuffed the rest of her cold waffle in her mouth and followed. Skipping away happily, anything to annoy Mike. He rolled his eyes leaning back against the counter.
Lucas has bunked with Max in the hospital for now. She had woken up, strangely. They were still figuring out how. She was gaining her senses back but eyesight wasn't one of them. Walking was coming back slowly. Lucas said she might have to use a cane from now on.
They had visited yesterday, even if the adults protested them going out anymore.
Will scooted Mike his coffee and he accepted it gladly,
"If we're not celebrating does that mean I can't get you your gift?" Will smiled a little, shyly. Mike relaxed and slumped into a seat by Will.
"I suppose you can. No one else." Mike shrugged, Will grinned and shot out of his chair picking something from his bag. A rolled up paper. Mike felt chills over him,
"can I show you something?"
He still had the painting from the van. He wasn't able to put it up quite yet, so it was in his bag still. He loved that thing. He looks at it every night before bed. That was kinda creepy. In Lucas's eyes at least.
"What painting, Mike?"
Jane had said when he went to thank her, after they broke up... Thats a story for another day.
He hasn't brought it up to Will yet. He wanted to avoid a fight. It was the end of the world. He would ask after they fixed all of this.
Will sat by him again, Mike scooted his chair closer to Will so the edges of the chairs bumped. Will handed it over, with a nervous smile. Mike snatched it far too quickly, unrolling it happily.
He gazed down at a painting of him, up close, facing the left, he was holding a sword and adorned in shining armor. His eyes were closed and his forehead touched the hilt of his sword.
It was his paladin. They had played a one shot recently. Something to get their minds off all of this. But this was the paladin from the beginning. The first one he created when Will made his cleric. The oath.
"For always I will never leave your side, I devote my loyalty to you, Will the wise."
His thumb traced along the slope of his own nose, will had perfected the perfect shape. His hair was long. He liked that. He wiped his wet eyes and turned to willow. A wet smile stretched across his face. He jumped out of his seat and hugged Will tight as he could. Will enveloped him back, they sat there. For awhile.
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August 11th, 1988
He picked at the cold can of beans by his bed, eating slowly. He wasn't hungry much anymore. He packed his journal away in his bag safely. By his paintings from Will.
His go bag was made to be a survival kit. Hopper taught them what to pack. Mike just packed his favorite things. And a first aid kit. Along with an swiss army knife.
He cut his hair with that. In the bathroom of the basement, even if the mirror was shattered he made it work, he sliced with the dull pocket knife.
It was better than nothing.
He traced his birthmark, he always hated the red mark, stretched out under his left eye. His mother used to say it was shaped like a heart. He didn't see it.
"You're the heart, Mike!"
Will also liked it. He didn't hate it so much anymore. Although he still found it a parasite, ugly as hell. It helped that Will liked it.
He took a deep breath then regretted it, grimacing at the mold spore smell.
He stood from his bed, stretching his legs out, hearing the bones crack back into position. He tried not to gag at the sound. Dustin always took advantage of that relfex, making sure to crack his fingers in front of Mike to make him hurl.
He shuffled towards the fire, they all glanced at him with questioning looks but didn't speak up. It was rare he interacted with them all and they wouldn't judge him for doing so now.
"So Mike. We got some names from other hideouts. James made a list. If you wanted to go over it, see if you know anyone." Carolyn, she was older, and also kinda the leader here. He liked that she didn't bother him.
He nodded silently, and she handed the clipboard over.
The first list was the school, he went over it. Only recognized a few names from school, but no one he actually cared about. That sounds bad. But at least he's honest.
The next was the hospital:
Max Mayfield
Lucas Sinclair
Nancy Wheeler
Karen Wheeler
Jane hopper
Joyce Byers.
He was glad they were all together. He frowned not seeing Jonathan's. Why would he not be with Joyce and Jane? At least most of the party was there. He bit his lip, don't cry now, Micheal.
He hoped he could see Holly on the list. But finishing reading it. He didn't see her. He took a deep breath. No Dustin either.
Radio station:
Robin buckley
Dustin Henderson
Jim hopper
No Holly, panic settled in him.
Then at the very end. Holly Wheeler.
He closed his eyes a moment. If there was a god. He was thanking them.
Everyone was ok... But Will. And him. He was not doing well.
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April 8th 1986
They has celebrated much to Mike's dismay. Jane was dancing with Jonathan, Dustin was making a crime of the punch, adding every liquor in his parents cabinet. Adding random shit too, like apple slices and gummy bears. Joyce and Hopper were talking with his parents. Nancy was leaning close with Robin, whispering while they danced, and Steve was micromanaging Dustin. Holly had begged to go see her friend, and Ted had gotten tired of the whining and let her.
Will was by him sketching the scene out. Head on his shoulder. Mike wasn't exactly stiff but he wasn't going to move an inch. He could feel every shift of Will's body, each breath, the soft air from Will's nose to his shoulder.
He was glad they moved on from the weird stage of friends or not, that was an understatement. Mike could argue they were in a weirder stage of friends or not. As in friends or something more.
His brain could keep up with that. But he heart couldn't,
His brain said remember what the pastor and Dad says.
His heart said I love Will Byers.
there was an obvious choice between the two, he was the heart after all, wasn't he?
Everything was perfect in his eyes, Peter, Paul and Mary playing the in background. A little haven. Safe from everything outside, all the horrors to come. They were tucked away.
He sank into the couch, allowing himself to lean back against Will, finally. He closed his eyes. Sinking deeper. Nosing Will's hair lightly, he could feel Will's breath hitch a little. He tried to hide his smile. He could stay here forever. Live in this simple moment.
That was until the roof collapsed on itself. The music cut out as rubble fell onto it. And the screeching of demogorgans filled the silence instead.
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August 11th, 1988
Mike stared at the fire crackling, burning up high then going low again. He could feel the burn it over his face, The chatter of the others didn't help the ringing in his ears. If anything the noise began to take over the chatter.
His lungs hurt. They've hurt since that night, the dust and smoke never left.
He was nudged, he lifted his head to see Oliver offering him a cateen. He took it, keeping his hands as steady as possible. Failing terribly.
He took a long chug. Feeling it coat the dryness and burn.
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April 8th, 1986
He grasped at rubble, dust filling his lungs and blur in his eyes, he hacked and coughed, blood splattering onto the ground before him. He could hear yelling. His eyes adjusted, he squinted through the smoke, looking around he saw his dad first, well only his hand. Trapped under a pile of something. Book seeping below it. He looked away, bile rising, trying to rasp out too Will.
He heard Dustin screaming for help. Something about Steve. He pushed himself up, his leg was bleeding. A gash though it. Least of his worries. Well. Not so much. He thinks he sees bone. Still, Will. Where was Will?
He grabbed as the wall that was still standing. He pulled himself up the best he could, bolts of pain shot through him. He saw his mother holding up a limp Nancy. Nance— he looked around getting more frantic— Will— Jane was shaking Joyce, Hopper fencing off demo's that were attacking in packs now.
"Will?!" He finally was able to choke, at the same time h heard Jonathan yelling for Will. He looked at the fallen wall where monsters lined, surrounding them into a circle basically. Jonathan was stumbling through scene, clawing his was through, he looked further and swore he saw a demogorgan dragging something. He stumbled, letting out a hiss, ignoring the pain shooting through him now, with clenched teeth he tried to get closer to make out the figure, following Jonathan. He finally saw it, as Jonathan grabbed a weapon. A body, leaving a ribbon like trail of blood. The red seemed so bright against the dark tar of the road, so bright in the permanent night sky. Jonathan ran by him.
"Will— fuck— WILL!" He heard Jonathan scream and start into a sprint, jumping over rubble piles with eas now, adrenaline filling the older Byers brother, Jonathan ran towards the demo. Mike tried going after them. Will— jesus— no— His leg slowed him more and more, That's when the wall beside him collapsed. Taking him with it. The last thing he saw was Will's face dragging against the road.
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August 11th 1988
Mike handed the clipboard back, thanking Carolyn with a raspy voice. He took another long drink of water, before handing it back also. He watched out the corner of his eyes the hunting party come back, a dead demo dog on their shoulders. People have come to the point of eating them.
But Mike couldn't bring himself too. He tried, the meat tasted too rotten to him, along with too tough. He stuck to his canned beans. As much as he hated them. At least they were the barbecue kind. Bush beans. Holly liked the dog from the commercials.
He watched Carolyn and the others go to greet the hunters and accomdate them. He pushed himself up from the fire and shuffled back to his bunk, slumping onto his bed. Curling himself up around his extra pillow once more.
He clicked replay on his cassette and closed his eyes.
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April 17th, 1985
He woke up parched, in an unfamiliar area. He shot up, ignoring the dizziness that took over and the pounding in his head, he was in someplace he didn't recognize, people around he didn't know. He pushed out of the bed, he didn't like the smell. It wasn't his home smell— he grasped at the bed post, praying his legs didn't give out as he tried to leave.
"Hey— kid sit down— watch—" A guy tried to stop him. He pushed past and into an open area, where lawn chairs surrounded a fire. Eyes were on him. Too many—
"We know you must be confused. Don't worry we won't hurt you." A nice looked women came to console him, holding her hands up like he was some scared predator. He felt like biting like one. Snapping like one.
"Where— Will? Where's Will!?" He croaked out looked around, trying to find Will's eyes.
Will wasn't here. No one he knew was here. He felt his breath quicken, his body doubling over,
He remembered being caught in someone's arms as he broke down. Sobbing at the flor, repeating Will's name.
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August 11th, 1988
He opened his eyes, it was hard to sleep, every time he tried too he saw Will being dragged away. Face being torn by the pavement. His family and friends crushed. The Cries and screams.
He must've gotten a little sleep, since the fire was out and it was quiet, from Robert Smith singing, his headphones had slipped of towards his forehead, he pushed them back up. He sat up rubbing his forehead to get the headache away. And then the crust from his eyes.
He sat there for a moment, zoning out. Staring at the shapes in the walls.
Mike Wheeler hated his life.
And his life wasn't going to get better any time soon,
Not at long as venca had a hold of them all. Had a hold of this town. This word.
And he sure as hell won't be happy until he gets Will back. He looked at his bag. Around. Back at his bag, at the paintings.
He swung his feet off his bed and stood quietly. Pulling his hoodie up, and his bag onto his shoulders, bandana over his mouth. He fixed his bed, and made sure he had everything, he tip toed towards the weapon rack and snatched a machete, then stole Oliver's canteen. He'd repay him later. Or never. He grabbed a pair of goggles, wiping the dust off the outside of them. He knew that the upside-down particles would take him out themselves, so he was going to block them every chance he could. He slid them over his head and on. Then he placed his headphones on, pulling a beanie on top of those, securing everything. He clicked play, hello Three imaginary boys album. Ready to rumble?
He turned towards the only way out. He hadn't been out of this place since 1986. He hadn't...
He took a breath, heading for the door. Be brave Micheal. Be the heart.
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1986, April 5th
Mike took his coffee from Will, and sunk by him on the couch. Will offered him a piece of his buttered toast and Mike took a bite gladly. Then a bigger one, Will scoffed and wacked his chest. Mike just grinned. They leaned towards each other subconsciously.
"It's getting worse out." Will mentioned that day.
"It'll be okay." Mike told him.
Mike didn't believe himself then
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1988
Mike didn't believe himself now. But he put his faith in his will to save Will Byers.