Archive of Our Own ^beta

Summer—ah, summer again, which Mike actually loves. No school, no homework—no stupid classmates. He can just lie in bed and do nothing at all, which is great.

“Jesus, Mike,” Nancy says, glaring at him as he sneezes, full-body shivering, his curly hair sticking up on all sides as he chews his pancake. He dumps even more syrup onto his eggs—an unhealthy amount that probably won’t help the itch in his throat. Nancy pulls a disgusted face at his food choices.

“Are you getting sick, baby?” Karen asks. Mike just shrugs—who even gets sick in summer? Apparently, he does.

“Think so,” Mike finally mutters, shoveling the sweet eggs into his mouth, earning another look of revulsion from Nancy—and from Ted, who raises his eyes to stare at him.

“Then shouldn’t you stay home?” Karen says. “Rest.”

Mike shakes his head. “Can’t. The guys want to catch a movie tonight.” He clears his throat, swallowing another syrupy bite and making an exaggerated noise to further gross out Nancy and Ted, both of whom shoot him another glare.

“Alright—I’m going. See you, Mom, Dad, Holly... and you too, Mike.” Nancy sighs, taking one last bite of her pancake and brushing a hand through her carefully coiffed hair. Mike’s watched her work so tirelessly on it, always wanting to look prim and proper for her summer job.

“See you,” Mike says, lifting a hand in farewell as Nancy practically bolts from the house, bag in tow.

“Isn’t Dustin coming home tomorrow?” Karen asks as the front door slams.

“Yeah.” Mike nods.

“Good for him,” Karen smiles.

“Should’ve stayed away from this shit hole,” Ted mutters under his breath. Mike stifles a scoff and an eye roll, polishes off his last pancake, takes his plate to the sink, and runs back upstairs to his room to rest.

He flops onto his bed with a sigh, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. Staring at the ceiling, he flicks the metal lid open, lights the flame, then closes it again. Click. Repeat. The metal clinks, over and over.

On a normal day, he’d be hanging out with El, practicing his powers. But ever since Dustin left for camp, El’s holed up in her room with her radio, always talking to Dustin through his... what was it called again? Cerebro? He built it so they can talk from miles away.

Mike calls it sweet. Hopper calls it “corrupting,” which makes zero sense—unless Mike’s right that Hopper is jealous El prefers talking to Dustin more than him. Mike sort of gets it. Lately, El barely talks to Mike, and mostly Mike is left practicing alone. There haven’t been many “friend times” at all. Not that he really minds, aside from worrying that maybe El should remember to come out of her room and eat once in a while. As he’s said—well, yelled—at Mike (what is Hopper’s problem with him seriously?), it’s not his job to stop Dustin and El from calling each other “Honeypoo” and “Sweetiepie,” as much as it makes him shudder.

He’s not a relationship mediator, just because he helped El get a date with Dustin. Why Hopper thinks he can dictate any of this is a mystery. Why not talk to Dustin himself when the guy gets home?

“Mike, are you there? Over.” Will’s voice crackles from the walkie. Mike grins, grabs it from his nightstand and extends the antenna.

“I’m here, over,” he says, trying not to smile too much.

“You coming later, right?” Will asks.

“Yup. I mean, we’ve all been waiting for this, so I’m in,” Mike replies.

“Great! I’m really excited.” Will sounds relieved.

Mike hums in response, not pressing the button, and coughs for a moment. He lies back and gets comfortable. He should probably nap so he doesn’t look like crap later—he’d rather not have to bail because he got sick.

“Might take a nap first,” Mike finally says.

Will snorts at the other end. “But you just woke up.”

“This is the magic of summer, my dear William,” Mike replies.

Will giggles. “Alright, Mike. See you later?”

“See you later,” Mike murmurs, collapsing back onto his bed after putting the walkie away.

He coughs into his elbow, groaning.

He has cool-ass powers and he still gets sick.

Make that make sense—really.

Mike dreams of red thunder and dark skies. And the feeling of wrongness—

Mike bolted upright, gasping for breath, body shivering. He choked on nothing—oh shit, he was probably about to puke. He stumbled out of his room and into the bathroom, slamming the door open just in time to heave up the pancakes and eggs he'd eaten earlier. Groaning, he wiped his mouth, trembling with chills as he flushed the toilet.

For a moment, he knelt by the bowl, pressing a shaking hand to his forehead. His skin felt scalding. With effort, he staggered up to the sink, rinsed his mouth, then grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste, scrubbing away the taste of sick.

Getting sick in the summer really sucked.

He washed his face, glancing at his watch— "Oh shit." His voice came out as a croak. He yanked off his sweat-soaked shirt and pants and closed the bathroom door. He was fucking late. Had he really slept all day?

"You’re late," Lucas said as Mike groaned, tiredly tossing his bike into the rack. His head pounded, and his mouth felt like he'd swallowed a mixture of sand and sugar. Only a freezing shower had convinced him he was still alive.

"If we stand here much longer, we’ll be even later," Mike said, giving Max a fist bump.

"We’ll be even later, nye he he he," Lucas mimicked, earning an elbow and a laugh from Max. Mike just rolled his eyes, bounding over to Will and slinging an arm around him as they rushed toward the mall, dodging people and skidding down the escalator.

"Why were you even late?" Max called.

Mike didn't answer. He thought he glimpsed Erica in the crowd but didn’t stop, holding tightly to Will's wrist as they barreled through Scoops Ahoy.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding!

"Hey, dingus, your kids are here," the girl at the front said. She wore a white sailor hat and uniform, her brown-blond hair framing her face. The back window slid open and Steve poked his head out, scowling at them. "Again? Seriously?"

Mike just shrugged.

Soon they were hustled into the backroom, then down a white corridor to the theater, ducking under the Day of the Dead poster as they slipped into the dark. Mike held the door for Will, letting him enter first. Following after, Mike cleared his throat behind his fist, trying to hide his cough.

As they squeezed past people in the crowded theatre, apologies were murmured all around, punctuated by nervous smiles thrown here and there. Finally, they found their seats.

“See? We still made it,” Mike whispered.

“We missed the previews,” Lucas whispered back.

“Still made it, fart face,” Max teased Lucas with a shit-eating grin. Both she and Lucas stifled giggles.

Mike muffled a cough as he sat down between Will and Max, clearing his throat as the movie started to play. “Here you go, guys,” Will said, opening his backpack and pulling out drinks and snacks. He handed them to Mike, who passed them along to Max, who then handed Lucas a Coke and some junk food.

“You’re not going to have anything?” Will asked as Mike cracked open his soda, shaking his head.

“No, thanks,” Mike replied, taking a long drink. He doubted he could even stomach chips or whatever other junk Will had brought.

Just as the movie rolled, everything suddenly went black. The entire theater groaned in unison. Mike kept sipping his soda, glancing around.

“Oh, what? Are we serious right now?” Lucas whined.

Mike snickered, kicking his feet under the seat as Lucas glared at him.

“Come on,” Max groaned, leaning back in annoyance.

“This is so stupid,” Will muttered, turning to Mike, who only grinned back.

“Oh, the horrors…” Mike said, making spooky noises. Will wrinkled his nose. Mike kept up the act until Max kicked his leg.

“Come on, Mike. Quit it. We were actually waiting for this,” Max scolded, rolling her eyes.

Will couldn’t hide a small smile, even as the people around them continued to grumble. Then, the screen flickered back to life; the AC whirred on with a loud hum, and the theatre broke out in relieved cheers.

“See? All good,” Mike said, lightly slapping Max’s arm as the audience clapped.

Suddenly, a strange static—a ringing only Mike seemed to hear—buzzed in his ears. Usually, this sensation was one he associated with Eleven using her powers, that barely-there frequency only he and she seemed to notice. Mike let out a small groan, feeling his head pound. He rubbed his forehead, then glanced at Will, who was staring at the screen, terrified, his hand pressed to the back of his neck.

Mike forgot his own discomfort and reached out to touch Will’s arm, making him jump.

“You okay?” Mike asked quietly.

“Y–Yeah,” Will answered, breathing hard, face pale even in the flickering light. Mike examined him, then laid his hand gently over Will’s.

“You sure?” he asked again.

“I’m okay. Of course,” Will said, nodding unsteadily. Mike let out a relieved breath—even though the strange static still lingered around him. “If you feel weird, we can leave the theatre,” Mike whispered.

Will shook his head quickly. “No, no, it’s fine…” he murmured.

“Just… excited for tomorrow. Dustin’s coming back and all,” Will added in a small voice.

Mike searched Will’s face, then smiled slowly. “Okay… okay.” Suddenly he coughed harshly, turning away to avoid spraying Will.

“You okay?” Will asked, concern creeping back into his voice. “You’ve been coughing.”

“That was my line—but yeah, I’m fine. Coke just went down the wrong pipe,” Mike replied with a sheepish grin, raising his can as Will gave him an amused look. 

The movie was decent—but all Mike did was fall asleep, leaning quietly against Will’s shoulder. He’d been feeling terrible all day; lately, it seemed almost impossible to have fun when he felt like crap.

“The movie was great,” Lucas said as they walked out of the mall, his arm over Max’s shoulder.

“It was okay,” Mike sighed.

“You were asleep for the whole movie, you ass,” Max teased. Mike only stuck out his tongue at her.

“It was the best sleep I’ve had all week,” he replied, grinning at Will. Will’s face reddened instantly, and he glanced away, flustered.

“The movie… uh, it was fine,” Will managed, cheeks pink as Mike nudged him gently, bumping their shoulders together. Meanwhile, Max and Lucas grabbed their bikes from the rack.

Mike and Will followed along. “Wanna hang out?” Will asked, glancing at Mike hopefully.

Mike hesitated, scratching the back of his head. He’d been planning to rest early—he needed to be up for Dustin’s return tomorrow, plus he really should take some medicine, the good kind if they had any left.

“Uh… maybe tomorrow. I’m just feeling—” Mike rocked awkwardly on his heels, searching for an excuse. He didn’t want to admit he was sick. The last thing he needed was to throw up and embarrass himself in front of Will.

Will’s expression shifted to concern. “Are you alright?”

Mike waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. Really. Let’s just hang out tomorrow, okay? After Dustin gets back, we can go out—just the two of us, yeah?” He grinned, and Will’s cheeks turned a shade redder as he nodded enthusiastically, tightening his grip on his bike’s handlebars.

“Yeah!” Will bit his lower lip, fighting a smile.

Just behind them, Mike caught Lucas kissing Max as she hopped onto her bike. She waved at Lucas, then turned to wave at Mike too. Suddenly feeling bold, Mike reached over and hugged Will tight, feeling his face burn with nervous energy. Will made a surprised, breathless sound, but Mike just patted his back and stepped away, bouncing a little on his heels, hands trembling as he hid them behind him.

“See you tomorrow,” Mike said, smiling. Will looked at him, nodding shyly and tucking a hand behind his ear.

Mounting his bike, Mike let out a quiet giggle as he pedaled away.

It had been a while since Mike realized the strange fluttery feeling he got around Will wasn’t just nerves. The butterflies in his stomach came alive every time Will was near—it felt like giving a presentation in front of the whole class, every single time. He’d nearly had a meltdown trying to talk to Eleven about it.

Admitting he might like his best friend—a boy—wasn’t easy. Not now, not in this place, and not when he could barely admit it to himself. So he didn’t.

“Hey, Nancy,” Mike called as he passed through the kitchen. Nancy was there, drinking water and looking troubled.

He paused, closing the door behind him. “You okay?”

Nancy nodded, but moved stiffly, her voice tight. “Fine,” she replied—though she sounded like she might cry or punch the wall. Knowing Nancy, probably the latter.

“Uh, okay. I’m gonna go up and rest now,” Mike said, uncertain. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t want to push and risk her anger.

“You aren’t going to eat?” Nancy called after him.

“Nope! Good night, Nance!” he replied, already heading for the stairs.

***

Sneaking into Dustin’s house was easy—Eleven knew exactly where Dustin hid his spare key, just beneath the welcome mat. Inside, everyone was in a frenzy, rushing to find places to hide.

“Quick, ten more minutes!” Eleven called, practically bouncing off the walls with excitement.

“Hold on, the poster isn’t ready yet!” Max replied, scrambling as Mike grumbled under his breath. He wiped the sweat forming on his forehead while helping Max tape up the last designs. Max swiftly folded everything together.

Eleven stationed herself by the door, peering through the window. Suddenly, the familiar rumble of a car echoed down the street.

“He’s here,” Eleven grinned from ear to ear. Will had to pull her away from the door as they all dashed to hide, stifling giggles as Dustin and Claudia pulled into the driveway.

Will, Max, and Lucas hid in the bathtub while Eleven and Mike huddled by the door.

“Is he there?” Eleven whispered, barely containing her excitement.

“Shhh, El. He’ll hear you,” Mike whispered back, cracking the bathroom door just enough to peek outside.

They heard the front door creak open. Dustin walked in, unknowingly passing right by the bathroom’s cracked door. Claudia peeked in, smiling and waving at them.

Eleven waved eagerly. Mike waved too, a little more subtly, as they eased the door open to watch. Claudia breezed past them, humming loudly as she disappeared into her room.

“Your time to shine, El,” Mike grinned. Eleven nodded, closing her eyes to focus.

Suddenly, noise erupted from Dustin’s room—the crash of cymbals, R2D2 beeping, a robot whirring. Mike peered around the door, watching as Dustin’s toys lined up, marched out, and Dustin followed in total confusion.

He turned to the bathtub crew.

“Come on, go go go!” he whispered, and everyone bolted from the bathroom, trailing after Dustin, who was now clutching a can of hairspray. The group huddled behind the living room wall.

Eleven quickly wiped a trickle of blood from beneath her nose, eyes gleaming.

“Ready?” Max asked, whispering to Mike, who was peeking over her shoulder. He narrowed his eyes, then nodded.

“Go, go, go!”

Behind them, Will handed out party horns. Everyone bit down on theirs, hiding giggles as they crept up behind Dustin, who was still distracted by his animated toys.

Max turned, counting silently from three with her fingers, and at once, they blew their horns, startling Dustin so badly he spun around and accidentally sprayed Lucas in the eyes with hairspray.

“Oh my god!” Max yelped, as Will grabbed onto Mike, both of them bursting out laughing.

“My eyes!” Lucas shrieked, dropping the "Welcome Home Dustin" poster. He stumbled blindly, hands flailing, and ran right at Mike and Will.

Mike managed to yank Will out of the way before Lucas crashed full-force into the wall. The whole room fell silent.

“Ooo… that’s gotta hurt,” Mike said with a grin—just before Max elbowed him sharply and shot him a glare. She darted over to help Lucas up.

“Honeypoo!” Dustin gasped, nearly in tears, as Eleven leaped into his arms and squeezed him tight.

“My sweetie pie!” she exclaimed, while Mike made a face and took a careful step back from the hugging couple.

“I missed you,” Eleven said, holding Dustin’s face between her hands, squishing his cheeks and kissing him on the lips.

Dustin’s grin widened. “I missed you more, my honey-poo sweetie pie!” he declared, absolutely lovestruck.

Mike, now on the verge of gagging, rolled his eyes and nudged Will, who just grinned, watching the two with a smile.

“Ewwww,” Mike groaned, mock-covering his mouth. Eleven and Dustin turned, grinning, as Dustin planted a silly kiss on Eleven’s cheek.

Dustin grinned again, turning to Eleven. “I brought back a ton of stuff from camp. You guys wanna see?” he asked.

Eleven nodded eagerly, clinging to his arm. Dustin glanced at Mike, who shrugged, and at Will, who nodded with a small, encouraging smile.

“Sure,” Will said. Dustin wasted no time, leading everyone to his room.

On Dustin’s bed sat a large duffel bag. He unzipped it quickly as Eleven stood by his side, hands clasped tight with anticipation. Dustin rummaged inside, finally producing a wooden windmill fashioned with Coca-Cola tins as its blades. He spun it, grinning at Eleven.

“I call it... The Forever Clock,” Dustin announced proudly. He twisted a notch on the back, making the blades spin continuously as Eleven reached out with grabby hands.

“Powered by the wind—very useful in the apocalypse,” Dustin explained, smiling as he handed it to her. She spun it, eyes shining.

“Oh, cool. So it... spins forever, but you have to do it by hand?” Mike teased. Will nudged him with a look, but Mike just grinned.

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Funny, Mike. But honestly, it does spin with real wind.” He pulled out the next item—a small hammer with an odd device attached. “Now, behold... the Slammer!” he declared, clicking a button on the side. The hammer vibrated in his hand.

He moved it toward Mike, who watched with interest and a crooked grin. “Pretty neat, huh?” Dustin beamed.

Will nodded excitedly as Dustin handed him the Slammer. Will studied it, pressed the button, and watched it vibrate, startled by the force; he raised it uncertainly. Mike quickly clicked the button to stop it.

“But wait—I have a surprise,” Dustin said, raising a finger as he turned to Eleven. “This one’s just for you, my sweetie pie.”

Eleven raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

“There they go again,” Mike muttered to Will, who just grinned.

Dustin took a breath, turning serious. “I know you and I have been doing great, but I heard—from some people...” He shot a look at Mike, who pretended innocence, hands tucked under his arms. “...that you haven’t been talking to anyone since I was away. That means you have no friends. For a whole month! Do you know how worried I was, sweetiepie?”

Eleven frowned. “I have friends—you, Mike, Will, Max, and Lucas.”

“But you haven’t really come out to see any of them,” Dustin replied gently. “Do you know how many times Hopper and Mike talked to me about it?” Both Eleven and Will looked at Mike with narrowed eyes, while Mike stared at the floor, lips tight.

“Don’t blame Mike—but, well, I met a girl at camp,” Dustin started.

“A girl?” Eleven’s eyes widened with sudden worry. “What girl?”

“Hold on,” Dustin said. He grabbed his duffel, set it on the floor, and opened it up wide. “I brought Cerebro—upgraded! There’s a girl I met at camp, and I talked to her about you—minus the superpowers, of course. I told her how you saved the world!” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Eleven, Mike, and Will knelt around the upgraded, half-dismantled Cerebro.

“She helped me upgrade Cerebro so she could talk to you—so you’d have a friend. Like, a real girl-to-girl moment! You don’t have to always stick with me; you deserve that, El.”

“Is there a problem with her sticking to you? Seems fine to me,” Mike said.

“Yeah, I don’t really need a friend…” Eleven murmured, still frowning. “But… you met a girl?”

“She’s just a friend, I swear,” Dustin reassured her. “And I really think you need a friend—a girl friend.”

“Max is here,” Will interrupted.

Dustin sighed. “Yeah, but she’s always busy with Lucas.”

“You met a girl,” Eleven repeated, her voice tight, jealousy flaring in her eyes.

“A friend!” Dustin insisted. “For you. Her name’s Suzie. She wants to meet you, El. I want you guys to talk, so you can have a friend from outside Hawkins. She’s super smart.”

“So she actually has a name. I thought we were talking about imaginary friends,” Mike snickered, only to get elbowed by Will.

“Mike,” Will scolded quietly.

“Am I not smart?” Eleven asked, brows knitting together, her lips downturned as she looked genuinely hurt and a little jealous.

“Eleven, it’s not like that. You are amazing! You’re strong, beautiful, everything. Look—how about we set up Cerebro at Weathertop, talk to her together? I promise she’s just a friend. Honestly, she wants to talk to you more than she wants to talk to me,” Dustin said, as Eleven frowned, glancing over at Mike, who only shrugged, unsure what to say.

“Come on, help me with this,” Dustin added, standing back up. He grabbed the blue bag filled with metal poles and tossed it to Mike, who caught it with an “Oof,” while Will picked up the duffel.

“He has a friend. Mike.” Eleven whispered, looking disturbed, as Dustin darted out of the room, Will following behind more slowly.

“Just a friend, El, why do you sound like that?” Mike protested as they left Dustin’s room.

“What if… she’s his new girlfriend?” Eleven asked, worried, nibbling on her thumbnail. Mike let out a confused laugh.

“Dustin wouldn’t cheat on you, El,” he said.

“Where are you guys going?” Max called from the kitchen. Lucas, rinsing his face, looked up.

“To meet Dustin’s friend from camp,” Will replied, just as Dustin shot out of the house.

“Friend? He met a friend outside of us?” Max said, sounding genuinely surprised as Lucas opened his eyes wider.

“Whoa, that’s surprising,” Lucas admitted, and both followed after the others.

Mike and Eleven trailed a little behind. “What if he is?” Eleven insisted softly.

Mike gave her a look. “El, I know what a cheater looks like. Trust me, he isn’t. Come on—hop on. They’ve already gone ahead,” Mike said, handing her the bag and mounting his bike. Eleven climbed on, standing on the pegs by his back wheel and holding tightly to his shoulders.

Ahead, the others were already pedaling away, Dustin leading the charge.

“He does look excited about her though,” Eleven said sadly.

Mike grunted as he pedaled, trying to suppress a cough and feeling a little weaker than usual. “He’s not—he’s excited for you to meet someone new, I promise.” He glanced back at her anxious face. “What if—?” Eleven started, but trailed off, still worried.

“El, I promise, Dustin would never cheat on you. He’s not that kind of guy. I know you miss him, but let’s just meet Suzie first, okay? You’ll get to talk to her, and then you can ask her whatever you want—even if she likes Dustin,” Mike reassured, as Eleven let out a small, sad sigh, her shoulders slumping.

“You’re not taking me seriously,” she said quietly.

“That’s not true, El. But you’re worrying over nothing—Dustin would never do that. Still, I get why you’re nervous,” Mike replied. Eleven only huffed in response, falling silent.

The ride to Weathertop was quiet. When they finally reached the bottom of the hill, the group ditched their bikes by someone’s fence. Eleven tossed the bag of poles to Mike and ran ahead to catch up to Dustin, clinging to his arm as he waited for her. They mouthed words back and forth on the climb.

“Is she okay?” Will asked, pausing to wait for Mike, who was panting and struggling to keep up.

“Y-yeah. No. I don’t know, honestly,” Mike admitted between coughs.

Will eyed him, worried. “Are you sick?”

“Am not,” Mike insisted, shaking his head but looking embarrassed.

“That cough doesn’t sound great,” Will pointed out.

“I’m fine. Besides, weren’t we planning to hang out later?” Mike tried to deflect. Will flushed deeper, forehead slick with sweat, hair sticking damply to his skin. Mike groaned, his chest burning, head pounding.

“Are we high enough?” he called to Dustin. “Didn’t we use the weather radar around here last time?”

“Cerebro works better at a hundred meters!” Dustin called back.

“Where does she live?” Eleven asked.

“Utah,” Dustin replied.

“I thought they had phones in Utah,” Max said.

“Yeah, but Suzie’s a Mormon,” Dustin explained.

“You know a lot about her.” Eleven frowned as Dustin shot her a look at that comment. “Oh, so she doesn’t have electricity?” Lucas asked, catching up.

“No, Lucas, you’re thinking of Amish people,” Max cut in.

Will follows behind, with Mike barely catching up—panting, struggling to keep pace. Mike is almost tempted to drop the poles and collapse on the grass, but that would mean admitting defeat.

“What are the Mormons, anyway?” Will asks, glancing over his shoulder to look at Mike before back at Dustin right in front once more.

“Super religious white people,” Dustin replies. “They have electricity, cars and stuff. But Suzie’s not really allowed to make friends with non-Mormons. Her parents probably wouldn’t like me calling her and everything. Hell they might get angry just for her to make friends with El! Freaking Mormons…”

“That’s stupid. Why can’t Mormons be friends with non-Mormons?” Mike grumbles, out of breath as he finally catches up and, maybe cheating a little, uses his powers to float just an inch above the ground—touching down right behind Will, who looks at him, confused by how he got there so fast. “El doesn’t even have a religion…I think.”

“Yeah, uh. It’s all a bit confusing...” Dustin shrugs. “I didn’t care much about contacting her again until she said she wanted to talk to Eleven. So I thought, why not?”

Dustin beams at Eleven. “Suzie really wants to talk to you, El. And I just want you to meet people outside Hawkins—for once. You deserve good friends.” He grins, reaching for her hand.

Eleven looks away, uneasy, and then pulls her hand free with a sigh. “I do not think I can talk to her now…I have to go home,” she says quietly, rubbing her arm.

The group comes to a halt. Mike, still recovering, stands beside Will, hair plastered to his forehead. “What? No, no, we’ve still got time! I really want you to meet Suzie,” he pleads.

“She is your friend. Not mine,” Eleven says, pointing.

Lucas and Max exchange looks, like kids caught in the middle of their parents' fight.

“Yeah, but she could be your friend too!” Dustin protests, grabbing for Eleven’s hand again. She pulls away.

“Curfew,” Eleven manages, trying to smile as she hugs herself and walks back down the hill.

“Whoa—what? El, where are you going?” Mike calls after her, passing his load of poles to Lucas.

“Home. Curfew,” Eleven says, not meeting his eyes. Mike reaches out, calling, “El—” but she keeps walking, tears sparkling in her eyes.

Mike scowls. “That’s bull. It’s only four!” He runs after her, but Will grabs his wrist.

“Where are you going?” Will asks, brows furrowed.

Dustin jogs down, worry creasing his face. “Why is she acting like that? Does she really have a curfew at four? I thought Hopper was letting up.”

Mike shakes his head. “El’s just…getting used to having long-distance relationships and you meeting new people that she doesn’t know. You guys should finish building the Cerebro and contact Suzie.”

“You’re gonna follow her?” Will asks.

“Yeah, you’re really going after her?” Dustin echoes. “Shouldn’t I—”

“Dustin, just finish the goddamn Cerebro, okay?” Mike snaps. “She’s…just a little jealous. Contact Suzie and clear things up for El, alright?”

Dustin frowns, then nods. “I didn’t know,” he mutters.

“Shouldn’t Dustin be the one to talk to her?” Will asks. “I mean he is her boyfriend…”

“She won’t believe him unless she sees proof,” Mike replies. “Turns out, she’s a lot more like Hopper than anybody thought. All hardass—nothing else. I’m starting to think maybe Hopper really is her dad…” He wipes the sweat from his forehead and sighs.

Dustin’s expression turns determined. “Alright. I’ll contact Suzie just to prove to El she’s really just a friend. Honestly, Suzie’s probably more interested in El than me—she nearly threw a Molotov at me once!”

“A Molotov? How?” Will asked.

“Don’t ask,” Dustin replied, tugging Will along. “She hates my guts because she knows I’m smarter and cooler than her. She already has someone she likes too, I think. So come on, Will—we’ve got to build the Cerebro, and fast.”

Will glanced back at Mike. “Can’t I just come with you?” he pleaded.

Mike shook his head. “Go help Dustin. I’ll be back,” he said, already rushing down the hill before Will could respond.

“El! El! Hey—wait up!” Mike called as he spotted Eleven walking away, sniffling. “El—Eleven, hey, come on,” he said, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off.

“You don’t believe me,” she said, her eyes watery as she kept walking.

“Hey, come on, El. Your fear isn’t real. Dustin would never cheat on you. Let’s go back up there and meet your new friend, Suzie,” Mike urged gently.

“She is not my friend. I do not want a friend. Dustin thinks she is smarter than me,” Eleven replied, her voice soft but hurt.

Mike groaned as he walked to his bike, mounting it. Lately, trying to convince Eleven felt impossible—it was like talking to a brick wall.

“Come on, just hop on. I’m taking you home,” Mike sighed. Eleven stepped onto the back pegs, holding onto his shoulders. As Mike pedaled down the road, Eleven sniffled again.

“I want to spend my time with him… It was hard to be by myself,” she said quietly.

Mike reached back and patted her hand. “Hey, don’t cry, El. Dustin loves you—so much, I swear. That’s why he even times your calls. Hopper hates how much time you spend in your room just waiting for Dustin to contact you,” he explained.

Eleven didn’t answer, going quiet again. Mike stifled a sigh. Sometimes he really hated having friends who were a literal couple. He’d never had to deal with this when it was just Max and Lucas.

Just then, Mike heard it—a strange static in the air, like humming under his skin. His ears buzzed and his head pounded. He wobbled on the bike.

“Woah,” Eleven said, peering over at him and wiping her tears. “You okay?”

“Yeah… just—a little dizzy, that’s all. It’s hot,” Mike replied, wiping his forehead with his arm and continuing to pedal.

***

“You know, El, I totally understand how you feel. Really, I do. But we’ve been on this topic for almost...” Mike paused, glancing at his watch with a pensive—half-annoyed—expression. He stood at the foot of Eleven’s bed, watching as she hugged her pillow, her face caught between anger and sadness. “So many hours now, I don’t even know when we started. El, come on, you know Dustin would never cheat on you.”

He sighed, pacing back and forth, trying to ignore the way his head spun and the room seemed to spin with it.

“Yes... but why does he have to meet Suzie?” Eleven muttered.

“Dustin said Suzie wants to meet you,” Mike replied, raising his hands in defense. “And once he gets Cerebro working, I’m sure you’ll like her. He says she’s really smart—and I just thought, maybe you’d want to talk to someone you can relate to.” He paused, bracing himself on the wall as the world tilted again.

His breaths came rough. He turned to Eleven, who was now facing away, not noticing how much he was struggling just to stand.

“I do not care. I do not care about Suzie. What I want is to be with him… but he talks about her first,” she growled, her fist clenched tight.

Mike forced himself upright, fighting for a steady breath. He was in no shape to do much of anything later—much less hang out with Will, feeling worse than yesterday. He’d taken all the medicine his mom could give him, chugged water, tried cold baths—slept early—everything. Still, this was worse than day one.

“El, Dustin would never cheat. Ever. Trust me, I know what it looks like when someone is actually cheating.” Right then, a knock sounded on the door, making Eleven sit up, puzzled.

Mike leaned his back against the wall, staring at the door. “Hey. Can I talk to you guys for a minute?” Hopper’s gruff voice called out.

Mike shot Eleven a confused look and shrugged. She returned the shrug, then waved her hand—the door creaked open. Mike straightened as Hopper peered in, his brow furrowed when he saw Mike there.

“Where’s Dustin?” Hopper asked.

Eleven’s face fell. “Talking. To his new friend,” she muttered, spitting out the words.

Hopper blinked. “New friend?” He looked at Mike, searching for an explanation to the riddle of Eleven and Dustin.

“Suzie. Dustin’s new friend from science camp,” Mike explained, as Hopper dragged a chair from near Eleven’s dresser and sat down heavily.

“Okay... I was expecting him here…” Hopper said slowly.

“Yeah, about that…” Mike hesitated, trying to ignore the spinning in his vision.

“What happened?” Hopper pressed, his voice suddenly low and concerned. He turned to Eleven, who sniffled quietly.

“He has a new friend,” she repeated, wiping her face.

“Suzie is just a friend, El, I promise. Dustin wants to build Cerebro so you can talk to Suzie. But… well, you got a little jealous,” Mike shrugged.

Hopper eyed him. “That doesn’t sound like just a friend, Wheeler. Why would Dustin make friends with a girl, of all people?”

Mike rolled his eyes, clapping his hands together. “Great, so it’s both of you now. You two really are father and daughter.” He let out a sigh. “Dustin isn’t cheating. For the record, he told me Suzie actually hated him before they became friends—maybe because she knew he had a girlfriend. I swear, there’s nothing going on.”

Hopper crossed his arms, frowning. “That doesn’t explain anything. Is she trying to... homewreck or something?”

Eleven wiped her face, glancing between them.

“First of all, Suzie’s a Mormon, Hopper. I don’t think they teach their kids that,” Mike said. “And second, Dustin would never.”

“Yes, but you’ve never even met the girl,” Hopper replied.

“That’s the whole reason Dustin made Cerebro! Why are we fighting about this?” Mike protested, but then swayed, his vision blurring. “I swear, Dustin means well—he always means...”

Mike trailed off, his vision suddenly spinning. Hopper and Eleven seemed to double—then triple before his eyes. His head throbbed, as if it might burst, and his throat ached from all the talking he had done.

Hopper’s expression shifted from annoyed to concerned. “Kid?” he called, just as Mike staggered, grabbing the wall for support. He lowered his head, trying to shake away the dizziness.

Mike’s legs wobbled. Hopper moved to catch him, but Mike pressed a hand to his temple and groaned, eyes rolling back as he collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud. Eleven sprang off her bed while Hopper knelt beside Mike, gently lifting his upper body, cradling Mike’s back in his arm. Eleven knelt on the other side, her face pale with worry as she grasped Mike’s arm and gave it a shaky squeeze. Mike shivered in Hopper’s hold, letting out small whimpers, his breaths quick and shallow.

“He’s burning up,” Eleven whispered, pressing her hand to Mike’s sweaty forehead.

“Shit,” Hopper muttered. “He’s sick? Did he tell you?” He shot Eleven a look.

She shook her head, wide-eyed. Hopper frowned, carefully sliding an arm under Mike’s knees and lifting him up. “I’m taking him home. He’s sick, Jesus Christ.” He nodded to Eleven, but she reached out, worried. “Let me come,” she pleaded.

Hopper shook his head firmly. “No. You stay here. I’ll get him back to the Wheelers. He’s sick as a dog.”

Eleven froze in place, anxious and unsure, watching as Hopper carried Mike out of the cabin.

Mike continued to groan as Hopper opened the truck door, easing him into the passenger seat and strapping him in. Mike’s head lolled to the side, his eyes flickering restlessly beneath his lids.

***

Will lays on the grass, staring up at the sky—Mike still hadn’t come back. Where is he? He said he’d be back soon… And they were still hanging out, right?

“Suzie? Do you copy? This is Dustin. Over. Suzie! You know, it would be nice if you responded right now!” Dustin said, voice urgent. “Suzie, this is Dustin. Over.” He repeated into the radio, but all that came back was a loud burst of static.

Will stifled a sigh, placing his arm over his eyes, then letting it fall again at his side. He went back to gazing at the moon above them. Right beside him, Max and Lucas were lying together, side by side.

“Suzie, this is Dustin, do you copy? Over,” Dustin said again, swaying nervously. “Suzie—”

“Dustin, come on, she’s not there,” Max finally snapped, turning her head toward him.

“She’s there, alright? She’ll pick up—she has to… El’s misunderstanding the whole thing!” Dustin groaned, running a hand down his face.

“Maybe Cerebro doesn’t work,” Will finally said, propping himself up on his elbows. He didn’t think Dustin would actually cheat on Eleven—her fears were completely misplaced. If anything, Dustin was the most loyal person Will knew, second only to Mike. Will understood why Dustin was so desperate for the radio to work: he wanted to prove to Eleven that Suzie was really just a friend. He probably regretted mentioning Suzie at all.

Will hadn’t expected Eleven to react that way—maybe Mike was right. Maybe Eleven did need to get out of the cabin a few times, instead of staying shut up in her room just to talk to Dustin. But then again, starting a relationship long-distance was probably the worst way to begin anything.

Still, if anyone could pull it off, it would be Dustin and Eleven. They were kind of perfect for each other. Eleven was simply… someone who found trust hard, even over the smallest things. Will couldn’t blame her, not after everything she’d been through. It couldn’t be easy.

“Cerebro works, Will! This is literally the same setup I used to talk to El when I was at camp,” Dustin groaned.

“But you said this was an upgraded version,” Will pointed out, causing Dustin to growl, rip off his cap, and tug at his hair in frustration.

“Or maybe Suzie doesn’t exist. You could just tell El she’s not real,” Lucas said, earning an annoyed look from Dustin.

“She exists,” Dustin insisted.

“Dude, you’re just digging your own grave. Maybe if you tell Eleven it’s all a joke, she won’t be jealous anymore,” Lucas suggested.

“And it’s that easy?” Max asked, sitting up. “Do you do that—lie?” She raised an eyebrow at Lucas, who sat up, stammering.

“What? N–No! I was just telling Dustin that maybe he should play it like a joke and—” Lucas trailed off when Max grinned and laughed.

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. But Lucas is kind of right, Dust. El looked really hurt. I mean, of all people to get close to, it’s a girl?” she said.

“Hey, boys and girls can be friends! Look at Mike and El,” Dustin argued, sounding defensive.

Will watched the group quietly, hugging his knees and stifling a sigh.

“Yeah, but those two are different—they’re like siblings,” Lucas shrugged.

“They’re still friends! And do I look jealous?” Dustin shot back.

“Mike and El were friends before you dated, but El doesn’t know Suzie,” Max said. “Dude, you really need to read some dating books.”

Dustin let out an offended noise. “That’s why I’m pushing this! I need Suzie to reply so I can have her tell El we’re just friends, and explain how we met!” he said.

Max only shook her head. “Dustin… Seriously,” she sighed, standing up. “Come on, Don Juan.” She offered her hand to Lucas and pulled him up. The two of them walked off down the hill, giggling.

“Where are you going?” Dustin called after them, wounded.

“Home,” Max replied, as she and Lucas disappeared down the slope.

Dustin watched them go and sighed. “Welp, it’s just me and you, Byers,” he said, turning to Will, who was already getting to his feet.

“Um… it’s late,” Will said, glancing at his watch. Mike had promised they would hang out, and Will didn’t want to keep him waiting. He shifted on his feet, avoiding Dustin’s gaze.

“Sorry,” Will added softly.

“Maybe, uh… tomorrow we can play D&D? It’s been a while since you ran a campaign. Maybe you could bring back the three-headed dragon?” Will suggested, swaying slightly as he spoke.

Dustin considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Welcome home,” Will said, a little hesitant—it felt late to say, after the surprise earlier. But after everything that happened, it still felt necessary.

Eleven getting jealous on the first day she and Dustin saw each other again… Jeez.

Dustin nodded at him, and Will smiled back before running down the hill, skipping steps as he raced for his bike and then home. He wasn’t sure where Mike was, or if Mike was already waiting. So he hurried, pedaling fast.

“Will, are you home? Is that you, baby?” He hears his mother calling from the kitchen, where the tap is running and dishes clatter.

“Uh, yeah… Is—Is Mike here?” Will asks, pausing in the hallway. There hadn’t been a bike outside, but he asks anyway.

Joyce comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. The TV is on in the living room, voices murmuring in the background.

“No, he’s not here. Should he be?” Joyce replies.

“I don’t know. We were supposed to hang out…” Will mumbles. “I’ll just call his house.” He heads over to the phone as Joyce hums her acknowledgment.

“Alright. If he comes over, make him stay the night. No going out at this hour.”
Will nods, already dialing the Wheelers’ number.

He waits as the phone rings—once, twice, over and over. No one picks up. Frustrated, Will slams the receiver down and trudges upstairs to his room. He grabs his walkie-talkie from the bed.

“Mike, are you there? Over.” He pulls up the antenna and waits, but only static crackles back at him.

Will frowns, brow wrinkling with worry.

“Mike? Are you there? Are you coming over?” He asks again, but there’s still no answer.

Will sits on the edge of his bed, bouncing slightly, shaking his leg with impatience.

“Mike? Are you still coming over? Are we still hanging out?” Will repeats, his voice a little weaker now.

Where is Mike? Is he still at El’s? “Mike? Are you there?” he asks, one last time.

“No answer?”

Will looks up to see his mother leaning in the doorway, concern etched on her face. He lowers the walkie-talkie, shakes his head, and stares at his lap.

“Maybe he’s just busy. It’s getting late, maybe he’s already resting,” Joyce reassures him, walking in to sit beside him.

“Yeah… must be,” Will murmurs, sighing. “Guess I’ll just see him tomorrow.” He pushes the antenna back down, and Joyce gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Alright. Go take a bath now—you smell like grass. Then you can eat.” She stands and smiles.

Will nods, managing a small smile in return.

He didn’t think Mike would stand him up like this. Will tries not to take it too personally.

***

Why does he have to be sick? "Ugh! Fuck my life!" Mike groans, burying his head under the duvet. His mother is already gone—off to the community pool. His dad? Who knows where. Nancy is busy with her job, and Holly is just in her room. That leaves only Mike and Holly at home.

"Mike?" A small voice calls from the doorway as it creaks open. Holly stands there, clutching a glass of water.

Mike sits up too quickly, regretting it when the world spins. "O–Oh, Holly… thank you. You didn’t have to," he croaks, voice raw. Holly approaches, a little nervous, and hands him the glass. Mike takes it gratefully and sips.

"I heard you coughing again and again... I thought maybe you needed some water," Holly says shyly.

Mike musters a weak smile. "Holly, thank you so much… Seems like Mom, Dad, and Nancy all left us. And I’m really out of it. Want to have some fun?"

Her eyes light up as she nods. Smiling, Mike leads her downstairs, toward the basement—a place Holly is usually not allowed, since it’s crammed with junk that could easily hurt her. But it's also where their party plays campaigns.

"Want me to teach you how Dungeons & Dragons works? It’s a really fun tabletop RPG," Mike offers.

Holly’s eyes go wide, and she nods again, eager. Mike grins and motions her over to the table where miniatures are scattered—models he’s been working on for a while. They were meant for Will’s campaign, but getting sick kept him from finishing them. They're still a little rough around the edges.

As much as Mike wants to show them off to Will, he can't bring himself to deliver unfinished work. That would be barbaric. Besides, he refuses to cheat and use his powers—this has to be done with his own two hands.

"Here—this is Will the Wise," Mike says, picking up a painted figurine. The last time he set it down, the paint still needed to dry; now, it just needs a touch of polish to keep the paint from chipping.

Holly lets out a soft "whoa" as Mike hands her the tiny figure. "Careful. That one's for Will. You know Will, right?"

Holly nods eagerly. "Will is nice." She smiles, digging into her shorts pocket and producing a clumsily folded piece of paper. “Here.” She says.

Mike raises his eyebrows as she hands it to him. "What's this?"

Holly hugs the Will figurine to her chest, bashful. "My… my drawing. I always see you holding Will’s drawings."

Mike’s face turns pink, and he lets out a shy, awkward laugh as he unfolds the paper, smoothing it gently.

There, he sees what he thinks is a drawing of him and Will holding hands.

“Holly!” Mike exclaims, quickly folding the paper, his face flushing in embarrassment as Holly flinches, her eyes wide.

“Is it bad? Did it not look good?” she asks, pouting as Mike hesitantly unfolds the paper again to look at the drawing.

It’s definitely Will—his round bowl cut is unmistakable. Mike can’t help but snort under his breath. Next to Will is a figure that’s supposed to be Mike, his hair drawn like a messy mop. But the most important detail is that they’re holding hands, with a house in the background, a dog, a cat, and… maybe a car.

“Why are we holding hands here?” Mike asks, folding the paper once more as Holly looks up at him.

“Because… you’re friends?” she says, uncertainty coloring her voice as she tilts her head. Mike’s brow furrows, but a little laugh escapes him.

“Do you not like it?” Holly asks, her voice smaller now.

“No, no, I actually like it a lot. Maybe this could be some form of… manifestation or something,” Mike grins, clearly embarrassed as his ears redden. He unfolds the paper again, gently tracing a finger over the drawing of Will, a grin spreading across his face.

“Can I keep this?” he asks, his voice soft.

He does like it—really likes it. It feels like a dream: a house with Will, a dog, a cat, and a car. Will can drive; Mike will ride in the passenger seat.

“Really? You like it?” Holly asks, hope lighting up her eyes.

Mike nods, smiling at her. “I love it, Holls,” he says, sitting down in a chair. Holly quickly grabs hers and joins him, grinning wide as she fidgets with a little Will figurine.

Mike can’t help but ask, “Why us, though? Why did you draw me and Will?”

Holly looks up, swinging her legs under the table. “Hm?” she prods, unsure what he means.

“I mean… why us?” Mike repeats, curious.

Holly hesitates, her eyes as big as ever. “Um...” She glances away, playing with the figurine. “Because you like him?” she says, tilting her head.

Mike’s eyes go wide. “I—what? How did—Where did you hear that?” he stammers, laughing nervously.

Holly just shrugs. “No one told me… You always look at Will the way Nancy looks at Jonathan. So I thought... am I wrong?”

Mike blinks, caught off-guard. Who knew Holly noticed so much? He shakes his head, gently.

“No, no, it’s okay. Yeah… yeah, you’re right. But don’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Will. This is our secret,” he says quietly. “Okay?”

Holly nods, delighted, placing a finger to her lips. “Shhh!” she whispers. Mike can’t help but grin.

Before the static can fill his head again, Mike feels a strange rumble beneath him. His vision goes faint as a sharp pain tears through his head and chest. The lamp in the corner flickers; the one overhead shuts off entirely, responding to Mike's pain.

"Mike?" Holly’s voice is tight with worry as Mike braces himself on the corner of the table, breathing harshly. He groans, the tremor beneath his feet intensifying. He’s unconsciously tapping into his power, making the ground quake. The figurine on the table rattles, then tumbles to the floor just as Holly rushes to his side. Mike doubles over, gasping for breath.

What the hell is happening?

"Mike? Mike, are you okay? Mike?!" Panic fills Holly’s voice; her eyes are wide with fear as Mike forces himself upright, clutching her shoulder for support. He focuses, commanding the quake to stop.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay," he reassures her, voice strained. Holly sniffles, tears gathering in her eyes.

"You should rest, Mike. I’m scared," she admits. Mike nods.

"Okay, okay, I’ll rest. Come on, help your big bro up," he says with a weak grin, slipping the drawing into his shorts pocket and extending his arm. Holly lets out a determined huff, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling him up like she might actually carry him. Mike laughs, letting her drag him up the stairs.

He spends the rest of the day in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. At one point there's a knock—loud—but before Mike can register it, someone, maybe Will, calls his name. Then, nothing. He fades out again.

Holly comes by more than once: a glass of water, crackers, some medicine. Mike can't even muster the strength to thank her. He rolls on his side, gritting his teeth against the sickness and the small aftershocks of his own abilities—terrified he’ll accidentally shatter a wall or create another tornado.

"Mike, drink some medicine." Holly shakes him gently. He moves through the motions, waking up just enough to swallow a pill and nibble a cracker, murmuring a faint thanks.

She’s still holding Will’s figurine when Mike manages a weak smile.

"Sorry for getting so sick, Holly. We could’ve been playing downstairs," he says.

"It doesn’t matter," she replies, pouting.

He nods, sinking back into the bed. Holly leaves, shutting the door behind her.

Mike waves a hand toward the window; the curtain swings open with the movement of the air. The sky is already dark—nighttime. Damn it. Mike groans, rolling over, holding his stomach as it protests. He reminds himself never to touch anyone remotely sick again.

He closes his eyes—

Static returns, familiar and unwelcome. Mike cracks open his eyes to see a faded image of Eleven leaning over him. She’s wearing strange clothing, black with bursts of every color. Why is Eleven here now?

Mike groans. "What are you doing?" he asks, voice rough. Eleven just studies him, kneeling behind his bed.

"You’re really sick," she says gently.

"I hope it wasn’t too obvious. Seriously, what are you doing?" he manages, pushing himself up on one elbow.

Eleven hesitates, suddenly shy. "Having fun...with Max," she says, a sheepish grin on her face.

Mike snorts. "Having fun? What about Dustin?"

Eleven frowns, looking annoyed. "Whatever," she huffs, and then her image flickers and disappears.

"What? El! Oh, come on," Mike groans, rolling his eyes as he collapses back onto his bed.

Eleven is definitely starting to act like Hopper—it’s almost terrifying. Well, at least she's having fun. Did they ever solve the Suzie issue? Mike can’t bring himself to care—he’s sick; he needs a break.

So Mike does what he does best. He sleeps.

***

The first thing Mike did that morning was sink into a bathtub filled with water so cold it could freeze someone’s balls off. But his body was burning up—not in a joking way, either. He turned the faucet to its coldest setting, chilling the entire bathroom. Then, using his powers, he made it even colder. The water was nearly turning to slush as Mike dipped his hand in, shivering as he peeled off his sweaty shirt and shorts before slipping into the bath.

He hugged himself, shivering, and coughed wetly. A cold bath should help, right? Mike scooted down until the water reached his chin, curling his legs to fit inside the tub. For a moment, he just lay there, trembling, water dripping over the rim as he hummed a song under his breath.

He shivered again, pressing a hand to his forehead and feeling the fever burning beneath his skin. He groaned. He wanted nothing more than to go out and have fun. He hadn’t even told Will yet that he was sick… that he hadn’t just bailed on him.

Suddenly, he ducked his head under the water. He didn’t really need to breathe beneath the surface—in fact, he could stay there as long as he wanted. That was the perk of having powers. So he floated under the water, staring up at the ceiling through the rippling surface, his hands drifting across his stomach.

For a while, he just stayed there.

He must have fallen asleep, because he woke up to the sound of pounding rain and thunder outside. Startled, Mike jolted upright in the bathtub. The water had lost its arctic chill. Shivering, he climbed out, grabbed a towel, and dried off. He slipped into clean, soft clothes—thankfully, not drenched in sweat this time. Ew.

Mike towels his hair dry, waving a hand as the bathtub plug pops out, letting the water rush noisily down the drain. He steps out of the bathroom. Outside, the rain strengthens, drumming faster against the roof as Mike heads for his room. He peers out the window, watching the sky darken beneath the falling sheets of rain.

“Rain…” Mike mutters. At least this rain isn’t his doing, so he doesn’t mind. “Rain in summer. Sounds funnier in my head.” He shakes it off, heading to his bed and stripping off the damp sheets and blanket. Sure, he’s sick, but there’s no way he’s lying back down in a sweaty bed—hell no.

He wills the air to move. The soiled bedding floats from his hands, folds itself tidily, and settles just beside the hamper. His wardrobe swings open; fresh sheets and a blanket come sailing out. The pillows levitate, fluffing themselves before dropping gently onto the bare mattress as Mike stands in the center of it all.

Sometimes, his powers really are best for the mundane things.

“Mike?” comes Holly’s voice from the doorway. Instinctively, Mike snaps his hand, and the bed makes itself just as Holly enters. He sits down, managing a small smile. “Hey,” he greets her.

“Food!” Holly beams, holding a tray with pancakes and eggs, a glass of orange juice beside them. Mike moves to the middle of the bed, and Holly sets the tray down in front of him.

“Oh, Holly, thank you! You know how much I appreciate this,” Mike says, grinning.

“You woke up really late—and you took forever in the bath. So I waited, but it’s cold now. Mom left earlier,” Holly explains.

Mike just nods, picking up his fork and taking a cautious bite of egg, his stomach churning a little.

“Oh, and here’s the medicine Mom gave me for you.” Holly opens her other hand, revealing a small white pill. Mike takes it, flashing her another grin.

“After I finish this, want to watch a movie?” he asks.

Holly nods, but then frowns. “Aren’t you dizzy, though?” she asks, concern in her eyes.

“Me? No way! I’m fine now,” Mike insists between bites. Holly seems relieved.

She leaves the room a moment later, saying she’ll be downstairs setting up the TV and waiting for him in the living room. Mike hurries through his food, swallows his medicine, and dashes downstairs to drop his plate in the sink. When he finally joins Holly, she’s already grinning at the TV.

“My Little Pony, huh?” he teases, flopping onto the couch beside her.

Holly just grins and nods. Outside, the rain drums on as Mike watches My Little Pony with Holly, half-asleep. It isn’t what he’d usually pick—but Holly called dibs on the TV, so he’ll make do.

He must have fallen asleep in the middle of the day, because when he woke up, it was darker outside and the TV was still on—G.I. Joe playing softly in the background. Holly was gone, but he could hear her moving around somewhere in the house. There was a thin blanket over him now and an extra pillow under his head.

For a moment, Mike just watched the show, the glow of the screen burning his eyes. He rubbed them, turning a little on the sofa before closing his eyes again. Then the phone rang. Mike groaned and dropped his head, dreading the thought of standing up. As he tried to sit, his body ached and, worse, his stomach rumbled in a way that meant trouble.

Was he about to throw up? God, maybe he shouldn’t have eaten that pancake.

“I’ll get it!” Holly called as Mike nodded, barely managing to stand. He stumbled past her to the bathroom, pushed open the door, and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, vomiting up the pancake, eggs, and orange in one sickening rush.

The mess was as disgusting as he felt.

“Um, Mike’s really sick—I don’t think he can talk to you today,” he heard Holly say from outside the bathroom as he clung to the edge of the bowl, shaking, his skin clammy and cold. There was a high-pitched static in his ears, and something in the air felt... wrong. Not just a random stomach bug; this was something deeper. Something genuinely wrong, like a threat building inside him—a warning urging him to move, to get up and hunt down whatever was causing this imbalance.

But what, exactly?

Mike shivered, head still hanging over the toilet. His body ached, his head throbbed, and every instinct screamed at him to get up—leave the house, find the threat, destroy it, make it suffer. The chill spread from his shoulders down his back, then vanished as suddenly as it came, leaving him hot and sweaty and still shivering.

“Mike?” Holly’s voice, full of worry, made him look up.

 “Are you okay?” she asked, eyes wide.

Mike nodded slowly. “Just peachy, Holly… Why don’t you keep watching TV in the living room, okay? I’m going to my room to rest. Tell Mom I won’t be at dinner again.”

“Okay…” Holly said, uncertain, and she left him alone. Mike stumbled to the sink to rinse his mouth, flushed the toilet, then made his shaky way up the stairs to his room. He fell onto the bed, limbs heavy.

His senses still screamed at him to get up, fight, do something. But he pulled the duvet over his head and tried to force himself back to sleep. Downstairs, he faintly heard the phone ring again, and Holly’s voice answering.

***

“You were fired?” Mike asks, startled as he sits at the dining table. He’d woken up late, taken another shower—because, god forbid, he was still sweaty as hell—and somehow felt even worse than before. Out of desperation, he’d downed four pills at once. Heading downstairs, he found Nancy by the window. She looked different: lighter somehow, as if a weight had just been lifted from her shoulders.

Maybe it was because she’d been fired from her internship. “I’m so sorry, Nancy,” Mike says, unable to hide his concern. Nancy just shakes her head, a small laugh slipping out

“It’s—uh, it’s fine,” she says.

Mike pokes at his bacon, chewing slowly; his stomach still feels like hell.

“Does Mom know?” he asks softly, his brows knitting together with worry.

“Yeah. She already knew. I told her earlier,” Nancy sighs, leaning back as she picks at her eggs and bacon.

“Oh… that’s good,” Mike says, his voice trailing off. He hesitates, then asks, “You? Feeling any better?” Nancy glances over, concern on her face.

He shrugs. “A little. Actually, I still feel like shit, so I don’t even know if I can go to the fair with you guys.” He lets his head drop into his hand. Nancy’s expression twists with worry.

“Did you catch it from someone at school?” she asks.

“Probably. I remember Rob from English sneezing all over the hallways. It was probably him,” Mike says slowly, dropping his bacon, tapping pieces apart, then halfheartedly stabbing his eggs with his fork. He’s really not hungry.

A silence settles between them. Nancy seems lost in thought, absentmindedly stabbing her food, while Mike just tries to keep his breakfast down.

After a minute, Mike glances up at Nancy, noticing she’s still wearing her work clothes. “You planning on leaving again?” he asks.

She startles, humming in surprise before looking up. “Uh—” she starts.

Mike gestures at her clothes with his fork. “You’re still dressed for work,” he points out.

Nancy shifts in her seat. “Yeah, I’ve got to talk to Jonathan and all. You know, maybe find a new place to intern.” She forces a laugh. Mike looks at her, feeling a pang of guilt. He knows how much Nancy loves this journalism thing. It’s no wonder she’s desperate for another summer job—just to fill the empty space in her chest.

Mike stifled a sigh—maybe it was better to just keep his questions to himself

 "Nothing exciting happened lately?" she asked, as Mike grinned and shrugged.

"I've been really sick. I haven't gone out for two days now, I think…" He shrugged again, as Nancy shook her head with a small smile on her face.

"You took all the excitement from mine," Mike said, rolling his eyes.

"Just eat your food, Mike," she replied, her smile growing a little. Mike grinned back.

The day was, overall, pretty uneventful for Mike. Nancy left around five—or maybe six—while Mike spent his time in bed, feeling just a bit better than before. Maybe he hadn’t been taking enough medicine. One dose was nothing, but apparently four seemed to do the trick. He let Holly play in the basement, though he made sure to remind her to be very, very careful so she didn’t break anything.

Sometime between seven and eight, Karen finally returned, checking on Mike, who was still tucked away in his room.

"How are you?" she asked after a moment, as Mike stirred, squinting at the bright hallway light.

"Mom?" Mike mumbled, his voice soft and low. Karen smiled, sitting next to him and running her fingers gently through his hair.

"How are you feeling, baby?" she repeated.

"Okay," he murmured, barely more than a whisper.

"Where did you go?" Mike asked, though he already knew—the answer was always the same: out with her ‘friends.’ For Billy. Anyone could see it—a stupid person could see it, a deaf person could see it, hell, even a blind person could see it. It had been months since Mike found out his mom had been cheating on his dad with Billy—an 18-year-old, barely an adult.

Worse, it had started when Billy was just 17. Mike still didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. Sometimes, it was better not to know anything at all. It was a curse, being aware. Many nights, he wished he’d never checked outside the garage when he heard those voices.

"Just… with my friends. Nothing important," Karen answered, smiling, as Mike looked at her for a moment before nodding and turning his head back to the pillow.

"Okay…" he said.

"Aren’t you going to have dinner with us?" she asked.
Mike shook his head. "No… I can’t stomach anything today, sorry," he sighed.

Karen’s face filled with worry. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital? What if it’s serious?"

"Oh, Mom, it’s not that bad. Just a stomach bug," Mike replied, rolling his eyes as Karen brushed his cheek gently, smiling softly.

"Yes, but I can’t help worrying, baby. I’m your mother—let me check your temperature." She placed her hand on his forehead as Mike closed his eyes.

"Just a little warm, huh? You’ll feel better soon—I’m sure of it. Maybe you can come to the fair with us. Bring your friends."

"I don’t know, Mom. I still feel really sick. I don’t mind staying behind, it’s fine." He tried to smile, but Karen frowned.

"You know I hate leaving one of us behind while the rest are out having fun," she said.

Mike sighed, looking up at her. "Mom, I promise. It’s okay—it really is. Besides, what if I give everyone my germs, or even worse, get sick on a ride? I’d rather avoid being the town’s new social outcast." He meant it as a joke, and Karen snorted, rolling her eyes—almost as if to say, aren’t you already one? She didn’t say it, but Mike heard it anyway.

"Mike—"

"Mom. Seriously—it’s fine. I can’t handle going out sick. And I don’t want you guys to skip the fun just because of me. So… it’s really okay," he said, shrugging. Karen sighed and nodded, running her hand through his hair once more as he hummed quietly.

"Nancy?" Mike asked.

"Not home yet. She’s probably staying at the Byers’."

Mike frowned, narrowing his eyes. Staying with the Byers after losing her job? That’s odd. Nancy usually wanted alone time, so maybe something was happening that he just didn’t know about—but it wasn’t really his business, anyway.

Eventually, Karen left, and Mike fell into an uneasy sleep. He wondered how Will was doing—probably having fun with the others, since it was summer. Mike was just the unlucky one who got sick when school was out.

The next day, Mike woke early, feeling strangely energized, though still like he’d been kicked by a herd of cows and run over by a truck. He had too much pent-up energy—he’d been cooped up for days, unable to put it into his usual projects. Maybe he needed to rebuild Tiamat, just to keep busy, but stuck at home, there was nothing he could do. Why did he have to get sick now?

"Where’s Nancy?" Ted asked as they all sat around the table, plates clanking. Holly was quietly reading, nibbling on a strip of bacon, while Mike stabbed his eggs again and again. He was getting sick of breakfast food. Maybe if he felt better by dinner, he could finally eat something other than eggs, pancakes, or god forbid bacon.

He continued stabbing at his egg, his fork clanging noisily against the plate as Karen moved around the kitchen.

“She’s at Jonathan’s,” Karen said.

Ted rolled his eyes, scoffing. “That Byers boy again?” he muttered, shaking his head.

Mike rolled his eyes too, stabbing his egg even harder before turning to his pancakes. Holly shot Ted and Mike a wary look, hiding her face behind her book.

“Jonathan is sweet, and you know that,” Karen grumbled.

Mike stifled a sigh. This day was going to be long. He didn’t bother with breakfast, tossing his full plate into the sink before retreating back to his room with a groan. He dropped straight onto his bed and, moments later, drifted back to sleep.

***

It’s another day, and Mike likes to think he’s feeling a little better than before. He’s still under the weather, sure, but at least he doesn’t feel like total crap anymore. So here he is, alone in the living room, actually enjoying some quiet. Holly, Karen, and Ted all went to the fair, and Mike was left sprawled on the sofa, head flipped over the edge, one leg draped over the back, absentmindedly swinging as he watched Return of the Jedi.

Earlier, he tried calling the Byers house, but no one answered. The walkie-talkie wasn’t much help, either—just static, no matter how many times he tried. Oddly, he couldn’t seem to reach anyone. When he called Dustin, it was Dustin’s mom—Claudia who picked up and told him Dustin was apparently at Lucas’s.

So Mike rang up Sue—she seemed surprised, insisting Lucas was supposed to be at Mike’s house right now. Which was pretty obviously not the case, since there was definitely no Lucas Sinclair in sight. Still, Mike just told her Lucas was there. He figured it was best to cover for Lucas, even though he had no idea why.

If Will’s not home, Dustin isn’t home, Lucas isn’t here, maybe El is at the cabin, Mike reasoned. So he tried Hopper’s cabin too, but again, no answer.

Maybe they’re all at the fair. That would be fair—no pun intended. They’re probably having a great time. So Mike gave up calling. Still, it felt weird that Lucas would tell his mom he was here.

He sighs to himself, glancing back at the screen, but his heart isn’t in it now. It would have been nice if Will were here. He can’t even enjoy Star Wars—he just feels painfully aware of how lonely he looks, sick and useless, while everyone else is out having fun. He imagines how great the fair must be: the food, the noise, the ferris wheel. Maybe he could have asked Will to ride it with him. That would be kind of cute… Maybe even a little romantic.

“No… No way. I couldn’t do that—Will would think I was weird,” he mutters, finally sitting up properly and hugging a sofa cushion, coughing softly into his elbow. Everyone else is outside having fun—

And here he is, missing them.

“Ugh, so unfair.” Mike groans, dropping his face into his hands as he kicks his feet in the air. Maybe he should’ve just gone to the fair with his family. He still looks like crap—technically sick—but he could always try to catch up with them.

Suddenly, Mike springs to his feet and bolts up the stairs to his room, searching for something decent to wear. He throws on a random blue polo, some pants, and his favorite jacket—a little short on him now, but he still loves it. Barely pausing, he rushes to the bathroom, scrubs himself down with lightning speed, then dashes back to his room wrapped in a towel. In record time, he slides into his clothes, rubbing his hair, which ends up sticking out in all directions.

He gives his hair a few more swipes with the towel, then—deciding it’s not enough—uses his powers. A small gust of wind whirls around his head, drying his hair almost instantly. Mike laughs at his own reflection, running a hand through the messy strands before tossing the towel onto his bed.

He grabs his backpack from the closet, checking inside: walkie, a chocolate bar (a month old—when did that get there?), and whatever else he thinks he’ll need. “That’s that,” Mike mutters as he slings the bag over his shoulder and rushes out to the garage. There, he pauses, breathless, doubling over and coughing into his sleeve. He’s still far from one hundred percent, but can anyone really blame him?

Suddenly, a sharp sensation washes over him—his nerves prickling, warning him something’s off. Mike straightens up, eyes scanning the empty air. Off in the distance, he hears faint fireworks—the fair must be kicking off—but that isn’t what’s putting him on edge. The static returns, low and insistent, and Mike feels his fists clench reflexively. For a split second, he feels as if someone’s aiming a gun at him. His instincts scream: danger.

Like Spiderman’s spider-sense, he thinks. Mike’s body has always seemed to know when someone means him harm. It’s like every cell is telling him to fight back. But… what is he supposed to be fighting?

He spins slowly, turning a full 360 in confusion, half-expecting someone to leap out or take a shot at him. But there’s no one. The streets are empty—almost everyone’s at the fair.

Is Eleven at the fair? The question flicks through his mind. Maybe, but would Hopper really let her go to a crowded place like that? Then again, she did say she was with Max the other day…

Mike sighs and makes a decision. Running to his bike, he flips the kickstand up and takes off down the driveway, heading for Hopper’s cabin. He figures he should talk to El before going to the fair—the last thing he needs is to lose control because of some imagined threat.

He pedals in silence, humming softly, but slows as he nears the woods. The trees look wrong. Their trunks are splintered, massive logs tossed aside as if a wrecking ball crashed through. Mike jumps off his bike, staring at the destruction, following the ruined path.

And it’s all heading toward—

“Eleven…” he breathes, panic rising. He jumps back on his bike, this time focusing, summoning the wind to push him even faster as he explodes down the trail.

He skids to a stop in front of the cabin—and sees the ruin. The roof is caved in; jagged holes pierce the walls, it was of something violent and sudden that had pierced the walls—a gun? Spikes? What was it? Mike doesn’t know. “What the fuck—” he whispers, dropping his bike and sprinting up the porch steps. Mike slams the front door open, his heart pounding with dread.

The lights flickered. The walls were riddled with holes, the roof was broken, and blood—dark red blood—pooled on the floor. Mike let out a shaky exhale as he looked around, panic flooding through him.

“El?!” he shouted, rushing toward her room. He shoved the door open—empty.

“El?! El! Are you here? El, are you okay?” he called again, racing to Hopper’s room. He yanked aside the fabric Hopper used as a door. No one inside.

The bathroom. Empty, too.

Where is she? And why is the cabin such a wreck? Splintered wood lay everywhere; lamp lights flickered on and off as Mike bolted out of the cabin. The wind pushed at his bike upwards into a stand, nearly knocking it over as he leapt on. He let the gusts shove him toward town—toward the station, where Hopper might be.

The wind whipped crazily around him. His heart pounded; a crackle of static buzzed in his ears as he growled under his breath. Was this what he’d been sensing the other day? How long had the cabin been like this? Where was Eleven? What was happening?

“Hello? Hopper?!” Mike shouted, skidding to a stop at the police station. He jumped off his bike, pounding his fist against the door. Only then did he notice the sign taped to it: ALL MEN AT THE FAIR.

Mike stared, reading aloud. “What? All police are there? What about here? The fair—okay, the fair.” He muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. He dug his walkie-talkie out of his bag, zipped it closed, then hopped back on his bike. “Guys? Hello? Is anyone there? Does anyone hear me? Over!” He pressed the button, voice shaking. “Hopper’s cabin was attacked! I repeat, code red! Code red!” He screamed into the walkie, pedaling as fast as he could toward the fair.

No one responded. Mike slapped the walkie against his leg. “Guys! Code red! I repeat, code red! Where the hell are you guys?! Eleven is missing!” The wind howled around him, amplifying his fear. Anxiety twisted in his stomach; panic sizzled in his veins. He couldn’t help it—lightning flickered in the sky, thunder rolling in response to his terror.

“Will? Lucas?! Dustin! Code red!” he yelled again. “Guys! Max?!” Static crackled back at him. “Fuck!” Mike cursed. Maybe they were compromised, too. Someone could have found Eleven, and maybe everyone else was with her. Whoever it was—it could be the government. Or—something worse.

“Will, Lucas, Dustin, Max, does anyone copy? Hopper’s cabin has been compromised. Tell me where you are!” He tried the walkie again, but a burst of static was his only reply.

Frustration surged—he was almost tempted to throw the walkie as the fair finally came into view. He looked around, weaving his bike between stalls and vendors, dodging people left and right. He nearly crashed into a kid, but managed to swerve just in time—braking to a halt right in front of Holly, who was eating an ice cream. She screamed.

“Mike?” she squeaked, startled.

He turned and spotted his mom and dad. “Oh, Mike! You’re just in time!” Karen called, reaching to give Mike a kiss. He ducked away, waving his hand instead.

“Mom, did you see Hopper?” he asked, turning anxiously to Karen and Ted, who exchanged a look.

“I—well…” Karen started, hesitating.

“Mom! Hopper—did you see him around here? Or my friends?” he pressed.

“We saw Hopper with Byers,” Ted answered.

“Which Byers?” Mike’s voice edged toward hysteria.

Ted gave him a surprised look. “Mike, don’t talk to your father like that! It was Hopper and Joyce, we saw them at the rotor. They were actually looking for your friends. Joyce asked me because she thought you were with them, so I said I didn’t know because you’d been at home. Which—I thought you were! You said you were still feeling sick,” Karen said, worry etching her voice as she reached for Mike again. He leaned away quickly..

“Mom! Aside from that, where did they go?” Mike’s voice trembles as he asks.

Suddenly, the walkie-talkie in his hand sputters to life.

“Dustin, you know, I always knew you were dumber than me. Thank God I was right! Planck’s constant is 6.62607004. I thought you would have known this by now. Guess not.” A squeaky voice crackles through the walkie. Mike brings it closer.

“Dustin?” he asks, expecting an answer.

“I’m not going to talk about what you just said, but you just saved the world,” Dustin replies, his tone thankful.

“I’m gonna go now,” Mike says abruptly, ignoring Karen’s confused yell as he starts pedaling away, turning his handlebars.

“Mike! Where are you going?” she shouts after him.

“Oh, just let him,” Ted scoffs in the background as Mike races out of the fairgrounds. Dustin’s voice echoes again through the walkie, voice is static—glitching. It was cutting on and off. Mike shakes his walkie in frustration as if that would fix it.

“Dustin? Dustin! Do you copy? Where are you right now?” Mike asks, his breath quickening.

“Mike?” Another voice answers—Will, out of breath like he’s running.

“Will?! Will! Thank God! Where the fuck are you?” Mike shouts, skidding to a stop in a dark neighborhood.

From the walkie, Max is screaming, her voice shrill in the background.

“Max?! Will! Where are you? Tell me right now!” Mike demands, his own voice rising in panic. He hears desperate panting, someone whimpering in pain.

“Mike, Mike, help us. Starcourt. Mike! We need you!” Eleven’s voice cuts in, ragged with pain.

“Billy! Stop it! Billy!” Max is screaming, her words a frantic blur as Mike nearly drops the walkie in panic.

“Max? El? Will!” Mike calls, spinning his bike around, pedaling furiously toward Starcourt. He reaches out with his powers, commanding the wind to push him faster.

“El! No! —Mike! Don’t come to us!” Will’s voice breaks through, desperate. “I repeat don’t come to us!”

“Billy—Billy, you don’t have to do this!” Max’s voice crackles in the background, too faint and fast for Mike to make out.

“Will? What was that? Will!” Mike yells, heart pounding.

“Max!” Will howls, his voice cracking into a sob. There’s yelling, a grunt, something heavy falling—then only static.

“Will? Will!” Mike screams, rage and fear tangling together as he slams the walkie against his handlebars, forcing the wind to surge and propel him faster down the road.

He skids to a stop at the edge of the Starcourt parking lot—and there, he sees it. The ground trembles at its weight.

A fleshy monstrous, spider-like creature—maybe two or three hundred feet tall—scaling the top of Starcourt Mall. Its massive legs pierce the walls as it lets out a spine-chilling roar, shrieking into the sky, peering down through the gaping hole in the shattered glass roof.

“O—oh my God.” Mike brakes hard, exhaling shakily, pressing his hand to his mouth as the creature disappears inside.

“Fuck—fuck, what the fuck?!” Mike mutters, ditching his bike and sprinting across the lot toward the entrance. He sees a blue Camaro, flames licking at its sides, a huge dent in the door. Another car sits askew, headlights blazing. Yet another white-and-red vehicle has a crumpled hood.

Ignoring all of it, Mike tugs at the main doors—they’re locked. He steps back, raises his hands, and drops them. A swirl of wind rips the double doors clean from their hinges, sending them skidding across the asphalt. Beyond, rubble blocks the path: heaps of cement, twisted metal rods jutting out.

“What the shit?” Mike breathes. At that moment, an explosion rumbles from inside—fireworks.

Mike backs away and looks up as swirling lights flicker from above. Fireworks—there’s another way in. He focuses, bending his knees, feeling the wind wrap around him. He leaps, letting his power carry him upward.

He lands lightly on the roof, sliding to a halt, and rushes toward the shattered window.

Inside, more fireworks explode, a cacophony of colors and noise. The monster shrieks in agony, filling the air with its cries. Mike peers through the broken glass.

There they are, on the second floor—his friends. Lucas, Steve, Robin—Steve’s coworker, her name’s Robin, right?—even Nancy and Jonathan. All of them are armed with fireworks, hurling them at the beast.

And at the center of it all, on the ground floor, lies Eleven, back pressed to the tiles, her mouth moving as she tries desperately to reach Billy, who is kneeling over her. Her hands tremble on his face as the monster howls and writhes.

Jesus F. Christ…

“We’re out of fireworks!” Lucas screamed, his face pale with terror. The fireworks—the only thing keeping the monster at bay—had stopped. No more explosions to distract it. Mike stood frozen, horrified, as Billy staggered to his feet. The monster, its grotesque head full of sharp, glistening teeth, turned slowly toward Eleven.

It wanted to kill her.

Mike’s eyes darted to the back of the mall. He saw Max with a bruise swelling on her face, and Will, blood streaked across his forehead, his wide eyes filled with panic. Both of them were sprinting out of a shattered restaurant, as if they were late to this nightmare unfolding before them.

And then, Mike felt it again. That buzzing, electric sensation crawling under his skin. The static hum that screamed at him to act. The same primal surge he’d felt before. His senses were alight, screaming at him to eliminate the threat in front of him. This monster—it was the monster. The thing his body had been warning him about all along.

Mike clenched his fists.

If his instincts were telling him to destroy it, to annihilate this thing into nothingness, then he was going to do it.

The monster roared, an ear-splitting sound that made the walls shudder.

Mike raised his hand.

The air shifted around him, the wind whipping through his hair. Thunder rolled in the distance, and then—crash—the skies opened up. Rain poured down in torrents. Mike’s chest was heaving, his fury pulsing through every cell of his body.

And with a single motion, he grabbed the monster with the wind.

It was as if an invisible hand had snatched the creature. Mike hurled it through the air like it weighed nothing, the mall’s shattered glass roof breaking even further as the monster’s massive body was flung outside. It tumbled into the parking lot, skidding across the pavement, shrieking in rage.

Mike was shaking, his breath ragged, but the energy surging through him only grew stronger. He raised his hand again, and the monster’s body dragged chunks of cement and metal with it, leaving a mangled trail as it was yanked further away. With another flick of his wrist, Mike sent it tumbling like a ragdoll, its legs skidding and folding beneath it. Taking the front of the mall with it, the cement walls breaking and collapsing under its weight as the monster shrieked in pain and anger.

Inside the mall, everyone stared in stunned silence. Slowly they raised their heads to see Mike—the thunder rolling behind him, his hair plastered to his face. 

“Mike?!” Nancy’s voice broke the quiet, trembling with disbelief.

Mike slowly floated down, the wind carrying him gently to the ground. He landed in front of Eleven, her tear-streaked face staring up at him in awe. Blood trickled from her nose as she stumbled forward, throwing her arms around him.

“Mike! Mike! Thank you!” she sobbed, clutching him tightly. “I was so scared.”

Mike held her close, his hand resting on the back of her head. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“Mike… what the fuck was that?” Max asked, her voice shaking as she helped Billy, who was sitting on the floor, groaning. Dark, spidery veins spread across his trembling body.

Will ran toward Mike, grabbing his arm. His eyes were wide, his breath shaky. But before he could say anything, Mike pulled him into a hug, his hand gripping the back of Will’s neck.

“I’m sorry I was late,” Mike said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Mike!” Nancy’s voice called again, and she came running toward them, Jonathan, Steve, Robin, and Lucas close behind her.

The ground shook suddenly, a low rumble that made everyone freeze.

Then, they heard it—a guttural, furious roar.

Will stiffened in Mike’s arms, his breath hitching. Eleven pulled away, wincing in pain as everyone turned to face the shattered front of the mall.

The monster was standing again. This time angrier than ever—its beady eyes focusing on Mike like a homing missile.

“Oh my God… it’s still alive,” Lucas whispered, horrified.

“Shit, Wheeler, whatever you did—it’d be nice if you did it again!” Steve shouted, his voice trembling.

“Mike, you just threw the Mind Flayer out of the mall!” Max exclaimed, disbelief etched across her face.

“That was the Mind Flayer?!” Mike asked, startled.

“Meat Flayer,” Lucas corrected quickly.

“Does it matter? It’s moving again!” Jonathan yelled as the creature lunged forward, shrieking loudly, the ground trembling from its large weight

Mike stepped away from Will and Eleven, his jaw tight as he raised his hand once more. The ground beneath the Mind Flayer shifted, rising as if alive. A massive stone spike erupted from the pavement, impaling the creature straight through its chest.

The Mind Flayer let out a piercing shriek that echoed across the parking lot. Probably across Hawkins at this point with how loud it was. Behind him, everyone was groaning, in pain from the loud noise.

Mike clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and thunderous. He pulled on invisible strings, yanking them with all his might. He then unclasped his hands, curling his fingers.

The creature split in two.

It was like tearing paper, or slicing through butter. The Mind Flayer’s grotesque body ripped apart, its flesh separating into two uneven halves.

Behind him, someone gasped.

The two halves of the Mind Flayer twitched, its fleshy pieces sliding and writhing as if trying to reassemble themselves. Mike’s eyes narrowed, his chest heaving as his fingers twitched in readiness.

“It’s going to stitch itself back!” Nancy shouted. Mike then fumbles—reaching towards his pocket where he always brings and puts his lighter—Fire can kill the Mind Flayer right?

But then, the creature suddenly collapsed. Its grotesque mass hit the ground with a wet, sickening thud. The writhing stopped.

It was dead.

For a moment, no one moved.

“Hopper did it,” Lucas breathed, his voice trembling. “The Gate’s closed. The Mind Flayer is dead. It… it can’t heal anymore.”

Everyone stood frozen, slowly getting drenched in rain, staring at the lifeless remains of the monster.

Finally, Mike let out a long, shaky breath.

It was over.

Mike turned back to Will and Eleven, both on the verge of collapsing. “Will—El, are you guys alright?” he asked, his voice laced with worry as he ran toward them, steadying their trembling forms. He held them both close, his arms protective. Eleven barely nodded, her head shaking weakly as her legs threatened to give out beneath her.

“Mike, where the hell did you get your powers? How did you—” Nancy’s voice faltered, her words coming out in a stuttered croak, disbelief etched across her face.

“I don’t think that’s the problem right now,” Steve cut in, his voice sharp.

A loud, rhythmic thrum filled the air—a propeller slicing through the rain-soaked night. Everyone froze, their heads snapping upward as helicopters descended, their searchlights illuminating the carnage. The lights swept across the parking lot, landing on the Mind Flayer’s butchered remains, its grotesque body split in half, flesh pulled apart like shredded paper.

The helicopters landed with a deafening roar just beside the lifeless creature, their rotors whipping the rain into spiraling torrents. A swarm of men in black tactical gear poured out, guns raised, their movements precise and practiced.

And then, stepping out from one of the helicopters, was Dr. Owens.

Mike’s grip on Will and Eleven tightened, his eyes narrowing as he watched Owens approach, flanked by armed soldiers.

***

Firetrucks, police, ambulances—everyone came rushing when the fire started in the mall. People were dragged outside to safety, checked over by medics, their injuries patched up. Eleven had a wound on her leg and another on her head. Will bore a slash running from his cheek down to his nose, the result of being pushed against a scalding hot pipe. Everyone except Mike was covered in bruises and scrapes.

“Will, are you okay?” Mike asked, sitting beside him. An orange towel was draped over Mike’s shoulders—a standard gesture to calm victims—but if anything, Mike wasn’t the victim here. Not compared to everyone else.

Dr. Owens’ men had already burned the body of the Mind Flayer, its remains filling the air with the sickening stench of charred flesh. The knowledge that these remains had once been people—innocent victims taken by the Mind Flayer—made it all the more horrifying.

Will stared off into the distance, trembling. He didn’t respond until Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, which made him flinch. “Sorry—I… you…” Will stammered, his voice cracking. “You just did that.”

“What?” Mike asked softly.

“Magic,” Will whispered, his voice barely audible, his eyes welling with tears. Mike didn’t know how to respond. He sat there in silence. “It’s–uh.. Not Magic.” He says back sounding a little flustered. Will had an awed look on his face, making his eyes shine under the moon.

“You ripped that Mind Flayer in half.” Max approached them then, her face bruised. Behind her was the ambulance she’d been looked over, her brother resting nearby. Billy lay on a stretcher, strapped down, his body shivering uncontrollably. There was a paramedic leaning over him.

“He was possessed, just like me,” Will whispered. “And all those poor people. Flayed.” Mike glanced at Billy, who turned his head to meet Mike’s gaze. For a moment, their eyes locked, and Mike saw raw fear in Billy’s expression before he looked away. Mike shifted his attention back to Max and Will, his gaze catching on Eleven, who was pacing back and forth nearby. She looked frantic, panicked.

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked.

“Joyce, Hopper, and Murray went down to the secret Russian base underneath to close the gate,” Max explained.

“Joyce and Hopper? Russian base? Gate? What?” Mike asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“You’re really far behind, Wheeler,” Max replied with a faint smirk, though her relief was evident. Beside him, Will leaned his head on Mike’s shoulder. Without hesitation, Mike reached out and took Will’s hand, holding it tightly.

“Fuck… Shit—and I was late to all of this,” Mike muttered.

“You weren’t,” Will whispered, clutching Mike’s hand as though afraid the Mind Flayer might return at any moment. 

“You came just in time, Mike. You saved us… with your powers. I don’t know where you got them, but… fuck, it was awesome. And terrifying, of course. I thought Billy was about to die…” Max leaned against the firetruck door, crossing her arms. “Hey—” Mike started to say, but Will sat up suddenly, his attention drawn to someone in the distance.

Joyce was walking toward them, clad in strange military garb that looked vaguely Soviet. Without a word, Will let go of Mike’s hand and ran to her, throwing his arms around her in a tight hug. Mike and Max watched as Eleven froze, then walked up to Joyce as well.

“Where’s Hopper?” Mike whispered, standing up and tossing the orange towel aside. He approached cautiously, his voice trembling. "Mrs. Byers… where’s Hopper?”

Eleven stepped closer, her voice breaking. “Hop?” she whimpered. Her wide, tear-filled eyes met Joyce’s, and Mike could see the truth before she spoke. Joyce’s expression was enough to shatter any lingering hope.

“Hopper’s…” Joyce began, her voice cracking as her eyes filled with tears.

Eleven let out a whimper that quickly turned into a sob. Mike turned to her, his own voice shaking. “El… I’m so sorry.”

He was late. He was too late. If he had been there sooner, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Hopper would still be alive. Maybe no one would have been hurt.

Eleven buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried. “El—I’m so sorry, Eleven… Oh god,” Mike whispered.

“El!” a voice called out. Dustin appeared, climbing over the barricades and dodging officers to get to her. Eleven turned to him, sobbing openly as she reached out for him. Dustin pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Shhh… it’s okay, El,” Dustin whispered, his voice soothing. He glanced over at Mike, his expression questioning. Dustin mouthed the word: “Hopper?”

Mike shook his head.

Dustin’s eyes widened, and tears welled up as he held Eleven tighter. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here,” he murmured, gently rubbing her back.

“Mike—are you okay?” Joyce asked, releasing Will and stepping toward him. She cupped his face with her hands, her touch soft and maternal. Mike held her wrists gently, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Byers. I’m fine,” he said weakly.

“Mom, Mike saved us. He has powers,” Will said softly, looking at Mike with a mix of sadness and awe. Joyce’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “How?”

Mike glanced at her, then at Eleven. He didn’t have the energy to explain. Not now. “Next time,” he murmured sadly.

Joyce nodded, wiping her tears before turning back to Will and pulling him close. Mike stood there, his body heavy with exhaustion, as Will looked at him once more. His eyes glistened with tears.

Will opened his arms, and Mike stepped forward, embracing him tightly. Relief washed over him. Will was safe. That was all that mattered.

“It’s okay,” Mike whispered, rubbing Will’s back. Over Will’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Eleven, still crying in Dustin’s arms. Her face was swollen from the tears, and Dustin continued to rub soothing circles on her back.

Mike closed his eyes, holding Will closer. They were alive. They had survived. But the cost… the cost was too high.

Mike failed them—he failed Hopper.