Chapter Text
Mike didn’t expect to lose his queer book. But he certainly expected to lose his mind.
He put it last night in the usual hiding spot, right when everybody was having dinner. He remembered his mother screaming at him that dinner was ready, yet he was still in the basement flipping through the pages. So he didn’t hesitate to hide it under the couch.
The morning after, he was bored because Will was still sleeping, and he didn't find it reasonable to wake him just because he wanted to read. So, as he had nothing to do, he decided to cook. It helped to clear his mind a little bit. Lately, he had been doing it a lot, but only when he and Holly were in the house.
Mike wasn’t really the guy to feel shy about things, but with the art of creating, he always wanted to hide himself; that’s why the stories he wrote were always hidden in his closet. Or when he was with Will, too. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it when he cooked for him. It wasn’t like he made pancakes only for his friend. Mike ate them too, right before he arrived in the kitchen. But everybody was looking at him like he was Vecna himself. If it was a big deal, it only needed to be that way to Mike.
After watching Will eat his breakfast, he went downstairs while his friend was in the shower, and searched for his book since he needed to bring it to the hospital.
But it was gone.
Usually, he was a messy person. His room had clothes all over the floor, and he was certain that there was food on his desk, probably for days. But certain things didn't allow him to be like that. Letters, drawing, books. They all needed to be hidden away from prying eyes. Mike was always cautious with them. If someone found that part of him, he could be in real danger; he was sure of it.
So, basically, that’s the story of how Mike Wheeler lost his mind. He was ready to pack his things and run away from home, and never saw other people again.
Or, at least, he tried to.
Right when he turned to run into his room, his sister called him to say that they needed to leave to go to the hospital.
“Fuck,” he cursed. He was completely fucked.
His mind was already racing, thinking of the millions of possibilities that someone had found his book. He imagined his mother cleaning at 2 am and looking at his book like it was trash and something to be ashamed of. It was probably worse than finding a porn magazine under his bed. But he was certain that everybody was sleeping at 2 am, since he was the only one awake, in his room, writing. Nancy was in her bedroom and never went into the basement; he never saw her there. And Holly was with him all evening. So that only left Will and Jonathan.
He forced himself to stop thinking about it when his friend sat in the car right before him. He didn’t want to go into forbidden territory. And, also because he couldn’t concentrate when Will’s hand was so far away from his. He could only dream of being a kid again.
When they entered the hospital, his thoughts wandered again to the book. But this time, he kept thinking about Max and how she probably would scold him for being such a dumbass. He already knew it. And when he saw her face, he could already hear her voice full of judgment. Mike knew he had to find the book. Not only because of that, but also because it wasn’t technically his.
And there, his mind was again lost in tragic endings.
Then Will said his name. Every letter sounded perfect in his mouth. He wished that to be the only sound in existence. “Mike?”
When Mike looked at him, something in him came back to life; it tasted almost like hope, and he wished that maybe it was him who found the book. But he wasn’t lucky. He never was.
“Everything all right?”
His hazel eyes were looking right at him, with a concerned gaze that only Will could master. He was right under the sun’s shadow, his cheeks were being kissed by it, or rather, burnt. Never in his life had he been envious of it.
He opened his mouth to tell him that maybe they needed to go home together, because he wasn’t feeling very well. But as Dustin closed the door, he remembered his other friend's existence. “What?”
“Definitely not,” Max declared.
He couldn’t do it. He had to talk to her. So Mike stood up and did the dumbest thing a person could ever do. “Sorry,” he blurted, looking at Max. But why was he talking in front of everyone else? “I- Sorry.”
“What are you on about?”
He was so stupid.
“Can we- Can we talk?”
He didn’t wait for his answer, and soon they were out of the room together.
As soon as they were in the hallway, it felt like breathing again. His walls could crumble again, with Max, he could be just a panicked guy, and not someone who needed to be stronger, better, and masculine. He didn’t need to talk to her; he just had to excuse himself for his error. An error that could cost him everything.
“Tell me what your problem is,” Max didn't waste time confronting him.
Mike and Max weren’t always close friends. When he first met her, he saw her as a threat, someone who could break the equilibrium he had slowly built in his life. The party was made up of four, then Will disappeared, and El helped them find him. She was like the missing part of the puzzle, not only because she was his dream come true, but also because without El, the Party didn’t have its sparkle. She was their magic.
But then Max arrived, and El was gone, while Will was suffering. He never liked losing control; maybe he was too egocentric, but he was the leader once. The heart of the Party. And, right when Max had shown up, his Party lost its connection, after that he lost himself too, because he wasn’t Mike The Brave anymore. He could fantasize about holding swords and protecting his friends, but they were just children’s dreams. He had no heart on his shield. He just had to accept it, and maybe try to be normal. When El came back, he had his chance again. Mike felt alive again, shining, as if meeting stars wasn’t the same as burning.
When Will and El left for Lenora, he was completely and utterly alone. The Party was at its lowest, and his life was meaningless. That year had probably been the worst of his life. Everything felt useless and like he didn’t know what he was doing at all. Talking with Max was like meeting her again for the first time, only without resentment. Mike didn’t know how, but they shared the same darkness, something that Lucas and Dustin couldn’t see. He saw it in her eyes, in her anger, and in her repression. It was like looking in the mirror; maybe that was why he hated her at first. She probably saw it too.
Every friend of his had a different and unique value. Being friends with her required honesty, since she never accepted bullshit. Maybe that was the first time since the Upside Down that he was finally honest with himself. Only himself, though.
That’s why he didn’t wait for his brain to invent some lie. He went straight to the point, and that was what he really needed.
“I lost Giovanni’s Room.”
He half expected her to laugh at his stupidity. Maybe she would tell him that no one cared about a queer book, that he was an idiot just for being anxious about it. He needed to take a grip on his life and start cutting the bullshits.
But maybe she heard the panic in his voice, and even Max couldn’t be mean to someone who could explode in tears if they were brave enough. “Are you sure you lost it?”
Mike recognized her cautious tone, but it didn’t really help. “No, I think that someone else found it, actually.” He leaned over the closed door, and he almost could feel through the wall his friends’ curiosity.
She waited for some seconds before talking again. “Mike.”
“You know what that means, right? That’s enough proof to incriminate someone like me, Max! My life will be over,” his voice incremented volume as he thought of his Dad’s judging stare, his Mom’s disgusted eyes. “I was dumb enough to believe that my house was a safe place to even try to hide something.”
She sighed. “Mike.”
Mike couldn’t look at her open arms because it would mean that he deserved to feel all these emotions. It was his fault, and he couldn’t let himself cry.
But she didn’t wait for his acceptance, as she gripped his left arm, bringing him right in her arms with force, because neither of them knew how to love with softness. “You’re stupid most of the time-”
He froze. Although she continued before he could even process what she was saying.
“But not with this. Not with this, Mike. You’re not dumb because you wanted to finally look at the world through someone else’s lenses.”
He felt her soothing voice as something that could’ve saved him from Vecna. She spoke as if she really believed what she was saying.
“But stop being miserable when this situation can be fixed,” Max smacked him in the chest, or tried to, because she ended up pushing his arm.
“How? By jumping from a cliff?" His voice, driving sarcasm, almost cracked at the remembering of his past.
“Maybe then you would stop stealing my comics."
Mike's face twisted into a grimace. “I don't steal your comics!”
"I literally saw my Wonder Woman comics in your basement, Wheeler." She crossed her arms, holding herself together to dare him to contradict her.
He obviously couldn't. “You're literally blind."
Max snorted, her mouth twitching anonymously, just to prove to him that she found it funny. It was something they did lately, joking about their conditions and trauma. "Lucas saw it.”
"Fucking snitch.”
She smacked him a second time, and this time she succeeded. "What I was trying to say,” she started again, her tone provocative. "Without you being suicidal like you always do, is that even if someone found your little guilty pleasure, nobody would really suspect you,” she concluded, being reasonable. “Unless you put your name on there.”
“No!" Mike almost screamed, indignant. He wasn't stupid enough to sign that book with his name.
“And, also, if your parents happened to find it, you would already be dead."
She wasn't totally wrong, but Mike preferred rolling his eyes without her seeing him to admitting she had a point.
“And stop fucking rolling your eyes at me, Wheeler." Max's red lips pulled a smirk, showing him once again that she would always win.
“How did you-"
“You're so predictable."
“Shut up."
Mike strangely felt his panic decrease slightly. She was right. He didn't put his name on it, and his handwriting had slightly changed over the past month since he started writing again. It felt stupid to train his calligraphy, but it wasn’t like he had much to do in his boring classes. If he thought about it clearly, without being conditioned by his personal fear, he could see how nobody actually had proof that he was reading something considerably disgusting.
Maybe they could even suspect Nancy. Or someone better. "Can you imagine if whoever found it thought of my Dad?”
This time, she couldn't keep her laugh. " That would be too good to be true!”
“Maybe then my parents could finally divorce.”
“And you wouldn't have to run away from home.”
“Yeah.”
And as usual, their conversation ended in a safe space of sarcasm, laughter, and teasing.
He felt weirdly better. Mike still couldn't believe that it was Max sometimes that made him feel better. But now that he had grown from being a stupid thirteen-year-old boy, he could find in her red hair a strange comfort. She was really like fire. Her non-conformity reminded him too much of Eddie, with her "I don't care what your opinion" attitude, and her masculine wardrobe; she evoked in him a grief he still couldn't accept. The past eighteen months without her and Eddie were miserable.
Since the start of his supernatural double life, Mike kept losing and losing again. He still felt like that.
“About our reading time, we could stop-"
“Hell no," he interrupted her. She had a strange expression on her face, as if she wanted to show him that she could do just fine without him. But Mike knew better. He could see in her posture how she was haunted by this hospital. He felt that too, differently, but he still knew what she needed, and she needed a distraction. Also, Mike guessed that Max missed reading. “I'm gonna ask Mr Perry for another book."
She slowly nodded, not even thinking of trying to protest. They were both stubborn. “Are you sure he can give you other books?"
“He basically invited me to his home."
“And you still didn't go? Oh, right, you were too preoccupied with being a stupid avoidant boy."
He rolled his eyes again. “Like you're not avoidant too."
Max began tapping the floor with her foot, impatient to go back to her room. " Are we done? Or do you want to be miserable again?”
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Mike wanted to finish reading Giovanni's Room to Max, but since he didn't have two copies, he had to find something else to read.
It all started in the week after Vecna was defeated.
Mike refused to stay at home, even for one hour. He knew he was being unfair to his sisters, mostly Holly, since she was scared and alone, but he simply couldn't. That house was the beginning of his hell, where he lost sight of his best friend five years ago, when he let a monster kidnap his little sister, when his mother and father were brutally assaulted there by a giant monster. He saw blood everywhere.
He still had nightmares about 1983.
So he had spent most of his free time at school, in the most hidden part of the library.
Mike usually was there alone, and nobody bothered him. But one day, someone sat right in front of him, a book covering the person's face, with a title on its cover that he had seen somewhere he couldn't name yet, and with a posture he recognised very well.
His literature teacher had sat at his table for at least a week without saying a word to him.
Mr Perry was a beloved teacher. Everybody could feel his charisma and be mesmerised by it. His lessons weren't boring, even to students who weren't interested in the subject. He already had gray hair, even though he was still young. He often read Shakespeare's plays in his free time, as if he couldn't even be bored by them. He joked with his students and cared for them when they had issues.
Mike didn't imagine himself being caught in his protective, caring stare. But he ended up knowing a side of his teacher that he didn't know existed.
Maybe it all had started because Mike was listening to Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat loudly enough to be heard by people around him. It was a mixtape made by Eddie when he was still under his wing.
It was a Monday. Before leaving his table, Mike had seen the book Mr Perry was reading right on the floor. He immediately picked it up, but the teacher wasn't around him anymore.
Since Mike liked to waste time just to not go home, he decided to search for him.
He got home pretty late, with the book in his hands, no teacher found, and nothing to do. Nancy and Holly were at the Hospital to see their parents, and the house was full of bricklayers, since the house needed to be adjusted somehow. Fortunately, his room was still intact, so he didn't waste time and went there to catch up with his homework.
Sometimes he would look at the door, waiting for a specific person to knock, but his room always stayed in a state of eternal silence. He missed reading comics with him.
But nobody came, and boredom was already killing him. The book was staring at Mike across the room, almost as if it was waiting for him to stop doing useless things just because he didn't want to talk.
His life definitely changed after reading the first chapter. His life had seemed to be stopping, too.
At first, he stared at the book like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He couldn't lie and say that the writing style wasn't poetic in a way that he almost wanted to inject it in his veins. But also, it was intoxicating how he felt interested in it.
He immediately thought of Will. Mike envisioned years of neglect, of words turned into weapons, of hearts beating, turning into shattering. He didn't want his thoughts to take that spot in his mind. But how could he not? The day Vecna died, everything changed. Mike's memories started chasing him, as a predator does to its prey, blood was gushing from the wounds, flesh was rotting from the inside. His scars weren't going to heal.
That guilt was always there to catch him. Yet he could see something else, too; it was like when Will killed the three demogorgons. He started reading him as words turned into ink.
After Mike read the first chapter again, just to be sure, he closed the book and pretended it didn't exist for another week.
“Mr Perry!" He had exclaimed the following Monday, making his professor stop before letting him out.
" Yes, Mike?”
When he had caught his teacher's stare, he didn't know how to react properly, so Mike had avoided his eyes. "I- Sorry, the other day you left this in the library.” He handed him the book, almost as if he didn't want to touch it. " This.”
Mr Perry waited a second, then took his own book. "Oh, thank you!” He continued, piercing him with his brown eyes. "I was going crazy searching for it at home.”
Mike really didn't want to think about why a professor like him was reading that in his free time.
"I'm sorry.” He didn't know if he was asking for his forgiveness because he waited a whole week, or because he read it.
“For what? It's perfectly intact!" The man smiled, with his dimples and his kind eyes.
Mike had been confused. Why wasn't he hiding from him? He had found his dirty little secret. Why was he standing there, acting like it was all fine, as if there wasn't an indecent book between them? He had felt deeply judged by it.
In that week, he had avoided the library like the plague, and whenever he saw his teacher, his mind was being corrupted by sinful words.
He had nothing against queerness. But how was it possible that he ended up knowing three queer people in Hawkins? It felt all too coincidental. Almost like the universe was playing a sick game against him. The skeletons he buried in his mind, and not his closet, because it was too ironic, were emerging slowly from where he killed them when he was trying to be who he wanted to be. They needed to stay dead. Ghosts always scared him.
But, standing in front of Mr Perry, he was curious. So he had looked up and had found his proud smile. He felt brave for once in his life. It was probably instincts that ordered him to speak, because it was the first time in his life where nobody was there to judge him.
“I read it," he blurted out before his mind could process his words. Then, he widened his eyes.
The man didn't really react; he just let out a quiet laugh. He put his hands in his pants pockets, sitting on his desk, hanging his leg with calmness. "Really? Did you like it?”
Mike still felt frozen on the spot, but slowly melted. “Huh," he started. “I didn't really finish it. I read only the first chapter."
The teacher made a pitiful expression. “You still haven't experienced the art of his French life."
He felt the need to justify himself, but he didn't know what to say. Words were always easy to say, yet right now Mike felt like they were choking him on purpose.
Yet, Mr Perry anticipated him. "Would you like it as a gift?”
Mike was too stunned not to stutter. “W-what? A gift?"
The man just smiled wider. Suddenly, it made sense how his classroom was covered in paintings and full of children's literature. If Mike had to describe him, he would associate the professor with a tree. He was patient, he encouraged people to open up, and he continued to grow because perhaps humanity was just this.
He felt so lost. He wondered how Will felt when he disappeared in the Upside Down. Mike didn't have a purpose anymore, and his thoughts had lost substance. His numbness was killing him, and his friends, too. His family, too. He was always the energetic member of the family. Now he just wanted to sit down and stare at the void. Mike was supposed to be happy that Vecna was gone. But he didn't expect the burden of the past years to fall on him as soon as it had the chance. They were free at last. But perhaps that meant also being free from constantly repressing everything.
“Mike, I see in you a force that can only be encouraged by literature. Maybe I'm biased, but when you speak in class, you're always so opinionated. I'd be a fool not to pursue this spark within you.” He was gesturing as if he were explaining one of his lessons. "And also, I have more books like this at home," he explained, pronouncing with effervescence the words more and this, as if they meant something.
Did they? Mike asked himself, looking for clues. He swore that he would never stop looking after them.
When he read the book, he didn't want to look at it ever again, but Mr Perry talked about him as if Mike was special. He didn't feel special for a long time, so maybe that was why he nodded, thanking him.
But he would have lied if he said he didn't take it for someone else, too. His friend’s face came to his mind again. And again. And again. He needed to be better.
Mike never read the book at home, only in the library where he could feel Mr Perry's comforting presence. They didn't really talk, but words weren't always meant to be spoken.
But now he had lost the book. Or it was stolen. It didn't really matter, because he had his empty hands again, where only the night before they were so full of meaning.
He biked to Mr Perry's house after leaving his friends at the Hospital. Maybe he was being invasive, but it was he who told him he was welcomed in his house. So when Mike stopped in front of his house, he didn't let himself linger on the porch.
He rang the bell.
As soon as he met Mr Perry's surprised glance, he started questioning if he had the right to go to his house. Then, it morphed into a concerned expression, and Mike felt stupid for thinking that he gave him his address to read other books. Mr Perry had another reason, probably.
“Mike?" Fortunately, he must have recognised Mike's hopeful stance, because any worry from his face disappeared. " Come in, it's cold outside.”
He hurried him inside the house, where the warm temperature was already corrupting him. As soon as he set foot in there, a strong smell of vanilla hit him. Was he baking a cake? Mike noted Mr Perry's sweater was covered in flour.
He felt a feeling of guilt building up in his stomach. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you."
"Disturb? It's always a pleasure seeing you, Mike,” the man said. He reached over to grab Mike's jacket and hang it on the coat rack.
"It's Sunday,” Mike tried to complain, almost as if he wanted the teacher to see him as a burden.
“Beautiful day, isn't it?" Instead, the man said.
Mike was a lost cause, he already knew it.
He nodded.
He guided him to the living room. It was the brightest room he had ever entered. The walls were sage green, covered in paintings and pictures. In the center, there was a brown leather sofa, and next to it was a beautiful record player on display. Mike almost wanted to run and see what records he had. He didn't look at the photos that were on the furniture, because he didn't want to encounter something he wasn't ready to accept.
Outside, the winter was whispering obscenities and stormy memories. But here in the room, illuminated by the yellow light of the lamp, he could feel his heart calming down, and his breathing coming back to life.
Mr Clark was always his favourite teacher, but maybe his spot was being taken by Mr Perry.
“You have to excuse me for my conditions," the man started. “I was baking muffins."
At last, he brought him to the kitchen.
“Please, take a seat," the man pointed to the wooden table, where there were six chairs, all different.
Mike sat down, looking around and admiring the colorful kitchen. Books were all over the room, in a messy, organized way.
"What brings you here?” Mr Perry asked, with a light note of curiosity.
Mike blushed, remembering why he was there. He didn't want to admit it, but maybe sincerity could bring him good sometimes. "Since I already finished Giovanni's Room, I wanted to ask if you had other books I could read." He spoke the last words quickly, as he suddenly felt shy.
Mr Perry parted his lips like he couldn't believe what he just heard. Mike couldn't blame him; he even shocked himself. “Sure! This is a wonderful surprise, I was thinking this morning if you had already finished the book."
“Yeah, I did."
“How did you find it?"
Mike didn't want to start a rant about his thoughts and his complicated opinions. So he chose a word that described how he felt in the best way. "Revealing.” He worded it almost like a question.
Mr Perry seemed satisfied. Mike didn't know why. "That's good. Literature should always reveal something to the reader.”
He agreed, nodding.
"So, you really want another book? The ones we read in class aren't good enough?” He joked, looking at the boy with a twitch in his smile. He didn't let Mike answer him. "Lucky for you, I have a lot of copies of various books, and I think you would find them revealing too.”
Mike couldn't help but be curious. Perhaps what he was looking for was a book that could reveal things to him that were rarely heard in society. "Really?”
"Yes, they're classics,” he nodded while walking to the door. "Wait a moment here.”
While Mr Perry was out of the room, Mike let himself explore the kitchen. The muffins he was cooking were already in the oven, and he could smell their delicious perfume.
Everything around him reminded him of Will. Maybe it was because he was cooking for him that morning, but he could imagine the boy in this atmosphere. It was so artistic and yellow. Maybe he should cook vanilla muffins for him too. He should ask for the receipt.
Mike wandered, analyzing every detail of the room.
Weirdly, it was like he always imagined Mr Perry's house.
When he walked into the room again, he had a consumed book in hand and a new one. Mike narrowed his eyes when he read the title of the newer copy. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.
Everybody knew that book. He felt a deep disappointment growing in him when he realized that this was not what he had hoped for. He didn't exactly say he wanted a book like Giovanni's Room, but he thought it was obvious.
Mr Perry must've noted his expression, because his lips formed a smirk.
Mike was so confused.
Did his teacher just smirk at him? He had a knowing look on his face. “Is there a problem?"
Mike was definitely blushing. He didn't want to say it, but at some point, words had to escape his mouth. "Well, I- I don't-” he stuttered. How do I say it? He thought helplessly. “I expect a book with, you know, two-"
Mr Perry didn't intervene, as if he was enjoying the show.
Did he really have to say it out loud? His lips were frozen, and every wanting he felt was hidden with the corpses he had killed years ago. Now he was sure they were waking up again, because they were whispering forbidden needs in his ear. He tried to suppress it. Mike envisioned his mother's eyes, but even her spiteful stare couldn't hold back the desire he was feeling. He couldn't hide it anymore, his closet was exploding. Mike knew from that moment that it was in his core, in his essence, in his bones, the need to know more. He needed to understand.
He went to Hell already. Why couldn't he stay there for a little longer?
That's when he decided to be brave again. A memory came into his mind, a picture of a boy, with tears that brightened his face, and loved ones that were listening to every word he was expressing. That day, he saw a wise boy turning into a contagious paladin. Their souls were merged into one, and Mike knew that he could have a piece of him in his heart, too. He did it for him.
“I wanted a book with two boys in a partnership." In love.
Mr Perry raised a brown eyebrow. “Yes, I know."
Mike was starting to get really confused. “But that's impossible! I know this isn't like Giovanni's Room,” he couldn't help but be annoyed. Some habits were hard to drown.
“Oh, so you have read it?" The man asked innocently.
“Yes, actually!"
The Picture of Dorian Gray was what started Mike's interest in literature. Or it tried to. He read it when Will and El left for Lenora, it was a long year and he didn't know what to do with his time. He usually spent time kissing El before, or hanging out with Will, so he was alone for the first time in years.
Dustin spent a lot of time with Steve, and Lucas had just started playing basketball.
That's why he went to the library and just bought a book to pass the time.
He didn't remember a lot, only the things he wrote there left to ignore them forever.
“Do you want to know an interesting fact about Oscar Wilde?" Mr Perry demanded him, yet he didn't really expect an answer. He could read Mike's emotions perfectly. “Wilde was incarcerated for being a gay man."
Hearing those words, Mike's heart started pounding again, too loud for his own taste, and his body froze, as if a dagger had just been stabbed into his stomach.
There it was. That word. Again.
Gay.
His head unconsciously corrected the word with crueler ones. And Mike wondered why his inner voice sounded like Troy, or like his father. Even Lonnie's voice was present in his mind.
He didn't know what to say.
“Oh."
He felt so stupid.
“But, if you read this already, I'm gonna handle you this.” Mr Perry didn't wait for Mike to grab the book; he just put it in his hands, like it belonged there.
The title was Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu, and Mike had no idea this book existed until one minute ago.
"Is this…?” He still didn't want to admit properly what he was searching for.
The teacher nodded at him, chuckling. “It is a famous Gothic tale from 1872.”
Mike widened his eyes. "1872?” He asked, his brows drew together.
Did homosexuality exist centuries ago?
His professor seemed to read his mind, as his chuckle turned into a loud laugh. “Mike, people like this existed from the beginning of time."
Mike couldn't hold his shock anymore. “That long?!" He always believed that certain people were against nature, that it was rare to be like this. His body began shaking uncontrollably at these discoveries.
The Picture of Dorian Gray was written by a queer man. He recalled how immersive that book was, and how many words he made flow on the pages with his pen. Words that he exiled from his mind. It was two years ago, and he really didn't want to pick up old desires and fears. Even though he knew perfectly that it had always been there.
He was truly going insane today.
On top of that, queer people always existed. And he didn't know.
How could Mike call Will his best friend if he didn't even know this simple fact about history? His history. He had to be better.
“They also exist in animals, even though people try to deny it." Mr Perry explained, going back to his counter, where he leaned against it. “Sometimes, the truth is not always the one you read on the news, or over the radio," he pressed his lips with a slight frown. Then he added, as if it were a tainted truth, “Or at family dinners."
Mike's legs seemed to stop working altogether. He was probably looking like an imbecile. But he wasn't ready for that conversation, yet. He didn't know if he ever would be. He just wanted to go to his bed and scream into his pillow about the world, the nature of things, and Will.
Last month was very relieving. He needed a pause.
"And remember, you just have to know how to look at things from a different perspective.”
Seconds, minutes, and hours could have passed, but Mike was still stuck there waiting. He didn't know what he was waiting for. Then, he asked, as if they weren't just talking about queerness, “Can I have the muffins’ recipe?"
Mr Perry's smile came back on his face.
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At breakfast, he didn't cook. The thought of waking up earlier wasn't very appealing. This time, since he wasn't running late, Mike waited for Will to disappear in the bathroom. Thankfully, Jonathan was also barricaded in Nancy's room, so he walked into the basement and began searching for the book.
He wanted to start reading Carmilla, but after waking up from a nightmare where his dad was not so happy with the hobby he was getting passionate about, he just wanted to find it and end his misery.
Mike woke up at 6 am, so he had an hour to think about who could have found it. What if it was Holly? She would've already started asking questions, though. Maybe his mother wasn't cleaning at 2 am, but just before Mike had the time to walk into the basement, she could have found the book while sweeping the floor. It made perfect sense.
Mike tried to apply Max's point of view, but it was useless, because she wasn't the one who could be in trouble. That book contained all his secrets. His desires, his nightmares, his dreams, his fears. Probably, even his tears.
He even started questioning why he began that journey, while he looked under every cabinet. He often tried to blame it on the day he heard Will talking with his mother and brother. He wasn't supposed to listen; he felt very guilty about it, but he didn't do it on purpose. He just needed to talk to them, but as he almost walked into the room, he heard the words that made him miserable for one month straight.
“They were right. I'm sorry, I tried to be normal. I tried so hard, Mom. But I'm not like that. I'm not like you. I- I like g- I-”
Mike was hidden behind the door, trying not to be seen by them. But he already heard, and his dark eyes widened. He couldn't move. Not until he heard that word.
“I'm gay."
Will Byers, his best friend, the boy who had gone through hell and came back to life, stronger than ever, was gay.
He felt like shit.
Mike didn't know it was possible, but everything, every possible thought, every feeling, every way his body could’ve reacted, happened all at once. His brain had become a stream of memories, letters, reactions, and dreams. He could imagine his heart as a painting, where Will had just forcefully brushed on the canvas, all its blues, its yellows, its purples.
And, the worst thing was that he didn't even think of everything Will had been through. He was too self-absorbed, as he began to feel this huge fear in his bones. Someone had just opened the windows, where he was locked in the basement, trying to live his normal life. Mike just happened to look outside.
He couldn't even describe what he felt. Was it only regret? Was it terror? Or did he also feel envious? Was he so sick to be jealous of Will’s brave act?
Then, his brain began whispering question after question. Why? Why? Why?
That's when Mike had run away.
Thankfully, they also defeated Vecna.
The problem was that he knew Will wasn't the cause of his sorrows. Mike knew that if Lucas had been in his place, he wouldn't have cried all his tears; he probably would've hugged his best friend.
“You're the heart." Will had said. Mike just wanted to scream at him that he was a sick coward, instead.
When he found the book, all his emotions were put on display, and he couldn't hide from them anymore.
It had been a hell of a month.
Mike needed to find the book.
Yet, he didn't. Again.
He missed breakfast, and Will had just gone to school without him, so he was left alone with Holly in her talkative state.
"I don't understand why Mom keeps telling me that unicorns aren't real,” she opened her mouth as soon as they picked up their bikes. "She fought a monster, and it was very much real."
December had stolen all the trees’ leaves and made them stand awkwardly with naked branches. Mike was so mentally deranged that he completely understood their feelings.
He could already hear Max's voice. “You? Feelings?”
One could be surprised at how many emotions Mike was feeling.
“When I saw Mr Whatsit, nobody believed me, but he was also very real. Why do adults keep explaining things to me? I was there with Max when Vecna tried to kill me. I'm a grown-up just like you," Holly screamed over the windy presence.
Unfortunately, his mind came back to Will's disappearance. He wasn't like Holly; Mile still couldn't understand what really happened to him. Will never explicitly explained to them how the Upside Down was when he was there alone. While Holly could talk about it like it was all a bedtime story.
Mike was tired of hearing it. He still couldn't think about D&D without his brain bombarding monsters' images at him.
"What if I saw a unicorn? Would you believe me?”
It sort of became a taboo in the Party. Just like Will's disappearance, where nobody talked about Mike or how it had been for them while he was gone.
Mike was also sick of taboos. Why were there so many things he couldn't talk about? He could make a long list with things that he wanted to bring up in a conversation, but didn't because then he would meet blank stares.
"Mike! Would you believe me or not?!”
Holly was looking at him with an annoyed expression that reminded him too much of himself.
"Yes, Holly!” he shouted, exasperated.
Then, she smiled as she had just won the lottery. “Good."
Finally, when he arrived at his school and said goodbye to his sister, his friends were there waiting for him.
"Finally!” Dustin exclaimed, looking at his watch.
Mike rolled his eyes. "I'm not even that late.”
"It's been five minutes, Michael.”
"Did you miss me that much?”
When they entered the hallway, Mike could already feel the dread that high school made him feel. He just wanted to go home and mind his own business.
Lucas and Dustin began bickering behind him, and the dark-haired boy couldn't help but search for Will's eyes. Their elbows bumped as Mike noticed that his friend wasn't looking at him. He was rather fond of his shoes as they walked. His hair was messy from sleep, his face was contorted in a drained expression, and he was also paler than usual.
Loud voices were all around them, but all Mike could hear was his heart pounding in his body. He didn't want to lean over him, or look at him, since a certain book appeared in his mind, an old book written by a dead man he didn't know was gay. He couldn't glance at his face and pretend he wasn't too honest years ago. But his body had its mind when it came to Will.
Will's posture was stiff, as if he were on high alert and needed to protect himself from whatever could happen. He had visible dark circles under his eyes, and his eyelids fluttered repeatedly, hiding his alluring hazel eyes.
Usually, he was in this state after a nightmare. Mike wished his friend could have woken him up; maybe he could've helped.
“Will," Mike said, leaning towards his shoulder, as if to gain his attention. His friend still didn't catch his eye, but was attentive. "Are you okay?”
His skin twitched under his clothes. His stomach was in turmoil. He wanted to stop time and get Will's attention so he could make sure he was okay.
Will didn't turn towards him. “Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse, as if he had just woken up. “I just didn't sleep much."
Mike thanked God that Will was telling the truth. Lately, he had been distant, as if he didn't want to see Mike anymore. He didn't understand what he had done, since Will was probably the only person Mike tried not to push away after the Upside Down blew up. He tried to do better. But Will's mind was always elsewhere when they were together, and his body always kept distance.
Today he was weirdly inattentive, so that must've been why Will's arm was still pressed to his.
“Another nightmare?" Mike asked.
Will shook his head. “Strangely enough, no.”
Mike waited, hopeful that he would continue, but he didn't say anything else. “Was Jonathan snoring?"
His friend's mouth twitched, and for a moment his eyes glanced at him. Mike could see the reflection of the sun that made them shine even more. He couldn't help but smile as he watched his friend look at him under the sunlight.
“No," Will snorted. “Wait- Yes, he did, but thankfully I had my Walkman to save me."
Mike laughed. “I bet you listened to music all night and forgot to sleep.”
His friend finally smiled. “Almost."
"Was it the new The Cure album?"
“Definitely."
“Robin put some songs on the radio."
“Yeah, I asked her."
“Wait, really? Why? When I asked, she turned me down!” Mike complained. He wasn't even lying. It seemed as if she liked to annoy him on purpose. He didn't have a problem with her, but when Will stopped talking to him to befriend her, it was obvious that he couldn't stand her sight.
“Maybe because your taste is questionable,” Will suggested. For a moment, his body twitched, as if he wanted to do something. But then, his eyes stopped looking at him, and their bodies were far away again. His body jolted as if he woke up from sleep just now.
“It's not!" Mike tried to keep the joke going on, just to keep Will’s spark for himself a little longer. "You spend too much time with Robin. Butthole Surfers is a great band.”
"Weren't you listening to Ritchie Cordell the other day?”
"What? No, no,” he began to speak rapidly. “That was Holly. My sister Holly, you know her, right?"
Will rolled his eyes, as if he couldn't contain himself. But the ghost of the smile was still there. “You mean Holly Wheeler? That Holly Wheeler? Are you sure you have a sister, Mike?"
“How dare you accuse me of lying!” Mike put a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. “Friends don't lie, Will."
As if Mike's spell had been broken, Will stiffened again, and his face became serious. "We know, Mike. You've repeated it at least a hundred times," he muttered, as if he didn't want Mike to hear him.
Mike's smile dropped from his face, but Will wasn't looking at him anymore to notice anyway.
The coldness returned, and the bell rang as if to remind him that his time with Will was limited.
He mentally cursed school again as he walked to his locker.
In Maths, he really tried to listen, but since Lucas was taking notes, he let himself drift away for only ten minutes.
Will definitely didn't find his book. Or, maybe, he did, and that's why he was acting so weird. But then he remembered that his friend was acting like this even before his book disappeared. Will was smart enough to catch him, and he would've said more. But he didn't say anything to him, so he definitely wasn't the one.
Nancy would've acted weird the day before if it were her. She couldn't keep her mouth closed for more than one minute.
It was definitely Jonathan. Mike didn't even need to question it. He was a secretive guy, always on his own, but also very wary of the world around him. Mike swore he saw him looking at him strangely just yesterday. Or maybe it was every day. He really couldn't tell. That guy was acting weird with him since the Byers came back from Lenora. He definitely hated him for how he treated Will years ago.
But he never insulted him or tried to punch him. Mike was a little scared after knowing what he had done to Steve. He deserved it more than Steve.
He could already picture Jonathan sitting on the couch, while reading Mike's dirtiest secret. At first, he was scared. That subject was heavy. But he also remembered how he hugged his brother every day, knowing that he was queer. Yet, what if it was only with Will? That boy was an angel; nobody could hate him except the demons that were living here in Hawkins. Still, on Spring break, he overheard Jonathan and Nancy fighting because the boy accidentally snorted when, at dinner with Mike's grandparents, they brought up the AIDS epidemic.
Mike was so conflicted.
He was both scared and comforted at the thought of Jonathan reading his book. He definitely needed to talk to him.
He closed his eyes and waited for the lesson to finish.
“No."
“Lucas! I did it when you were secluded in Max's room."
“Yes, because my girlfriend was in a coma," Lucas retorted, looking him dead in the eyes. After the bell rang, they bolted towards the next class. "What's your excuse?”
Was feeling a wreck because the world hated homosexual people, a right answer?
“I didn't sleep tonight."
“Why? Were you thinking again of cutting Nancy's hair to make a wig?" His friend, or Mike should say enemy, since he didn't want to share his notes, said, making fun of him. “I thought it was a phase."
“First of all, it wasn't a phase!" He defended himself immediately. " Second of all, it was one time, Lucas. One time.”
“I don't believe you,” Lucas simply stated, while opening his backpack to take out his water bottle.
“Dude-"
“Please, Mike, it's too early for your bullshit,” he added, while drinking his water.
Mike shoved him on the shoulders, almost making Lucas choke. “I had a nightmare, asshole."
And, like a switch, Lucas' face morphed into a concerned expression. “You didn't tell me you had nightmares."
Mike suddenly felt stupid for bringing that up. He promised himself never to mention it to his friends. It was hard enough hiding it from Nancy, who looked at him as if she wanted to fix what was bothering her brother. He couldn't be fixed.
Lucas must've noted his hesitation, because he put a hand over his shoulder. “You know I have them too, right?"
Mike took Lucas's hand off his shoulder, rolling his eyes. He didn't notice the pained look his friend gave him, or he did, but it was easier pretending he wasn't a dickhead. "Yes, Erica usually makes fun of you when you are gone."
“What- Wait, why are you hanging with my sister?"
Shit. Erica will definitely kill him.
"Answer!"
“Only if you hand me your notes," Mike crossed his arms. At least it had distracted his attention from his nightmares.
Lucas stared at him as if he wanted to slap him. Mike shared the feeling. "Fine.”
"She was too interested in how to build a bomb," he answered, shrugging, hoping his friend would drop it.
Lucas didn't. “Tell me you didn't!”
"Your sister is crazy! She threatened me with her pony!”
"And you believed her?”
"Are you kidding me? She almost killed me there," Mike pulled down his shirt to show him the scar his sister had left on his throat. “Sorry if I wanted to live!”
Lucas ran a hand over his eyes, as if he couldn't believe he'd ended up in that situation. “Unfortunately, I believe you."
Mike's shoulders relaxed. “Did you drop her when she was little, or what?"
“Man, she was the one who dropped me," Lucas said seriously. Mike could totally imagine Erica doing that.
After that, they split up, and Mike's day continued as always.
He skipped going to the library, because he had no book to read with him, and he also didn't want to look at Mr Perry's face. So, he thought that going home with Will would be a good idea. But, apparently, Will had other plans.
"Sorry, but I'm going to Robin's,” he said with a sad smile on his face. “We can… We can watch a movie later?”
Always Robin fucking Buckley.
When he went home, he heard no sounds in the house. Was he alone? He esulted when, after calling her mother’s name, he heard no answer. It’s not that he didn’t want company. Usually, before November, he would’ve invited Lucas and Dustin over. But the Party was changing, and Mike felt like he had no place in their free time anymore. They didn’t do anything wrong; it was he who was fucked in the head. Or, it was the world that was fucked up. He didn’t know which one was worse.
At school was easy pretending everything was okay, but at home, every lie crumbled, and he only had his reflection to stare at, to figure out that he needed to keep going alone. It wasn’t only the book he was reading, or his identity that he was hiding, but he just felt so useless. His friends weren’t like him. The more he learnt about the world, the more he wanted to disappear. Monsters were defeated, and only now could Mike really look at the mess around him.
This state of mind was the one he often found himself in before starting to read Giovanni’s Room. How was he supposed to live life if he didn’t like it anymore? With that book, he found a distraction. But now he didn’t have it, and he was too lazy to keep searching for it. Why was it easier to stare at the ceiling and pretend that everything wasn’t falling apart around him?
Also, there was a book on his bookshelf that he couldn't ignore. But he tried to. He wasn't ready to face his feelings. How many truths did he have to uncover to be destroyed by his mind?
He knew this moment would come. At night, he usually hugged his knees and prayed that his thoughts would not become waves, because they usually destroyed everything that was on the shore.
Was that how Will felt all these years? Alone in his own sickness?
When they were fighting monsters, he had things to do that made sense. He had a place among his friends. But right now, there was nothing that was made for him. Only because the world decided that those who were different were venomous, but it wasn’t true. Because he still couldn’t die, fate decided that it wasn’t his time to leave, and even when he tried to put an end to his misery, someone always saved Mike. He didn’t want to live here anymore. His sun was gone, and was life really worth it? He missed him more than anything in the world. He missed how easy it was for them to hold each other, without someone shouting to them.
Guilt was eating him alive. If only he could open his mouth, maybe he wouldn’t feel this lonely. But he wasn’t perfect like Will. He was ugly, disgusting, and a moster. His father thought so too. Why keep fighting what’s true? Will was magic in this ugly world, and he couldn’t ruin him. Not when he left him alone in the rain too many times.
Maybe the only cure was sleep; the nightmares gave him something to fight, and there his life wasn’t so depressing. Here Will continued ditching him, he was avoiding his friends, his family wasn’t perfect, and he was a fucking homosexual.