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His parents are dead.
Mike can’t believe it. He hides his head in his hands, breath catching in his throat. Nancy is silent in the seat next to him. The doctor who had just delivered the news is still talking, saying something about autopsies and death certificates and funeral homes and social services and Mike can’t hear anything.
There’s a loud buzzing in his ears.
His parents are dead. He’s an orphan. Nancy’s an orphan. Holly’s an orphan.
Holly… god. He can’t even think about Holly. She’s gonna come back, if they even get her back, and have no parents to cry to when she wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares. She was taken from her parents, and she’ll come back to neither of them awaiting her with open arms. Because they’ll be dead.
His parents are dead. Gone. Not alive anymore.
Some demogorgon ripped them to pieces, like Bob Newby and Billy Hargrove.
His parents are dead. All because of him.
He couldn’t make it in time to save them. They didn’t have El’s powers this time, and Vecna gave Will his vision just a little too late.
Eventually, the doctor leaves. He only knows this because distantly, he hears the door close. He hears Nancy sniffling next to him, heaving loudly. She’s trying to remain strong for him. To be the badass older sister she always is. She did better than he ever has at being an older sibling.
All he ever did was take Holly to and from school. All he’s ever done is lie. He lied about there being no monsters in Hawkins. He lied about keeping her safe.
He couldn’t keep Holly safe. He couldn’t be a good older brother. And he couldn’t be a good son, either.
His parents are dead. They’re fucking dead.
Some time passes in heavy silence. Nancy finally stands up, starting to pace the room. He still doesn’t look up, but he can picture her shaking out her hands and taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.
Mike isn’t sure he’s even breathed since the doctor told them, “I’m sorry.”
Then he hears the door opening and closing, and then he’s alone.
It’s like the dam breaks.
He sobs and sobs, so loud and so hard that his throat feels like it’s burning and his eyes are on fire. Everything is blurry, his face is soaking wet, his hands are trembling so violently, and the ringing is back in his ears.
Everything hurts. Not for the first time, he wishes El hadn’t saved him from jumping off the quarry when he was 12. He wishes he were alone in the house when Vecna sent the demogorgon to attack. He wishes it were him. It should’ve been him.
What felt like hours but was probably only minutes passed, and the door opens again. Gentle hands cup his wet cheeks, bringing his face up to look—Joyce?— in the eyes. She looks so sad, tears brimming her own eyes, and oh fuck he’s shaking so hard, and he feels so bad because she just lost her childhood best friend just like he almost lost Will, the way she almost lost Will, and it’s his fault, it’s his fault—
“Mike? Mike, honey?”
He saved Will, but he saw how much it destroyed Joyce. She’s already been through so much, with Bob and then Will getting possessed and now her best friend—his mom is—
“Mike, I need you to look at me. Please look at me. Into my eyes. Please.”
Slowly, he looks up into her eyes. She breathes dramatically. “Follow my breathing, hun. In, out. In, out.”
It takes some time, but his breathing stabilizes, and suddenly his face is in Joyce’s chest, her hand running through his curls, which he hasn’t washed in like three days.
He’s so disgusting, oh my god, how can she even be near him right now? Especially right after he—
“You’re getting worked up again, sweetheart. Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking.” She pulls him back to place a loving kiss on his forehead.
“I’m here for you. I love you.”
And he would’ve started crying again if he had any more tears left in him. But now he just feels so… numb.
It’s all his fault.
“Mom—“ he hears a familiar voice say, voice cracking. “Let me.”
There’s shuffling around him, but he keeps his eyes tightly shut. If he doesn’t open them, maybe he can pretend it’s all a dream. What a shitty fucking dream.
Another pair of arms replaces Joyce’s and he can’t help but sink into the comforting feeling of his best friend holding him tight. He’s so warm. He’s always so warm. Always has been since they exorcised the Mind Flayer out of him when he was 13; he hates feeling cold, so he always wears long-sleeves, at least quarter-length, and long pants so a breeze doesn’t spook him into a panic attack.
They’re all kind of fucked up from this whole thing.
Mike wishes his own trauma didn’t stem from losing everyone around him, though. First Will, then El, and then Max, and now his parents… it’s never ending. It’s like he’s destined to be alone. Sometimes, he feels like that’s almost worse than what Will and Max went through, and what Max and Holly are still going through.
Then he remembers that no, they have real trauma. He just has abandonment issues. He’s just a fucking baby.
Will brings him back again, rubbing his back and whispering comforting words. Slowly, Mike comes back to the present. He pulls back from Will, wiping his eyes and his nose with his wrist and looking around the room.
They’re not alone. Behind Will and Joyce are Steve and Dustin, arms around each other. Robin is holding onto Vickie, who stares at him with the most disgusting look of pity that he just has to look away. Then there’s Lucas, who finally decided to leave Max’s room for once, and Jonathan is nowhere to be found. Mike guesses he’s probably with Nancy.
In any normal circumstance, he’d be embarrassed as fuck right now, because he makes it a point not to cry, because boys don’t cry, his dad always said. But instead, he can’t bring himself to care. They’ve all been through too much to judge him, and he knows they all care about him more than he’d like to admit. He just lost his parents, but he didn’t lose his family.
“Mike…” Will whispers, making him look up. There’s a steely determination in his watery eyes, and it gives Mike some kind of hope in this terrible situation.
“Vecna is not going to win. I will make absolutely sure of it.”
He swallows, taking a deep breath. He pulls away from his best friend’s embrace and begins to stand up on wobbly legs.
“Where’s Nancy?” Mike asks, meeting Steve’s worried gaze. He softens.
“She’s taking a walk with Jonathan.”
Mike clears his throat, rubbing his hands together to bring some warmth back to his body. He feels ice cold.
“Well. We need her gun power,” he starts, voice shaky but resolute. “We need to kill this motherfucker before….”
He inhales sharply.
“I can’t lose anyone else to this bastard.”
With that, he pushes past everyone in the room, making a beeline for the hospital doors. He knows they’re yelling his name, saying it’s not safe outside, and he knows. Okay? He already knows.
Mike just needs a minute to breathe before they keep fighting this war. God, he can’t believe he’s living through a war. Granted, only a handful of people and the military know about it, but it’s still a war nonetheless.
How is he only 17 and already gone through so much? How has he already experienced this much loss?
He should be writing the novel he’s always wanted to write, or finishing that D&D campaign he started two years ago but could never finish because of all this alternate dimension crap. He should be applying to colleges right now.
But no, instead of being a normal teenager, he’s trying to hold it together during the fucking apocalypse outside of the hospital where his parents just died and his friend is stuck in a coma. What a fucking life he leads, holy hell.
Probably the most predictable part of today is that Will follows him outside. Because of course he does. Because even though Will knows he should probably give him space right now, he also knows that he has always been an exception.
His best friend slides down the concrete wall next to him, staying silent. Mike doesn’t even look at him. He just keeps staring off into the distance, looking at the dark sky and the dead flowers around them. He tries to shut off his thoughts. If he keeps thinking, he might be dead by the end of the night.
Still, Will doesn’t say a word. His presence is comforting. It always has been, but especially after getting him back from the Upside Down… just knowing he’s nearby is a relief. Joyce feels the same way, Mike knows. It’s why she won’t let him out of her sight half the time.
She’s probably standing by the front door inside the hospital right now, actually. The thought makes Mike snort.
Will looks at him, finally. “What?”
He shakes his head, letting himself smile.
“I’m just thinking about your mom. She’s probably right by the door right now, worried about you.”
“Yeah,” Will laughs. “She’s been… really overprotective lately.”
Mike shrugs. “She honestly always has been. I think it’s nice. My parents were never really that…” he bites his lip, hurt spreading through his chest at the thought of them, “attentive.”
Will hums thoughtfully, before gently pressing his arm against Mike’s.
“Is it… too early to talk about them for you?”
He doesn’t know. He brought them up first, after all. But he did just have a huge breakdown and he’s not exactly thinking straight.
The boy next to him seems to make sense of his silence. He clears his throat.
“Even if you’re not, can I just… can I say something?”
Finally, Mike looks at his best friend. He raises an eyebrow.
“About my parents?”
Will nods, swallowing.
Intrigued more than anything, Mike gestures for him to continue. Will takes a deep breath, breaking eye contact. He starts fidgeting with his fingers.
“I know they loved you. I know that. But I also think… they could’ve done more.”
Mike tilts his head in confusion. He grew up in a big, two-story house, with a basement AND an attic. His parents gave him all the toys he could ever want, they let him play D&D for hours and hours on end, always let him go to his friends’ houses, and always let his friends come over to his place.
He really doesn’t know what Will could mean by that.
Then Will says, “I just mean… I know you always had trouble going to them when you felt sad. You talked to my mom about everything, I think.”
“True, yeah. Your mom is just more… I don’t know. She just listens better,” Mike admits. He thinks back to all the times he tried to talk to his parents about things going on at school, with bullies and demeaning teachers.
They didn’t ever really do anything about the bullies, but what were they supposed to do? They’re not the other kids’ parents, and as long as Mike was behaving, they were happy with him. They did talk to his teachers, though. Whenever he did bad on an assignment or an exam, they would ground him and take away something. Mike didn’t see an issue with that; it’s normal parenting.
“Exactly. I mean… I just feel like…” Will seems to get frustrated with his inability to form the words, sighing loudly and running a hand through his hair. After another deep breath, he tries again.
“I don’t think they were as supportive or just… there for you as they could’ve been. Like. I don’t remember them even knowing where you were half the time.”
Mike furrows his eyebrows. “I mean, I’m kind of predictable. If I wasn’t at home, I was either at your house, or Lucas’ or Dustin’s. Or school. That’s really it. They had no reason to be worried.”
Will nods, but he still looks frustrated. He looks at Mike again.
“What about your dad?”
He shrugs. “What about my dad?” His dad was fine. He was nothing like Lonnie, who would get drunk off his ass and beat on his family.
“He didn’t really do anything,” Will says. “He went to work and came home and just watched TV, right?”
Mike nods. “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”
Will rolls his lips in, apprehensive.
“Did you ever talk to him? About anything? Your day? Your friends?”
It’s at about this time when Mike starts to feel... not as confident in his relationship with his parents. Mike frowns.
“No… not really. I guess we weren’t that close. And mom always seemed mad at him for some reason,” he admits.
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” Mike shrugs. “Like you said, he didn’t really do anything. Mom cooked all the dinners, she went to the store, she talked to our teachers by herself most of the time, she tucked us in. Now that you mentioned it, he wasn’t really that involved in our life. I mean, mine at least. I think when Holly was born, he started to do more stuff.”
Will nods slowly, turning toward him incrementally. Now Mike can see the concern in his eyes. He frowns, annoyed. Why does everyone keep looking at him like that?
“And when he did talk,” Will starts, resting a hand on Mike’s knee tentatively. Mike tries not to shiver at the touch. “What did he say?”
Mike stares into Will’s eyes for a few moments, swallowing. The boy is looking into his soul or something and it’s really making him uncomfortable.
“Not much. Usually he’d just say, ‘Language’ when me or Nancy would say a bad word. And other times…”
He thinks back to that night at the dinner table, when Will first went missing. To this day, he has never understood his father’s disconnected comments.
“You see, Michael? You see what happens?”
“What happens when what? I’m the only one acting normal here! I’m the only one who cares about Will!”
“That is really unfair, son. We care.”
“He didn’t really… honestly, and I’m sorry to say this, Will, but I don’t think he gave a shit when you went missing.”
Will’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Mike sighs. “I can’t explain it, but really it just seemed like he didn’t… then again, I don’t think he cared about much. Except the news.”
“Right. He was always watching the news.”
“Usually channel four, too. And he’d listen to talk radio in the car on the rare days he’d pick me up from school, whenever mom was sick or whatever.”
Will nodded. “My dad listened to that, too.”
A surge of anger courses through Mike. “Are you comparing my dad to Lonnie?”
Immediately, Will shakes his head.
“No, no, no! Not at all. I just mean. I think they believed in the same stuff.”
Mike furrows his brows. “Like what? About gays?”
Gulping, Will nods, looking back into Mike’s eyes.
“My dad would always say the meanest crap about faggots and how they’re spreading some disease and he thought that I was one… a fag. And I mean,” Will looks away now, looking scared. “I might be,” he whispers.
Mike shakes his head, grabbing onto Will’s hands and squeezing tight. “No, no. You’re not.”
Eyes glossy, Will nods. “No, Mike. I think I might be. Actually. I don’t… I don’t like girls that way. You even said it yourself a few years ago.”
“What? I never—“ then he remembers their fight, outside his house while it was pouring outside.
“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”
… shit.
“My god, Will. I truly, really truly, did not mean it like that. I was just upset that you were angry over me and Lucas getting girlfriends and spending more time with them. I didn’t even know— or— suspect at the time that you might be—“
“Wait, at the time?”
Mike flushes, hesitating. “Well. I mean, I think it’s kind obvious lately?” He admits, biting his lip. “You just don’t seem interested in girls romantically. But you look at me like….”
The silence is palpable. Mike can hear Will’s breath hitch, then get faster. He pulls away from Mike.
“You know? How I—how I feel about you?”
Mike shuts his eyes tight for a second, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. “Fuck. Um. I—I dunno. Is that what I implied?”
Will hits his arm. Hard.
“You know I like you and never told me?”
There it is. He admitted it. Another uncomfortable silence passes between them.
“I just did now… I’m sorry.”
Will huffs an angry breath. Then inhales sharply.
“Then you’re… you’re not upset with me? You don’t hate that I… that I feel that way? About you or guys in general or—”
Rolling his eyes, Mike shakes his head. “Never. I could never hate you for liking guys. Honestly, I’m pretty flattered you chose me.” He smiles.
Will returns the smile, relieved.
“If anything,” Mike shrugs, looking away. “I think I might… I don’t know…”
“Might what?”
Mike… doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. Because since he was five years old, Will has been the person he trusts most in this world. He is the person who gives his life meaning. And when he disappeared, he thought about disappearing, too.
Does that mean he likes Will like that? Maybe. He’s been struggling to place this strong feeling inside his chest for his best friend, because he knows that Dustin and Lucas are also his best friends but it’s not the same. It’s so different. So extremely different.
Whatever relationship he and Will have can’t even be compared to him and Eleven. And, god he really does love El, but he has such a hard time saying it to her. Maybe because he doesn’t love her the same way, and that scares him. He feels more comfortable loving Will.
He’s so confused. What even are feelings? Why are some romantic and some platonic and how is he supposed to tell the difference? Will and El are giving him headaches. He can’t possibly love them both, can he?
Will clears his throat, bringing Mike back. “You like girls, right?” He asks, shyly.
Mike blinks a few times.
“I do, yeah. I like El,” he says, but then he also feels the need to tack on, “I love El.”
His best friend sees right through his bullshit, as always. He tilts his head with that “come on” expression on his face. Mike sighs, defeated.
“Genuinely, Will. I don’t know how I feel.” Mike bites his lip, hesitating. Fuck it. “I think I like girls but I also don’t not like guys. You know?”
After a moment or so, it looks like Will comes to some kind of realization. He smiles and nods to himself but doesn’t say anything.
Mike groans. “If you figured something out, please enlighten me. I would very much appreciate it, Will the Wise.”
Will chuckles.
“I think… there’s a name for it, technically, but nobody really knows it. Bisexual? I read it in the library one day. It means you like both boys and girls. Does that… feel right to you?”
Almost immediately, Mike feels seen. That makes so much sense.
“That does, actually. Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “Wow.”
Will leans against him again, and Mike releases a loud sigh, laying his head on Will’s shoulder. A peaceful silence returns between them.
Neither say a word for the next few minutes, which are inevitably interrupted by Joyce opening the door of the hospital and peeking out. Mike waves, not moving away from Will. Suddenly, he is overcome with exhaustion and he can’t deny how comfortable of a pillow Will makes. Joyce smiles at them.
“Hey boys. We alright out here?”
Will nods. “Yeah mom, we’re good. Um. Do you need us?”
Joyce shakes her head. “Nope! Everyone wants to give Mike space and nobody’s really in the mood to work out plans for this whole,” she gestures wildly at the Upside Down seeping into the Rightside Up around them.
Mike looks at their surroundings again, which he has pointedly ignored for the past few minutes of cuddling with his best friend. His heart sinks at the reminder.
“Alright. I’m headed back inside. Do you guys want water?”
As Will shakes his head, Mike becomes aware of how dry his lips are. He licks them, clearing his throat. “I’ll take some water,” he says. “Thanks, Ms. Byers.”
She smiles, ducking her head as she retreats inside.
Sighing, Mike sinks back into Will, turning to tuck his head to his collarbone. He can’t see it, but he can practically hear Will’s smile.
“You comfy?” He asks, and Mike just hums.
It’s been an absolutely terrible, horrible, traumatic day. One of the worst days of his life, right up there with Will and El’s disappearance. He just keeps fucking losing people and he’s sick of it. But at least this time, he’s got Will at his side. That’s the one consolation to all of this.
At this point, he’ll take what he can get.