Chapter Text
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It was a normal day, just like any other to Mike Wheeler. The constant headache that had followed him around for what felt like months was the only abnormal thing, but he was used to it at this point. He could even say his day was downright boring, minus the dull pounding in his head. Still, it was the very last day of school until summer. He was heading outside to meet Lucas, Dustin, and Will.
They were all going to hang out since summer was finally here, and probably play the new campaign they started a few weeks ago. He smiled, thinking of ways he could absolutely ruin their progress. There were many different ways to do that, like throw impossible monsters at them, or send them in the completely wrong direction, but they all would be too obvious. Maybe have them encounter an extremely manipulative and eccentric merchant in the tavern? All the options were boring, too plain for his chaotic narrating style.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard laughing coming up in front of him, and he looked up from the floor. It was the basketball kids, shoving each other into lockers and cackling loudly. These kids could never get over their silly little balls in laundry baskets game, and he was glad Lucas didn't hang out with them anymore. They were total douche bags, like, not a single one of them was actually nice.
One of the boys, Troy, already smirking, turned towards Mike and shouted, “I can't wait to see the new movie starring Michael Wheeler and the Seven Faeries!”
His friends and he laughed louder, and Mike’s eyes widened. This wasn’t real; it couldn’t be, they always taunted him, and always had. So… why did this taunt feel real? His chest got tighter; he needed to see what was on that sign. Mike couldn't hold back, he sprinted out the school doors, grabbing his bike that was leaning next to Lucas’. He quickly got on and started pedaling away.
“Mike! MIKE! What the hell is up with you?!” He heard Dustin calling after him, and Mike forced himself to respond.
“I-It's nothing. Y-You guys can just go home!” Panic flared in his chest; he didn't want anyone to see what he expected there to be at the theater.
His heart pounded against his ribs; he wasn't ready to tell them yet. He may never be ready to tell them after what happened with his parents. He grimaced at the thought of that- and pushed it out of his mind. Mike was hoping that he was wrong, dead wrong, and that none of those boys had any suspicions about him. He pedaled faster, pushing back his tears, just willing for the movie theater to appear around the corner. His heart wouldn't stop pounding, and he couldn't hear anything due to the blood rushing into his ears. Why, why did Troy have to say anything. Today had been a perfectly normal day, one that Mike was even slightly enjoying. One he was looking forward to until that dingus decided to ruin it.
Then, he turned the corner and saw it. The movie theater. He jumped off his bike, running alongside it until he was closer. His heart stopped in his chest, his bike fell out of his hands, and the tears were coming back now, stinging his eyes and cheeks.
“What the hell… this can't be right…” Mike balled his hands into tight fists, closing his eyes and wishing he could just wake up from this god-awful nightmare.
When he opened them again, he realized it wasn't in his head. Everything in front of him wasn't some sort of twisted nightmare that someone like Vecna could create. It was reality, and it sickened him. His breathing was coming out in uneven, short bursts, and he was basically gasping for air at this point. In shaky bold red letters, there was writing. Terrible, awful writing.
MIKE WHEELER IS A FAGGOT
So… his suspicions were right; they had written it on the board. They did have their suspicions, but why they did was still a complete mystery. Mike's head was spinning, his vision blurry, and his eyes burning with tears that just kept falling. His eyes fell to his hands, not wanting to look at the words anymore. He was gasping for air, unable to get enough into his lungs, like his ribcage was collapsing in on itself and choking him alive. His heart was racing, faster than he remembered it ever had before, even when he was getting chased through the tunnels in the Upside Down. His heart beat so fast, it felt like it was about to explode. He couldn’t even feel people’s judgmental stares searing into his skin, or hear their snide remarks and snickers as they shoved past him, due to the shock of it all.
Everyone now had their own suspicions; they all would see Mike standing there, knowing how much this affected him. Looking up from his hands that had made their way to his face, he then ran them through his hair. Then he registered them. The stares. All the god-awful looks. They were looking at him, with disgust in their eyes, like Mike wasn't even human anymore. And without thinking, he bolted across the street.
People were bumping into Mike, and he was bumping into them, but he didn't even care. He barely noticed their presence as he fled from the theater. All that mattered was getting away. Far, far, away from Hawkins. The only sound his ears could discern was the faint call from who he thought was Will behind him. His chest tightened even more - but it was the good kind of tight this time - accompanied by panic coiling even tighter around his lungs. His step faltered for a fraction of a second, the idea of turning around and running into Will's warm, gentle arms filling his head and captivating him.
But he knew it was wrong.
So, so wrong.
Especially since Will must have seen the sign, it would be too much for him to handle all at once. Will was probably calling him to ask what the hell was wrong with him, to confirm what the sign said, and expose him to everyone. Because Mike was a sinful freak. He pushed out the soured thought and ran faster to escape the nightmare turned into reality forming behind him.
~1076 words~