Chapter Text
Elmwood was a good two hours away from the airport. The town was so small, nestled in the middle of the woods, that the only way to reach it was through a narrow dirt road that twisted around so much it had Mike green sick fifteen minutes in.
The bus stop he was left in was also small, as if to fit into the town: Old and crooked, made out of moss covered wood. The air around Mike smelled moist and alive, fresh in a way the air in Hawkins hadn’t smelled since 1983. The woods all around him were a lush green, so bright and saturated it was almost as if they were giving one last “hurrah” before the decay of autumn. Mike rolled his neck, sore from the long trip, and squinted his eyes to the small desire path peeking through the trees and bushes. Litha should be there soon.
He tightened his hold on the small suitcase. Tried stretching his legs in his precarious seat at the tiny wooden bench. His jeans were becoming shorter as his legs became longer. His chest ached in a dull way that reminded him of family dinners and early night television. He looked at the desire path once more and stood up once he spotted her approaching.
Litha’s frame got clearer the closer she got. She emerged from between the trees like watercolor bleeding into paper, her green clothes blending her in like camouflage. She was shorter than him, but just as thin and at least a few shades more tan. Her face had all similar features, same eyes, nose and lips, but with rounder softer edges. She lacked his sharp angles and the hollows in his cheeks. Her hair was a long mess of curls that fell down wildly to the middle of her back. She offered him a bright gap toothed smile, and waved happily, quickening her step the closer she got.
“Michael!”
She breathed out, her voice light in a way that reminded him of the old musical films his mother enjoyed watching secretly at night. She lunged at him, thin bony arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. He flinched and then stiffened. Litha was much much stronger than he had remembered.
“Good to see you Litha.”
He replied, patting her back in awkward little intervals, fluttery, unsure. Litha pulled back. Smoothed the wrinkles in his T-shirt’s sleeves. Now that she was closer, Mike could see the finer details of her face. Gone were the bushy eyebrows he remembered from childhood, as they were now plucked into expressive arches above her crinkled happy eyes. Her freckles were much darker than his: His own were almost washed out in the past stressful years. Litha had seemed to put an effort into looking nice for his arrival, shimmery glittery makeup spread messily, but pretty, around her eyes and on the top of her cheeks, and little braids peeked through the mess of her curls.
Mike realized he had been staring. He barely got to feel embarrassed about it before realizing Litha had been doing the same, drinking him in. He wondered what she saw on his face, on his clothes, that had her brows lowering in what he imagined to be concern.
“Your clothes are so…dark!”
She exclaimed, almost in wonder, and circled him to get a better look. Mike tried not to flinch in self consciousness. With his rough jeans and a T-shirt he was pretty sure he stole from Eddie at some point during the summer, he felt like somewhat of an intruder in the vivid woods around him. He looked at Litha once more. Her eyes held nothing more than curiosity, as she carefully examined his shoes and then his hair.
Her hands went back to his shoulders, this time in a much gentler hold. Her brows lowered this time in seriousness.
“I’m so, so happy you are here Michael.”
Mike’s lips wobbled, something fragile threatening to shatter in his chest. When was the last time he had heard anything like it? Months at least. His eyes felt warm, wet, but he refused to let a single tear fall in front of his cousin. Instead, he lifted his hands and mirrored her hold. His hands felt too big on her shoulders.
“Please call me Mike.”
------
The walk to Litha’s house consisted of small talk and tripping. The only way to reach it was through the desire path cutting through the thick woods.
Elmwood indeed was not just woods, Litha had assured him. The town had a charming commercial center that also housed both the school and the hospital. There wasn't much beyond the town’s square.
“Like Munchkin Land!”
She giggled, skipping expertly through thick tree roots and half buried rocks. Mike had only now realized she was barefoot.
Most homes skirted the edges of the town’s center. Aunt Amelia had, for some reason, decided to build her house so deep in the woods, it was barely within town limits. By the time they had made it to the front yard, Mike’s face had been covered in a thin layer of sweat.
“Oh my gods the bus stop is so far.”
Litha whined. She was panting, and ungracefully threw herself in a loveseat on the front porch. Mike took some time to look at the house.
It was made of wood, taller than it was wider. With two stories and charming curved windows that made the house look like it had eyes. There was a front porch, with the loveseat where Litha lounged, a rocking chair and a few mismatched stools. The door was painted a happy yellow that had begun to chip.
“Oh you look exhausted. Wanna take a shower while I make dinner?”
Mike dropped his bags in the grass and rolled his shoulders. A shower sounded lovely. His skin felt greasy and sweaty from the long trip, and he was pretty sure his hair was sticking a bit to his forehead.
“Sounds great. Thanks Litha.”
He picked his bags back up, and Litha swung her legs to hoist herself from the seat. She opened the front door for him, and then urged him to leave his suitcases by the door.
“We can get them later,” she said, ushering him in, “just go clean up, you look dead.”
The living room was cluttered, full of books and empty mugs scattered everywhere. Mike barely had time to get a change of clothes before Litha guided him upstairs and shoved him into the bathroom, handing him a fluffy white towel.
“The soap is new so you can just use it. My shampoo and conditioner also.”
She told him cheerily, and closed the door before he could say much. It didn’t take long before he could hear the sound of pots and pans clanging around from downstairs.
Litha was…a lot.
Mike let out a sigh. The time with his cousin felt like surviving a small hurricane. Despite his exhaustion, there was a warm flutter in his chest at how genuinely happy Litha seemed at his presence.
The bathroom was all cream colored. There were little flowers on the tiles in the walls and a claw foot tub with a shower on it. For a moment, Mike felt tempted to soak in it, but the persistent, and somewhat concerningly loud, sound of his cousin cooking downstairs urged him not to take too much time.
He stripped, leaving his clothes in a small pile on top of the toilet box, and stepped into the shower. Thankfully, it had only one faucet, one side of the water pipe helpfully painted messily in red, the other blue. He turned it on, the water coming in strong and warm, and he groaned in satisfaction. The sore muscles on his back finally relaxed after long hours of uncomfortable soreness.
Litha’s toiletries were all lined up in the windowsill, the window glass was colorful. All of her products were in old looking glass bottles that resembled the potions Will would draw for their campaigns. His chest clenched at the thought of him.
Mike wondered how Will was doing. Wondered if he had noticed his absence yet. Wondered if he cared at all, that he was gone. Mike wondered if he forgave him.
He blinked. His eyes felt warm and wet, but Mike refused to cry. He reached for the nearest bottle, poured some of its contents on his palm. It foamed a bit once he rubbed his hands together. Shampoo. It smelled like chamomile tea. He washed his hair quickly, and then moved to the soap bar, butter colored and sweet milk smelling. He washed his skin harshly, eager to remove the grimy feeling stuck to it. The products smelled alien, different from the usual minty smell of the body wash his mother bought him.
He rinsed the tub quickly before shutting off the water. His body felt warm and loose and suddenly his eyes felt heavy with sleep. He patted himself dry lazily, and put on his clothes. Those smelled familiar, fabric softener and bleach.
Once he left the bathroom, a cloud of steam followed him. The air in the hallway felt cool and fresh in comparison. He made his way downstairs. He could no longer hear Litha cooking.
He could hear her yelling instead, high pitched and scandalized.
“Get out get out get out! I told you to come tomorrow!”
He quickened his steps towards the kitchen, where his cousin repeatedly slapped a guy’s back with both her hands.
“I wanted to meet your cousin! I got a bit impatient!”
The guy shouted back, barely dodging her furious, and hopefully playful, slapping and kicking. They chased each other around a bit in the kitchen, still yelling.
“He just got here Vance! He needs to rest!”
“Oh please he must be bored out of his mind!”
Vance, the guy, froze on his tracks upon seeing Mike, Litha running face first into his back.
“Oh you absolute…!”
“Hi!”
Mike cut her off, greeting the guy anxiously. He looked at Litha, for any sign of true distress, but his cousin had seemed to settle into a mixture of annoyance and resignation, visibly deflating.
“Hi.”
The guy breathed out, looking at him a bit wide eyed. Vance(?) had golden brown skin, healthy looking, and dark brows that framed his equally dark eyes. He was, surprisingly, taller than Mike, and had a bit of a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken before. The most striking part of his appearance was his hair: bleached so blond it was almost white, but patchy, mismatched. It looked like it once had been a mullet, but had clearly suffered some sort of chemical cut, as it stuck unevenly out of his head. Mike could see dark roots coming in.
“You look exactly like Litha.”
Vance said, in the same breathless bewildered tone. Mike raised an eyebrow in response.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He asked, voice abrasive. Vance, still with his eyes wide and surprised, raised his hands as if to surrender.
“I’m not ugly enough for you to respond like this.”
Litha replied, her voice well humored, with a bit of laughter in it. Mike offered her a sheepish smile, before sending her a questioning look.
“Oh right. Mike, this is Vance. He’s my friend from school who I specifically asked to wait until tomorrow in class for me to introduce you.”
She hissed the end of the sentence, and Vance turned his surrendering stance to her.
“I got curious! It’s been ages since anyone’s moved to Elmwood!”
“So you guys are…?”
Mike asked, gaze shifting between Litha and Vance. Litha seemed to understand immediately what he meant, her face scrunching in mock disgust.
“Oh no we are not like that. Not at all”
Vance, catching on, shook his head almost violently.
“Oh we really aren’t, you don’t even worry about that Mike.”
He reassured, before scrunching his eyebrows and clicking his tongue.
“Mike. Mike? Mika, Michal, Mimi?”
Mike’s chest began to bubble with annoyance when Vance looked at him, seemingly satisfied.
“Mimi.”
He nodded to himself, pleased, and Mike barely held in a scoff.
“You’re not calling me that.”
He hissed, and Vance raised his eyebrows in amusement.
“But it’s so cute though! Come on Mimi, light up a little!”
Mike ground his teeth, and the annoyance he felt must have bled into his expression, because Vance deflated a little, looking a bit embarrassed. Mike immediately felt guilty.
“It’s not like I can make a nickname for you either. Vee Vee just sounds obscene.”
He said, trying to lift the clear upset weighting Vance’s eyebrows down. It seemed to have worked, as the blond lightened up and smiled bashfully.
“Okay, enough of you. Mimi hasn’t eaten anything since Hawkings and that cannot be good for him.”
Litha gestured at his overall body as if to say “See? Skinny!”, and swatted Vance on the shoulders, herding him like a Border Collie towards the yellow frond door.
“Bye Mimi! It was nice meeting you! I’ll see you tomorrow for school!”
Mike swallowed the complaint at the easily stuck nickname and inched closer to the dinner table and its mismatched chairs. Vance smiled crookedly and waved as he was unceremoniously pushed out of the house.
He was unsure of what to make of Vance.
“Is he going to be okay getting home by himself?”
He asked his cousin once she had shut the door. Litha looked up, her mess of curls sticking in all directions and over her face from her fretting.
“Of course he will. Nothing ever happens in Elmwood.”
Mike nodded hesitantly. Nothing ever used to happen in Hawkings either.
“Come on. Come eat. I mean it Mike, you look like you’re wasting away.”
She ushered him towards the nearest chair. As he plopped down Litha brought over a steaming plate. Chicken broth and rice, steaming pleasantly, smelling like ginger and spring onion. He recognized it as the type of food you’d feed someone sick, or with a weakened stomach. He turned to look at his cousin once more. They really looked too much alike, down to the thinness of their limbs. Not exactly alike though. Where Mike’s body was soft and clearly weaker, Litha’s thinness held the wiry muscle of a prey animal: strong, but starved nonetheless.
“Are you eating too?”
He couldn’t stop himself from asking. Litha blinked, clearly surprised.
“Have you eaten today?”
He continued, and she cocked her head seemingly clearly bewildered, as if Mike even asking the question was something unimaginable.
“I…I forgot to.”
She replied genuinely, seeming surprised at her own forgetfulness. Mike blinked and got up, picking up a plate from the pile in the drying rack on the sink and pouring her the same serving of steaming soup she had him, plopping it down on the seat next to him on the table.
Mike was not stupid, contrary to seemingly popular belief. It was not too difficult to figure out. Aunt Amelia spent most of her time in the city, and rarely came home. Mike himself often forgot to eat if not constantly reminded by either his mom or Holly Jolly. No more, he thought, remembering the tightness of Litha’s arms as she embraced him at the bus stop. He could watch out for her in his aunt’s absence.
Litha’s long fingers wrapped around his wrist, in an almost diagnostic fashion. Her nails were painted a different color each. Mike looked up at her face, at her softened eyes. Once she stopped smiling she looked much older and smaller. She seemed to be thinking the same as him.
They ate dinner with their ankles pressed together.
—---
Litha had cleaned and prepared their guest room specifically for Mike.
“Vance and Amber sleep here all the time” - She informed him as she ushered him to the door at the end of the hallway, - “But we always end up sleeping in the sunroom.”
Mike hadn’t seen the sunroom properly, had only caught a glimpse of it as Litha pulled him around the house, its wide windows faced the pitch black night, and made his heart flutter with anxiety. He suspected Litha was waiting until morning to show it to him.
The door to Mike’s new room had clearly been freshly painted. A light sky blue sprinkled with fluffy blue clouds. Mike’s heart swelled a bit to the clear love that went into it, and he hesitated for a split second before opening it, looking at Litha for permission and meeting her excited smile.
“You like it?”
She asked, the barest hint of uncertainty bleeding into her voice.
“I do. It’s beautiful, Litha.”
He replied softly, in a voice he used to reserve exclusively for Holly Jolly. It was worth it, as his cousin’s smile widened enough to show her gapped front teeth. He opened the door.
The walls were an even lighter blue, clean, fresh, and a narrow bed was tucked against the left corner. To its right there was a wooden writing desk, facing a tall window. A wardrobe was placed against the wall with the door, and on the center of the floor, there was a fluffy colored rug. The room looked remarkably light and clean, but also stripped bare. There were no posters, no campaign drawings taped to the walls. No toys or knicknacks anywhere. Mike’s heart squeezed once more, but this time for an entirely different reason.
“Will you be okay here for the night?”
Litha asked gently, as if sensing Mike’s grief. He looked at her once more. Took in her freckles, glittery makeup and messy hair. Her bony shoulders.
“I’ll be okay. You should get some sleep too, yeah? We have school tomorrow.”
He nudged her gently.
“Oh yeah! And then you get to meet Amber! You’re gonna love Amber!”
She said excitedly, inching towards the door. Mike thought back to meeting Vance, and the chaotic, near frantic energy that surrounded the blond’s every move. Would Amber be similar? Would she be like his cousin, a woodland creature seemingly made out of one of his campaigns? Mike hadn’t had to make new friends since Max arrived in Haikings. He wasn’t sure he knew how to do it anymore.
“Don’t worry Mike, I’m sure she’s gonna like you.”
Litha reassured him, he wondered what his face was doing that betrayed his concern.
“...Yeah.”
He allowed his cousin to bump their shoulders affectionately one last time, before she exited the room. The door closed resolutely behind her.
For a moment, Mike just stood there. Took in the clean light walls, the tall window. The empty wardrobe and his full suitcases placed by the door. The bed’s comforter was thick, soft and yellow, and other than the faintest sound from the wind chimes downstairs and the crickets outside, the house was hauntingly quiet.
No Nancy fussing in her bedroom, no Holly Jolly begging mom for one more story. No television downstairs, or his dad’s snoring. No faint static from his walkie.
Mike sat on the bed. He was alone.