Chapter Text
Mike woke up with a pounding head ache.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
It’s like the sound was coming from inside and outside his head, surrounding him.
“Mike, I'm coming in. It’s almost nine o’clock.,” his mother’s voice rang through the door, followed by three more sharp knocks on his door. The doorknob rattled slightly. “Are you alive in there?”
“God, yes, Mom! I’m alive,” Mike grumbled as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. “And don’t come in, I’m changing.”
He could practically hear his mother’s eyes rolling through the door. “Breakfast in ten minutes. Just because it’s Spring Break doesn’t mean you can laze around all day.”
Mike waited till her footsteps faded down the hallway before getting fully out of bed.
It’s Spring Break, he thought, ‘lazing around all day’ is exactly what this time was meant for.
Carelessly, Mike picked random clothes out of his closest and threw them on. Jeans and a t-shirt he definitely should have thrown out years ago. Over top he threw on a sweatshirt, hoping to hide his swelling wrist and overall scrawniness.
Looking in the mirror Mike had to take care to even recognize himself. In the past few months he had changed a lot. His hair had grown longer and his face more gaunt. The sight of himself made him feel disgusted. Even his clothes looked different on him, baggier than they previously were. Mike wondered if anyone even noticed that he was slowly withering away before their eyes.
Sitting on his desk chair, zipped open haphazardly, was Mike’s backpack. The smell of Eddie’s gifts wafted from the open bag. Hoping for more isolated time in the woods, Mike zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Before heading downstairs Mike stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth and drench his bag in cologne.
“Ah, there you are,” Karen said as Mike entered the kitchen. He dropped his back by the door, hoping the cologne was enough to mask the smell. “It’s good to see you up and at 'em this morning. You know, you’ve got a big day ahead of you!”
Mike’s lips crinkled in confusion. “Mom, it’s Spring Break. The biggest thing I have ahead of me is relaxing and reading comics.” Ignoring the pancakes Karen tried to hand him, Mike poured himself a cup of coffee. “Do we have any Advil?”
“Yeah. Top shelf in the cupboard next to the pantry. Why?” Karen looked at Mike and for a second he almost thought he recognized the look as concern.
“Just a headache,” Mike explained as he shook two pills out of the bottle, swallowing them with a sip of coffee. “I think I’m gonna head out. Maybe go to the library and see if they’ve got anything interesting.” Hopefully the Advil would help with the pulsing feeling in his wrist as well.
“You should eat breakfast first. I’m sure it will help with your headache. And make sure you’re home before noon, okay?”
Karen ushered Mike to the dining room table, placing a plate of pancakes in front of him. The last thing Mike wanted was to eat pancakes but he knew his mother well enough to know that she would not let him leave the table without doing so.
To his left, Holly was working on something, it looked like a drawing of a hippopotamus. As if she could feel his eyes on her, she looked up to face Mike.
“Are you going to eat all of those?” she asked, eyeing the stack in front of him.
With a smirk like a sly fox Mike nudges the plate toward her. “Don’t let Mom see, okay?” he whispered. Holly grinned and gave her brother a lopsided wink as she took a pancake from his plate. Sighing, Mike decided his mother might be right in some aspect. Maybe eating would help this awful pounding in his head.
Mike took approximately four bites before a choking feeling began to rise in his throat. Nope, no way he was going to throw up at the table. Hurriedly, Mike brought his plate to the sink.
“I’m off!” he announced to no one in particular. Mike grabbed his backpack and headed out the door. Outside he ran straight to the garbage can and emptied the contents of his stomach. The taste of bile lingered in his mouth no matter how much water he drank from the hose.
Eventually he gave up on getting the taste out of his mouth. Checking his watch he saw that it was already 9:27. Enough time had been wasted. Mike grabbed his bike and practically raced to his destination.
When he got to the trailer park where Eddie lived, Mike found himself trapped behind a barricade of caution tape. Police littered the area. Actually, Mike noticed, there were an excessive amount of sheriff station vehicles circling Eddie's trailer. Eddie was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, kid,” some cop shouted at Mike. “You can’t be here. Police investigation, you gotta go.”
“What- what happened here?” Mike asked.
The cop looked Mike up and down as if he was sizing him up. “Police investigation. Can’t say anymore than that. Get going kid.” He turned around, walking back in the direction of his vehicle.
The cops' tone put Mike ill at ease. What had Eddie done? Was it the drugs? Did he finally get caught for dealing? Something in Mike’s gut told him it wasn’t that, that it was something worse. This feeling of ‘something worse’ wasn’t new to Mike. In fact, he had been dealing with that feeling for months now.
Speaking into a radio inside his car, the cop turned to look at Mike again. Something in his stare sent a shiver down Mike’s spine. Something was wrong here but Mike didn’t know what. He decided the best course of action would be to just wait for Eddie to deliver the news of whatever happened. If it was just a drug bust, Mike knew Eddie had better hiding places for his supply than his trailer.
Eddie will be okay, Mike told himself as he pushed off on his bike.
Alone in the woods Mike relaxed a bit. 10:15 AM. He still had two hours before Karen expected him home for whatever reason. Mike collapsed into a pile of old, musty smelling blankets and pillows inside Castle Byers. The fort didn’t necessarily smell like the Byer’s house but it definitely held a certain energy that could only come from a Byers member. Mike reveled in it.
Time spent in Castle Byers was the closest Mike was able to find himself to Will these days. Though it felt horrible to never speak to Will over the phone or write him letters, it felt even worse to not find the words to say when he tried. Eventually he gave up. For a while Will continued to call but after a while the ringing lessened and lessened until it was only one missed call every two weeks.
Of course, Mike had been writing letters to El.. But that was different. El was his- El was his-
Mike…
Just then Mike’s head erupted in pain. Compared to this, his headache earlier seemed minuscule.
Mike… you can’t hide from it much longer. You can’t hide from the truth.
What the hell was happening? Mike ripped open his bag, tearing a half smoked joint from inside. Hurriedly he lit it. Five large inhales later and the shivers down Mike’s spine began to recede and his body began to feel light and the shaking in his hands lessened. He leaned back into the pile of pillows, covering his eyes with his arm. He almost felt relaxed until something warm brushed his top lip.
Using his finger tips, Mike wiped his nose. His fingers came away red.
“What the hell…” Mike said quietly to himself.
For an hour and a half Mike laid in Castle Byers, contemplating his bleeding nose. For half an hour Mike laid in Castle Byers, finishing his joint. He briefly wondered how Eddie was doing but his mind kept taking him to other places.
He considered El and when he should send her another letter. He considered Will and wondered if he’d ever gather the courage to call. It had been so long since he had seen either of them, he didn’t know what they’d think if they knew how he was doing.
They’d be disgusted, a voice in the back of his mind told him. They wouldn’t even recognize this mess I’ve become.
The thought brought him to tears. It was true wasn’t it. His best friends would be horrified if they saw him for what he is.
Mike slammed his fists to the dirt like a child throwing a tantrum. Pain seared through his left wrist. He slammed his fists again, pain searing again and again. Sobs racked his shoulders until he had enough of the pain and cradled his wrist like a broken bird.
At 12:00 his watch beeped. Karen was already expecting him home. Slowly and painfully Mike stood up. He took a moment to gather himself. He had gotten pretty good at bottling his emotions until he was alone. Now was the time to bottle up all his unscreamed cries and grievances.
He picked up his bike and decided to walk it to the forest’s edge again, hoping nobody would see the red in his eyes when he returned.