Chapter Text
The day that Max wakes up is the same day that Mike Wheeler meets Vecna.
It’s a pretty standard day, at least when Mike wakes up that morning. He gets out of bed, carefully not looking up so that he won’t be tormented with the painting above it that he still hasn’t figured out what to do about. He stumbles downstairs for breakfast, which has become an increasingly meager meal since what was left of their ashen town started to crumble, and the supermarkets started rationing food to each household (difficult, because there are a lot of people currently staying in the Wheeler household since both Hopper’s cabin and the Byers’ house were destroyed by the ‘earthquakes’). He tries to catch Will’s eyes over a tiny plate of scrambled eggs that contain no maple syrup, but Will just gives him a small, weak smile and a nod before swallowing his eggs in one bite and running off.
So, all in all, a pretty cut-and-paste, average morning in the life of Mike Wheeler.
Until Lucas calls them from the hospital.
El rushes to get to the phone first. Mike freezes where he is, plate poised to be set in the sink, watching her expression go from worry to confusion to ecstatic joy in less than three seconds flat.
“Max? She’s—Max! What are you—? How did—? Wait, I need to tell everyone,” she puts a hand over the speaker to muffle her voice and yells, as loudly as Mike has ever heard her yell, “Everyone! Max is awake! Come here! Max is on the phone, talking!”
There’s a mad dash to the kitchen doorway, chaos ensuing. Robin and Steve, who showed up early this morning to hang out (or something—Mike isn’t really concerned with what they’re doing most of the time), burst in first, feet sliding on the wood floor.
“She is?” Robin yells, her eyes round with disbelief. “That’s insane. I mean, amazing. I mean, how—”
“Can we talk to her? I mean, are you talking to her?” Steve asks, reaching for the phone, which El pulls back indignantly. She speaks into it, removing her hand from the receiver.
“Yes, they’re all excited. I—”
El’s words are drowned out by a mad rush of new voices spilling into the hall. Jonathan and Nancy rush in from the basement where they’re currently staying, and Will stumbles in from the living room looking dazed. Mike can’t help trying to catch his eye again, but Will remains stubbornly attentive to the phone in his sister’s hand.
As he should be, Mike chastises himself, hating his brain a little. You should be, too. Max is awake.
And really, Mike is thrilled. This is the best news they’ve gotten since their drive back from Cali. The last two people in the house to be brought in by El’s shouts (Mike’s parents are off helping out at the school with the displaced families) are Hopper and Mrs. Byers. They round the corner, wildly looking around at everyone else.
El, the celebrity of the hour, holds the phone gallantly to her ear and has a quick, quiet conversation with whomever is on the other end. She finally relents and relinquishes the phone to Steve, who is closest to her, but not after insisting everyone who wants to talk form a line behind him.
Mike holds back, not sure what he would even say. The most conversation he’s ever really had with Max was when he told her that she didn’t belong in their D&D party, and that she should get lost. Honestly, he hardly thought of her at all this past year, seeing as how she broke up with her only real link to the party and Mike booked it to California before all the Vecna shit went down.
If he was a better person, maybe he would have been there for her. Maybe he could have even helped her during the school year, when she was obviously struggling so much.
He looks over at Will again, who’s patiently waiting for his turn to talk with Max.
He knows the real reason he never really cared to try and help her. There has only been one persistent, ever-evaded thought on his mind this past year.
Mike needs air.
Spinning around, feeling a little dizzy, he makes his way past the crowd, and out to the front hallway. He shoves the door open and takes a deep breath of the (admittedly not very fresh) air. He can smell burning somewhere off in the distance, and the sky has been a dull, cindery gray since they got back.
Even so, it’s refreshing to be without people for a minute.
“Mike?”
Or not, Mike thinks, turning to see El closing the front door behind her and heading over to where he’s brooding up at the sky. It’s stupid, he thinks, that Max wakes up after two months and all he can do is think about his own splintering life.
“Hey, El,” he greets her, because she doesn’t deserve his gloom. He gestures to the sky, not sure where he’s going with this. His brain searches for an excuse as to why he’s outside moping while everyone else is celebrating the little they have to rejoice. “I, uh. Was just checking. I mean, looking. I mean…”
He trails off, having no clue what he means at all.
El nods, slowly. “I was wondering, too.”
Mike looks over at her. There’s something strange in her eyes as she looks up at the sky.
“Huh?”
She looks at him. “You know. I was wondering if something would change, now that he let Max go.”
Mike frowns, not having thought of this. “Right.”
The sky is just as foggy and dull as usual. The cracks in the ground still remind them of how carefully they have to navigate Hawkins now that it’s ripping apart at the seams.
It’s not that Mike was ever a huge fan of Hawkins, really. He’d just prefer it didn’t burn away with him in it. And it’s not like he can leave. His life is here, his family is here, El is here.
Will is here.
Don’t think about Will, he reprimands himself.
As if on cue, El turns to him again. “What are you thinking about, Mike?”
Mike senses something under her nonchalance. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to redirect his spiraling thoughts.
“Mike?” El questions, drawing nearer to him.
Mike doesn’t say anything. Something about this is off. It’s making him nervous, like the ground is about to shatter from beneath him. He takes a swallow of air and looks at El.
“Uh, I was just thinking about…you.”
“Me?” El smiles at him, but it’s off. It’s not her usual smile, the one that lights up her face before she bursts out laughing. It’s darker somehow. It’s sort of scary.
“…Yeah?” Mike’s thoughts swirl, trying to figure out what to say next. His tongue feels thick in his throat.
“Are you sure that’s what you were thinking about, Mike?”
Mike. Mike. Mike. His name echoes from her mouth until it’s no longer his name, and just a low, angry growl.
Mike.
He suddenly wants to run.
“Do you even love me, Mike?”
His heart shudders, and he suddenly can’t move. He stands there, paralyzed.
El’s closer now, her face leaning into his. He can feel her breath on his lips, but it’s not her sweet, maple-scented breath. Instead, it’s rotten and old, like a decaying body. He tries to recoil, but no sound will escape him, and she’s drawing nearer and nearer, her lips coming to rest on his own while he gasps for air.
The sky is suddenly dark and red, swirling with evil.
El kisses him angrily, her teeth biting down on his lips. He tries to run, tries to move, tries to scream, but nothing happens. She finally pulls away, her eyes dark and inhuman. He can no longer say that the creature in front of him is his girlfriend at all.
“Did you like that, Mike?” She asks, her face twisting, her voice distorted and ugly.
He suddenly finds he can move again, and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He scrambles away from the thing in front of him, but his foot catches on a root and he splatters to the ground.
Everything hurts.
El is above him, and the fear takes over again.
“Don’t you love me, Micheal Wheeler?” She howls, and her voice is no longer El’s at all, but a horrible, rasping monster growl. “Why can’t you say it, Michael? Why can’t you say it?”
She suddenly draws back her foot and kicks him hard in the ribs, sending him reeling backwards. His chest screams with pain. He tries to scream, but his voice is gone.
El marches forward, her face a twisted mass of fury. It suddenly smooths out, a small smile taking over instead, her voice growing soft again.
“Oh, Mikey, I get it. I’m just not what you want, am I?”
Mike stares in horror as her face contorts again, but this time the features are twisting, changing themselves up for good.
She laughs, and it’s a howling, screeching sound. He wants to cover his ears, but he’s frozen with fear, watching as El’s face twists into an even more familiar one.
“This is what you want, Mikey, isn’t it?” Will Byers sneers, advancing on him.
This isn’t real, Mike knows that. He’s heard what happens when Vecna possesses you. It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. That doesn’t make it any less horrible, to have his former best friend towering over him, the ugliest look on his usually beautiful face.
“Will,” Mike stammers.
He’s not talking to this Will, because this Will is not his Will. But he needs his Will, because if anyone can save him, it’s Will. If anyone’s voice can draw him out of this nightmare, it’s Will’s.
“Yes,” Not-Will leers down at him. “It’s me. Will Byers. Your best friend, right?”
“You’re not,” Mike stutters, trying to stand up. His limbs feel like they’re made of lead.
“I guess I’m not anymore, am I?” Not-Will frowns, suddenly glaring at Mike. “Well, it can’t be helped, I guess. It’s not my fault you don’t like girls, Micheal Wheeler.”
It’s this that brings Mike back to his senses. If he were anyone else, he would probably be smart enough to not do what he does next.
But, of course, he’s Mike Wheeler. Some people (ahem, Max) might call him a reckless idiot. And some people might be right. Maybe. But in this case, Mike will continue to stand by his next course of action for years to come, because whatever anyone says, punching Vecna in the face is probably the bravest thing Mike has ever done.
Mike knows how to punch, courtesy of his older sister. She’d probably deny it if he told anyone, but it’s not like Mike would ever admit that Nancy taught him how to make a fist anyway, so that’s hardly a problem.
He curls his right hand into a ball and, in one solid motion, leaps to his feet and socks Not-Will squarely in the nose.
And then he runs.