Chapter Text
“Get in the car, Wheeler.”
Mike froze, hand on the handlebar of his bike as he had been about to swing his leg over. His back was to whoever had called him, but he knew who it was regardless.
He turned to look at Billy, who was staring at him through the rolled down passenger window of his car. He hadn’t seen Max’s stepbrother since Starcourt Mall collapsed two months ago—he didn’t visit the boy in the hospital and he’s been god-know’s-where since he left. What could he possibly want?
“I’ve got to meet with someone,” Mike said instead.
“Oh yeah? I can drop you off.” Billy motioned to his open passenger seat. “I won’t keep you for too long. I just have some…questions.”
That piqued Mike’s interest. Memories of the mall, of the mind flayer, all rushed through his mind. Max had told them that Billy hadn’t remembered anything when he finally woke up, but…
Max had also said he’d been acting weird lately.
Mike thought that could mean something important about the Mind Flayer.
He left his bike and trudged towards the car. Billy’s smile seemed plastic as he got in, but Mike didn’t comment on it.
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. It was Billy who broke the silence.
“What type of music do you like, Wheeler?” He didn’t wait for a response, reaching over to open the glove compartment. He grabbed a familiar looking cassette, and put it in; Something rock played quietly in the car. “Big fan of Metallica?”
“What questions did you have?” Mike asked in lieu of answering. His brow furrowed when Billy laughed in response.
“You know what, that’s what I always liked about you.” Billy pulled out a cigarette as they stopped at an intersection, lighting it as he looked over at his passenger. “You wanna know what I’m curious about. I bet you can’t wait to answer anything I ask; I bet you can’t wait for someone like me to listen.” His blue eyes bored into Mike, and he shifted uncomfortably as the moment stretched on.
The light turned green.
“How’s your mom doing? I haven’t seen her at the pool lately.”
A flicker of irritation burst in Mike’s chest; he knew about his mother’s fondness for Billy. Still, he didn’t let it show; he looked out the window, pretending to take in the familiar sight of Hawkins as they drove through town. They were heading in the opposite direction of where he needed to go.
“She’s doing good.” He said simply. Was this all Billy had wanted to ask him about? His mother?
“Good. That’s good.” If Billy noticed Mike’s confusion, he didn’t comment on it. “It’s a real shame she hasn’t come by. We had some real nice chemistry going on—”
“You can drop me off at the highschool.”
Billy looked at Mike with amusement, chuckling to himself.
“C’mon, Wheeler. That’s all you’re gonna say when I talk about your own mother?”
“Is that all you wanted to ask me?” Mike couldn’t believe it. He’d really gotten into the car with someone who clearly just wanted to fuck his mom. The thought made him shudder. “Just let me out right here, I'm walking home.”
“I’m not done asking you questions, Michael.” Billy suddenly reached a hand over to rest a hand on Mike’s shoulder, his grip tight enough to make him freeze. “But I’ll change the topic, since you don't like talking about your hot mom.” Billy turns the car around, and suddenly they’re heading towards the woods at the edge of town.
“Max still hanging out with your crew?”
Mike nodded, even though he knew that Billy already knew the answer. Billy’s tight grip on his shoulder kept disappearing and reappearing as he moved his hand to shift gears.
“She still got heart-eyes for the blackie?”
Mike made a judgmental face at Billy.
“Lucas? Yeah.” Seeing the way Billy’s face twisted up, he added; “They’re good for each other.”
“You see, I just don’t believe that.” There’s something different in his tone, now—something darker. “Y’know, I've been thinking about it…You hang around a weird bunch, Wheeler.
I get why the midnight boy and the toothless one and the fairy all hang out together. But you? You’re not a freak. You’re normal.” Billy let go of Mike’s shoulder to give a playful punch, but Mike felt the threat behind it. “Us normal ones have to stick together, Wheeler. At least you were smart enough to date a white girl.”
Something about how Billy spoke about his friends made Mike’s skin crawl.
“Let me out,” Mike said quietly, hand already on the door, but Billy didn’t slow down. They passed the city limits—when had they gotten out this far? “I’m done answering your questions—”
“You haven’t answered shit, Wheeler!” Billy howled a laugh as he said it, “I’m giving you advice, kid. What do you think will happen in the real world?” He was still laughing, sounding almost manic. “Besides, I know you agree with me—you’ve not disagreed with anything I said!”
“Let me out, Hargrove—”
“Then say I'm wrong.” Billy said flippantly, still driving towards nowhere, surrounded by trees. “Tell me off for calling Sinclair a blackie, or for making fun of your deformed friend’s teeth, or for calling zombie boy a faggot—”
Billy’s focus was stolen from him as Mike hit him in the jaw, causing the car to swerve off the road.
“Don’t call Will that,” he hissed, though he didn’t know which nickname he was more upset about; Billy cursed as he tried to correct the car. “Let me out, get me out of this car—”
That’s when Mike noticed that Billy was dead silent, and his burst of bravado withered immediately.
“I was trying to do you a favor, Wheeler.” Billy said, a cold edge to his voice that had Mike already yanking on the door, though it refused to open. “I saw a bit of myself in you, but it looks like I was wrong.”
He let out a short maniacal laugh as he pulled over.
The door was still locked.
“You really did this to yourself, Wheeler.”
Mike could barely fight back as Billy suddenly yanked him by his collar, one hand moving to hold his throat in a punishing grip while the other cracked against his nose, blood almost immediately beginning to drip.
“Y’know, you didn’t say anything until I mentioned the little fairy boy,” Billy shook Mike by his throat, smiling at the way he choked, Mike's fingers digging into his wrist in a silent plea for mercy. “Makes me wonder, maybe that fugly scar isn’t the only thing wrong with you.”
(The scar in question stretched from the bridge of his nose to the bottom of his cheek; a possessed Billy had given it to him when he threw Mike into a metal pole (not that Billy remembered).)
Billy threw another punch, catching him on his chin and making Mike bite his tongue hard enough to bleed. His head was slammed into the window—Mike heard it crack.
A way out.
“What, did the Wheeler already give up?" Billy leaned his face in close, a crazed glint in his eyes. "You're not even gonna fight back–?”
Mike thrust his head forward, slamming his forehead into Billy’s nose. The impact left stars in his vision, but he grabbed the walkie from his bag and slammed it against the window, almost crying in relief when it near-immediately shattered. He grabbed his bag out of habit, using the time it takes for Billy to get out of his car to sprint into the woods.
He is clumsy as he runs, but he knows this forest. His only hope is that Billy doesn’t.
He tripped over a tree root, bag flying from his arms as he crashed to the ground. He knocked the wind out of himself, and his head is swimming so much that he can only crawl, eyes focused on the walkie that had fallen from his bag during his tumble.
If he could just get to it, if he could just call a Code Red…
He never makes it, though; Billy roughly flips him onto his back, straddles him, and smiles.
“I thought the Wheeler Clan was supposed to be smart,” He hisses, smile fading into something dangerous. “But that was the dumbest shit you could’ve done.”
He’s barely given a moment to process what Billy said before fists start flying. Mike can’t breathe, his mouth feels like it’s full of blood and his ears are ringing; when he tries to use an arm to block the assault, Billy just grabs it and wrenches it into a horrible angle at his side, making Mike cry out in agony.
“Never forget this, Wheeler,” Billy whispers, still holding his arm, “I know what you are. Tell anybody—especially that shitbird Maxine—that I did this, and I'll make sure all of Hawkins knows about the little fairy who couldn’t even finish a fight.”
He starts to stand up, but turns to Mike one more time. He grabs the boy by the collar, shakes him, backhands him with a ringed hand—then tosses him into the dirt, finally done.
I should get the walkie now, he faintly thinks to himself, but what would it change at this point? He’s already been beaten, he’s already lost.
Mike let his head roll to the side, blood spilling from his lips onto the grass. Tomorrow, Lucas will find him. Hopper will ask who beat him, and he’ll say nobody. Dustin will insist Vecna was involved and El will tell him otherwise. Will is going to sit next to him at the hospital as he gets stitches all over his face, a million questions that he’ll be too nice to ask at the moment. Nancy will use her sleeve to dab at the blood trickling from his ears and quietly tell him that she saw the Camaro he got into, heard the voice that called his name. Jonathan will talk with him about comic books and DnD like nothing happened, even though Mike can barely get a word out past his stitched-together tongue.
His father will call him weak, and his mother will spend a full hour cleaning his face with a wet paper towel while Holly sleeps at home, watched over by a worried Steve.
He will see Max when he’s released later that day, and she’ll know exactly what her brother did without Mike ever saying a word.
But for now, he is tired and his face is bleeding, and he’ll definitely have another scar from Billy to add to the collection. He just wants to sleep.
He thinks of Will before giving in to unconsciousness.
“I know what you are, Wheeler.”
If only Mike knew, too.