As it turns out, trying to avoid the people you've been best friends with for basically your entire life is hard. Will shares four of his classes with his friends: English with Dustin, Calculus with Mike, Biology with Max, and American History with Lucas. In each class Will goes to on Wednesday, he has to avoid looking at them and sit in the back of the room. He doesn't want to do this, but it seems like there's no other option.
His (ex?) friends are still majorly pissed off at one another. He can tell because no ones talking and every time they pass each other in the hallway they just give each other glares.
Will doesn't want to be mad at any of them, but he doesn't want to take sides, either. He worries that if he does, it'll make things worse somehow. Like by hanging out with some of his friends and not others, that'll only deepen the divide between them.
In American History, they're learning about World War II and how it was fought between the Axis Powers and the Allies. Some countries, like Switzerland or whatever, were neutral.
As Will sits in class, he jokingly thinks about how he's starting to feel a lot like Switzerland right now. He turns to Lucas to let him in on the joke, but then he remembers that he's sitting in the back of the classroom, Lucas is way in the front, and they might not be friends anymore.
Right.
Surprisingly, he hasn't seen El at all. It's like she's completely turned herself invisible, concealing herself within the faceless flow of Hawkins students. Out of all his friends, Will empathizes with her the most. Sure, she'd lied to them and everything, but it was only because the other guys were being jerks.
Nevertheless, even if they had acted like jerks, Will wishes it hadn't come to this. He still misses them terribly, and without them, he feels even more exposed at school. They were the only ones who knew; whether or not they were aware of it, they made him feel safer and more accepted.
During lunchtime, as Will stands in the food line, he feels more exposed than ever. This place is just way too crowded and he still doesn't know where he's going to eat. It's all disorienting and miserable.
He holds his plastic tray awkwardly, not sure of what to do with himself. As he absentmindedly turns it over in his hands, he realizes that he's been standing behind Stacy and Jennifer this entire time.
Even though they're about to get lunch, both girls are chomping away at big wads of bubblegum. The way they're chewing their gum with their mouths open makes a loud, sticky, saliva-y sound that causes Will's nose to crinkle up.
"Anyway," Stacy's saying, "I told Katie that if she really cared about Greg so much, she should have said something sooner. It's not my fault that every guy is like, into me."
Will has to stop himself from snorting. That's definitely not true.
"Oh! Speaking of which," Jennifer chimes in, "Did you hear that Dustin Henderson is into you?"
At the mention of his friend's name, Will perks up. Unable to help himself, he starts to listen more attentively to the girls' conversation, even though he's pretty sure he's not going to like where it's headed.
"Oh my god!" Stacy exclaims with a scowl, "But he's like, a total freak!"
"I don't know," Jennifer replies hesitantly, "He seems pretty nice. Nicer than Greg, at least."
"I don't care if he's freaking Gandhi," Stacy says with an eye roll, "He's still a major freakazoid. Isn't he like, mentally disabled?"
Will doesn't like confrontation, but at that, he can't stay quiet any longer. Even if he and Dustin aren't friends anymore, Dustin still doesn't deserve to get talked about like that.
"He's not mentally disabled!" Will speaks up bitterly, gripping his tray tighter.
Stacy jolts so suddenly it almost looks like she got slapped in the back. She and Jennifer turn to look at Will with a startled, confused sort of look, like he'd just spoken to them in tongues.
"Ex-cuse me?" Stacy exclaims, sounding deeply offended that Will so much as looked in her direction.
Will feels anxious but doesn't back down. He doesn't want to sit back and let bad things happen, not anymore.
"He's got cleidocranial dysplasia," Will continues, "Which affects your bones and your teeth, not your brain. But considering everyone knows you flunked Human Anatomy last year, I guess I wouldn't expect you to know the difference."
Jennifer let's out a squeak of laughter that she quickly covers with her hand. Stacy, on the other hand, does not seem anywhere near as amused. Her jaw is hanging open in shock and she looks like she just took a whiff of someone's old gym sneaker.
"What the hell?!" Stacy snaps.
"Dustin's nice," Will continues, "Way too nice for anyone like you, anyway. You'd be lucky if he liked you."
Stacy continues to blink at him before a nasty smirk settles on her face. "Oh, I'm sure you'd think that, Byers," she seethes, "I'm sure you think I'd be really lucky to have guys be into me."
Will tenses. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, everyone knows you're a queer," Stacy says with an eye roll, "Everyone's been saying it since middle school."
Will wishes he had his friends with him.
"So, if I were a freak like you," Stacy continues warningly, "I'd think twice before—"
"Hey," Jennifer cuts in, looking nervous, "Maybe like, lay off him, Stace."
Stacy turns to her, appalled. "What?!"
Jennifer chews her gum a little faster and looks from side-to-side. "I just think you're being like, a little harsh."
Stacy's jaw hangs open so wide, Will's surprised her gum doesn't fall out. She looks at Jennifer, then at Will, and then back at Jennifer again.
"Whatever!" She finally huffs, tossing her tray onto the floor melodramatically, "I'm getting out of here, I'm not even hungry anyways." She pivots on her heel and leaves the lunchroom in a huff, letting the door slam behind her.
Jennifer looks hesitant but ultimately decides to follow her friend. Before she does though, she turns back to Will with a comforting smile.
"I don't think you're a freak," she says sincerely.
Will blinks at her, completely taken aback. This whole conversation just feels too surreal and weird. He doesn't quite know how to respond, so he just nods awkwardly in reply.
With that, Jennifer picks up Stacy's tray, sets it back in its proper place, and heads out of the cafeteria.
When Will glances around, he expects everyone to be staring (flashing neon sign, different, freak), but to his relief, no one is. Everyone is too engrossed in their own conversations to give any care to Stacy's latest tantrum.
Will get his food and finds an empty table in the back of the room to sit at. He runs over the previous conversation in his head, reliving the gratification of telling Stacy off, the shame of her outing him, and the confusing acceptance of Jennifer.
He's been too scared to come out to people at school — reactions like Stacy's were the primary reason why. But Jennifer...
...In a weird way, she's given him hope. Maybe some people would be understanding. Maybe he wouldn't be isolated by the entire school. Will still doesn't plan on just going around and telling everyone (he's not that naively bold), but as he mulls over it, he can at least feel some of his anxiety over the situation ebbing away.
Will softly exhales as he begins to eat. He can't help but find it ironic that Stacy and Jennifer, who didn't seem like the greatest of friends, still chased after each other to make up after a fight.
Too bad his own friends couldn't do the same.
The back of Max's van isn't the most idyllic of lunch locations, but it beats the cafeteria.
Thursday proves to be an exceptionally warm day, so as Max and Lucas sit out in the parking lot with their lunch trays, they keep the back doors of Max's van open. They sit across from each other, backs against the inner sides of the van.
Things have been tense for the past two days. Usually, whenever Max and Lucas are alone together, they have a blast. They watch dumb movies and make snarky comments on them, hang out around the arcade, or practice songs together. Now, they're just quiet. Lucas has had this perpetually irked expression on his face and Max has just felt tired — like, mentally so.
She's wearing that sky blue sweater that she bought at the mall with El. As she quietly eats her lunch (a tuna fish sandwich that's actually pretty gross), she glances down at the sweater and frowns a little.
Max would never admit it to anyone, but that shopping trip had been insanely fun. Max had even purchased one of the cringey romance novels with a promise to share the funniest bits with El, but Max currently has yet to open the book and isn't even friends with El anymore, so that kind of went to shit.
Max holds back a sigh and grinds the toe of her sneaker against the floor. She hates that she misses El. Like, El totally ditched her for Mike, and yet Max still finds herself wanting to go to the mall again and have sleepovers and other girly shit.
A part of her worries that this is somehow her fault. Maybe she should have told the others at the movie theater. Maybe things would somehow work out differently that way. Maybe they'd be less mad and the band wouldn't have broken up. It didn't make much sense, but maybe...
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Lucas notices that Max's sullen pout has tightened into a distressed frown. Her shoulders are tense and she keeps prodding the carpeted floor of the van with her foot.
"What's wrong?" Lucas asks concernedly.
Max looks up at him with a startled blink, as if she'd just remembered that he was there. "What?"
"You look worried," Lucas elaborates.
Max, still looking apprehensive, doesn't respond right away. She distractedly glances around the van's interior and fidgets with the remaining bit of her sandwich.
Lucas feels his gut lurch. "What is it?"
"Can I tell you something?" Max replies, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.
"Of course!"
Max takes a breath and falls quiet for another moment. The more time that passes, the more worried Lucas starts to feel. The scenarios for all the things she could possibly tell him begin to jolt through his mind at lightning speed, each growing more dramatic and nonsensical than the last.
"El and Mike told me they were dating," Max finally admits, "I mean, they didn't really tell me, I kinda just...caught them. But I still didn't tell anyone else, not even you."
Oh. Lucas feels himself loosen. His first reaction is relief, because Max isn't telling him that she's been diagnosed with a rare terminal illness that also causes amnesia and is going to result in her having to be transported to a hospital in another country where she will forget about him and like die and stuff.
Lucas' second reaction is annoyance, because who even cares about whatever the hell Mike lied about? He's not any of Lucas' concern anymore.
"Are you mad?" Max asks worriedly, and that's when Lucas realizes he still hasn't responded to Max's confession.
"Mad?" Lucas exclaims, "Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because I kept secrets from you!" Max replies, giving him a bewildered look.
"Well, that doesn't matter," Lucas huffs, "We're not friends anymore so that's all in the past. Besides, it sounds like Mike was forcing everyone to lie for him, so whatever."
Max gives a half-hearted nod in response and lowers her head again. Her messy, vibrant mane of hair hangs in front of her face, obstructing her facial expression from view.
She knows that Lucas is in the right — Mike treated him like shit, that isn't up for debate — but she still hates that everyone is all broken up now. As much as she loves Lucas, things just don't feel complete anymore.
A few moments pass in which the only sounds to be heard are the distant hum of passing cars on the main road and the energetic swells of voices filtering out of the high school.
"So, what now?" Max eventually asks, unable to keep the worry out of her voice.
Lucas glances over at her. "What do you mean?"
That's the plan, right? Making an album? Becoming famous? Playing all over the country?
Max swallows. "What's going to happen to us? I don't...I don't want to be stuck in Hawkins."
"We won't be," Lucas assures her, "We'll get out of Hawkins someday."
Though Lucas speaks confidently, it isn't reassuring enough for Max. Their plan has been blown to bits and with each day that goes by, Max feels increasingly suffocated by the prospect of settling down in some small suburban flat, having a couple of kids, and living out the rest of her days as a boring nobody.
"Maybe we should try and talk to the others," Max suggests carefully, "Maybe we could convince Mike to—"
"The only thing I want to convince Mike to do is to stay the hell away from me," Lucas interrupts bitterly.
"But—" Max grimaces, feeling frantic, breathing becoming more difficult, "I know he's an asshole, but he's still our friend."
"Was," Lucas scoffs, "He was our friend."
Max ultimately drops her attempts to persuade him. She's suddenly and starkly reminded of just how stubborn Mike and Lucas can be, which is kind of how this whole conflict started. As she finishes off her sandwich, she can't help but roll her eyes.
Boys.
El put in her VHS copy of Sixteen Candles in an attempt to make herself feel better, but it's only done the opposite. It's Friday night and as El slouches back on the living room couch with a tub of ice cream in her lap, she just feels cynical and bitter.
When Sam's crush swoops in to rescue her at the end of the film, El frowns and jabs her spoon into her ice cream.
She's never realized how unrealistic this movie is. Like, this would never ever happen in real life because romance is overrated and boys are just cute lying jerks who stomp all over your heart and ruin things and —
When the front door opens, El nearly falls off of the couch from surprise. She jolts in place, using one hand to grip the ice cream bucket and the other to grasp onto her teddy bear.
For a second, El hopes that it's Mike. Maybe he's showed up like Sam's crush and is going to apologize and make everything better again. He'll come in, clothes drenched from the rain, and scoop El into his arms and —
"Hey, kid," Hopper greets as he shuts the front door behind him.
El's daydream comes to a faltering, skidding halt. A part of her is mad at herself for even daydreaming in the first place; she's supposed to be mad at Mike, not wanting to get back together with him.
Hopper hangs up his coat and enters the living room. He glances at the TV to see Sam and her crush sharing a kiss over a birthday cake, the final shot of the film. "You're having a movie night?"
El shrugs and slumps back into the couch, bringing her teddy bear onto her lap.
Hopper comes over and sits beside her on the couch. His weight makes the couch sink in a little where he sits, and El can immediately smell the coffee and cigarette scents that seem to permanently linger around him like a familiar aura.
She wishes he wouldn't sit by her though. She's just not in the mood tonight, and she worries that she's only one too many questions away from cracking and blubbering all over the place.
"So, no Mike tonight?" Hopper asks teasingly, giving El a nudge.
Literally not even a second.
El's eyes suddenly feel very hot as a lump forms in her throat. "He works at Radio Shack on Fridays," she quietly answers.
And Mondays and Wednesdays.
Her brain is cluttered with useless facts about Mike that she now has nothing to do with. His favorite movie is Star Wars, his favorite book is The Hobbit, he likes syrup on his eggs, he's never broken a bone, his favorite season is Autumn, he has freckles on his shoulders and one stray mole on his collarbone, his hair gets curly when it's wet, he owns way too many striped shirts, I was his first kiss, he might have loved me —
Useless, pointless facts that don't mean anything anymore, that only make up the fading ghost of who he was to her.
The hot tears welling in El's eyes finally begin to stream down her cheeks, though she still doesn't make a sound. Despite her efforts to be quiet, Hopper still glances over at her and sees her face.
"Hey, hey, hey!" He frowns, reaching out to wipe away her tears, "Whats wrong?"
El shakes her head wordlessly. She feels stupid. Stupid and embarrassed.
"Did something happen with Mike?" Hopper asks.
El fights back a hiccuping sniff and nods.
"You wanna tell me what happened?"
No, El thinks bitterly. In all honesty, as much as she misses Mike, she's also tired of thinking about him. She's tired of taking the bus to school, she's tired of seeing his stupid sheet music in her room, she's tired of finding random items of his around the house like his hoodie or a guitar pick, she's tired of crying over him all the time.
— And yet, she can't stop. In some sort of sadistic way, wallowing in her Mikeless-ness is the only comfort she has left.
The credits for the movie are rolling across the screen. The living room is lit only by the lamp in the corner, leaving dramatic shadows all over the room. The grandfather clock ticks slowly, methodically, counting down the dwindling minutes until midnight.
"We broke up," El hoarsely mumbles after a moment.
Hopper tenses. "Why would he break up with you?"
"No," El says again, pouting woefully, "I broke up with him." She can feel herself on the verge of tears again, so she quickly takes another heaping spoonful of ice cream.
Hopper looks hesitant, like he's not quite sure how to proceed. He tugs at his collar, loosening its fit around his neck. "So...uh...why'd you do that?"
El takes another scoop of ice cream before replying. Consequently, her response comes out in a muffled, garbled mess as she frantically speaks with her mouth full.
"My fwiends fon out dah Mwahike an I were daying because we lie to em an Mwahike yelled at em an everyone started fie-ing an then da band bro up an now everyone is mahd!"
Hopper blinks at her, looking lost. "You wanna run that by me again, kid?"
El swallows and frowns. "The band broke up!" She exclaims sadly, "They found out we were lying and Mike yelled at them and now everyone hates each other."
With that, El takes a few more spoonfuls of ice cream, bracing herself for her father's inevitable 'I told you so.'
Surprisingly, her dad doesn't reprimand her for not listening to him. Instead, he wraps an arm around her and gently pulls her against his side. He hasn't held her like this in forever and at first El's startled.
"I remember my first break-up," Hopper begins, and though El leans into him, she finds herself cringing as well.
"Dad," she groans, not ready for another one of his high school stories, like the one from last week when he'd told her all about how he messed around with one of his girlfriends in his Dad's old car. The moral of the story, as Hopper had ultimately stated, was that you shouldn't mess around in cars — to which El had only thought, whoops.
"It was hard," Hopper continues, ignoring her protests, "But you learn from it. And even though it's hard, you'll move on eventually."
El feels her stomach churn. At first, she thinks it's because she's eaten almost an entire pint of ice cream, but then she realizes that it's actually because of her dad's words. Move on? She doesn't want to move on. Granted, Mike had been her first and only boyfriend, but he was amazing. She can't imagine just forgetting him and finding some other boy.
She thinks back to that night in the bowling alley, "Well, I guess it's better off that you don't like him, since he's got a girlfriend," and that exact same shocked dismay takes over her once more. What if Mike starts dating someone new? All this time, El's been certain that Mike's just as torn up about their break-up as she is, but what if he isn't? What if he's already going after like Stacy or Jennifer or some other cooler girl who doesn't mess up playing Blackbird and would lie for him and has more friends and —
"El?"
El comes back to earth with a jolt. She turns to glance up at her Dad and sees that he's studying her face carefully, waiting for a response.
"I don't want to," El says weakly, and she sounds so whiny and childlike that she kind of hates it. "I don't want to move on."
Hopper doesn't reply, he only continues to look at her, so El tentatively continues.
"I know that he's not perfect, he was a bad friend to Lucas and he didn't let me tell the truth when I wanted to, but…I still like him. A lot. And I miss him."
She misses him. That has to be the understatement of the year.
It's kind of dumb, but she really misses cuddling him. Like, there are obviously a lot of things she misses, but cuddling is probably at the top of the list. When she closes her eyes and concentrates hard enough, she can still hear the rain drumming against the roof of the house. She can feel Mike's damp skin as his arms wrap around her. There are fresh hickeys scattered across his pale, freckled skin. His lips brush over her ear as he whispers 'goodnight.'
Hopper sighs and rubs a hand over his jaw. "Well, it sounds like he's got some apologizing to do," he states, "But that's something he's gotta handle on his own, not you, you hear me? I don't want you compromising your morals for a boy."
El nods and even though her gut still churns, she knows that her father is right in that respect. As much as she wants to be with Mike, she can't support how he treated the rest of their friends. "I won't," El assures her dad.
"Good," Hopper mumbles, giving her hair a soft ruffle. He turns his attention back to the TV, which is now silent and flickering with static, "You wanna watch another movie together?"
El blinks at him, surprised. "It's almost midnight!"
"It's not like you got school tomorrow," Hopper points out.
El continues to gape at him for a few seconds before she realizes that he really isn't joking. She then relaxes into a warm smile (her first smile in forever) before leaping off of the couch and running to look through their VHS collection. "You're amazing!" She exclaims over her shoulder as she digs through various tapes.
She left her ice cream tub behind, which Hopper is now helping himself to. As he digs into it, he looks over at her, meeting her gaze with a smile of his own.
"So are you, kid."
Mike should've known that something was up when, instead of having the usual tense Saturday night dinner that their family always shares, his parents announce that they're all going out to eat instead.
Of course, hindsight is 20/20 and the present isn't. So when his parents tell him and Holly to dress nicely because apparently they're going to a really nice restaurant, Mike doesn't think anything of it (other than ugh, do I really have to?)
Mike has to put on a stuffy button-up shirt that his father approves of but he personally hates. It's getting a little too small for him and hugs his form uncomfortably, but it's the most formal shirt Mike's got.
As Mike dresses, he thinks about all the things he could be doing instead of going out to eat with his dumb parents. Practicing his guitar, reading some comics, maybe he could even try calling El up...
Mike frowns. Maybe not that last idea — El's been making a point of avoiding him all week. Mike hasn't even seen her really, and for a couple days, he worried that she might have switched schools or something.
He's trying not to think about her or anyone else, really. If he thinks about what happened for too long, his throat starts to feel light and his head starts to ache. He keeps telling himself that the less he thinks about his friends and girlfriend, the less he'll care about them.
He keeps telling himself that, but deep down he also knows that it's total bullshit.
As he finishes getting dressed and heads to the restaurant with his family, he just hopes that the dinner will get his mind off of everything that happened with his friends.
In a way, it both does and doesn't.
After all the fighting that's been going on and that phone conversation that he heard, Mike didn't expect to be shocked about hearing his parents announce their divorce. And yet, as he and Holly sit across from their parents at the suffocatingly posh restaurant, Mike feels shell-shocked.
Outwardly, he's expressionless and numb. Considering how shitty this week was, this kinda seems like a fitting way to end it. It's just as messed up as everything else in his life right now.
He wants to cry, but his dad is still sitting across from him, so he doesn't.
The finality of their parents' announcement hangs in the air like a humid fog. It makes Mike's collar feel like it's choking him even more. He feels distant, like he's watching this all happen on TV, and to other people. Everything sounds muffled, like the volume is turned down very low. Faintly, he can hear Holly asking tear-choked questions, mainly, "B-but why?"
"Your mother and I just have some issues that we can't work out," Ted replies. His voice sounds stiff, as if he prepared his response.
"We just want what's best for you," Karen adds sincerely, "We don't want you to grow up with all this fighting."
Too late for that.
Mike stares down at his food — a plate of spaghetti that's hardly been touched.
"B-but where will w-we go?" Holly sniffs.
Mike feels a flash of something — fear, perhaps — momentarily overwhelm him. Where he and Holly were going to go wasn't something he'd even considered yet. He couldn't leave Hawkins — what about all of his friends?
...Not that he even had any anymore. He wants to chastise himself for worrying about them, but he can't help it; his concern for them is instinctual.
"You'll stay here in Hawkins with your mother," Ted answers.
Mike feels a small sliver of relief at that.
There are more questions and answers, but Mike hardly hears any of it. He just feels empty and lost. He wishes he could be back at Lucas' learning how to play the guitar, at Dustin's having Star Wars marathons, at the arcade with Max, drawing band logos in old notebooks with Will, or...
El's arms around him, raindrops on the window pane, sunlight, just like a fucking Hallmark card.
Mike squeezes his eyes shut tight. Shit.
The rest of dinner and the car ride back home are silent and miserable. As soon as they're home, Mike hurries upstairs to his bedroom and slams the door shut behind him.
He's shaking profusely and can't stand still. As he paces around his room, a million different emotions course through him. Anger, frustration, sadness, loneliness. It all cumulates in a blind frustration that leads him to angrily yank the sheets off his bed and kick them into a pile on the floor. He's not sure why he does this, but kicking something feels incredible.
He keeps hearing his father's words, which seemed to have imprinted themselves into his memory: your mother and I just have some issues that we can't work out.
They have issues. They're not going to work through them. They're splitting up.
And as Mike continues to kick at his blankets, it occurs to him with a crushing horror that he's acted just like his father. He ignored Lucas and shut him out, just like any deadbeat
(father)
friend. Instead of dealing with their issues, he'd simply let their relationship fracture, shatter, and fall through the cracks.
Mike gives the blankets another kick.
"I don't need to be in his stupid, shitty band!"
"Fine! I don't need you, either!"
Kick.
God, that's not true — not even close. Mike needs his friends, now more than ever, probably. When his family is falling apart, he needs something, anything, to fall back on. He needs the people who have known him since he was 5 and the girl who he loves shamelessly and dangerously.
But he's lost all of them.
KICK.
At this realization, Mike breaks. He crumples to the floor and sits with his back against his bed and his head between his knees, feeling like absolute shit. His eyes are watering for the millionth time this week, though as he's alone, he doesn't try to stop himself from crying this time.
God, he'd acted like such an idiot. He was so caught up in his own shit that his worse fear became realized; he turned into the man he dreaded becoming. Deadbeat. Cold. Isolating. Leaving.
As Mike begins to whimper and snivel pathetically, a second realization dawns on him:
He doesn't want to be alone, he refuses to be.
In a time like now — when everything's about to change, when his whole life is about to be turned upside down — Mike knows that he needs his friends now more than ever. If his father is going to give up this easily, then fine, but Mike resolves himself to fight for the people he loves.
His internal monologue is interrupted by a soft knock on his bedroom door. Mike lifts his head, dreading the idea of having to talk to either of his parents right now. "What?" He calls out, voice sounding more like a croak.
"Mike?" A soft voice calls out, and to his relief, Mike realizes that it's just Holly, "Can I come in?"
Mike wipes at his eyes and clears his throat with a cough. "Of course, Holls."
The door creaks open and Holly walks in. She's wearing her pajamas and clutching her favorite stuffed pig toy under her arm. Mike can immediately tell that she's been crying too — her face is all puffy and her eyes are alarmingly red.
Holly shuts the door behind her before she begins to blink at the scene before her, looking confused. "Your bed is messy," she remarks, voice quiet and hoarse.
Mike glances down at the mess of crumpled blankets around him before quickly rising to his feet. "Uh, yeah, sorry," he mumbles hastily, "Give me a sec."
He quickly remakes his bed, putting the sheets back on in a disgruntled manner. As soon as he's done, he sits on it carefully and motions for Holly to join him.
When Holly was five and Mike was 14, she used to have nightmares. She would come to his door in the middle of the night and plead to come in, to which Mike, well into his combative, hormonal, just-became-a-teenager phase, would crossly tell her to go bug Nancy or their parents.
Now, as Mike and his sister lie back in bed, Mike holds her in a close hug, wishing that he could somehow make all her pain go away.
Holly snuggles into him and gives a few sniffles that are muffled by his chest. One of her hands clings to the fabric of his button-up while the other still holds her pig toy.
"Are we going to be okay?" Holly mumbles after a moment.
Mike runs a hand up and down her shoulder. His gaze is trained upward, toward the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.
He doesn't know whether or not they're going to be ok. Life used to be so cut-and-dry a week ago, but now his future stretches out before him like an insurmountable, endless void.
What he does know is what he wants — friendship, love, happiness — and that he doesn't have to have the world's most perfect family to get those things, just the people he loves.
And so he holds Holly closer, kisses her forehead.
"We're going to be okay," he quietly assures her.
"Okay," Holly whispers.
They lie in silence for a long while, all of their tears spent.
As Dustin sits on the living room recliner, waiting for Steve to arrive for their usual Saturday night sleepover, he's struggling to keep this squirmy orange ball of fur in his arms.
"Mews!" Dustin whines as Mews' paws bat around wildly, "Sit still!"
Mews lets out a discontented meow in response, her face wrinkled into what looks like a pout.
"Let me love you!" Dustin pleads, but Mews only continues to squirm angrily, so Dustin ultimately releases her onto the living room floor.
"Jerk!" Dustin grumbles as Mews hurries off.
"Who's a jerk, Dusty?" His mom asks as she walks into the living room. She's wearing a satin set of pajamas and has her hair done up in so many rollers that her head looks like a beehive.
"No one, Mom," Dustin smiles, trying to hold back a laugh at his mom's appearance.
His mom gives him a curious look but ultimately shrugs it off. "Well, I'm going to head to bed," she announces, "I gotta be up early tomorrow!"
"Okay," Dustin shrugs and slumps back on the recliner.
His mom turns to leave before she stops and turns back again. "Oh! I made some gingersnaps for you and Steve! Make sure to tell him that I said 'hi'! And don't stay up too late!"
"Awesome, I will, we won't!" Dustin replies dutifully.
Claudia gives her son an appreciative smile before crossing the living room and pressing a big kiss to his forehead. Dustin blushes and is just glad Steve isn't here for this, otherwise, he'd be smirking at Dustin like no tomorrow.
After his mother retires to her bedroom, Dustin turns on the TV. Keeping the volume on mute, he flips through the channels absentmindedly, trying and failing to find anything that'll hold his attention.
He's just glad Steve is coming tonight. After this disaster of a week, a friend is exactly what he needs. So what if Mike doesn't care about him? Steve does, and Steve's way cooler than Mike anyway. So what if he lives 2 hours away and only gets to see Dustin every couple weeks or so? It's still better than the jerky friends Dustin has here in Hawkins.
Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait much longer for Steve to arrive. About 10 minutes into channel surfing, Dustin hears the rumble of a car and sees the familiar glow of headlights shine through the house's front windows. He gets up from the recliner and bounds toward the front door, literally bouncing with excitement. Dustin swings the front door open and looks out into the evening, smiling as Steve slings his backpack over his shoulder, tucks his sleeping bag under his arm, and locks his car.
"Steven!" Dustin calls out with a wave.
"Dustopherson!" Steve calls back with a little salute.
Dustin grins and holds the front door open for Steve, allowing him to enter more easily. "My mom says 'hi' and she made cookies," he says as Steve enters and sets his stuff down on the floor, "Also she's asleep."
"Sweet," Steve replies, already moving to grab a handful of cookies from the kitchen. He returns with one gingersnap in between his teeth and another one in his hand for later, "Your mom's cookies are the best," he says, voice muffled by the cookie in his mouth.
"Your mom's cookies are the best," Dustin replies with a snort.
"My mom's cookies taste like cardboard," Steve says, finally removing the cookie from his teeth so he can bite out of it normally, "Like cardboard and dogshit, man."
As Steve finishes his cookies, Dustin bursts out laughing, not because Steve's comment is particularly hilarious, but because he's just so relieved to be hanging out with someone again. His current happiness is relieving him from every lunch he had to eat underneath the stairs, every bike ride he had to take alone, and every friend he had to avoid.
"Anyway," Steve continues, sounding oddly focused, "I got some big news for ya', kid."
Dustin looks up at him curiously. "What?"
Steve uses his free hand to dig into his pocket. He retrieves a folded-up piece of bright orange paper and holds it up to Dustin. "This."
"Paper," Dustin replies dryly, "That's incredible, Steve."
"Read what's on it, dipshit," Steve gripes, batting Dustin on the head with the paper before handing it to him.
Dustin takes the paper from Steve and unfolds it. The paper reveals itself to be a flier that looks like it was handwritten and then photocopied. It features doodles of little ghosts and music notes everywhere, but that's not what catches Dustin's eye — it's what the flier actually says.
Indiana U Halloween Boo-sic Fest. 10 pm - 1 am, Halloween Night, Central Quad. Costumes optional, free keg, 6 musical acts. Come get sheet-faced!
Dustin re-reads the flier a couple times over before responding. "….Do you…do you mean…."
"I signed you up!" Steve grins, holding out his arms in a small tad-dah! gesture. "I mean, right now you guys are just listed as TBA, since you don't have a band name, which you nerds really should get on…"
Dustin's jaw drops. "This….this…this is AWESOME!" He exclaims, unable to think of any better words to describe the earth-shattering shock and happiness he feels right now. A music fest! With older kids! Halloween!
"I mean, it's not like you're going to be getting paid or anything," Steve reluctantly adds, "But—"
"Holy shit!" Dustin beams, eyes wide. "It's an actual gig!"
"It's not a real gig!" Steve cuts in, "They're not paying you and there's gonna be like 5 other bands there—"
"Our first real gig!" Dustin continues excitedly, "Holy actual shit! When I tell everyone else, they're going to be so—"
…Wait.
Dustin pauses mid-sentence as the reality of his current situation with his friends hits him with full force. He feels his excitement deflate as quickly and limply as a popped balloon. He physically wilts as he remembers that their band is no more.
"What is it?" Steve asks curiously, eyeing Dustin's troubled stance.
Dustin's shoulders slump as he averts his gaze. "We can't play the show."
"Why not?!"
"Because!" Dustin huffs, "The band broke up!"
"What?"
"You heard me," Dustin grumbles as he trudges over to the recliner and sinks back into it, already feeling exhaustion start to settle in, "Everything went to shit and now we're done."
Steve blinks at Dustin for a moment before he moves to sit on the couch beside the recliner. He sits for a minute or so, staring at the silent TV with a dumbfounded expression. Then he turns back to Dustin, seemingly annoyed and confused all at once. "You know how many strings I had to pull to get you guys into this show? Why the hell did you guys break up?"
"Don't get all mad at me!" Dustin snaps, "It was all El's fault!"
"How?!"
"She Yoko-Onoed Mike! Just like I said she would!"
"How?"
"She and Mike started secretly dating and they lied about it to us! Even though I made Mike promise that he wouldn't date her! Then when I found out they were actually dating I called them out and Mike said he'd pick me over her and the band broke up! It's all her fault!"
Steve gives Dustin an incredulous look. "The hell it is!" He scoffs.
Dustin's jaw drops for the second time this night, though for an entirely different reason than the first. "What do you mean?!"
"You shouldn't have told Mike not to date her if he obviously liked her," Steve explains, "You basically forced them to lie to you, then got mad when they did."
Dustin blinks at Steve speechlessly, unable to think of a proper retort. "B-but…but…but they…"
"Why didn't you want them to even date?" Steve continues, "You didn't even know the girl! Did you like her or something?"
"No!" Dustin nearly chokes.
"Then why the hell did you try to control everything?"
"I didn't!"
"It sounds like you did! So, why?"
Because I've been back at school for like, five minutes, and things are already going to shit.
Because it's just that we agreed it wouldn't be a good idea. Because we don't really know her, and if you guys broke up it'd be really awkward, and...and you said you weren't going to like or date her...
Because Mike's obviously picking her over everyone else.
Because I've been left behind.
"Because!" Dustin exclaims, and when his voice cracks he realizes he's about to cry like he's a stupid whiny baby or something, "Because I don't want to be the last one!"
Steve frowns. "The last one?"
Dustin wipes at his eyes, refusing to let himself full-on cry in front of Steve. "Mike and Max already have cars and can drive, while I still have my stupid bike, and now Lucas and Mike have girlfriends and Stacy thinks I'm a loser, and everyone's growing up and moving on without me and no one cares about me anymore!"
Steve's abrasiveness disappears and he instead frowns at Dustin concernedly. "That's not true."
"Yes, it is!" Dustin sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking lower in his seat, "Mike literally said he'd pick El over me! Plus, I'm the only one of my friends that's not dating, except for Will, but that's only because he's still not out yet, so he can't."
"Well, you shouldn't have forced Mike to pick El over you," Steve points out, "He shouldn't have to pick between his girlfriend and his friends, he should be able to have both."
"Still," Dustin pouts.
"And you shouldn't let your jealousy get in the way of your friends' happiness," Steve adds, "I know it sucks feeling lonely, but that doesn't give you the right to try and drag everyone else down."
Dustin hates that Steve is right all of the time. He wants to argue more, to be right and justified in his actions, but he knows it's futile. Also, he's just really tired of feeling angry and bitter all of the time. He lets out a heavy sigh and feels something — resentment, envy, paranoia — lift away with it. "I know," he admits.
They're silent for a few moments, both dwelling in their own thoughts. The TV continues to play on mute — it's some soap opera that Dustin thinks he overheard El talking about one time.
"Listen, I know how you feel," Steve sighs, breaking the silence.
Dustin eyes him with surprise. "You do?"
"When Nancy and Jonathan started dating, I felt kind of left out," Steve explains, looking somewhat sheepish, "I felt like a third wheel around them and shit. But I got over it, and we're all still friends, okay?"
"But that's different," Dustin pouts, "You don't have anything to worry about. Girls love you."
"Well, yeah," Steve shrugs, "But you don't got anything to worry about, either."
Dustin snorts. "Yeah, right."
"I mean it!" Steve insists. He snaps his fingers twice, signaling for Dustin to look him directly in the eyes, which he does. "Listen to me. You're awesome. You're stupidly smart, like smarter than me, even. And you're funny — you make me laugh all the time. But what's most important is that you care. You're not the kind of guy that's just going to jump from girl to girl without giving a shit. That's important, man."
Dustin feels his cheeks grow hot, not used to such vocal affirmation from someone that isn't his mother. He wants to say something but finds himself bashful and speechless.
"You just got to stop going after girls that don't care about that shit," Steve continues, "The ones that only care about looks and popularity and all that. If Stacy thinks you're a loser, then she doesn't deserve you, you hear me?"
Dustin's pretty sure his whole face is red now. "Okay," he mumbles, smiling shyly.
There's a soft meow as Mews treads back into the room. She gives them both a look before leaping onto the couch and situating herself in Steve's lap. Dustin once joked that Mews had a huge crush on Steve, to which Steve made a not-so-clean joke that had Dustin laughing for days afterward.
As Steve starts to pet Mews affectionately, he gives Dustin another serious look. "I think you should talk to them. Like, all of them."
Dustin sits up a little straighter, both intrigued and worried about that idea. "I don't know…" he mumbles, "Everyone's so mad, we haven't even talked to each other all week."
"So, take the first step," Steve shrugs, "Someone's gotta do it."
"But what if they don't want anything to do with me?"
"Trust me, they will. They're probably all just as mopey as you are right now."
Dustin sighs nervously. He takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand through his hair as he weighs out his options here. His friends are all mad at each other. Nobody wants to talk to each other. But…
…they also just might all miss each other, too.
Also, they kinda have a gig.
"So, what's it gonna be?" Steve asks, watching Dustin carefully, "What are you going to do, man?"
Dustin takes a deep breath. He knows exactly what he has to do.
"I'm gonna get the band back together."