Part 1: Sick

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My name is Mike Wheeler. It's been two weeks since my best friend woke up from his coma after being stuck in the Upside Down for what seemed like years. Now that he's finally back, I thought it would be amazing having him around again. But he's.. different, to put it lightly.
 
   He hasn't said a word to me all week. Summer break is almost over, but I still haven't heard about him. I try to ask around to see if Dustin or Lucas have at least heard from him, but they're just as confused as I am. I try not to think much of it. I'm sure being stuck in another dimension fucked him up. I hate to think about it like that.

    Hopefully I'll get to see him at school. School starts next week, and I'm not really excited about my sophomore year. But at least I won't have to take choir again. I hate singing. I'm planning on taking jazz band. I haven't told my friends yet, but I really like playing piano. I'm really good at it too, I'm just afraid they'll say I'm a nerd or something. Lucas wouldn't say that though. I bet he'd be good at piano if he tried it out.

I woke up to my phone ringing. How could I have still been asleep at 2pm?? I answered the phone.
"Hello?"

"Hi Mike." Max? Why is she calling me?

"Oh, hey. What's uh- what's up?"

"Don't play dumb, Mike, I know what you did."

  I literally had no idea what she was taking about. I've been at my house for four days, what could I have possibly done.
 
"I don't know what you're talking about."
   
"I doN't kNow wHat yoU'rE tALkiNg aBoUt! The letter you wrote to Eleven, you don't remember that? The long ass paragraph about how you never even fucking liked her? Ring a bell?" I could tell she was pissed.
   
"Letter? I didn't write a letter." I said into the phone, as if I were talking to the object itself.

"Fuck you, Mike! She's crying, you made her cry! Congratulations, you asshole! I hope you're fucking happy!" She hung up.

I looked down at my socks. Obviously this wasn't some kind of prank. Max was furious, and I had made Eleven cry apparently. Why!? I never wrote a stupid letter. Even if I did want to break up with her, I wouldn't do it by note. That's fourth grade shit!

I have to go apologize to her. I have to explain what really happened.

...What really happened? Who really wrote that letter..?

I figured there's no time to think about it now. I threw on some clothes and ran outside. I hopped on my bike and sped away, hoping that Eleven was still at Max's house.

I knocked on the door.
"Hello! Max! Eleven! Please, you have to believe me, I didn't do anything!" I realized how much of a douche I was sounding like. "I didn't write anything, come on!" The more I tried to explain myself, the more it sounded like I was lying. Even I don't believe myself at this point.

Finally, Max opened up the door.
"So you didn't write this?" She shoved a crumpled up letter at my chest. I unfolded it and skimmed it. It wasn't my handwriting. It was much neater, and there were actually punctuations.

'𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯,
𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰. 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘱. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘥. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳.
𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦'

Couldn't be me, that's for sure. It was poetic. It was almost beautiful, but none of it was fucking true.

"Max. You have to let me see Eleven."

"She's done with you! Just like you are, right? You're sick, right??"

"No!! It's not true, none of it is! I don't know who wrote, but it wasn't me!! Let me see Eleven!"

"Why? So you can make things worse, like you always do?"

Damn that kinda hurted me tho.

"Maybe. But you have to believe me. I love her. I love her more than anything, and I would never ever write something like this."

I had never used that word to describe my feelings for her. But Max could tell I was serious.

"... are you sure?" She looked sorry, but I knew she would never apologize to me.

"Please. Let me talk to her."

You're lost //yandere Will story//Where stories live. Discover now