tea stained newpapers. mileven au.

thirty one.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE:
HAVE WE RUN OUT OF TIME?
MIKE'S POV.

the clicking of the clock in the hallway was starting to get unbearably annoying.

it felt like it was echoing, getting louder and closer by the second. as if that tall wooden tower was going to grow legs and tap against the floorboards of jim hopper's mansion just to accompany the lanky writer at this very dining table, leaning over him like he had an obligation to it.

mike wheeler hated time.

because time always felt limited.

it felt limited when he was younger, the alarm that rested on his bedside table constantly reminding him to wake up and face the day, to face his father slouched in his recliner downstairs, drinking his coffee mindlessly like he didn't spend the entire night before screaming at his wife.

it felt limited when he watched his sister glide across that rose colored stage at the end of her senior year, being handed her diploma in a fade of accomplishment because he knew the next day she was going to move out, escape the troubles of their childhood and find her own purpose far away from where he would be for a few more years after her.

and now it felt limited because the one person he has felt never felt more sure about, the most grounded piece of heaven on earth for him, was sitting somewhere in a starbucks in downtown manhattan, discussing with her red headed best friend the most reasonable flight to take back to indianapolis.

yet here he was, flipping through documents on end with absolutely no thought in his head except the fact that time had felt like it been screwing over him a little too much lately.

because, truly, it had been.

how cruel of the world to let him have everything he's wanted just to take it away from him in just a few weeks time?

how cruel of the world to sew up his heart just to tear it right back open?

in mike's opinion, it was too fucked up to even try to think about.

his fingertips skimmed over the first page of his notepad, admiring the delicate yellow paper stained with his exquisitely executed loopy handwriting that was simply crying for attention against the open laptop in front of him.

lucas had left early from their weekly meeting with hopper today, claiming he had to pick up a few things before they got home. and fortunately, unlike mike, his sarcastic best friend was actually much more ahead in his works with the biography than he was.

but truth be told, he had a suspicion that his editor was out collecting things for some arrangement he had made with max for later this evening. el had called it a date, practically screeching and squealing as she told him the news after she had spoken to the red head this morning.

but knowing lucas, the writer knew all too well his own best friend probably had absolutely no idea that he was asking out the ocean orbed girl on a date when the statement left his mouth.

honestly, it was probably occurring to him right this second, his childhood companion hopelessly staring at a bouquet of flowers at the supermarket all alone, trying to figure out if the colors of the petals on those intricate stems meant something to make sure he wasn't sending out the wrong message.