Daisies || Max Mayfield

33: He's back

"Jesus, you're late!" Mike exclaimed as I walked down the basement stairs.

"Yeah, I got a little fucking held up," I muttered. My backpack was still at Mike's, but it had dirty clothes in it now. I hadn't seen Steve in a day and a half, so I couldn't just get more clothes from my suitcase in the car.

"Why are you in a bad mood?" Lucas asked.

"None of your fucking business." I zipped my backpack shut, throwing it back on the floor. And then I snapped.

"Actually, yeah, you can know. I have no fucking clothes, you guys kicked me out when important shit came up, and your girlfriend just about called me a dyke for no reason! And I think it's kind of fucking stupid. And I'm exhausted, and I haven't seen Steve in more than a day and he has all my shit in the car-oh yeah, in the fucking car, because we're fucking homeless." I scoffed, flopping on the couch.

It was quiet for a little bit. I looked back up, finally realizing what was going on. Will was sopping wet in the corner, looking traumatized as ever. Mike had one of the walkie-talkies in his hand, and Lucas was standing next to the phone.

Will nodded, his eyes shifting around the room.

"Uhh, okay." Lucas frowned. "We have a lot to talk about."

"What, are you gonna interrogate me and ask me about the dyke comment? Or how about the homeless part?"

"Later." Mike interrupted. "Where's Max and El?"

"What do you care about them?"

"It's important!"

"He's back, Daisy," Will said.

"Who's back?"

"The mind flayer."

"Oh. Awesome." I rolled my eyes. "It's over. That bitch is dead. We burned the shit out of it, and Eleven screamed at it and it's dead or something." I leaned back on the couch. "It's over."

"It's not over." Mike groaned.

"I am not fucking fighting another one of those weird dogs. I've still got a scar on my hand."

"Scars tend to last pretty long." Lucas pointed out.

"Fuck you."

"Okay, we get it, you've had a bad day." Mike stood up and walked over to me. "But frankly, the mind flayer is more serious. You need to suck it up and deal with it until we get this bigger fucking issue sorted out."

"Fuck you Wheeler," I muttered.

"Fine, what do you want me to do about it?" He exclaimed. "I can't undo whatever Max called you, or wether or not they're bonding. And I don't think I can get your house back, Daisy. Please, stand up and tell me specific instructions, because I will do it if you stop being so dramatic."

"Please, you're being the fucking dramatic one." I crossed my arms. I still had Max's sweater on, but it was disgustingly sticky. I hadn't buttoned my coat when we left the Holloways, so I was soaked.

"Mike, she's having a bad day," Will muttered.

"Clearly." He rolled his eyes. "They're friends, they'll get over it."

"Dammit Mike, do you really think I got over that so quickly?" Will asked. "Ooh, It's not my fault you don't like girls."

"Well, now she fucking knows!" He shouted.

"She knows because I told her." He poked Mike in the chest. "And no, I am not over it. That's not something you say to your best friend. So listen to me when I say this. Stop being an asshole, and suck it up having to actually care about someone other than yourself for once."