❊Multifandom Imagines❊

Mike Wheeler x Reader

Hawkins was just that sort of town. The sort of place where nobody really pays any heed, but there's a certain darkness that lurks behind every arcade and every shopping mall. A kind of chill that makes the adults pull down the rims of their hats and hurry on by, shooing their children off to amuse themselves in fear of being caught. The town had been built on a grid, and no expense was spared. The roads were perfect grit spitting rivers of tarmac that traffic lights blinked along to allow the schoolchildren to pass safely. The air was muggy and foggy and yet seemed crisp to those who drank it in. On occasion a deer would gallop through the streets or a bird fall on the tall black lampposts, but the canyon made sure that nothing but cold air tugged on the hearts of the residents living there.

You weren't stupid, that's for sure. You had known as soon as Will 'Zombie Boy' Byers had returned home, that all your friends had begun acting suspiciously. You barely see him anymore, his mum dragging him home whenever you greet him entering the school doors, or her telling you he's still so very ill, okay sweetheart, when you go knocking on their door with all the physics homework he had missed that day. Dustin and Lucas weren't much better. You had tried to drag their secrets out of them, managing even to rustle Steve into the mix in the arcade. Thumping your hand down on the dusty Dragon's Lair machine, knocking Dustin's hand off the control stick, as red as a cherry, he shouts a loud 'hey, y/n, jesus, what the actual f-'

'Dustin!', Steve coughs from behind him, two hands placed sternly against the light blue cotton covering his hips, slouching down onto his left foot. His eyes are wide and disapproving as he looks down at him. 'Y/n here has left me sixteen messages, ten of which were missed calls because apparently neither of you two, idiots, would answer her. I had to driver her all the way here, and let me tell you, her mother was not happy with me.'

'What is it, y/n, we're busy', Lucas sighs, twisting around again to place another quarter into the game.

'I know something fishy is going on with you guys, and it's not fair for you to keep me out of it. I have as much a right to know as any of you guys!'

The three boys throw each other concerned glances, Steve making as if to move forward, his pointer finger out, mouth slightly agape, but the words only stick in his throat as he blinks, curls falling over his forehead.

'It's..it's not safe, y/n,' Dustin finally says, much to your dismay. Groaning lightly, you turn on your heel and run out the door, tears welling up in your eyes.

And then there was Mike, your best friend, who hadn't spoken to you in nearly a week. Anytime you saw him, his eyes were blotchy and red as if he'd spent all night lying on his bed crying, his eyes cast down onto the ground without meeting anyone's gaze, his backpack nearly falling off his slumped shoulders, not even noticing the little Star Wars keychain you had bought him for his birthday digging into his skin. Anytime you went near him, he had brushed you off, throwing your hand off his shoulder, not answering your walkie talkie during the night, pretending he was over at Mike's when you had clearly seen him cycle into the woods whilst waiting for him behind the bushes on his front lawn. It was as if he had become a ghost.

That's why you found yourself outside Hawkin's Highschool late that night, determined to find out what in these haunted woods had everyone so frightened.The sky is a rolling blanket of cloud the colour of wet ash, and the ground its dank reflection, each trembling step a prayer for some kind of answer, some kind of key to unlock this secret the whole town seemed to be conspiring to keep from you. The lights flickered as you stepped past the last few overhead lampposts like flickering daydreams, dying underneath the blanket of night. The chill wind tugged at your clothing and whipped loose hair about your face, bringing with it the first of the rain that had been promised since supper. The newly wet skin offered body heat to the frigid air, only to find its appetite was insatiable.

The hills that lie friendly in the day - like the pillows of the land - are darkly ominous by night. The paths that were illuminated just hours before become lost in a blackness that even moonlight cannot help. The trees that are magnificent in sunshine tower over you as you step across the borderline between the seen and unseen. Steeling yourself to keep moving past the growls that seem to encircle you, your hair stands on end as if the forest was on the enemy's side.

Yelping lightly, you tumble to the ground, your flashlight rolling out of your hand and tumbling across the dirt, spinning lightly as it illuminates in pale flashes of light the nearly translucent face of Mike Wheeler as he turns around in confusion, wondering what had managed to trip over the tire of his bike that lay abandoned in a nearby ditch.

'M-mike', you manage to mutter out, your teeth clenched as a ripple of pain ruffles through you. Looking down, you can't see, but can feel the stickiness between your fingertips as you move it away from the tear in your jeans. Standing awkwardly in front of you, Mike manages only to drop his box of Eggos, the rain pouring silently down his face like tears as he pouts a little, his raven hair slick against his head as it pelts down upon his unprotected skin. His striped shirt is nearly see through in the cold, and you can't help but wondering what the hell is wrong with him, standing in the middle of the rain, shivering lightly, at nearly ten past midnight.

'Y/n, what-what are you doing here?'

'I could ask you the same thing, Mike.' Glancing around him to the wooden box his foot kicks against backing away slightly, you ask 'why is your favourite hoodie on the ground?'

'I dropped it y/n, jesus, it's none of your business anyway.'

'Mike...', you manage to stumble to your feet, approaching him slowly so as not to scare him off, him staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights, his arms flush by his side and unmoving, 'Mike, what's going on, please just tell me.'

Placing one hand on his shoulder, your thumb moving uncomfortably against the damp material, he bows his head a little, a deep breath rumbling through his chest. There's a tense silence for a moment,as the two of you just stand there in the downpour, unsure of what to do or say. What you don't expect, however, is for Mike to grab your hand, throwing it down onto your stomach with a dull thud.

'You wouldn't understand!', he begins to shout, his hands coming up to fist into his air, 'there's a reason we haven't told you, y/n! It's because we don't care about you! You have no idea what it's like! No idea what it's like to lose everything! Jesus, just leave me alone!'

As he stomps past you, his sneakers nearly slipping on the damp pine cones that crunch under his feet, little wood chippings sticking to his slipping socks, he thumps against your shoulder without a care, his eyes downcast and a pained expression flashing through his face. As you just stand there, confused and lost, the only thing you could think, no matter how ridiculous, was that you weren't sure if the streaks running down his flushed cheeks were little dew droplets of rain, or burning, throbbing tears.

Credit: bowieandqueen11.tumblr.com