Mileven One-Shots

Bruises

Hey, guys! I'm back with another chapter but first I just want to check in with you all that read my stories. How are you guys doing in this unfortunate time? Hanging in there alright? 

This is another angst with a lot of fluff. (The Mike gets abused head cannon of mine)

WARNING: Mentions of verbal and physical abuse

(This is a real issue all around our world, and I'm deeply sorry for anyone who's going through it. This one shot is not meant to be harmful or disrespectful. I apologize if anyone gets offended while reading. This is more of a chapter to spread awareness of the situation, how it can affect a person physically and emotionally, along with the people around them. Again, I'm not poking fun, and I'm sorry if anything is offending)

Sure, Mike had always known he was a disappointment in his father's eyes, with him never being interested in sports and being more on the lanky side. Okay, a lot on the lanky side. His father had always had this vision of the "perfect boy" or the "perfect son", and Mike did not qualify for either of those. He was no where near athletic, nor was he muscular in anyway. Just skin and bones, as his doctor had told him at his last check up. 

It wasn't just his physical status that was disappointing, it was also his whole general personality. He was too "nerdy", too "sympathetic", too "nice", as if those were terrible qualities to have in the first place. Oh, and he was even more on the "feminine" side according to what his dad telling his mom one late Thursday night when he was just coming down the stairs to grab a glass of water before heading back to bed. 

He also couldn't do anything right in his dad's eyes. Mike opened his mouth it was wrong; too inappropriate, too disrespectful, unnecessary, and more. It was frustrating living with someone who criticizes every movement you make, everything you do and say. 

Now, Mike could handle knowing he was a disappointment. It was fine as long as it wasn't verbalized, lip service wasn't added, or if his mother or older sister, Nancy, was there to stop his dad from saying anything irrational. He could handle his father disrespecting him all the time, but lately, that's not all he'd been badmouthing. Recently, he'd been targeting his very own friends, including El. Ever since Mike had introduced his long-term girlfriend to his parents back in '85, his dad had taken a dislike to her, but he had never said anything. It was simply in the way he looked at her, the way he'd scoff whenever she'd be saying something when she'd stay for dinner or a movie night, the roll of his eyes every time she walked through the door. Everyone could just tell Ted Wheeler was not a fan of his son, or the people he hung around, but he had never actually said anything. 

But it was implied. 

Almost everyday when Mike came home from school or a friend's house, his dad would be right on his back, reprimanding him about spending way too much time with his best friends and his girlfriend, rather than his own family, that he doesn't even acknowledge them anymore. Whenever he'd here that lame excuse to imply "you're a disappointment, son" Mike would just scoff and roll his eyes because when had his dad ever genuinely cared about family time?

And that's what was happening right about now. 

It had been exactly one hour since school got out, twenty minutes since he had dropped Will and El off at their house since the car they shared broke down and was in the shop, and his dad was already lecturing him on not being home on time, not caring to listen that he was helping out a couple of friends. The fact that he hadn't even been doing anything but making Holly a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before even considering on starting his homework frustrated Mike as he listened to his dad's stern voice.

"...you're never home! Always running around with your friends and screwing the chief's daughter!" Ted Wheeler raised his voice slightly, trying to gain Mike's attention who was just trying to focus on spreading peanut butter across a slice of white bread. "Michael!" He slapped his hand down on the counter top, the loud sound echoing through the mostly empty house.