Chapter Text
The stairs creaked in all the same places and the feeling of safety was still present making him feel at ease. They had won, he reminded himself even as he reached for a doorknob that was suddenly on the wrong side of the door. He opened it letting the noise of Holly and her friends drown out any concerns he might have. Upstairs he glanced around quickly but everything looked the same. He must just be tired.
Slowly he made his way to his bedroom. The closet had been repaired a long time ago but the paint covering over the newer wood still stood out as a reminder of the night of the attack. He let himself collapse to the bed, eyes trained to the ceiling, staring at nothing. It was the quiet parts he hated the most, when he was left with nothing but his thoughts.
In the closet a light switched on.
He shot up, eyes trained on the new doors. The light was starting to flicker on and off. Heart racing he got up and walked over to the door. It had to be a faulty bulb, El was gone along with the Upside Down. Now lights were just that, lights. Still he opened the doors quickly half expecting something to jump out at him. The light turned off with a crack sending pieces of the broken glass everywhere. He shook them from his hair and started pushing his clothes aside. His hands ran down the back wall of the closet feeling for anything out of place. Nothing.
The clock downstairs chimed.
Did they have a clock that made that sound?
He waits for the clock to stop chiming. It gets all the way to twelve and then stops. Weird. It was just after eight when he came up from the basement. How has he lost four hours just standing in his closet?
With a sigh he steps out and gets ready for bed. If it really is midnight then he should at least make an attempt at sleep.
Sleep has been hard even after a year.
Tonight he sleeps easily with no nightmares, and when he wakes up he feels more rested than he has in a long time.
His room looks the same as it had the night before. No strange anomalies. That is until he goes to turn on the light in the closet forgetting about the night before in his half awake state. The light comes on with a click and the memory comes rushing back to him all at once. He looks up at the bulb, but it is whole and blinding his vision. He turns away letting the tiny dots of light fade from his vision. He feels certain that it was broken the night before. There is even a shard of glass at his feet that he nearly steps on as he backs out.
The rest of the room looks the same. At least he doesn't notice anything out of place. Carefully he walks from one end of the bedroom to the other, scanning everything to make sure that it looks the same as it had the night before. Desk, bed, same posters on the wall. Except the painting.
The painting from El, it’s missing. He walks over to the spot on the wall where it had been hanging just the night before. The wall is blank, not even a hole to suggest that at one point something might have been hanging there.
The clock downstairs chimes.
He waits listening to hear how many times it will ring. This time it gets to eleven and then ends.
How did he sleep in until eleven?
Downstairs he finds his mother in the kitchen scrubbing the countertops.
“There you are. I was about to wake you up.” She says when she spots him in the hall.
“Just overslept,” he mutters. The clock is indeed in the hall, and he walks over to it ignoring the odd look that his mother is giving him. It’s an old wooden grandfather clock. He is certain that it wasn’t there before.
“Do you like it?” His mother asks from behind him, making him jump and turn around.
“Where did you get it?”
“One of the neighbors was moving and left it out on the curb. I thought it would look nice.”
“Looks fine. But it’s way too loud.”
She just laughs and makes her way back to the kitchen. “ Eat something before you go out.”
“Have you seen my painting?”
His mother turns around smiling. “What painting?”
“The one of the party fighting the hydra.”
“No, sorry. I don’t remember that one. You have so many from Will it’s hard to keep track.”
“This one’s from El.” He knows it’s silly correcting her but it feels important after losing El. That painting is one of the only things he has left to remind him of her.
“Odd that she would give you a painting that she isn’t in. Are you sure that it’s from her?”
Mike steps back, there is definitely something wrong with the way his mother is looking at him. Almost as if she knows something that he is completely ignorant of.
“Just let me know if you see it.” He says before rushing for the door.
The clock chimes as he pulls the front door open. This time it rings out ten times. That’s odd he thinks as he closes the door behind him. Wasn’t it just eleven? Maybe that’s why the neighbor left it behind.
The air outside is warm and the sun shines down on his face as he makes his way aimlessly down the street. He doesn't know where he’s going, only that he doesn't want to be in the house anymore. His mind keeps going back to the painting and how weird his mother was being about it. Like she knew something he didn’t. He kicked a rock at his feet sending it clattering down the road and watched it come to stop at the monument. Somehow he always found himself back here. Even after talking with Hopper about moving forward he felt stuck. Maybe he would stay in Hawkins like his parents instead of going away for school. He could remain here just in case El really was still alive. He couldn’t bear the thought of her coming back and finding him long gone.
Eventually he makes his way back home. He’s hungry and the sky has become overcast. He makes it all the way back home before he hears lightning. Summer storms aren't that uncommon but the red bolts of lightning unsettle him. It’s too much like the upside down. One cracks nearby and he wonders why the rain still hasn’t started even as the smell of petrichor fills his nose.
Inside the house is quiet. He spots his father in the living room with the day's paper in his hands. It hides his face. The front page has a large photo of Regan with big text announcing ‘AIDS affects all of us.’
Holly hears him as he walks by and jumps up from her spot on the couch book momentarily forgotten. “Mike. I was starting to plan out my first long campaign and wanted to ask for your opinion.”
Their father rises from his recliner tossing the paper down and looking at them each in turn. The look unsettles him and he puts an arm out in front of Holly as if to protect her from something. Which is silly, Holly has always been their fathers favorite and he’s never been violent like Lonnie. So why is his heart racing?
“Look what you're doing to your little sister. Teaching her how to participate in your demonic cult. It’s bad enough that you were involved with that Munson boy a couple years ago. Don’t think I forgot what happened afterwards, that creature came in and attacked us because you summoned it here with your rituals. Well I won't have it anymore. No more satanic games in the basement.”
Mike opens his mouth to yell when the large clock goes off behind him. This time it chimes nine times. Holly runs out from behind him towards their father and he watches as she hugs him voice so soft that he can’t make out what she is saying.
“Dinner is ready.” His mother calls from the kitchen. Eating at nine is late for them but he makes his way to the dining room anyway. His mind is racing when he sits down and his throat feels like it’s full of cotton balls, making it impossible to speak or yell despite the building pressure in his lungs.
Nancy isn't there. Her chair is empty when he sits down next to it, trying desperately to put space between himself and the rest of his family. Their eyes all seem to follow his movements as he reaches for the various dishes laid out on the table. He no longer feels hungry but decides that it’s best to play along and act as if his parents aren't behaving strangely.
The food tastes like sawdust in his mouth and he ends up just pushing it around on the plate. Outside another strike of lightning hits and the whole scene is lit up in red.
“I’m going to bed.” Mike hears himself say, legs wobbly when he gets up. All their eyes are still fixed on him as if they are expecting some kind of show.
“Don’t forget to bring in your dishes.” His mother finally replies before the three of them turn back to their own food. The silence is deafening as he walks his plates to the kitchen sink. On his way past them to the stairs his father looks up and stares at him. His large glasses slide down a fraction on his nose and his eyes almost look completely white when he opens his mouth. “I threw out that painting. It’s time you stopped playing pretend and actually focused on your future. If you want to be successful in life then you will have to make sacrifices, and that starts now.”
“You can’t just throw out my things! That painting was mine, and it’s all I have left of her.” He yells, his eyes burn and his throat feels tight as he runs out to where they keep the garbage bins. Behind him the clock chimes eight times.
The painting is rolled back up and shoved into the closest bin when he spots it. He runs towards it, hands yanking it out and sending the bin to the ground with a clatter. Carefully he unrolls it and checks for any damage. The characters are in different locations on the canvas then he remembers. Instead of Mike the brave leading the party he is trapped in vines by the forest. The rest of the party is desperately searching for their leader, backs turned to the hydra that is quickly advancing on them. The painting drops from his hands and he runs them through his hair. This isn’t the painting he remembers. They are supposed to be united against the enemy.
“I know you can hear me!” He shouts out to the empty garage. This is all wrong and he feels certain that it isn’t real. “Show yourself!”
He waits and the minutes tick by but Vecna doesn't appear.
Snatching up the painting he rushes back into the house and past his family, back up to the alleged safety of his bedroom. His mother is in the kitchen cleaning up and his father and sister are sitting in the living room back to reading. No one even spares him a glance.
Once he reaches his room he shuts the door and props a chair under the doorknob. He feels like he’s losing it. Nothing that has happened in the last two days makes any sense. He must be in the Upside Down. Nancy had mentioned a clock when they talked about everything he had missed while in California. As if on cue he hears it chime once more. Holding his breath he counts the number of times. Seven, this time it’s only seven. What happens when it reaches one? Will Vecna appear?
Maybe he will die.
He doesn't want to die. “I know you're watching me!” He shouts to the room. Nothing happens.
Sinking to the floor he runs his hands through his hair trying to get control of his breathing. The painting sits next to him and he reaches for it, unrolling it once more. Maybe the image will be the same as it was before. His heart sinks when he spots himself still trapped in the vines. There is even an additional vine added to his left leg as if it’s about to drag him completely into the forest. He traces it with a finger.
The clock chimes again. Six.
He holds the painting to his chest and reaches under his bed for his walkie talkie. Once he has it on the correct channel he holds the button down and lifts it to his mouth. “Is anyone there? Guys! Code red! Code red! Over.” The static is loud in his ear and he closes his eyes focusing all his attention on it. He swears he can hear someone saying his name but it’s so quiet.
“Will! Are you there?”
“Mike?”
“Can you hear me? I think I’m trapped in the Upside Down.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the Upside Down!” He jumps up frantically running his hands around the lamp on his desk, walkie still pressed to his ear. Maybe they will be able to see it on the other side.
“Will. Are you still there?” The clock sounds again, five times. “Will!”
“I can’t hear you. Mike?”
The static gets worse as he yells,” I’m in the Upside Down!” Then with a click the line goes dead, no more static just silence. He throws the walkie in his frustration feeling his heart start to race. Should he think of happy memories? That’s how this is supposed to work right? With a deep breath Mike imagines he’s in the basement with the party. They are all sitting around the table discussing their next move. He knows that no matter what they choose their chances are slim of making it out. He may only be twelve years old but he has been planning this campaign for a long time and his friends have just fallen into his trap.
Sure enough one by one they fail their rolls. But that’s not what happened. He shakes his head. The lighting outside cracks right next to the house and it makes him jump. There is a pounding in his ears when the clock goes off again. Four.
Think of happy memories. Why can’t he think of any happy memories? The light is flickering from inside his closet.
He imagines he is on his bike riding away from here, just like when he was a kid. The whole world open in front of him full of endless possibilities. Before that awful night Will went missing. Back when he still thought he understood the world and his place in it.
Three.
He pictures Will on the swings the day they officially became friends. He was so excited that he had found someone that wanted to be his friend that he felt like he could fly right off the swing and into the sky.
Two.
Will had somehow survived here on his own at twelve. So why couldn’t he do it at seventeen?
One.
He closes his eyes still thinking of Will and waits for the end to come. Instead the notes of a song start to play from inside his closet.
We’re no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of
You wouldn’t get this from any other guy
I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you