#mike wheeler ff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

werdlewrites · 11 months ago

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masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

summary: The pretty things like frail pieces of jewelry hardly worn, and the childhood memories pinned to cork. Then, the gun so cleverly hidden away in a shoebox beneath layers of old stuffed animals and summer clothes. All of the niceties seemed to only be a facade, now. No longer a girl, but a woman with hate in her heart. warnings: loss and grief, mentions of a gun, hallucinations, mentions of blood wc: 3,588

It all seemed to be an illusion. Standing out beneath the setting sun just at the edge of a clean-cut yard, though dead in color. It’s an out-of-body experience. Unable to feel the winds against her cheeks or the sting they left behind. The sound of passing cars was distant in her ears, rolling along freshly fallen snow. It was so…picture-esque. A perfect two-story home with curtains pulled closed, and the glow from within radiating outward, beckoning her closer. But, Autumn is left frozen to the pavement, watching as silhouettes pass by the window, and wondering of their rushed conversations. A mother works hard to tidy up before the arrival of a guest, giving orders to children to pick up after themselves. Or a father to merely bask before the light of the television, lazy and unbothered by the burst of energy. At least, that’s how Nancy describes him.

Autumn tells herself this is a bad idea, yet she’s unable to turn her back on the Wheeler household. She finds herself unstable and on edge. On a constant lookout for something that wasn’t there - or rather, someone. It’s a restless existence, and she doubts any ability to function normally with a new friend. A friend who knows only a shred of the life she’s lived. Should Autumn be so lucky, the long hours spent under the same roof won’t reveal much more. The teen remains unconvinced. And in a moment of bravery, she pushes herself forward to follow the path up to the front door. A chime of the doorbell rings out, and a hurried, “I’ll get it!” echoes from within.

Nancy arrives at the door with a huff of breath, neatly smoothing down windswept hair as she runs to greet her guest. There’s almost a sigh of relief, eyeing the bag that rests just over her shoulder. “I was wondering if you’d change your mind.”

She had many times.

“Well, come in. Let’s get the painful introductions out of the way,” the girl says with a laugh, stepping aside to give room for her friend.

Almost instantly, you can pick up on the clank of silverware against dishes. Beneath it, the scattered voices from a television nearby. But as the door falls shut, the cooking is abandoned and who she believes to be Nancy’s mother, makes her way around the corner with a curious glint in her eye. “So, you’re Autumn,” Karen states with a pleasant smile.

Timidly, the girl raises a hand. “Guilty.”

Karen takes her in the silence. It’s brief, but it feels like it lasts a lifetime. The shift from her curiosity to momentary judgment. Not out of hatred, but rather, a wonder as to how someone like Nancy could befriend someone so vastly different than herself. But, her daughter is kind and in the end, Karen is the same. Warm and inviting as her smile soon glows and lights up the room.

“Happy Birthday,” she says under a hushed breath as if to keep a secret. “Nancy told me. I know it’s not actually your birthday, but, it counts.” Karen soon sets the two teenagers free after her daughter insists on providing the grand tour, though pausing as they stand just at the entryway of the living room. Ted has his feet kicked up high, glasses set alight by the pictures his gaze remains focused on. Autumn takes a step forward to introduce herself out of politeness, but her friend takes firm hold of her arm to keep her back. “Don’t bother,” she grumbles with a distasteful scowl on her lips. “He won’t remember your name. Doesn’t care enough to.”

Autumn had always pictured the Wheeler’s as a perfect, cookie-cutter family. How else could they raise an angel wearing soft sweaters and an innocent smile? But the dream is tainted as she describes her family. Then, it’s stomped out entirely as she all but drags the teen away to avoid the embarrassment. She talks about the dinner her mother is preparing as they wander the main level, gesturing to various spaces before making their way up the stairs. The guest is far too busy taking it all in. Gaze locked on the family portraits hung throughout the halls, luring out the devil inside as he creates a moment of envy to darken her spirits. But his presence is forced back into the shadows as she lets a smile shine, even a laugh at something Nancy rambles about. And in a flash, the world seems to stand still as a familiar, lanky boy nearly collides with her in his haste. He’s thrown his door wide open, face red and clearly on a mission until he meets her startled eyes. Her fingers pry away from the strap of her bag and extend outwards, a small gesture of acknowledgment as things slowly slip into unease.

Mike’s face shifts. Once full of anger or sadness, now transformed into something…different. It’s a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Maybe even a shred of misplaced bitterness. Dark eyes scan her up and down with care before she takes note of his hurt. It’s buried just beneath the surface. A mound of fresh dirt is pushed over his own monsters, letting them choke on the soil as he crams them all down into the depths to be forgotten. But their will is strong, and claws sharp as knives. They carve out tunnels to slip through, rising like bile in his throat the longer their connection remains. They want to scream. They want to hurt. Even so, her lips part to say “hello” but he’s already pushing past her. Mike casts a glance over his shoulder before making his way toward the same steps they’ve climbed.

“Don’t mind him,” his sister says with a heavy sigh, arms crossed just over her chest. “He’s lost someone, too.”

Autumn tries to push through the hazy memory. Searching for mentions through school or inked articles in the paper regarding another tragedy. But it all seems to come up blank and her confusion only grows. Will had come home and his face was still seen in print. A town unable to grasp this bizarre turn of events. Already beyond the phases of mourning - if they ever had.

“Y’know that girl Jonathan mentioned? Back at his house?” She begins. Pulling in the other girl's attention, shaking away the weight of painful sympathy as her brother works his way through grief. “They were close. Now that she’s gone, it’s like reliving Will’s disappearance all over again.”

Another look is spared in his direction, finding the space where he once was now empty. But his pain lingered - seeping into the old paint of the home. She can hear Karen speak kindly to him, only to be left in the disappointing silence. The ache in his chest was too powerful to conjure up a response. Autumn is no stranger to pain. But she can’t pretend to understand just how deep a child's heartbreak was, and all it did to his mind and spirit. Losing so much in a matter of weeks. A never-ending cycle of sadness. One after the other, the reaper takes claim.

Or was it something else?

“How did she-?” Autumn begins to ask. Mind now wandering down the darkened path where that girl once sat. Her pink dress torn and dirtied with dried leaves hung from the coat. She had reached out. Or maybe the intricate web sewn through the universe had somehow pulled her in, binding them both until the silk snapped under pressure. It’s equally intriguing as it is devastating. To know such a sweet face could have belonged to someone the boy needed. Now, Autumn was unsure just how far she would need to reach out to find those severed strands. If only just to get a glimpse.

“We don’t really know. And I’m sure that makes it worse.” Nancy interrupts with a small shrug. “Come on. You can leave your things in my room.”

Together, they move down the hall. Following after the glow of soft light pouring out from a cracked door. And as she pushes past, her vision is filled with perfection and innocence. Pastel colors fill the room from down at the baseboards to the very edge of the wall. Stripes and bold patterns fill the space, yet somehow remain charming and very much Nancy. It's nothing surprising, though there's a smile of amusement seen beneath the warm lighting. It falters momentarily as she takes notice of a familiar face smiling back at her. Colorless yet beaming with vibrance. Autumn makes her way toward the headboard, closing in on the man, and with a look of offense, she jabs her finger against the shining surface.

“Tom Cruise is going t'watch me sleep?” she questions with a narrowed look.

Nancy seems to quickly grow embarrassed. Icy skin is now flushed and joy is long gone as she lunges forward with eager hands. It's something she's lived with - grown used to. The teenager hardly knows that he's there until his presence is called out, and now she seeks to stow it away. Unfortunately for her, Autumn is quick to interrupt. Grabbing at her wrists while the girl makes attempts to break free and hide a celebrity crush behind the dresser.

“”Stop, stop!” She cries out in a fit of laughter. “Tom can stay. I like him there.”

Her friend seems uncertain for a moment. Eyes fixated on her as if waiting to see the real truth behind teasing words. But Autumn holds steady and remains genuine. Patting down the girl's hands to rest at her sides before the bag slung over her shoulder is discarded on the carpeted floor. She didn't know what to bring, at first. Hours spent contemplating what to stuff inside of the empty bag, if anything at all. She hadn’t had a “sleepover” in years - especially in someone else’s home. Autumn had even called Nancy for instructions on what to bring, and she was none too helpful.

In the end, it was Hopper she turned to in a moment of distress. Her mind was blank from anxiety as he made a short list of things to bring. Autumn had even asked about medication. Being forced away from the house for a near 24 hours, there was anticipation for a rush of pain to come sweeping in without warning. But he encourages her to try. Saying, “You’ve done so well without it,” and she trusts him enough to find strength in his words. Unknowing every pill had been hidden away from her sight.

It’s not long before her mother calls up the winding steps, effectively pulling the girls away from the little things that had shown who Nancy once was. The pretty things like frail pieces of jewelry hardly worn, and the childhood memories pinned to cork. Then, the gun so cleverly hidden away in a shoebox beneath layers of old stuffed animals and summer clothes. All of the niceties seemed to only be a facade, now. No longer a girl, but a woman with hate in her heart.

At the dinner table, things are about as painful as the girl had warned Autumn of. Karen keeps the conversation flowing after every monotone remark is made by Ted. Unimpressed and unbothered by life. The guest can spot the twitch of skin just beneath her brown eyes and a forced smile as she swallows her distaste for the man she’s married. Her son sits across from Autumn, just as silent as he had been upon their close encounter. She swears that even for the faintest of moments, she can catch his near-black eyes glaring before falling back to his plate. The discomfort between them was like a barricade of electricity. Flaying her alive while the others bask in the stench of death. She can’t make sense of its source.

“So, Autumn,” Karen begins. “I don’t think I’ve met your parents before. What do they do?”

The question comes just as a fork full of asparagus enters her mouth. A sudden gasp of surprise sends her into a choking fit with watering eyes. “S-sorry,” she mutters through the struggle. Her thoughts are spiraling, hearing Hopper’s voice as they go over the plan in preparation for this moment. Something concrete, and easy to believe as they build up the story for the climax. “He works in management at a factory just out of town-”

“Ah,” Ted chimes in, luring in all curious eyes his way. “A respectable and hardworking man. I like him already.”

Karen is quick to steer the conversation back, noting the look of discomfort on the girl's face. “And what about your mother?”

“Mom,” Nancy warns in a hushed tone, fingers wrapped tight enough around the glass it poses a threat of shattering.

“No, no. It’s fine.” Autumn is waving away the bitterness. Finding this topic easy to speak on, yet curious about how Nancy seemed so sensitive to it. It wasn’t something she had given willingly. It had never become a point of interest between the two. Yet somehow, through either Steve or Jonathan, she knew of the abandonment. “She left when I was just a baby. It’s just been me and him.”

Hopper lingers in the shadows of her mind. Kindness in blue eyes as he uses words of encouragement to lay a path of lies, so that everyone may follow without question. “Tell them,” he says. “Make them believe it.”

“Up until now, anyway,” she adds with a trembling smile. The fork continues to stab aimlessly at her plate, pushing the food back and forth, anticipating the interrogation to come.

“What d’you mean?” The change in tone is enough to pull in the focus of all others, safe for Holly. Even Ted seems intrigued as he sets down his utensils.

“W-Well, he, uh,” Fire is rising from the ground up. Lava poured in to scorch the earth and leave her panicked with sweat on her brow. She wonders if they’ll see right through her, or ask the questions she hadn’t planned for. But Autumn pushes on. “He found a woman he really likes, I guess. Been datin’ for a while.” Her stare is averted to avoid piercing blues. Crystal-clear ocean flooding in to douse the flames and see through the smoke - the veil.

“Oh, that must be hard,” Karen replies with a small sigh. “Being a single parent isn’t an easy task. But seeing him with another woman isn’t easy, either. D’you like her, at least?” Her tone is sympathetic and soft, making the girl feel guilty.

Autumn swallows hard. A lump in her throat begs for forgiveness as she spills the truth out across their table. Instead, a manufactured lie puts all at ease as they eagerly await an answer. “She’s alright,” is her simple reply.

Once their plates are cleaned and the glasses are emptied, Autumn offers to help clean. A gesture of kindness and thanks for giving her not only a space at their table but the comfort of their home for the remainder of the night. Karen is quick to shoo her out of the kitchen with a laugh. Determined to keep a soon-to-be 17-year-old labor-free, but lets her gratitude be known. The girls successfully take over the living room once Ted bids them a goodnight, and together they sprawl out along the couch to enjoy John Travolta and Olivia Newton-Jon as they sing and dance their way across the screen.

As Danny stands over the car, his friends fawning over him, Autumn can’t help but notice the dazed look in Nancy’s eyes. She laughs at her expense, unable to break the connection as she practically reaches through the screen.

“Nance,” Autumn chimes in, luring in a look of surprise as if she’d forgotten her friend was just nearby. “You’ve got a little,” she gestures to the corner of her own mouth, a smile growing as the girl frantically wipes away at her lips, only to find nothing there.

“Oh, shut up,” she bites back with a laugh. “He’s nice t’look at.”

Autumn can only shrug in response, still lost in the bliss of what it was like to have girl time. Genuine, uninterrupted time without the worries of the outside world.

“Not your type?” she questions, earning a roll of the eyes.

“He’s fine,” is all the guest can conjure up as the song progresses, the screen painted a brilliant white with a cherry red car at the center of attention. “I’m more of a Kenickie fan,” she teases. “But, no. None of them are really my type.”

Nancy finds herself intrigued. You could nearly see the seamless motion of gears turning in her head as she sought out questions to ask. Ways to pull the two closer as friends. “Who is?”

A heavy sigh is buried beneath the music, pushing herself further into memories of old school crushes that never looked her way. The stars that scattered along their skin and the blissful smiles worn as they laughed along to jokes. The warmth that radiated before it was forcibly ignored, just to remain composed. It was pure innocence laced with heartache, never knowing what it was like to touch the sun out of fear.

“It’s more the person, and not the looks. Someone kind. A soft place t’land when things get hard.”

The movie ends and the girls find themselves back in her bedroom. Trivial Pursuit lays out before them, and their angered reactions to failed answers are hushed, the laughter dulled to not wake her parents. Conversations are hushed as they rest for the night, just after bickering about where Autumn would sleep. Nancy is kind enough to offer her bed, but the girl politely declines in favor of the floor. Back and forth they go until ultimately, they lay side by side beneath the covers.

Nancy thinks of Barb and the many sleepovers just like this one. Finding enough comfort and trust to rest easily only inches apart. But it’s somewhat new for Autumn - always having at least some space between herself and Steve - even Jonathan. This newfound closeness leaves her heart pounding with excitement, yet gut-twisting and churning with the bitterness of lost time. She could have had this all of those years ago. If only they had stopped turning their noses up at the new, weird kid.

Sleep comes easily for the two of them as they turn away to their sides, filling the room with gentle breaths and occasional murmurs. It’s the first empty, dreamless sleep Autumn has in what feels like a lifetime. There are no faces to stare back at her with sickening grins. No menacing cries of monsters beneath her feet or blood-stained clothes of the graying woman. There’s only blackness.

But that blackness fades into a blur as something pulls her out. Whispers in the corner of her mind. And in such a hazy state, she believes it to be the Wheeler’s and doesn’t question it further as lazy legs carry her out toward the bathroom. She finds the home now eerily quiet outside of the running water. Not a murmur to tickle her senses or the sound of shuffling steps as a body moves across the plush carpet. The sound of her steps are barely audible. The creak of the floorboards beneath slowly fades out until there’s…nothing.

There’s nothing.

Tired eyes pry themselves open with strained force. Weakened hands take hold of weighted curtains to drag along the stage and reveal something new. Something…haunting and unexpected. He stands before her in a once well-kept office. The tall plant is still upright and green in the corner, the paperwork still neatly organized on polished wood. The silver-haired man stands with hands tucked away into pockets, ready with the syringe should she choose to act out. The smile is the same, though it brings far more dread now knowing of his intentions. He steps forward, and she steps back into a wall that shouldn’t have been there. She had been standing in the hallway of the Wheeler’s home - except somehow now, she was hostage to the torment of memories. Once broken and scattered, now piecing themselves together to tell a story she only wishes to remain in tatters.

“Just as I remember.” he begins with a confident smile.

It hits her then. The statement once drowned out from the shock of it all, now settling deep in her bones. Breaking and tearing through muscle and slipping in through her veins like poison. Her mind is rotten and full of hallucinations. The walls at his back flickered in and out to a brilliant white, his name on her lips but left unheard.

He remembers.

A small figure moves through him, creating waves of distortion until her father's office fades out, along with the man just as he takes another step. Pale knuckles rub against darkened eyes, chewed lips mumbling something incoherent as he shuffles along the flooring. And as if sensing that he wasn’t alone, he pauses mere feet from her, hesitantly raising his eyes to take her in. It’s not her presence that’s startling, but more so how she appears to him. A pained expression with fingers wound tight into fists at her sides. He swears just as he spots the blood along her upper lip, that there’s a small whimper of terror. As if she had been trapped within her own body, fighting a war and losing the battle against something unseen

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