Chapter Text
Mike twirled his fork in his hand mindlessly, pushing the potatoes on his plate around but never bringing any to his mouth.
El had broken up with him a week ago, it was a mutual thing, and Mike’s realized a few things since then.
One: Mike doesn’t think he ever truly loved El the way he thought he did. The way both he and El wanted him to. Maybe he did at first, but he thinks he may have been romanticizing the idea of having a girlfriend.
Two: He feels really bad about that. El truly deserves better, and Mike hopes she can find the right one. Mike still feels his gut churn every time he thinks about how kissing El had seemed more like a chore rather than the exciting, thrilling thing he had heard it described as before from his friends.
He thought that was just how it was meant to be, and people were overexaggerating the experience for the fun of it.
He’d like to know what it would be like to kiss Will.
And that thought is exactly what brings him to number three, which is;
Three: He’s incredibly stupid. Okay, well that’s not exactly new, he’s been told that many times, but he only well and truly realized it recently.
God he’s dumb. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice before.
Four: He’s in love with Will Byers.
He‘s not quite sure how he never picked up on it. Whenever he was hanging out with El, his mind would briefly drift to Will, wondering what he’s doing at that moment.
Mike thinks he may have known when he was younger, and pushed it deep, deep down into the dark recesses of his mind. Sure, maybe Mike had realized he was in love with Will Byers at a young age and was determined to do something about it, but that was when he learned from his dad that boys were not an option.
Off the table, so to say.
Well, fuck Ted. Mike thinks, then mentally high fives himself because that was hype as hell. Then he puts his head in his hands, because he’s just now realizing the way his face has been heating up and his smile has been steadily growing since he started thinking of Will, and Nancy is giving him a weird look, and Mike wants to dig a hole and never climb out of it.
As much as he would like to continue his internal monologue of how desperately he’s in love with Will Byers, which he would like, very much, Mike’s mom clapped her hands, and he figures he should probably pay attention to whatever she’s saying.
“I forgot to mention, Mike, Nancy, Holly, that Richie, your cousin, is going to be staying for a few weeks! How fun is that!” She announced happily, and Mike felt his heart stop. Holly ignores her in favor of finishing her chicken.
Why?
“. . .Why?” Nancy voiced Mike’s internal thoughts.
“We just thought it’d be nice for you guys to catch up. You guys haven’t seen Richie in a while, we thought it’d be fun!” Karen concluded, smiling happily before glancing at Ted, who was reading a newspaper and very clearly not paying attention, and her smile turned into something more strained, not quite a smile, not exactly a grimace either.
“Wait Richie? Richie’s coming? Here?” Mike exclaimed when his brain caught up, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter.
He did not like Richie.
Richie always seemed to have a trashmouth that he only ever used when Mike’s parents were out of the room, and he acted like a goody-two shoes when they were around, and for some reason, they always believe Richie over Mike no matter the situation.
Richie may be family, but Mike does not want him staying at their house for multiple weeks. He can not handle that much Richie.
God, these are going to be a long couple weeks.
Mike was fixing the tape on one of the posters in his room, it was a poster for The Cure, and Mike mainly had it in his room since it’s Will’s favorite band, and he likes how Will’s face brightens when he sees the poster.
Mike likes Will’s face in general. Sometimes he’ll just look at Will, really just look. At the mole under his right eye, the way he ducks his head when he laughs, the way he squints when he’s trying to hold in laughter, everything. How pretty his lips are. Mike thinks they’d look a whole lot prettier pressed up against his own.
Mike gets pulled out of his thoughts by his mom calling from down the stairs, “Michael! Richie’s here! Come say hello!” She yelled up, and Mike sighed and opted to fix the poster fully later, it doesn’t look too bad, anyways.
He walked as slowly as he could to the door in his room, and then walked at a normal pace down the stairs, knowing his mom wouldn’t appreciate it if she saw him walking purposefully slowly.
Mike got to the front door and saw Richie hanging his coat on the hook, and he took a good look at him.
It’s been about six years since he last saw Richie, and safe to say, he looks a whole lot different.
If he thought Richie looked like him when they were younger, now it seems like they could be completely unrelated entirely. Richie still wore those nerdy red glasses, but he seems to have certainly grown into his body, much more than Mike did, with his gangly limbs.
Richie's hair is significantly shorter than Mike’s, and it seems like he brushes it even less than Mike does.
Mike simply turned back around, heading back up to his room once more when his mom called out to him, “Mike, where do you think you’re going? Come welcome our guest!” She says exasperatedly, motioning him back towards the front door.
Mike hangs his head and spins around on his heel, sulking up to his cousin.
“Go on and give the boy a tour, Michael.” Karen said, before smiling at the boys, “I’ll just be running to the store real quick, I'll be back soon. Ted’s in our room if you guys need anything.” She says, nodding up the stairs vaguely around where their room is located.
The boys nodded at her, and as soon as she was out the door, Richie turned to him.
“Do you have any booze?” He asked, before apparently deciding Mike was taking too long to answer, and turned and walked straight to the kitchen.
Jackass, Mike thinks sourly, and follows him.
“No, Richie, we do not have any booze.” Mike said, crossing his arm and leaning on the wall next to the cabinet Richie was scrounging around in.
Richie shrugged, “Eh. Didn’t really want any anyway.” He said, closing the cabinet door, and wiping his hands on his khaki shorts.
“So.” Richie said, turning to Mike and copying him, crossing his arms.
“So.” Mike repeated, raising an eyebrow at the smirking boy in front of him.
“Didn’t Karen tell you to give me a tour? Of course, I’d much rather get one from her, I mean, maybe when she shows me her bedroom we could—”
“First of all,” Mike interrupted, lifting a finger up and poking it at Richie’s chest, “do not call my mom Karen for gods sake, second of all, you already know your way around, Richie. You’ve been here before. Third of all, ew, Richie, she’s your aunt.” Mike finished, sighing and walking over to the fruit bowl on the counter and grabbing an apple out of it.
“Ew, you actually eat that shit?” Richie asked, scrunching up his nose, as if the thought of eating fruit was gross to this kid. Mike looked at him incredulously.
Richie was unaffected by this, and addressed Mike’s previous statement, “Well, sure, I’ve been here before, but that was a while ago. I don’t remember much. For all I know, you could’ve moved everything around since last time.” Richie shrugged, completely ignoring Mike’s third statement.
“We didn’t. And I’m not giving you a tour—” Mike said, taking a bite of his apple, “—just go look around yourself. Or, maybe not actually. Just go sit in the living room and don’t touch anything, I don’t know.” Mike said, taking another bite of his apple, and squawking indignantly when Richie plucked the apple out of his hand, tossed it to the trash can, and missed.
“Seriously? You’re that childish?” Mike said to Richie, to which he simply got a smirk in response.
“Well then, boy, show me to the living room.” Richie said, gesturing an arc with his arms above his head, which Mike rolled his eyes at, and marched out of the room, with the smug boy in tow.
Mike gestured roughly to the living room when they got to it, “Here.” He simply said, raising his eyebrows irritably.
Richie strolled in and plopped himself down onto the couch, looking around idly. He then apparently decided to disregard Mike’s whole ‘don’t touch anything' remark, and started ruffling through the tapes in the TV table, before groaning.
“Do you seriously not have anything R-rated in here?” he huffed, rolling his eyes at Mike, who rolled his eyes right back at Richie.
“No, we don't, if you want something like that, you’d have to go through mom and dad’s room, and— wipe that look off your face Richie, you are not going in there.” Mike chastised, looking at Richie with unamusement in his eyes.
Richie stuck his tongue out at him, and retreated back to the couch, falling back onto it with his arms crossed and a slouched posture.
They sat in silence for a moment before Richie spoke, “What do you even do around here? This is boring. Do you even have friends, Mike?” Richie asked, tilting his head at him before his face lit up, a lightbulb going off. “Say, are you still friends with those three other kids? The ones you were always playing Sex Dungeons with or whatever?” Richie asked, his face flashing with something Mike didn’t recognize for a moment before it was replaced with Richie’s normal smirk.
“It’s Dungeons and Dragons,” Richie smiled in a way that made Mike sure that he already knew that, “and yes, as a matter-of-fact, I am.” Mike nodded pridefully, proud of the fact that he had kept the same friends through most of the 14 years of his life.
Instead of making fun of him or something like Mike thought he would, Richie seemed to perk up at that.
“That guy, Will, you still talk to him, right?” Richie said, seeming uncharacteristically excited at the prospect. Mike narrowed his eyes, ignoring the pang of guilt that he felt that comes along with thinking of Will, since they had that argument in the rain.
“. . . yes. .” He said, drawing out the word. Richie raised his eyebrows and put his arms up in an ‘innocent’ gesture, and let out a whistle. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, man. I just thought he was a cool guy.” Richie said, smiling slightly at how clearly suspicious Mike was.
“Uhuh . . .” Mike said, clearly not believing him. Richie simply shrugged. “Well, I brought them up ‘cuz it seemed like something to kill time with. Like, go hang out with them or something.” Richie said, gesturing his hand around as he spoke.
“Wait a second. Richie, why do you think I would bring you?” Mike asks, disbelievingly.
“Well, who else would bring the hilarious jokes? You?” Richie laughs, well Mike huffs and glares at him. “I’ll have you know, The Party finds my jokes hilarious, thank you very much.” Mike mutters, leaning further into the arm of the couch.
“‘The Party’? Is that what you call your little nerd squad? Eh, I’ll think of something better. Maybe we could be The Pussies!” Richie grins, wiggling his fingers in Mike’s face, and wagging his eyebrows.
Mike scoffs, “Okay, first of all, no, you do not just get to rename The Party, it’s kind of a monument of the group. Secondly, just forget it all, I am not bringing you to hang out with my friends.” Mike scoffs, unbelieving of the nerve of this kid.
“I wouldn’t be so sure, I can be preeetty persuasive.” Richie shrugs, grinning and looking Mike in the eye.
Mike has no idea how he let Richie Tozier persuade him into bringing him along to a trip to the newly-rebuilt Star Court mall with his friends, but if anyone asks, Richie threatened him with a gun.
Mike’s just happy all of his friends were on board, and he’s pretty much just hoping he’ll be able to ignore Richie for the entirety of this trip.