Chapter Text
October 29th 1984
“Two hours, okay? Nine o’clock on the dot.”
“Okay.” Mike vibrates in his seat, hand clenched around the door handle. Mom’s thumb traces the sleeve of his jacket, fingers slinking up to touch his wrist to ensure he’s still solid, her grip tightens when he tries to pull away. “Okay.”
“If you need anything— if anything happens, anything at all, ask to use the phone and call me immediately, okay?”
He bounces in his seat, inching closer to the door, bobbing his head continuously as he waits for her speech to end. He tries to ignore the familiar bubbling of anger starting in his stomach at not being able to do anything on his own anymore. Not without a chaperone or a chauffeur. Tonight is going to be a good night. He’s speaking it into existence. Mike is going to have a good time tonight.
“Nancy is picking you up right here. At this door.” Her hand shakes slightly. “Do not leave this arcade, okay, sweetie? Especially not by yourself. Do you have enough quarters? I can—” She makes a jolt toward her wallet.
Mike huffs, forehead bunched, tugging back against her grasp. “Mom— Let me—”
“Okay, okay.” Mom stops, smoothing Mike’s hair down nervously, he pulls away from the touch, scowling. He unbuckles his seat belt. “But—”
“I have to go, Mom!” Mike groans loudly.
She smiles, ruffling the hair she just smoothed. “I love you.”
Mike smiles, relaxing slightly. He yanks on the handle. “You too! Bye!”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. He tumbles from the passenger seat, sneakers hitting the asphalt at a sprint. His friends are already inside, their silhouettes familiar against the neon flashing lights of the arcade. He can feel Mom’s nervous gaze on his back, but he’s used to it by now. He ignores it in favor of waving back to the Will-shaped silhouette through the heavy glass door, grinning wildly. He pushes open the glass door, the wall of sound immediate and overwhelming in the best possible way. Quarters rattle into coin mechanisms and children shout from all around. The air is thick, almost damp with the scent of preteens who haven’t quite figured out deodorant yet and cheap snacks from the vending machine. Buzzing neon reflects in Mike’s eyes, and– for just a moment, everything feels normal. Like he can breathe again. Mike rushes up to his friends.
“He lives!” Dustin hollers, smile widening to show off his sprouting teeth. Lucas cheers, throwing his arms up as Mike approaches.
Mike slots into the circle, letting out a wild, breathless laugh as he knocks shoulders with Will. He isn’t shouting like the others, but he offers a small, knowing smile. The arcade lights catch on the blunt edges of his bowl cut, turning the tips a hazy electric blue. He’s wearing a striped polo, white with thin lines of black-yellow-red-blue. A large green jacket, unzipped with a grid pattern on the inside, swallows him whole.
“Took you long enough,” he says, fingers fiddling with the zipper of his jacket, voice soft in the bustling arcade— for his ears only.
“She was practically trying to attach a baby monitor to me, barely made it out,” Mike breathes. “We should start before she changes her mind and rushes in to swaddle me.”
Will snickers, wrapping a hand around Mike’s wrist, a mirror of his mom, but softer; fingers curling gently against his pulse point. He tugs him, dragging Mike over to Dragon’s Lair. The others scurry, pushing and shoving each other on the way over. Dustin rams Lucas aside, scrambling to shove his quarters into the slot first.
“Dude!” Lucas exclaims.
Dustin swivels, index finger pointed, jabbing it forward at Lucas’ face, brows raised. “I said Princess Daphne would become mine today, Lucas, and I meant it.”
Lucas holds his hands up in surrender and backs off. Dustin hunches over the machine, eyes locked on the screen with a frightening intensity, already white-knuckling the joystick. Mike crowds closer, peering through the gap between Dustin and Will.
Ten minutes in and they’ve reached the longest Dustin has gone without dying.
“To slay the dragon, use the magic sword!” Princess Daphne croons, dark lashes fluttering seductively through the screen.
“Oh, Jesus!” Dustin stresses, hovering his hands over the controls as he awaits the next quick time event. “I’m in uncharted territory here, guys.”
Will’s hand braces on the edge of the machine, and he leans in closer, brushing arms with Mike in the process. And—
“Down!” Lucas urges. “Down! Down!”
“I’m going! I’m going!”
Onscreen, Dirk the Daring is ducked behind a pillar, left— he rushes toward the magic sword. Right— behind another pillar. Up.
Grinning, Dustin continues his chanting. “I’m going! I’m going! I’m going!”
The rest of them clamor, all yelling separate things. “Watch the fire!”
“Okay. Shut up.” Dustin hushes them. “Shut up. Shut up!”
Sword.
Dustin mashes the button repeatedly, the plastic clicking under his fingers. “No, no—” The knight turns into a skeleton, the bones crumbling down. Dustin slams his hand on the machine. “No! I hate this overpriced bullshit!” He kicks the thing. Coins rattle from within. The quarters of several kids who also believed they could get that damn sword. “Son of a bitch! Piece of shit!”
“You’re not nimble enough.” Lucas pats Dustin on the shoulder, a faux sympathetic look in his eyes. “But you’ll get there one day.” He grins slyly, pointing to the screen, where Princess Daphne stares back. “But until then, Princess Daphne is still mine.”
“Whatever.” Dustin huffs, shrugging Lucas off. “I’m still tops on Centipede and Dig Dug.”
“You sure about that?”
Dustin’s eyes blow wide open. “Sure about what…?” He turns ever so slowly, eyes dragging over towards Keith. “You’re kidding me.” Keith shrugs, shoving a cheeto into his mouth. “No, no, no…” Dustin jumps into action— shoving his way past Will, pushing through the crowd, shoving children aside in his haste. Mike chases after the other three, trailing slightly behind. “Move! Move!” He looks at Centipede. “No, no, no, no, no.” Dig Dug. “No!”
“Seven-hundred-and-fifty-one thousand, three-hundred points?” Will says in disbelief, peeking around Dustin. Mike leans against Dustin’s other side to get a better view, elbow rested on his shoulder.
Mike gapes at the screen. “That’s impossible.”
“Who is Mad Max?” Dustin spins toward Keith, pointing at the leaderboard.
Keith crunches on another obscenely neon orange cheeto puff, the powder staining his fingers. “Better than you.”
Dustin flips him the bird.
“Is it you?” Will gestures to the teenager.
Scoff. “You know I despise Dig Dug.”
“Then who is it?” Lucas says.
“Yeah, spill it, Keith.” Dustin crosses his arms.
“You want information?” Keith slowly turns his head to look at Mike, who scrunches in on himself under the attention. “Then I need something in return.”
Mike blinks. Looking over at his friends— at Keith— his friends— Keith. Oh. Oh, fuck no. Mike gapes, the others turn to look at him. “No, no, no.” Keith grins at him, face smarmy. “No way. You’re not getting a date with her.”
“Mike, come on.” Lucas sighs. “Just get him the date.”
He reels back, cheeks burning. “I’m not prostituting my sister!”
“But it’s for a good cause.”
“No,” Dustin scoffs. “No, don’t get him the date. Know what? He’s gonna spread his nastyass rash to your whole family.”
“Acne isn’t a rash and it isn’t contagious, you prepubescent wastoid.”
“Oh, I’m a wastoid?” Dustin sneers. “She wouldn’t go on a date with you. You make, like, what? Two fifty dollars an hour?”
“Nice perm.”
“Gonna make fun of my hair?”
“Oh, is that what’s on your head—”
Something is wrong.
Dustin looks about ready to launch himself onto Keith. “Oh, screw you!”
The back of Mike’s neck prickles.
It’s cold.
He snaps to attention, head on a swivel, and white flakes flutter past the window. Huh. Mike furrows his brow, twisting his whole body to walk closer. “Hey, guys?” He calls over his shoulder. It’s quiet. Maybe they’re watching the snow, too. “Guys, do you see the—” He finally glances back.
Will, Dustin, Lucas— even that fuckass creep Keith, they’re all gone. Every child, every teen, every bored parent. Mike swallows, clenching his hands into clammy fists.
Mike hunches in on himself, peeking around arcade machines. “Guys? This isn’t— this really isn’t funny—”
A crash of thunder. He turns, stiff. Red illuminates the inside of the arcade. Rotten vines slither across the floor, glistening under the lightning. His vision wavers, unfocused for a moment. Not again. A shaky inhale, Mike turns. That isn’t snow. It’s not snowing. Magnetized, Mike ambles forward. His mouth sits slack, hanging open as he pushes the door ajar. It’s not snowing. Mike stares into the sky. Something squirms in the back of his mind, an urge, a presence. It wants death. It wants him. The Palace Arcade sign flickers, spinning sluggishly. It’s freezing outside. He… isn’t scared.
Crash. Red.
Mike stares into the sky.
Crash. Red.
Mike stares. He can’t move his legs any further and he isn’t scared.
Crash.
“Mike?”
Feeling crumbles in all at once, crushing terror that hits so hard it leaves him dizzy. He draws back, stumbling closer to the entrance, his shoulders jumping to his ears. Mike clenches his fists, blinking to wet his dry eyes. When did he leave the arcade? His fingertips tingle in the cold. A warm hand settles on his upper arm; a lifeline. Mike leans into it before he knows the owner.
Hazel eyes and a blunt bowl cut. “Mike…? Are you okay?”
Gaze flicking down, lingering on pink lips that pull into a frown when he doesn’t respond. “Uh…” A short, staccato shake of his head does little to rattle his brain back into place. “Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m…” He turns away from Will and looks into the sky. It’s clear. No lightning nor thunder nor snow. It’s quiet, a silence broken only by the chirp-chirp-chirp of crickets awaiting the first frost. Will squeezes Mike’s arm. He blinks. “I’m okay.”
“…Okay.” Will reluctantly accepts the lie, nose wrinkling up, and he tugs slightly at Mike’s arm. “I’m about to have my turn on Dig Dug, c’mon. I want you to watch.”
Mike can’t tear his eyes from the sky, even as Will drags him back inside.