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January 1986
Mike sighs, leaning against the cool tile of the school’s nasty bathroom. It had officially been three sessions missed. Three weeks of skipping Hellfire. He’d surely get kicked out - it didn’t matter how good he was at role-playing or making decisions or his character’s stats - because Eddie had a strict three-strike system. And he couldn’t even pretend he’d been sick or visiting his Nana (who was really on her deathbed this time after three years of using her as a shitty excuse) because he’d continuously sat at the Freak table with the others, making up lame reasons why he couldn’t attend the last two.
“Make sure you make it tonight, Wheeler,” Eddie wagged his finger after sitting back at his seat. “Two strikes already, and it’s only January.”
Hell, it was only January, and Mike was ready for the summer. To be completely honest, he was dreading spring break. He’d been a dick. He hadn’t even signed a single letter to El ‘Love, Mike’ and now it was far too late to suddenly start doing it. And whenever he tried to call Will, Joyce was on the phone, doing her new telemarketer job. God, he wished Will had a walkie.
It had been a hot moment since he’d called his best friend. He misses what they had, and he misses just playing D&D in his basement with him. He misses coming home from school and filling up his notebook with campaigns, complete with minute details nobody would notice. He hasn’t written a oneshot or a campaign since ‘83. Even in Hellfire, Steve had to speak to Eddie about the stuff he was and wasn’t allowed to include in the sessions as soon as the kids had come into his house after a flashback.
Anyway, his hands are shaking, balling the denim of his black jeans. He’s really trying to be like Eddie - he is, to be completely honest, kind of infatuated with him. Not in the way where Dustin just wants to follow him and be his best friend, but infatuated in the way where he just wants to be him. Eddie’s loud - he jumps on cafeteria tables for God’s sake, yelling out to the jocks who Lucas is quickly (and wrongly) befriending. Eddie’s confident - he doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks, he flirts with his guy friends and makes less than appropriate comments about Steve. Eddie’s himself - unapologetically Eddie, unapologetically loud and confident and everything that Mike wishes he has.
But, back to the point about Lucas and the jocks. The Party is fucking falling apart. Will and El are in California, having a blast of the time. El has, like, a thousand new friends and Will is getting a goddamn girlfriend. God, last year Mike was the one who accused him of not wanting to move on. Now he’s sat in a dirty bathroom stall, one hand smothering his shaky sobs. Dustin is spending all his time with Eddie or Steve, chatting about them non-stop on the rare occasion he’s pulled away from them. It’s so embarrassing (Mike just thinks Dustin wants a dad or a sibling - he does too). Max was taking herself away, barely talking to anyone. And Lucas… Lucas is the worst. He’s becoming a jock. Steve coached him at basketball last summer to take his mind off the overwhelming amount of trauma he has. And he was good. It makes Mike feel sick going to one of his games.
He is, undoubtedly, a horrible person, who does horrible things, and now the repercussions of his actions are coming back to kick him in the ass
—
Eddie roars at the end of the session. It kickstarts next week's intense battle with the king of the goblins. The entire club groans as Eddie kicks back, smirking. “And that's the end of the session, boys.”
Despite Dustin’s whining and Gareth’s pleading, Eddie refused to continue for today, making an over dramatic gesture of popping his back and saying that he had guitars to play and cats in the trailer park to feed. They all shuffle out of the drama classroom where Hellfire is held, murmuring curses against goddamned cats and theorising crazy conspiracies for what's around the corner of the campaign.
Although chaotic in every aspect, Eddie always takes the utmost care in packing his notes away. He’s always late out of the club, and today he’s told Gareth not to bother to wait for him. He has something else on his mind - Mike Wheeler.
Mini Wheeler was odd. He wasn’t overwhelmingly quiet or shy, but he wasn’t as energetic as Dustin was. His older sister was the school-famous Nancy Wheeler, who was always busy running the school newspaper, and Eddie knew that the two didn’t have the greatest relationship. They weren’t close, despite having some shared trauma that Steve alluded to during his lecture.
Eddie could tell the kid had a genuine love for D&D, always trying to sneak a peek at his new campaign notes, and the elder knew that all the new freshmen had been playing since they were very little with some other kid who Mike would never shut up about. And Eddie was not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’d noticed that Mini Wheeler was trying to grow his hair out - almost like Eddie’s, but wavy instead of curly, and much shorter and well-kempt.
But over the past month, Mike had been skipping sessions, sometimes even avoiding lunch. It was always some lame or vague excuse that nobody really believed, but Eddie always took the attention off the kid by climbing on the tables. Lucas and Dustin were bound to have noticed Mike’s slumped shoulders and distant look. In the quick talk Eddie had with the two, they’d just shrugged and talked about people named Will and El who Mini Wheeler was probably missing. Maybe he was, but Eddie was kinda disappointed the future DM of Hellfire was skipping sessions regularly.
Today he isn’t looking to confront the kid but more so plan what he’d say. Or, at least, that was what he was doing before he exited the classroom, bag slung over his shoulder with his notes still pristine, and nearly collided into mini Wheeler in all his glory.
“Wheeler,” He hummed, hand automatically reaching to tug the kid back by the strap of his backpack. “Where were you?”
He doesn’t mean for it to sound this harsh, but it just comes out like that. Mini Wheeler’s clearly been crying - he has puffy eyes and tear tracks down his pale cheeks as well as his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. The kid’s hands are clenched firmly against his side, eyes avoiding any contact with Eddie.
“Doing better things,” he huffs. It’s a flaw of Mike’s - snapping whenever he feels sad or hurt or overwhelmed or betrayed: any negative emotions really lead to a burning rage.
“Better things?” Eddie decides to humour the kid. “Like what?”
At the silence Eddie gets as a response, he scoffs. “Well, I hope they were really good ‘better things,’ because you missed the setup for next week’s big showdown. And trust me, it’s gonna be epic.”
Mike doesn’t respond, just stands there, staring at the floor like it's just murdered his entire family. Eddie sighs internally, running a hand through his unruly curls, his rings tugging at his locks. He’s never been great at the whole ‘serious conversation’ thing, but he can’t just let this go.
“Look, kid. I’m not mad at you for skipping sessions. I’m worried. We all are.” His hand comes to turn Mini Wheeler around. “You’ve been… off. Don’t worry, I get it, okay, life’s a bitch a lot of the time. Hellfire’s a club, yeah, but it’s also a family.” He winces at the absolute cringiness of the sentiment. “The club’s - like - about having a place to be yourself, no judgement, no bullshit. We’ve all got our crap to deal with, but when we’re in that room, we’re just a bunch of nerds having fun.”
Mike’s eyes lift up from the floor, glassy and long lashes sticking together as he looks at Eddie. There’s a hint of surprise, like he’s shocked that Eddie isn’t ripping him to shreds for having three strikes. He draws a breath in. “Cut to the chase, kick me out of the club. Three strikes, y’know.”
Defensiveness: Eddie recognises it in himself, when he was twelve, moving into his uncle Wayne’s house. He was a rowdy, loud kid, not used to kindness by any means. He was just waiting until he fucked up enough to either get the belt again or get kicked out. Needless to say, that time never came.
“I want to keep you in the club,” Eddie shrugs. And, yes, this is totally against the Munson Doctrine. Going back on his own rules? Basically making empty threats. But this kid is the definition of a lost sheep and it would be unfair to kick him out of the only club where he seems to ‘fit in’. (Hellfire isn’t about fitting in - it’s about standing out. But, the point still stands: Mini Wheeler needs somewhere to go.)
Mike’s shoulders loosen a fraction, but the wariness in his eyes doesn’t fade. “You don’t have to do that,” he mutters, almost like he’s daring Eddie to change his mind. “I know the rules.”
Eddie sighs, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. He’d made those rules for a reason—to keep order, to make sure everyone was committed. But rules could bend, especially when it came to the kind of stuff Mike seemed to be dealing with. “Look, Wheeler, I’m not saying the rules don’t matter - or, well, my rules - other really don’t matter,” that earns a small laugh from Mini Wheeler, “but, sometimes… Sometimes you gotta look at the bigger picture.”
Mike doesn’t question what that means, and it’s a relief because Eddie isn’t totally sure. He’s sprouting teacher bullshit at the kid, who thankfully just takes it. Good job at being a totally non-cliché mentor, Eddie.
“You can try to run all you want,” And, yep, he’s in hypocrite territory. “But, like- It doesn’t make it go away. You wanna tell me what's going on up there?” He taps Mini Wheeler’s temple lightly.
“I don’t know,” Mike mumbles. And this could be him being defensive and angry, but Eddie thinks he genuinely doesn't know what’s going on. He slides down, back against the wall, and Eddie joins him.
“That’s okay, yeah? And even if you don’t want to talk to me when you figure out what’s up, you can talk to Dustin, or Lucas. Or that Will kid you keep mentioning.”
Mike stiffens as soon as Will is mentioned. Eddie said something wrong. He backtracks, hand now on the kid’s shoulder.
“Uh, the overall view is: you’ve got people to talk to, okay? Dustin’s been pestering me about where you were today, and Lucas always makes sure you’re at lunch.” He pats Mike’s shoulder, then hauls himself up, hand outstretched to assist Wheeler.
He grips Eddie’s hand and gets up then dusts his jeans off. “Yeah. I get it.”
Eddie nods, relieved to see even a flicker of a smile on the kid’s face. “Anytime, Wheeler. And, hey, next week’s session is gonna be killer. You don’t want to miss it. I can - uh - catch you up, if you’re up to it? Tomorrow, after school?”
“Yeah,” Mike says, and this time there’s a bit more conviction in his voice. “I’ll be there.”
“Good,” Eddie replies, standing up and offering Mike a hand to pull him up. “And remember, if you ever need to talk - or just want to scream at the world for a bit - I’m here, ‘kay? God knows I could’ve used it when I was your age.”
Mike takes Eddie’s hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he mumbles, not so pathetic as he was at the start of the conversation, which Eddie takes as a massive win.
As they head out of the school together, Eddie can’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness for the kid. He knows Mike’s got a long road ahead of him, but he also knows that he doesn’t have to walk it alone. Not as long as Eddie Munson has anything to say about it.