Chapter Text
Michael Wheeler was the epitome of a procrastinator. His work was due in straight after the spring break, and so far, nothing was written for his coursework apart from his name scripted at the top of the document.
He sat in economy, neck pillow supporting his drooping head as he nearly snapped the pencil in his hand from sheer frustration. It’s hard to write a story about something that interests you, five thousand words, by the way, when nothing about your life is worth writing about.
So that was his predicament. A flight to California with his parents and two sisters, stuck in the middle seat while his father sat in the aisle seat. But this was super problematic because Ted Wheeler was partial to have a nap that makes it seem like he’s died in his seat, meaning it was impossible to get past him, if in the situation that Mike may need to piss.
Just a couple hours, he thought. I can get something done.
DAY ONE:
Mike sat there for most of the flight doing nothing than listening to music and complaining to his sister Nancy, sat beside him next to the plane window, that her knee was entering the very short confines of ‘his personal space.’ Nancy would simply reply, “get a grip, Mike,” and then push that knee further into his space. He gritted his teeth when she stole his armrest, and used his tray table because she was actually on track with her journalism work and needed extra space for all of her coursework papers to sit while she worked.
For two siblings that would rather jump off of a very high cliff than admit that they were similar to one another, Mike Wheeler and Nancy Wheeler had the same attention to detail, a tendency to bring their anger out on others, and similar taste in careers. While Nancy opted for journalism and articles; the truth, Mike preferred - and had a talent for - storytelling; a fantasy. Or at least he did when he wasn’t being such a huge procrastinator.
He found comfort in escaping his normal, mundane life for something more exciting, writing his characters so far from his persona in the hopes that he could pretend he were someone else, living a free, exhilarating lifestyle. One that someone couldn’t take away from him.
Because nothing slightly interesting ever happened to Michael Wheeler. Not with his family that sprouted from convenience, not love. What expectations on life was he supposed to have, when he could only imagine what love looked like, felt like.
Which is why he sat on that plane, in the middle of his dad and Nancy, holding his pad of paper and pencil, wishing it would magically create the best five thousand word adventure that his professor had ever seen. It was highly unrealistic, he was aware. However, he held onto the possibility that the hotel in sunny California would give him inspiration. Much more than Hawkins, Indiana at least. A beach with a wonderful ocean, beautiful scenery. Or so he’d been told by his mom, Karen, who was sat just in front of them, and next to her was Mike’s little sister Holly, a blonde nine year old who looked nothing like Mike and Nancy.
Groaning, and getting an annoyed glare from Nancy, who shoved her headphones further into her ears, Mike shuffled in his seat and gripped his pencil harder and stared at the blank piece of paper that he’d assigned as his notes page.
Mike would need a miracle for this story to come alive. He just needed inspiration; a muse, perhaps. Someone or something to remind him of what feeling alive can be. But where on earth would he find that? Maybe he he’ll just end up writing about a rock on the beach, milk five thousand words on the way that the rock had a small crack in it, because that was likely what it would have to come to.
Just a couple more hours, he thought again. Then you’ll find it. The one thing you need.
This was proven more difficult than he originally thought, because he wasn’t off to a very good start. With the California airport being as bland as dusty pop tarts, and Nancy annoyingly showing off to Mike that she had inspiration and he didn’t, there was a good chance that Mike was utterly screwed. He’d done absolutely nothing on the plane.
A few hours later, the Wheeler family checked into their hotel and Mike immediately flopped onto the bed in the room that he’d claimed as soon as they’d arrived.
“Michael?” His mom called out to him as she walked into the room. “Could you bring your luggage in please?”
Mike rubbed his eyes quickly, stood up and grabbed his suitcase and rucksack, practically throwing both onto the bed. Holly ran through the hotel room, jumping on each of the beds much to his dad’s annoyance. Ted placed his bag on the floor and immediately got to work on setting up the tv.
The room became loud and chaos soon after that, Holly messing up every bed with her playful jumping, Nancy dropping paper everywhere and then cursing; his mom scolding her for that cursing, and the frantic assembling of all of their luggage. Mike just sat on the couch, phone in hand with an empty notes page, desperately trying to come up with a concept of an idea to help him finally begin his project that was due in… a week’s time.
Fantastic.
While his dad was doing nothing to help, Holly causing the room to shake, Karen was desperately trying to sort out bags and where to put them, and how they definitely didn’t bring enough clothes, but Mike knew for a fact that she’d almost packed all of everybody’s closets. He wanted nothing more than to just have an idea. Just a small one. His imagination could do the rest, no problem, but just a hint, a clue at something worth writing about.
There was always the scenery of California. But that’s always going to be too bland. Especially as Mike deemed writing about the look of trees for five thousand words was extremely lazy. How on earth can you make light reflection drone on interestingly for that long. Ding ding, you can’t. He looked at the paper with disdain.
His thoughts were interrupted when Nancy sat beside him on the sofa having shuffled all of her papers into a neat pile, and putting them onto the coffee table in front of them.
“Struggling?” She asked almost mockingly. Mike turned and dropped his notebook and pencil onto the table.
“What do you think, Nancy?” He grumbled. A pause. “Surely it can’t be this hard.” He said as he placed his face in his hands, pulling down on his eyes.
“It’s not hard.” Nancy simply stated.
“Shut up.”
“You just need something to set you off, Mike.” She prompted, and Mike looked up and rolled his eyes. He stood, grabbing his stationary and heading to move to his newly designated room.
“You don’t think I know that? What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past few weeks?”
Nancy slightly gaped, eyebrows furrowing. “You were assigned this task weeks ago, and you still haven’t come up with a small idea?”
Mike turned, annoyance building. “It’s not just a small idea, Nance. This grade is important to me!” Nancy shrugged.
“Then write something that’s important to you.” She said matter-of-factly, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. It was incredibly easy for the Wheeler siblings to practically have steam coming out of their ears, with their short fuse, no matter how hard they tried to contain it. Mike especially. He’d been teased by Nancy a lot when they were younger, calling him “dramatic,” to try and get a rise out of him. Funnily enough, it always worked.
“It’s really not that easy. I mean, come on. What’s there to write about in our life? We’re an upper middle class family who’ve never gone through any trauma. We’re not interesting.”
“Interesting things happen, Mike. You just won’t be expecting them.”
“Words of wisdom.” He deadpanned, and she just smirked. Nancy got to her feet and reached him, ruffling his hair even though he had so much height on her.
“Come on, drama queen. Mom wants to go to the beach.” Mike grimaced at the nickname, pushing Nancy’s mocking hand away from his hair and flattening it out. She just laughed. “You need to cheer up. Hey, maybe a bit of sun would help you! You’re so pale.”
“Nancy,” he gritted out, already provoked. “You’re literally as pale as me. We’re the same.”
“And you’re delusional. You should write a story about a vampire since you are one.”
“Shut up,” he said while moving towards his room, flipping her off and then quickly letting it drop as Karen practically flew through the room with Holly at hand. “You’d be a goblin.”
“Harsh.” She said, but she was smiling, and Mike knew that she wasn’t offended for some reason. I want the last laugh, he thought, irritated.
“Also, mythical creatures don’t exist.” He continued. Nancy looked up at him with amusement.
“You never know,” she replied offhandedly. “But Mike, you don’t need them to be real to write about them.”
“I like to be able to pull out some facts into my writing.”
“I’ve read some of your work, Mike. Your imagination is what fuels it. Don’t be like me and rely on facts, it’s not the same.” Mike paused momentarily, before huffing and leaving to change into his trunks. Nancy chuckled and called after him. “You know I’m right!”
“Shut it.” Was the cutting response.
Why did she have to be right?
Half an hour later, when they finally walked downstairs with beach bags in hand, swim suits on, and were ‘beach ready,’ Karen got directions and the whole family walked along the stone paths down to the sand, Karen commenting on the fact that everybody - and she pointedly looked at mike when she said this - needed to lather themselves in sunscreen before even thinking about sitting down. Nancy laughed again, as if she wasn’t literally the same skin tone as him.
Once his lanky body was covered from head to toe, Mike sat on a towel that he’d laid out prior and he stared at the deep blue ocean who’s waves continuously crashed soundly into the rocks. Though Mike was not an author who focussed on the overused techniques of description and preferred action, even he could admit that the reflection of the sun rays onto the crisp blue was beautiful. Holly pointed out that it had made a rainbow.
All the other sounds were droned out by the sound of the ocean in Mike’s head. It wasn’t like Hawkins in the slightest. Not like the ice cold lake at the bottom of the quarry. No, this one was different. Warm, comforting, and didn’t have the feeling of eeriness that the lake was constantly surrounded by. He whipped out is pencil and paper and simply wrote, ‘ocean,’ on the page.
It’s a start. Better than a blank page.
He ended up having a dip in the sea with Holly whilst his mom was sunbathing, reading a book that she’s been putting off for a year because apparently, according to her, vacation is always the best place to read. Mike didn’t understand why she couldn’t have just read that one before and bring another with her. His dad was snoozing off in the deck chair, a slight distance from Karen. Nancy was scribbling for a short while before rising and joining the other two in the ocean, squealing when she touched the water.
“Shit - It’s freezing!” She exclaimed while Holly laughed. She’d already ducked her head under the small waves and was then complaining that it was too salty.
“It’s the ocean, Holly. You can’t avoid the salt!”
“Why don’t they make an ocean without salt?” She whined, splashing about gently. Mike sat down in the water as they were in the most shallow area and let himself float, getting his hair wet.
“Because, Holly,” Nancy started. “Salt creates the density need for buoyancy.” Holly stared, mouth curving into a frown.
“What does that mea-“ Mike resurfaced quickly, wiping excess saltwater from his eyes.
“It keeps the fishies alive, Hols.” He said, and Nancy rolled her eyes as Holly gasped with recognition. Nancy dropped to the ocean bed as well, and dipped her head under the water.
“Ohh, okay!” Beamed Holly, diving head first further into the water towards a set of rock.
When she had left, Nancy came back up and smirked at Mike. “You know, for someone who’s imagination is endless, hearing you dumb down a sentence for our little sister is very funny.” She teased. She tied up her curly mass of hair into a ponytail at the back of her head. Mike scoffed.
“As if she’s gonna understand something so complex like science.” He replied sarcastically, starting to feel the chilliness of the water catching up to his skin. He rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms in attempt to warm himself.
“Are you cold?” Nancy asked, peering at him through her dripping eyelashes.
“Yeah, a little.”
“Go dry off in a towel then.”
“Can’t.” He admitted. “Mom told me to watch Holly.”
Like on cue, Nancy turned her head to rest on Holly, who was climbing near the same rocks Mike had noticed earlier. The cool blue waves broke onto them, spraying Holly with sea foam.
“I’ll watch her. Go write something.”
Mike groaned, sending her a glare. “Why are you reminding me?”
“Because then you’ll finally get it done.” And with that, he clambered out of the water, shaking his arms when walking on the sand and heading back to his parents looking like a wet dog.
It was around five o’clock in the evening when they decided to head back to the hotel. Karen was content with her seven hours scouring the beach and the sunny small town alongside where the family got ice cream and bought some souvenirs. Mike only bought something for Dustin, Lucas and Max. Nancy bought a fancy pen, and Holly insisted that she had to buy a present for everyone in her class, otherwise at least one person would think she hated their guts.
Her words exactly.
They packed up their towels, deck chairs and de-sanded everything, when Nancy turned to Mike.
“Holly thinks she lost her figurine of Holly the heroic in the water.”
Mike cringed. “Uh oh.” He looked to his blonde haired little sister who was sulking to their mom, towel wrapped around her head. He suddenly had an idea that might benefit himself and Holly.
“Hey, mom?”
Karen turned, sunglasses lifted from her eyes to her forehead and nodded expectantly. “Yes, Michael?”
“Do you think I could stay behind for a little while? I’ll look for Holly’s figure, it can’t be far.” He asked, and he stopped walking in the sand. Holly’s blue eyes brightened considerably, before Karen looked to Ted for him to assist with an answer, but he just shrugged with a useless “I don’t know.”
Karen breathed out a sigh, but couldn’t ignore the buzzing of Holly who immediately ran to Mike and embraced his middle. Mike puffed out a laugh, and looked at his mom, raising his eyebrows.
“Okay, fine. But please be back by six, alright? In time for dinner.”
“Sounds good.” Mike complied, smiling briefly at Holly’s figure as she pulled away from her strong hug. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”
The rest of them said their goodbyes, and Mike clutched his still empty notebook in his hand, the bitten pencil wedged in the spine. Maybe while searching for the figure, he’d finally gain somewhat of an idea of what to base his idea on. Inspiration.
Time is running out Mike. One week remaining.
His family stalked off round the corner, and he immediately sped over to where the sand seemed to be engulfed by the frothy foam of the sea. The bubbles were a light pink and he looked up to see the sun being at it’s lowest point before sundown; the ocean looking like it had caught fire. Mike skirted around the water to find a pathway of rocks leading to the cluster that Holly earlier swam to, balancing with his hands on a particularly jagged bunch.
Mike focussed on successfully making his way to a small cove, hidden by those dark rocks, the sea gently crashing at the base, spraying his feet as he stepped past. When he stood on a flat-ish boulder, a little higher than the rest of them, he stopped without thinking. The sky was streaked with orange and pink, reflecting beautifully in the water, and threading in between the stones.
Again, how much can you write about the sky without it sounding repetitive?
He searched around the edges of the rocks for a small figurine of Holly, but the small waves still skirted around him, making it impossible to imagine that it was still around. He ran a hand through his dark, sea-waved hair and sat on the larger rock, eyes scanning the surroundings in desperate hope that it was still lurking somewhere. But he knew that it was lost. There was absolutely no way that it was saved by the ocean.
Staring at the cutting water, the waves slowing after it collided with the rocks was intriguing. So free. Mysterious, like it held years worth of secrets in it’s grasp. So blue. Such a beautiful mixture of blue hues, too, Mike thought. He pulled his long legs together.
He balanced his notebook on his knees loosely as he watched the sky change colours. It was fascinating, really. Back in Hawkins, the sky was dark at around four o’clock and it went straight to pitch black. He trained his eyes upon his notebook, as if a story would conjure itself out of thin air.
And then, there was a sound. Behind the rocks.
Mike stilled, pencil hovering just above the page with a singular word etched onto it. He didn’t turn straight away, in hopes that it would vanish and he could continue thinking, but it came again. A small something. A pebble, maybe?
Someone was there.
He turned slowly, cautiously. He didn’t remember seeing anyone else hovering around the rocks earlier. Perhaps he’d been so caught up in looking for Holly the Heroic that someone managed to slip past him without him realising. The thought made him uneasy.
“Hello?” He called, scanning the rocks individually. But nothing.
He hesitated, then stood, and stepped closer to where the noise seemed to be coming from, peering around a large grey rock.
But that was when the notebook and pencil both slipped from his grasp. They skidded off of the rocks, bouncing off of that suspiciously shaped grey rock and disappeared into the large body of water beneath his feet.
“Shit-“ Mike breathed, and he scrambled across the path of stones where the water had slightly risen, and crouched down towards the rock, heart already racing, reaching down towards where it had fallen-
But it wasn’t there.
A pained groan erupted from Mike, hand swishing in the water quickly before his fingertips managed to skim the rough edges. He tried to pull it out.
Instead, a hand darted out from the dark water. It grabbed the notebook and yanked it down hard, fast enough that the water splashed against Mike’s flip flops.
Mike jolted backwards as if hit with an electric shock, nearly losing his footing as he stumbled. His pulse roared loudly in his ears.
“Hey-“ He started, and then stopped himself, hating himself for his lack of thought before speaking. This could have been dangerous if handled without caution. “I’m not- I just want my notebook.” He said, lifting his hands up slowly. “Please?” He added on simply for good measure.
The hand disappeared.
There’s a sound of water changing direction, and this time, the noise came from behind a separate rock. “Please don’t,” a voice said, tight and pitched too high. “Just- don’t come any closer.”
Mike froze, face melting into a look of pure fear. “Okay,” he said quickly. “I won’t.”
What kind of sick joke was this? Was a kid playing tricks on him, having seen him all alone watching the sunset prior? Was he hearing things? No, definitely not…
Several seconds passed with nothing except the soft waves breaking around him. The ocean hissed and pulled at the rocks and the sunset deepened to a reddish hue.
Slowly, a face poked it’s head out from behind the rock. Mike held himself from jumping at the sight. Dark hair plastered to a boy’s forehead, eyes- hazel, Mike noted- were wide and alert. Surely Mike, who was on the verge of shitting himself, would be more scared than this boy. He tracked every inch of Mike’s posture, as if sizing him up.
Mike peered around the rock slightly, hoping to understand what the hell was going on, and saw the boy’s shoulders, the rest of his body covered by the blanket of water.
Shirtless.
“I just dropped my notebook,” Mike said, softer than before. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.” The boy swallowed, lifting the notebook up to break through the surface of the water, glancing at it, and then at Mike. It looked as thought he was trying to figure out whether or not it was a trap. Fair enough. Mike wouldn’t trust a lanky, pale, lonely, flip flop-wearing beanpole anymore than this guy would .
“It’s… It’s blank,” Mike added sheepishly, not sure why. “There’s practically nothing in it.”
The boy’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Then why is it so important to you?”
His voice was deeper than it was in it’s panicked state, level, and calmer.
“It’s for a piece of schoolwork-“ he paused. Why does this guy, hidden partly under the murky water need to know his life story? “It just is.” He finished, mouth straightening into a line.
“I didn’t mean to drop it, you know?” He continued, unaware why he was still speaking. “I was just, um, watching the sunset.”
The boy flicked his gaze briefly towards the horizon, where the sun was almost gone.
Shit, he needed to get home.
“I was looking for a small blonde figurine in the water. It’s my sisters.” Okay at that point he was mentally face-palming himself. Actually shut the fuck up, Mike.
There’s silence, and then a ripple, and as well as Mike’s notebook, Holly’s familiar figure was lifted out of the water by a tanned hand, placed down on the rock right beside Mike. He gaped in return.
“You found it! Oh- Wow. Thanks!” Mike hurried. If Mike really had zeroed in on this boy- which, no he didn’t, of course- he would have noticed his eyes to brighten slightly, and eyebrows relax. He breathed out quickly. “I was looking for it-“
The boy’s face stayed still. “Yeah, you said.”
“Yeah, sorry.” Mike felt his cheeks warm considerably. He bent down quickly, and scooped up the figure and his shrivelled notebook water leaking out of the ruined pages and the pencil long forgotten in the dark depths of the sea. Whilst inspecting it, it seemed like he was also being inspected by this boy - who, by the fucking way, was just chilling in the water, no family in sight. “How did you, um, find this? It was long gone.” He asked, holding Holly the heroic in front of his eyes.
The brunette - not cold apparently - raised his eyebrows as if caught out. Eventually he shrugged lightly, water moving around him at the movement. “Just did.”
Okay, not ominous at all.
The sun was setting fast, sunset fading and leaving a dull murk over the ocean. Mike checked his watch. 17:54. Shit. Glancing at the boy, who looked as though he’d rather be in any other predicament than what he was currently entangling in, Mike furrowed his eyebrows, forehead creasing.
“Don’t you need to, I don’t know, get out? It’s freezing in there.”
The boy just stared, droplets falling down his face. Admittedly, a very handsome face, but was that the point? He moved away from the rocks, edging to the deeper are of the sea, water constantly getting darker as he drifted. “Leave.” He warned, dangerous so, and Mike froze.
“What?” He whispered, voice cracking. He didn’t understand.
“Please.” Came the voice, who now sounded scared. “Forget you saw me.” And Mike felt his pulse spike.
Water crowded at the sea-covered boy’s mouth, as he continued to wade further out. Mike called out, head spinning uncontrollable.
Was he witnessing a fucking suicide?!
“Are you- Are you in trouble or something?!” He stressed, moving closer to the edge of the rocks, flip flops splashed with smooth waves. “Can I help you?”
“Just leave.”
“But-“ But the water bobbed, and he was gone, the only thing left to see in the blackish water; a shimmer of yellow beneath the surface, and a flash of gold surfacing before nothing.
However it caught Mike’s watchful eyes, and they widened dramatically. Mike had never been someone who figured things out immediately, always waiting for a realisation to dawn on him, or just let somebody tell him. But this-
This was something else. Whoever, or whatever this boy was, and whatever he had to hide engraved itself into Mike’s mind.
Who are you? He asked, into the abyss that was the ocean. And what in the world are you?
But he knew then that one thing was finally confirmed for him. He was put out of his misery. He had found his inspiration. In a boy who’s eyes were deep with fear, cautiousness, and terror at the threat of being uncovered for who he really was. Who’s skin wasn’t shrivelled, no matter having spent hours in the water, and who was one slip up away from Mike knowing exactly who he was.
And as Mike walked away, quickly, in order to hurry back to the hotel, that very same boy hovered near the rocks again, wondering how he had been so careless.
And why it didn’t seem so bad that one person - that dark haired boy, who was obviously not from California - may find out about him.
Because for some odd reason, Will trusted him. Trusted a babbling beanpole.
This is dangerous, he thought as he watched Mike saunter down the beach.
Will would be returning to the surface again, that much was clear. But was Mike so intrigued?
And why did a small part of him - the part that wanted nothing more than to tell somebody - hope that he was?