(A STRANGER THINGS BYLER FANFICTION - for more chapters, check the studio below) “Ow!” A five-year old Mike Wheeler exclaimed. His mother, Karen, was dragging a brush through his rough curls. “Jesus, Michael, do you ever brush your hair?” She said, a note of distaste in her voice while she was working the brush as gently as she could across the knotted strands. Every time the brush ran through a curly tangle, Mike made a dramatic show of jerking his head back and crying out as if she grabbed a fistful of his hair and tried to yank it out. “Michael, if you don’t stop and let me brush these atrocious tangles out, I swear to god-” “But Mom!” He whined “You’re about to start your first day of kindergarten, don’t you want to look nice? Or at least like you didn’t just crawl out from a garbage can?” Mike harrumphed but set his neck straight, allowing his mother to get his hair as close to smooth as it was going to be. He made a show of being resistant, but he was actually excited to get out of the house. There weren’t any kids in the houses surrounding his, and his parents were too busy to take him out somewhere he could meet others. But now, he was going to be surrounded by people his own age every day. As soon as his mother finally finished running the brush through his now fluffy hair, he bounded away up the stairs. “No running in the house!” Mike’s father, Ted, yelled half-heartedly from his La-Z-Boy chair, his eyes fixed on the crackling television. Mike ignored him, sprinting off to his room. Mike’s room was not like that of a normal 5-year old’s, but he had no idea of this. About a year and a half ago, he found these old D&D books at a Goodwill, and quickly fell in love with the game. He read them all front to back multiple times (although, being a kid his age, he tended to focus more on the pictures) and the game rapidly became a large part of his identity. Whereas a normal kid might have superhero action figures or comic books or posters from their favorite movie, Mike had little D&D figurines, various monsters, sets of dice, rule books, and posters depicting dragons and goblins and ogres. His parents didn’t understand his obsession with the game, seeing as he’d never actually played it before. He didn’t have any friends and Nancy was busy with her own schoolwork, but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to find like-minded people at school today and finally create a party. Mike grabbed the shirt he laid out on his dresser the previous night. It was a depiction of the D&D logo, the ‘&’ symbol with the fire-breathing dragon, only this one looked realistic; a dragon covered in glistening red scales, its body curled to create an ‘&’ symbol, the jaws wide with fire shooting out and covering the grass and trees below. It was his favorite shirt, and a perfect ice-breaker for the other kids in his class. He threw it over his head and put on a pair of simple jeans that were too long for him, the cuffs rolled up until they hung just over his ankles. He quickly zipped up his new bookbag, which was a plain dark blue, but he planned to adorn it with pins and keychains later in the year. Bounding down the stairs, Mike met his mom at the front door. He would ride the bus for the rest of the year, but for the first day, she planned to drive him in. He was a bundle of energy now, impatiently running out the door and standing by the locked car as his mom made her way slowly over. The truth is, she was walking at a normal pace, but to little Mike in this moment, she might as well have been tiptoeing at negative miles per hour. In a small town like Hawkins, everything was close by. The drive was about 5 minutes, but the seconds ticked by slowly. At first, he had begged his mom to let him ride his bike to school, but she shut that idea down quickly. She was a protective mother, which got on Mike’s nerves, but it was in his best interest. A kid like Mike, rambunctious and unruly, would definitely forget to look both ways and end up getting hit by a car. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Mike, they pulled into the school. It was a simple, unimpressive building made of tan bricks, but it wasn’t the building he cared about. Mike’s gaze wandered to the groups of kids standing outside, scattered about the lawn. Mike quickly shot up out of his seat, throwing the door open, but his mom exited the car as well, grabbing his arm. She turned him to look into his eyes. “Listen to me, you be good, okay? Don’t get into any trouble. Have fun though. And be good!” She gave him the patented Mom speech, holding the sides of his face and forcing him to look at her. Mike noticed that she was a little misty-eyed. “Okay, okay-” He said, his cheeks reddening as he noticed a few fourth-graders snickering in his direction. “I love you!” She said, kissing his forehead loudly. “Mom!” He whined, swatting at her hands.
“Okay, leaving now,” she said, putting her hands up like she was being arrested. She backed away slowly as she watched Mike run off, tears stinging her eyes. Mike sprinted off towards the front of the school, his eyes scanning the kids scattered about. There were a lot of older kids here, all the way up to fifth grade, so it took some searching to find a group that looked like fellow kindergarteners. He put on a friendly smile and walked up to a group of two boys and one girl, introducing himself, “Hi! My name’s Michael. Do you wanna be friends?” The girl made a disgusted look, “Ugh! What’s that on your shirt?” Mike took no notice of it. “A dragon! Cool, isn’t it? It’s from D&D!” He pulled the bottom away from himself to admire it. “It’s disgusting!” The girl exclaimed. “My dad said people who play that game worship the devil.” One of the boys spat, side-eyeing Mike with a sly grin. “No..” He said, a little confused, “It’s just a roleplaying game. You get to play a character and fight monsters and you get cool weapons, and-” The other boy, his attention caught by someone else, turned away and exclaimed, “Sam! Hi!” The group of kids all turned and ran off toward their other friend, leaving Mike alone, his ego a little bruised. He had expected a friendly welcome and a plethora of potential friends, just like he would’ve been if someone came up to him. He didn’t expect to be outright ignored. He tried the same tactic again, and again got the same results: Weird looks and snide comments. In Mike's eyes, he truly believed he would be alone forever; that he was fundamentally unlikable and would be a pariah for the rest of his life. Of course, he couldn’t put his feelings into these words just yet, but he would come to understand them better later in his life. The bell rang and he saw everybody migrate to the doors. 'Maybe the people in my class will be nicer..' He thought, but with little hope. Mike pulled a small, slightly crumpled slip of paper out of his pocket. Mrs. Johnson, room 143, it read, written with a sharpie in his mother’s handwriting. He managed to find his way to the classroom with the help of a few teachers, right before the tardy bell rang. The classroom was covered with bright colors from wall to wall, and the tables looked as if they were paint-stained from years of old art projects. There were some kids’ drawings and paintings lining the walls, as well as some inspirational posters, but they did little to help Mike’s self esteem right now. The majority of the class was already sitting down, chatting amongst themselves excitedly. He scanned the room, looking for a seat that wasn’t near anybody he already embarrassed himself in front of. He noticed a boy in the back of the room, with a bowl cut and a distant look on his face. Mike felt an urge to talk to him but his table was already full. Eventually, he made his way to a free spot in the front before it was taken as well. He didn’t say anything to the people sitting near him though, for fear of being rejected again. Class was much of the same mockery he received outside. During an icebreaker game, Mrs. Johnson had asked what the class’s favorite animal was. Mike responded excitedly with “A dragon!” and was met with stifled laughter and a pitying look from the teacher. They were told to get into groups for a game and Mike watched as everybody migrated towards their friends as he just stood there, looking lost until the teacher placed him somewhere. He was laughed at by his tablemates for drawing his D&D character, Sir Mike, instead of doing a regular self portrait. All in all, by recess, he knew that he would not enjoy school. When the midday bell rang, the other kids all ran out eagerly, meeting with their friends on the playground. Mike, however, found a tree to sit under and wallow. In the relative privacy of the shade, he could feel the tears he’d been stifling all day threatening to spill. He tried to shove them back; he wasn’t about to cry in front of all the kids who just made fun of him. He wasn’t going to give them more material to use against him. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, when he saw him. On the swing set, there was a boy. The shy-looking boy from the back of the class, he noticed. He looked shorter than the other kids, his toes just barely touching the mulch beneath, with a silly-looking bowl cut and a yellow sweater that seemed to swallow him whole, covering the palms of his hand. Mike saw that he was scribbling into a sketchbook. He looked different; nicer, maybe? And shy. But most importantly, he was alone. He looked sad and lonely, and, Mike being Mike, he wasn’t about to let that slide. He swallowed his tears and marched over with as much confidence as he could muster, avoiding eye contact. The boy eyed him nervously. “Hi. I, um..” Mike started fidgeting with his hands, “I saw that you were alone and I was wondering if you, maybe, wanted to be friends?”
