𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫

✩ 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 [𝚙𝚝 𝚒𝚒] ~ 𝚖.𝚑. ✩

pairing: (dead)mike hanlon x (fem)reader

warnings: super angsty, au

word count: 2331

song preference: the night we met, lord huron

requested? [yes] [no]

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ᴡʜᴇɴ [ɴᴀᴍᴇ] ᴀᴡᴏᴋᴇ, ʜᴇʀ eyes didn't feel heavy anymore. Neither did her heart. She yawned and rolled over to check her nightstand, faintly remembering an odd dream where a glowing man told her she could see Mike again. The thought of him, even just his name, brought tears to her eyes and her throat began to close up.

It was hard. Of course, all things are hard before the become easy, but [Name] was distraught. She couldn't think, couldn't sleep, couldn't live without seeing him everywhere. She could never love someone as much as she loved Mike, even if they were just silly teenagers. Nothing felt silly when it came to Mike. He never judged her for her odd ideas and strange jokes. He would smile and kiss her forehead, telling her how lucky he was to have met her.

[Name] took a deep breath and opened her eyes to check the time on her clock, but there was no nightstand. Confused, she sat up and realized her bed, her room, even her clothes and the way her body looked was different. She was back in her old room, the one that sat empty back in Derry. Panicking, [Name] looked around frantically and finally saw the clock sitting on her desk; 6:34. The sun was just peeking over the rim of the world and [Name] suddenly remembered what the supposed angel had told her. She had from sunrise to sunset, and if this truly wasn't a dream, Mike was alive again. She could see him again.

She rushed downstairs in her pajamas just in time to see her father sipping coffee from his favorite mug. He looked up from his plate, which held a single bagel smothered in butter, at his daughter with raised brows. "Honey, what's wrong? Why are you up so early?"

"What day is today?" [Name] asked, almost frantically. Her father raised only one eyebrow now, a little confused and a little nervous as to why his daughter was so urgent about the date.

"Um . . . July sixteenth?" he responded, taking another drink of his coffee. [Name] felt happy tears burst into her eyes; The day before Mike died. She was in her old teenage body, in her old house, in that old town, and Mike was still alive.

"Thank you!" she shouted, rushing back upstairs and changing into a random t-shirt and shorts. She ran to her wall phone, the only part of the room that she loved, and punched in Mike's number. It rang four times before he picked up, sounding peppy.

"Hello? Who is this?" [Name] almost cried right there, but she had to keep her composure. She had to pretend like this was any normal day.

"Mike, it's me. [Name]. Can we spend the day together? I know it's early, but I feel like we need to spend some quality time together," she choked out. She already knew his answer would be yes; in the past, they had spent the day lazing around his farm. But [Name] wouldn't waste a second. She would milk every last moment she had with him and refused to let him slip away again.

"Of course, babe! I'll come pick you up so we can go to the park in a few minutes," Mike responded. [Name] said her goodbye and then hung up the phone, delirious. How could this be happening? Why to her? Why not to someone who deserved it, someone who had moved on and wasn't wallowing in their own swampy grief? She decided it was better not to question; What really mattered was Mike was back.