"Foolish Dreamers" Michael Afton x Reader

𝓡𝓾𝓷 𝓣𝓸 𝓨𝓸𝓾 (Ch.16)

Monday
November 26, 1984 2:10 P.M.

Y/N tied the strings of her apron behind her back, glancing at the premade pizza crust in front of her. It wasn't exactly the most challenging assignment—just throw on some sauce, cheese, and toppings, but she welcomed the easy culinary class. Next to her, Joyce was already sprinkling mozzarella with casual precision, chatting away about something, though Y/N only half-listened, her mind elsewhere.

She glanced down at her left hand, where his number was still written in slightly smeared ink. With a small sigh, she realized she'd need to wash it off soon, couldn't exactly toss toppings with dirty hands. Reluctantly, she stepped away from the station, heading toward her satchel to grab her notebook and quickly jot the number down before she went to go wash her hands.

As she wrote it onto the corner of a page, Joyce's voice piped up behind her.

"Hey... what's that?" Joyce's tone was curious, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. "Is that someone's number on your hand?" She leaned over, trying to get a closer look. "Hold up—who's number is it, Y/N?"

Y/N kept her expression neutral, closing the notebook a little too casually. "It's nothing."

Joyce gasped, putting a hand to her chest in an exaggerated display of shock. "Don't 'it's nothing' me! You ditched me during lunch and didn't tell me anything! This person better be worth it!" Her voice dipped dramatically, as if she were narrating a soap opera. "Did you meet your soulmate when you abandoned me in my hour of need? Left me all alone with Heather's annoying shit?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "First of all, I didn't ditch you," Y/N said as she folded the notebook and tucked it back into her satchel. "And second of all..." She hesitated for a beat, knowing there was no way Joyce would let this go now. "It's not what you think. . ."

"Ohhhh, so it is something," Joyce teased, wagging her finger with a knowing grin. "C'mon, spill! Who is it?"

Y/N sighed, regretting not just washing the number off earlier. "It's... Michael."

Joyce's jaw dropped, her hands frozen mid-air like she'd just been struck by lightning. She definitely gonna tease her and play dramatic awe. "Wait—Michael Afton? The Michael Afton? The one you always banter with everywhere you two interact? The one I know from middle school. You know? ,The one who hung out with Simon, the guy I liked before? And you're telling me you got the player's number that I WARNED YOU about?"

Y/N's eyes widened at Joyce's unexpected insight. "Yeah, that Michael." She felt the familiar heat rise in her cheeks out of embarrassment.

Joyce stared at her like she had just confessed to some outrageous crime, still being dramatic. "You gotta be kidding me. Him? What happened—did he, like, drag you off somewhere to avoid Heather trying to do her usual psycho thing?"

Y/N blinked in surprise at how spot-on her cousin was. "Actually, yeah. Pretty much."

Joyce's mouth dropped open again, this time more dramatically. "What?! Are you serious? That guy saved you from Heather? What kind of alternate universe is this?"

Y/N shrugged, trying to seem indifferent even though the memory of Michael grabbing her wrist and pulling her away still played on repeat in her mind. "He was... just trying to help, I guess."