𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗿.
''you said you gotta be up in the mornin'
gonna have an early night
and you're startin' to bore me, baby
why'd you only call me when you're high?
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❝ 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵?❞
𝖣𝖤𝖢𝖤𝖬𝖡𝖤𝖱 23, 1984.
IT'S BEEN almost a year since Will and El have left Hawkins. Without them, the party slowly stopped being friends.
They couldn't be friends anymore; the party was just incomplete.
It was snowy night, probably past midnight and Michael Wheeler was awake.
Sometimes he wished he could've just go to bed like a normal person, instead of crying himself to sleep.
It was his birthday. Usually, he would've called the Lucas, Dustin or Will and tell them that it is his birthday. He was born exactly at midnight, so, because of some odd reasons, he just likes to call everyone and tell them it's his birthday.
They never cared that it was midnight. They got used to it. But tonight, he really wasn't in the mood to do it. Which was weird. He was finally turning 15. It wasn't just a big deal, it was a huge deal.
He just sat there, in his bed, with his face buried in the white pillow, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the living room.
"You piece of shit!" The boy had heard his mother say. Karen and Ted Wheeler had been fighting since what happend last year.
Same ol' things everyday. Like "You don't care about our kids! You barely even talk to them, Ted!" or "Karen stop being such a dramatic bitch."
Nancy was away at college, but before she left she thought it was a better idea to send Holly to their grandparents.
And there he was, Michael Wheeler, with no friends, no family; no one was there for him.
He was absolutely forsaken. Absolutely lonely.
All of the sudden, the curly-haired boy heard something break — probably a glass.
"Bitch!" Mike had heard Ted Wheeler, his dad, say. Tears were slowly running down on his freckled cheeks.
He was mortified. He hated the words that his parents said. It made him feel awful; like it was his fault.
What if he never existed? Would things get better? Would-
"You psychotic bitch!" The curly-haired boy heard his father say, as he heard another thing break; this was was probably bigger -- like a lamp or something.
