CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.
3x04: The Sauna Test

"Do you copy?" came Lucas's voice through Sam's Walkie. "This is a code red!"

In between El and Max, Sam grumbled, digging her head further into the pillow. They'd just finally fallen asleep again, because Sam had woken them up an hour prior screaming from a nightmare. Of course this had to happen the second Sam's heart slowed down enough to rest.

"I repeat: this is a code red!" Lucas continued. "Sam! Do you copy? Samantha Francesca Hughes. This is a code red!"

Sam tried getting out of bed to answer her stupid walkie, but El groggily wrapped her arms around Sam's torso and prevented her from doing so. She dug herself into Sam's side, and Sam felt guilty, because not only had Sam received zero sleep due to her nightmares, but she also prevented Max and El from sleeping as well.

"Seriously. This—is—a—code—red!"

Max groaned, properly woken up by the annoying voice now. Since she was closest to the side Sam's walkie was on, Max reached down and grabbed it off the floor.

Max clicked the walkie on, growled, "Shut—up!"

In agitation, Max retracted the antenna that stuck out of Sam's walkie and turned the device off completely. She placed it on the floor before turning back towards where Sam and El were snuggling. Max joined them, throwing an arm and a leg over Sam's body.

Sam could hear Max grumbling about stupid and boys and not understanding the respect of letting the girls rest because they didn't sleep last night. She chose to ignore it though, because she was much more captivated by the actual thought of sleeping. She let her eyes close again, allowing that feeling of drowsiness to overcome her.

Just when the girls were about to fall back asleep, the phone in Sam's room began ringing.

Sam shot up from the bed in anger, a very furious-and-unlike-Sam expression on her face. Both El and Max were shifted by Sam's movement, considering they'd been latched onto her.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam hissed, the other two realizing just how scary an angry Sam was.

She threw off her covers and jumped out of bed, having to climb over Max to do so. She marched up to the still-ringing phone, tired and angry—it was an awful combination for the person on the other line.

She answered the phone, but she was by no means happy about it. "I'm sleeping, Jay, leave me the fuck—!"

"This is Mike, do NOT hang up!"

Sam leaned back from the phone a little, surprised. She put the speaker over her ear again to finally hear the boys out.

"Something happened, Sam," Mike continued. "Something bad."

"Um..." Sam shared confused eye contact with Max and El, who were still on the bed. She shrugged cluelessly before facing her phone again. "Good morning?"

She could hear Mike scoff.

"Not really! Our very lives could be at stake right now."

"Well I was just trying to be polite, even though we were rudely woken up," Sam grumbled. "What are you even talking about?"

"Just come over to my house. We'll explain everything."

"What—?"

"Hurry!"

And then he hung up, leaving a confused Sam on the other line in the process.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam, Max, and El were eager to find out what the hell the boys contacted them so desperately for. They got dressed and ready as quickly as they could—El wearing the other new outfit she bought from the mall, Max wearing a purple shirt with rainbow striped short-sleeves, and Sam wearing a yellow and green shirt with overall shorts on top. Luckily the sun was shining today, so they didn't need to put on their raincoats; when they biked outside this time, they weren't being drenched by rain in the process.

The trio of girls made it to Mike's house and were now sitting, tense, in the basement with Lucas, Mike, Corey, and Will. El was sat on a rocking chair, Mike, Lucas, and Corey on the couch, Sam on the armchair, Max on the floor between the rocking chair and armchair, and Will just sitting on a piece of furniture, for some reason.

Long story short, He was back.

To add to the intensity, Will knew He was back.

And that was sort of it—if you didn't include tension that lingered between two party members, separated by an oblivious Lucas. Sam's stare darted between Mike and Corey, studying their mannerisms. Her concentration was on them until Will actually began to explain.

"I didn't think it was anything at first. I mean, I think I just didn't want to believe it," Will admitted, full attention on him. "The first time I felt it was at Day of the Dead."

Everything was okay, but suddenly the power went out.

Sam and Justin broke apart in surprise, looking up at the darkness surrounding them.

"What the fuck?" Justin wondered while Sam's grip on him tightened.

"Something's not right," she worried. There was a returning, sinking feeling in her gut.

Sam's brows furrowed at the connection she made in her mind. "The power went out that night too."

"And then I felt it again at the field near the Nelson farm the next day. Then again yesterday outside Castle Byers."

"What does it feel like?" Max asked.

"It's like—" Will exhaled, trying to put his feeling into words. "You know when you drop on a roller coaster?"

"Sure," Mike said.

"Yeah," Max admitted.

"No," El muttered.

Sam watched as Will's fingers flexed anxiously, and he looked down trying to cope with it all. "It's like... everything inside your body is just sinking all at once, but... this is worse. Your body... it goes cold, and—and you can't breathe."

She hated seeing her friends so upset; it hurt to see Will trying to explain all of this. She felt horrible. First Will got lost in the Upside Down, then he got possessed by a shadow demon, and now it was all coming back to haunt him.

"And you didn't tell anyone?" Sam asked sadly, wishing she would've known.

Will shrugged shyly. "I didn't want anyone to worry."

"Well, I am worried!"

Lucas rolled his eyes. "You're always worried."

Sam shot him a look. Max and El shared eye contact, thinking back to what Sam had said about Lucas at El's house. Now that they knew about the situation, it was clear as day to spot the tension.

"Clearly it's warranted." Sam gestured incredulously at Will.

Will nodded, like that was fair. "Yeah, that feeling... I've felt it before. Whenever he was close."

Max shook her head. "Whenever who was close?"

"The Mind Flayer," Will confessed.

Sam stiffened at the mention of his name. Of course, she'd had her theories about the whole ordeal, but having the Mind Flayer mentioned so bluntly like this... well, it made everything feel more real.

Sam hated it.

"I closed the Gate," El reminded him.

Will shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor again. "I know, but... what if he never left? What if we locked him out here with us?"

Sam sat forward at this, frowning slightly. "How?"

Will struggled to word his thoughts for a moment, glancing around the room for assistance. Then he bolted to his feet and snatched a blank piece of watercolor paper and a stick of black pastel from the box of cluttered drawings supplies on one of the shelves at the back of the room. Will placed them down on the D&D table as everyone crowded around to observe what he was doing.

"This is him, all of him," Will rambled, sketching out a quick outline of the Mind Flayer's daunting figure. "But, that day on the field, a part of him attached itself to me."

He swiped his hand over the pastel, smearing his drawing and transferring the black color onto his hand in the process.

"My mom got it out of me, and Eleven closed the Gate." Will flipped the paper with the blank side facing up. "But the part that was still in me, what if it's still in our world? In Hawkins?"

Will slammed his hand onto the blank side, stamping a black handprint right onto it.

"I don't understand." Corey's face was screwed up judgmentally. "The Demodogs died when El closed the Gate. If the brain dies, the body dies."

"We can't take any chances," Mike said. His eyes connected with Corey's, and the obvious tension between the two grew. Sam raised an eyebrow as Mike coughed awkwardly, face pinker than before. "We need to assume the worst."

"The Mind Flayer's back," Sam stated confidently.

The sky was blue. The grass was green. There were twenty-four hours in a day. The Mind Flayer was back. The (unfortunate) facts of life.

"Yeah," Will breathed amidst a nod. "And, if he is, he'd want to attach himself to someone again. A new me."

"A new host," Lucas realized.

And that... that caught the girls' attentions. The second Will and Lucas brought that reminder to Sam, Max, and El, they shared disturbed eye contact. They had a perfect suspect as to who this new host just may be.

"How can you tell if someone is a host?" 

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Step one of the operation was to just find Billy at all, but that was pretty easy. Max knew Billy's work schedule and informed the group he would be at the community pool right about now.

Hopping onto their bikes (save for El), the party (save for Dustin) traveled to the exact place Sam, Max, and El had been just twenty-four hours ago. Then, they had been on the hunt for Heather.

Now, they were trying to see if Billy was a host for the Mind Flayer.

Oh, how things have escalated.

It was Max's turn to take a peek through Lucas's binoculars. The seven of them were outside the fence gate surrounding the pool, meeting in front of a currently-vacant car parked in the parking lot.

"I don't know." Max peeled the binoculars off her face. "He looks pretty normal to me."

Lucas scoffed incredulously. "Normal? How many times have you seen him with a shirt on?"

Corey shook his head, leaning off the hood of the car to cross his arms.

"A shame, too," he commented, and everyone stared at him. His face lit aflame in embarrassment, stammering quickly. "Just an observation!"

Max huffed. "I mean, it's a little weird," she admitted.

"More than a little," Mike said. "He was in a tub with ice. The Mind Flayer likes it cold."

Sam whipped her head to face Mike energetically. "That's what I said!" she exclaimed. Then she smirked at Max, smug. "See, I'm not crazy."

"If you say so," Lucas mumbled, and Sam's smile dropped quickly.

"But—but he's lounging at the pool," Max persisted, gesturing helplessly at the lifeguard station where Billy was sat, covered in an oversized white long-sleeve with a towel draped over his lap. "That's like, the least Mind Flayer thing ever."

Will shook his head, at the end of the group. "Not necessarily. The Mind Flayer... he likes to hide. He only used me when he needed me. It's like... like you're dormant. And then, when he needs you, you're activated."

Corey, arms still crossed, shrugged and leaned his back against the hood of the car. "Okay, so we just wait until he gets activated."

"No," Sam argued, and Corey rolled his eyes. "What if he hurts someone?"

"Or kills someone?" Mike added, frustrating Corey further.

"We can't take that chance." Sam shook her head in agreement with Mike. "We need to find out if he's the host."

Mike nodded, as if Sam's desperate words made something click in his mind. "She's right," he said.

Then Mike stood up off the car hood. He was walking away from the parking lot entirely.

"Where are you going?" El asked exasperatedly, glaring.

"I have an idea!" Mike said, motioning for Lucas, Corey, and Will to join. "Boys only!"

"Seriously?"

"Just trust me on this one!" Mike called out to Sam.

Max's eyes narrowed. "How about no?"

"Trust me, Mayfield!"

"You wish!"

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Corey didn't like the fact they were all following Mike blindly, for whatever unspoken plan he had in store. Mike held the door open for Corey, leading them into the men's changing room. They filed in together, and Mike finally began discussing his idea.

"Okay, so we wait until the pool closes, until everyone leaves." Mike sped through the changing room, through the showers. "And we somehow get him to come from here..." he gestured to the locker room, "and..." they walked briskly through the locker room until Corey was met with the sauna room, "get him into here!"

Mike threw open the closed door of the sauna, not having considered it was being used right now. Among the suffocating hot fog were nearly-naked elderly men sweating their asses off.

"Hey!" one of the men complained. "Shut the door!"

"Hey, come on, kid, shut it!" another one yelled.

They didn't have to tell Mike twice. He slammed it shut in the next instant, trying to repress the vision they'd all just seen in the depths of his mind forever. Mike grimaced, shuddering as he turned back to their friends.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth," Lucas remarked.

Corey groaned. "I think I just got erectile dysfunction."

"Look," Mike reached for the temperature controls planted on the far side of the wall, "the controls are right here, it's perfect."

"Will it get hot enough?"

"220 degrees," Mike read, tone bright with hope—the way it always got when he figured something out. It stupidly made Corey's heart swell up fondly. "We just have to figure out how to get him in here."

He moved back to the Door of Terrors.

"Then we lock him in..."

"Heat him up..."

"No matter what happens, we'll know. We'll know for sure."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam didn't want to think too optimistically, in case it all ended up exploding in her face, but she had to admit that Mike's plan was actually pretty good. Very good, in fact. And if it all went according to plan, they even had the chance of de-Flaying Billy if he was Flayed.

"I actually don't have a horrible feeling about this," Sam said, shocked.

"For once," Lucas muttered under his breath.

Max nudged him harshly, and Lucas shut up. That didn't mean Sam hadn't heard. That didn't mean her heart wasn't constricting a little in pain.

"Uh," Mike stammered, unsure about where the sudden attitude came from but choosing not to comment on it right now. "Yeah. Genius plan. I know, right?"

Corey rolled his eyes. "The Almighty Wheeler, everyone."

Will exhaled in exasperation, because even in the face of the world ending (again), the party still couldn't get along.

El just blinked, feeling like she was missing something.

"Thanks, Gray." Mike glared, not sounding pleased. Then to everyone, "I think we should split into groups of three. Will can get a dummy from the supply room, Corey and I can get chains—"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on," Corey interjected. "I wanna vote."

"Excuse me?" Mike's hands dropped to his sides, dumbfounded.

"I wanna vote. Who thinks that we should all choose what we do and who we do it with?"

Corey raised his hand.

"There's no voting," Mike said in a judging voice. He was clearly wondering why the hell Corey was wasting their time with this right now.

But Corey didn't back down.

"Okay." He crossed his arms. "I wanna vote on whether you get to decide we don't vote."

"He's funny," El said, referring to Corey, very amused by the metaphorical flames steaming out of Mike's ears.

"No he's not," Mike growled, on his last straw. "El and Max, you guys will stay here and keep a watch out for Billy. Are you okay with that?"

The last question was totally not passive aggressive, and he totally didn't send a glare Corey's way as he asked it. Nevertheless, the two girls nodded, knowing better than to stunt the operation any longer.

"Thank you," Mike exhaled gratefully. "Will, like I said, going to the supply closet and getting a dummy, or whatever else you could find that would help."

Will looked like he wanted to protest, because he really didn't want to be the only one going alone, but Mike already looked like he was one comment away from having an aneurysm; Sam shot him a pointed look, and Will shut his ass up.

"Corey and I are gonna go to the tool shed and get shit from there," Mike continued, despite how unwilling Corey seemed. "And then, you know, Sam and Lucas can go find the breakers."

"Let's hope I don't get mono," Lucas quipped under his breath, meaning to be overlooked.

Except—

"What is your problem?!" Sam shouted, rounding on Lucas.

She had finally snapped.

Everyone seemed shocked at the sudden yelling from Sam—none of them had ever seen her so... angry. None of them had heard her so loud. Even families who were walking in the parking lot startled at the ferocity of it all. Lucas gaped, mouth opening and closing, completely shocked by Sam's wrath.

"I—no—what?" Lucas huffed nervously. "Sam, it was a joke—"

"It's—not—FUNNY!" Sam yelled, hands curled into fists. "What's the punchline? Me?!"

She took a step closer to Lucas, and Lucas took a frightened one back. It was like she was challenging him to speak, even though she asked him a question. The party members around them stood stock still—even they were afraid.

Lucas swallowed, trying to find his voice. "I... Sam, no, I would never... I don't think of you like that—"

"Really? Really, Sinclair?" Sam laughed, devoid of any humor. "Because it doesn't fucking seem like it! Actually, I'm pretty sure you hate my guts with the way you've been acting!"

"I could never hate you!" Lucas argued, and his voice cracked desperately.

"You've been treating me like this for over a month!" Sam's voice rose again, and all of her friends flinched. "I deserve to know what I did wrong to deserve all the comments! You're being mean."

Lucas panted unstable breaths. His eyes flitted to his friends, as if half-hoping for them to save him, but everyone seemed too astounded by Sam's anger to even move.

"Sam, I-I don't know what you're talking about." Lucas shook his head, wanting all of this to be over. He just hoped this was all some bad dream, and in reality he and Sam were okay—he hadn't fucked it all up.

"Do I look stupid to you?" Sam honest to God growled. She got up right in his face. "I've noticed, Lucas! You're always saying shit about Jay, and I DON'T get why you care so much!"

This wasn't a bad dream. This was really happening. He was losing Sam.

"I—wh—bec..." Lucas searched desperately for a way to make this better. He found an excuse, defended himself with, "I'm your friend, Sam!"

"You're not acting like it!" Sam snapped.

They were earning attention from even people inside the gates of the pool now. Everyone was tuning in nosily, but their friends were quite the opposite, their faces an awkward, bright red.

In the heat of Sam's glare, Lucas could see a deeper, utter sadness as she stared at him. She blinked, and the glassiness surfaced in front of her eyes, so she had to quickly rub them before anyone noticed.

Lucas did though.

"Lucas, I support you," Sam continued. She just looked disappointed now. "In everything that you do. Why can't you do the same thing for me?"

"I'm supportive!" Lucas argued.

"OF WHAT?" And, great. Sam was shouting again. "All you've been supporting is my decaying self image!"

It hurt. All of this just hurt Lucas so much, because these were the consequences of his actions. Sam was saying this to him, and it was warranted, because she was right. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad, and now, he didn't know how to fix it.

Weeks. Sam really been holding all of this in for weeks, letting her anxiety fester and convince herself Lucas hated her. And Lucas hadn't done anything to quell that voice in her head.

His jealousy was like an all-consuming monster that ate at him whenever he merely looked at Sam. She was a reminder of what he didn't have—what he couldn't have—and it just made him so angry.

Sometimes... Lucas hated himself for it, but sometimes he just wanted to scream at her. I love you, Sam! he would say. Just let me have that! You can have Zimmerman, or the world, or whatever you need. Just let me have that, let me go on loving you, and I guess it'll be enough.

"I... I'm sorry," Lucas whispered desperately.

Sam sniffled, shaking her head. She didn't believe him, he realized.

"Whatever," she replied, equally as quiet.

Then she broke the eye contact with Lucas, and it really felt like some sort of string had just been cut between them. How could he fix this, here, in a public parking lot surrounded by so many people?

"Um, okay..."

Mike was clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder and pulling her over to him with a fearful look.

"New plan," he said. "Sam and I will go find the breakers. It shouldn't take long so we'll just go to the supply closet after. Will can go with Corey and Lucas to the tool shed (because Mike had a feeling Corey alone would try and beat Lucas up). El and Max stay on lookout. Is that... good?"

Corey, Max, Will, and El began nodding rapidly and eagerly. They seemed desperate to break away from the group and escape from all the tension. Choruses of yes and definitely were heard amongst them. Sam deflated, feeling embarrassed for lashing out.

She was so usually good at keeping her less-than-stellar feelings hidden. She always tended to think before she acted so that she could pile something good on top of her bad, but clearly, she'd done what she always did—failed.

Now she probably ruined her friendship with Lucas. If he didn't hate her before, he definitely hated her now.

This was all her fault.

"Alright, come on," Mike muttered, and then he was guiding Sam towards the entrance of the community pool. To find the breakers.

Sam tried not to think about Bob—tried not to think about when, the last time she'd ever been with him, they were looking for the breakers in Hawkins Lab. She predictably failed to force out thoughts of the massacre and the Demodogs and the one that attacked her and that same one killing Bob. Her hand shakily found the golden necklace around her neck. She didn't even have to look down, could just sense the golden B, and feel like an undeserving imposter all over again.

By Sam's mannerisms, Mike must have finally realized what the task of "finding breakers" must be doing to her right now. His face screwed up, and she was able to feel his guilt wafting towards her. She didn't understand it though, because he had nothing to be sorry for.

"You okay, Sam?" Mike asked, and that question had a lot more weight to it than a normal bystander might think.

Sam inhaled deeply, trying to force herself to be normal. "Yeah." She shrugged in false pretense. "Sorry. You know. About all of... that."

"Well... I don't know what 'that' was," Mike admitted, "but I'm pretty sure you don't need to be sorry for it."

Sam would beg to differ.

Trying not to bring the mood down more, she chose not to disagree.

Mike coughed awkwardly, because he was shit at these sorts of things. "Do you wanna, um... talk about it?"

"Nope!" Sam cheered.

"Oh, thank God," Mike exhaled gratefully. "Because I do not know how to comfort you."

Sam tried so hard not to laugh, she really did, but it bubbled up past her lips anyway. She ducked her head forward, shaking her head like she could shake away her smile. It didn't really work, and Mike wasn't helping either—he looked happy he was even able to make people smile anymore, so seeing him joyful made Sam even more elated.

"God, you're a piece of work, Wheeler," she laughed.

"Trust me. I know."

Sam had to do a double take and give Mike a side-eye, because he sounded much-too exasperated in those four words.

She would put that suspicion on the back-burner for just a second, because as they'd been walking and talking, she realized they'd walked past the one room they were looking for.

Chaotically, Sam stopped walking. She grabbed Mike by the back of his shirt and yanked him from behind. Mike yelped, scrambling and stumbling like the gangly giant he was.

"What was that for?!" Mike squawked.

"Look!" Sam pointed, not providing him with an ounce of sympathy. The two of them stared at an old door, and above it, a plaque that read CONTROL ROOM. "The breakers should be in here."

"Oh." Mike's anger fell, and he too became happy they'd found the control room.

His hand raised to open the door, up until he realized there was a clunky lock latched above the handle.

"It's locked," he said, frowning.

Sam stared at the lock a little longer, thinking.

Breaking the rules is the best part.

She sighed, finally giving in. "Guess I gotta start living up to my own words."

"...What?"

Sam bent down and picked up a large rock from the little patch of grass connecting the building and the concrete. She looked around to see if anyone was watching, and luckily, every occupant at the pool was either swimming or lazing around. Not even Billy, who was the lifeguard on duty, paid Sam any mind.

She whacked her hand down, still firmly holding the rock, and the latch on the door broke completely.

"Woah!" Mike jumped, eyes wide. Sam was catching him off guard left and right today.

"Come on," Sam muttered, not sparing the bewildered Mike a glance.

She made sure, once again, that no one was watching them before she jiggled the handle open and slipped into the control room. Mike followed her, closing the door behind him while Sam flipped the light switch on.

Sam thought of the Hawkins Lab basement. She thought of Bob. She remembered haw shakily she held that pistol. She could smell the ammonium she poured when they were hiding from a Demodog.

"—at it?" Mike asked.

Sam turned around, blinking out of her thoughts. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, 'Is that it?'" Mike repeated, pointing to a wall of levers and buttons and everything that controlled the electricity of the location. He was sending Sam a look which seemed to be one of pity, as if he could read her thoughts like a book; she hated it, so she ignored it.

Sam walked over to the control panel, eyeing the whole thing in its entirety.

"It should be." She read every label thoroughly before she nodded at the larger levels. "Those are the switches that turn the rooms' lights off and on."

"Perfect." Mike nodded, staring at the levers and button. "We'll come in here after everyone's left the pool and turn the power back on to catch Billy's attention."

"And hope everyone else isn't plotting against us in the process."

"No one would ever want to plot against you," Mike huffed at the absurdity of her statement. "Can't promise Core and El aren't trying to rise against me though."

Sam felt the severity of the room grow at that. She noted Mike's tense stance he was trying to cover up, listened to that hurt tone in his voice was trying to hide.

"Mike... what'd you do?"

Mike blinked, a little confused at the question. He shrugged like it was obvious.

His look turned spiteful. "I bet El already told you—"

"To Corey," Sam corrected, expression pinning him down.

And Mike... Mike looked terrified. He stiffened up completely, reaching his full height that Sam could only ever dream of getting to. He crossed his arms over himself defensively, fists clenching in a habit he'd stolen from Sam.

"What?" Mike rasped. "I—did he tell you something—?"

"No, Mike," Sam cut in, exasperated and sad he was already getting defensive. "I'm just good at knowing these sorts of things. You know that."

"Oh." He exhaled, some tension leaving. "Yeah. The psychic stuff—"

"I do not have superpowers!" Sam shot back, frustrated.

Now it was Mike who was pinning her down with an unamused look.

Sam made an indignant noise in the back of her throat. They were getting offtrack. She wouldn't let that happen this time.

"Look—this—that's not the point! What I'm trying to say is," she calmed down significantly, breathing out, "I don't want you to feel alone, okay? Or that you have to pretend to be someone you're not. Because someone who isn't Mike Wheeler... well, I'd say they'd pretty much suck."

Sam laughed airily, and Mike tried to do the same, but he felt frozen.

"Being whoever you're trying to be is not worth the toll it's taking on you and everyone around you," she said softly, bumping Mike's shoulder with her own, watching him with gentle eyes.

Mike blinked, shaking out of his stupor. He stared at Sam, then realized Sam's eyes were more than just gentle. They were knowing.

Oh. Well, shit.

Mike cleared his throat and looked away.

"I think about that conversation we had in the hospital a lot," he confessed.

Sam smiled. It was genuinely nice to hear that from him.

"I do too. I remember thinking about how our biggest complication used to be Ms. Godfrey thinking I was a boy."

That earned a laugh from Mike, who threw his head back as he recalled the first time he and Will met Sam. Sam smiled too, because she was fond of the memory, but also because she felt obligated to grin with him.

"No, really. I did," Sam continued, more serious now. "And then I thought about how things used to be when we were kids—before reality hit us. It really stuck with me because... I don't know, I just... I feel like you used to come to me more for help. Or to just... talk, you know? You don't do that anymore. Not like you used to." She shrugged sadly. Mike wasn't meeting her eyes. "It's not like, your fault. Or anyone's fault. But... I miss talking to you. I really miss it. And I think, right now, we seriously need to talk. Because things are getting complicated—a lot more complicated than screwing up the gender of my name, you know? I just... I don't want you to forget that I'm here. And I'll always be here, no matter what. You're my best friend. There is nothing in this world—absolutely nothing—that could change that."

"I—" Mike tried speaking but immediately got choked up on his words. He just started nodding, attempting to swallow down the lump in his throat. Sam could hear his shaky breaths, and when he finally met her gaze, she saw the tears forming in his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, and I'm... always here for you too," he choked.

Sam smiled kindly. "I know. I know you are."

"Okay, yeah, I just—" Mike's voice cracked again, and he was cut off by a sniffle. Sam's brows crinkled sadly, watching him wipe furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I just—I wanted..."

"It's okay, Mike," Sam murmured.

Before he knew it, she was stretching up on her tippy-toes and looping her arms around Mike's shoulders in a hug. He instinctively stiffened up, but in the next breath, coughed out a sob and embraced her back as if she were a rock in the storm.

Because Sam was much shorter than anyone she hung around, and because of Mike's unnecessarily tall height, Mike had to bend down a little to accommodate. But he didn't even care right now. He just embraced her, and he let her run one hand up and down his back, holding him firm as a grounding presence.

"It's okay, Mike... It's gonna be okay... You're gonna be okay..."

"I'm sorry," Mike sobbed. His voice cracked, and it broke Sam's heart. "I'm so—sorry. I didn't mean for it... it to get so—"

"Easy, easy," Sam whispered. Her voice was a little choked up too. "I have you. You're alright."

Mike clutched the back of Sam's shirt as she squeezed him tighter. She tried conveying everything she could into the hug. She wanted him to understand he deserved all the good things out there for him in the world—that he could be so great and grand and himself if he would just let it happen. She wanted this hug to be the catalyst for every other hug awaiting Mike in the future. She wanted this vulnerable moment to open up the opportunity for a million more vulnerable moments.

"I think I'm gay."

Mike confessed it through a devastated sob, as if nothing scared him more than those four words he blurted. His voice was laced in self-loathing, and Sam couldn't stand his pain. She wanted to take it all away.

"And there's nothing wrong with that," Sam managed, and—oh, she was crying too. "It's okay. It's not an issue, not in any sense. There's nothing wrong with you. I'm always gonna love you, Mike. It's okay."

Her dad once told Sam that, "Instruments are instruments, but people are instruments too. Instruments for humanity, I think. Just like that heart of yours feels, and that genius brain of yours thinks, you're how the universe shows it cares. When you care, the universe cares. When you don't, it doesn't."

Anthony Hughes was a youthful man, with as much love in his heart for music that Sam's mom had in hers for pleasing others. Sam loved her dad, and so she loved the lessons he taught her just as much. This one in particular stuck with her the most—she'd never forget it.

Sam cared. Sam had always been the type of kid to care. She cared because she wanted to be that instrument for humanity, she wanted the universe to care. Here, right now, hugging Mike Wheeler, Sam wanted the universe to know it needed to care about him too. Sadly, she wasn't sure Mike was aware of that at all. She could prove to Mike that she loved him in a heartbeat, but it was much harder to showcase that she wasn't alone in that feeling. That Mike was deserving of love. That there wasn't anything wrong with the kind of attraction Mike had.

Sam had gone through this kind of heartbreak before. It wasn't the typical piercing of the heart that came from the predictable sad things—death, injuries, fall-outs, etc. It was a sadness that was learned as you got older and found out about the real horrors of society. It was racism, homophobia, war, and prejudice. It was losing hope for a world that you dreamed to be a part of. It was cruel, and it was mean, and Sam hated she could barely make a dent in doing anything about it.

Sam learned what homophobia was from Stephanie—kind-hearted, amazing Stephanie who had always been Sam's role model. Little Sam hadn't even been able fathom a universe where anyone would hate her. She didn't understand why Stephanie's secret of loving girls had been sobbed to Sam rather than shouted from the rooftops. It should be seen as a good thing, just like boys and girls liking each other was a good thing. Sam was too naive then, to comprehend how deep the roots of it all ran.

She comprehended it now, but it still hurt as much. It hurt, because nothing had changed. Mike was still here, sobbing out a confession of loving boys to Sam rather than shouting it from the rooftops. He didn't see it as a good thing, just like girls and boys liking each other was a good thing.

But there was nothing wrong with him for liking boys. There was nothing wrong with Corey for liking Mike back. There was nothing wrong with Stephanie for liking girls. There was nothing wrong with Will for being different. There was nothing wrong with Lucas for being Black. There was nothing wrong with Dustin for having cleidocranial dysplasia. There was nothing wrong with any of her friends and family for these things they couldn't control. It wasn't their fault. It wasn't any kind of fault at all.

Sam just wanted the world to love everyone like she did. She was a terribly real thing in a terribly false society.

Slowly, inevitably, Mike's tears subsided. Sam watched him rub at his face, trying to clear up the tears and snot and sadness still left behind. His eyes were bloodshot, and Sam didn't even want to look at him, because it made her want to cry again too. She opened her mouth to ask him if, truly, he was okay, but she didn't even get the chance to speak before Mike was beating her to it.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," Mike rasped, rubbing the back of his hand underneath his nose.

Sam blinked, feeling as if she was rejuvenated with energy again. She stared at Mike, baffled.

"Oh," she breathed, processing. "Jesus. Right now? Seriously?"

Sam wasn't that good at comforting people, was she?

"I told him I liked him, yesterday," he confessed.

"What?!"

There was finally a secret that actually had Sam surprised.

Mike nodded with a wince. "We kissed."

"WHAT?"

He shrugged. "I didn't really know how to... slip that part in. Sorry."

"No—no, don't be sorry!" Sam rambled, kind of looking like a coked-up bunny rabbit. "I'm just—trying to process. Oh. Wow—"

"Sam?"

"Wow," she repeated. "That's—no, okay, I mean—obviously it's okay that you two kissed. Seriously. I love you gay people."

"Sam."

Sam threw her hands up wildly, tone unapologetic. "What? I do! You're awesome!"

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a quiet, "Oh my God."

"I'm just surprised you two kissed though, you know?" Sam continued to spiral as if her world was tipped off its axis. "Like—you and Corey. The most emotionally stunted boys I know. I thought it would take at least another three years."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"YOU KNEW?"

Sam placed a hand on her heart, offended. "Do I look like an idiot?! Of course I knew!"

"How long have you known?!"

Sam raised an eyebrow at Mike; there was an expression on her face that told Mike he really didn't want to ask that question.

"Not as long as I could've known but not as recent as you might think."

Mike recoiled, blinking helplessly.

"Okay, that was frustratingly vague," he murmured. Louder, he said, "Do you think you could go to the supply room on your own so I can—"

"Try and have a vulnerable conversation with my cousin about the bewildering fact you two kissed?"

"—talk to Corey?" Mike regarded Sam with a deadpan face. "Yes. Fine. That."

"Mike," Sam put a hand on his shoulder like a proud mother, "I would love to do nothing more."

Mike wrapped his hand around Sam's wrist, then peeled her hand off his shoulder. He stared at her through raised eyebrows.

"Sam?" he asked.

She figured he was about to tell her to shut up and stop being annoying about his feelings, even though she was more excited than she'd been in a while.

"Yeah?" Sam sighed, ready for his sass.

"Thank you," Mike said seriously, catching Sam completely off guard. "For... everything. It's never felt this... okay. I wouldn't—I don't think I would be where I was if I... didn't have you."

Sam's brows rose, and she was totally nonchalant about this. It wasn't like her unemotional friend was just emotional with her, something Sam had been wanting for eight years. Not a big deal at all. Sam didn't care.

"Oh," Sam's voice cracked, trying to remain calm. "That's... cool."

Mike grinned, because he knew Sam wanted to squeal. It warmed his heart even more that she forced herself not to for him—to make him more comfortable. He shook his head fondly, then began for the exit door.

"Mike?" Sam's voice stopped him when he opened the door.

He turned around, hand still gripping the handle.

"Yeah?"

"I can also tell that something happened with Will," Sam announced, scaring Mike like they were back in the parking lot. "If you don't apologize to him, I'm telling Corey about that time you vomited at the third grade Nativity Play."

"Yes, ma'am."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Corey, Lucas, and Will jogged over to the tool shed, which was luckily tucked away from any possible suspicious eyes. There was a sign above the doors that read MAINTENANCE PERSONNEL ONLY, and a lock keeping the two doors shut together.

Corey groaned. They didn't have time for this. Sam already wasted time yelling at Lucas.

He picked up a medium-sized rock from the grass and slammed it down onto the lock, breaking the latch off.

"Was that really necessary?" Lucas asked, watching Corey drop the rock and slide the doors apart.

"Do you really want to test me right now, Sinclair?"

Lucas paused.

"Yeah, my bad," he sighed. "Let's start looking."

Will sent Lucas an awkward look before he walked over to one corner of the shed. Corey was definitely pissed about what he'd just heard from Sam's side of the fight. Luckily Corey had matured enough not to immediately start beating Lucas up over it.

Three years ago that definitely would've been the outcome.

The trio of boys searched the racks and shelves in a tense silence that only one of them had the heart to break.

"Uh, Will?" came Lucas's unsure voice, closing an ice chest that didn't serve any use to them.

Will didn't respond, only continued to sort the junk in the room from the utilities. Corey hid a smirk by bending down and picking up a long metal pole.

"Um," Lucas continued anyway, "you know, about yesterday..."

Will shrugged, keeping his back turned to them. "It's fine, Lucas. You don't have to say anything."

"Hey, no," Corey said, finally interjecting himself into the conversation. "No, it's not fine, Will. We were assholes."

Lucas nodded seriously. He wasn't just piggybacking off Corey's statement. He genuinely agreed.

"He's right. We were." Lucas gripped the roll of duct tape in his hand harder. "It was a really cool campaign, and Mike, Corey, and I, we should've never—"

"I don't care anymore, guys. I really don't," Will snapped, sounding as if he definitely did care. "We have bigger things to worry about now."

Corey sighed, and he let himself share wary eye contact with Lucas just this once before he blacklisted Lucas forever (until Sam fussed at Corey for it, of course). From the corner of his eye, he saw Will stood up on his tippy-toes, trying to reach a box that caught his eye. Once he finally grabbed it, Will pulled the box off the top shelf.

Will dug his hand inside, and Corey heard metal clattering. He pulled out a large, thick length of silver chain.

"This should hold him," Will said, smirking hopefully.

"Fuck yeah, Byers," Corey huffed in approval, because if Will wanted to pretend like everything was fine, Corey would gladly let him. Corey was shit with apologies.

He handed the metal pole he'd been holding to Lucas, so that he was in possession of both that and the duct tape.

"You two bring this shit to wherever the hell Mike wants it placed. I'll keep looking in here for anything else we may be able to use."

Lucas saluted at Corey, but he was still holding the metal pole, so he bonked himself in the face. Corey had to use every muscle in order to restrain himself from bursting out in laughter.

"Rodger that," Lucas said, rubbing his forehead with a wince.

Will nodded at Lucas and gestured to the door with his shoulder. "Come on."

And then the two boys left, so Corey turned back around and continued rummaging through all the clutter throughout the tool shed. Corey really considered the necessities of most of the contents of the shelves, because he didn't see how any of it could be useful—not only in their sauna test, but in general maintenance.

Fortunately though, he found another length of chain they could wrap around the sauna door to keep Billy in. He also found two locks, both which could be used in keeping the chains secure. No one would be able to get in or out. Surely.

Corey emptied a cardboard box, hoping that nothing inside would be needed for future use. He dumped the second links of chains inside with the two locks. From behind him, he heard footsteps enter the shed.

"Damn, you guys were that fast?" he mused, figuring it was Lucas and Will.

"Um."

Corey turned around with a deadpan expression, meeting the nervous eye contact of none other than—you guessed it—Mike Wheeler.

"Oh," Corey said, monotone. "It's you."

Mike's expression crumbled, pained. He took a few steps further into the shed. "Core, I think we should talk about this," he pleaded.

Corey laughed humorlessly. He set the cardboard box down to the side of him in a patronizing manner. Continuing to scour through the shed, he replied, "I don't."

"Corey."

He whipped around, startling Mike.

"What?" he demanded, no longer pretending he was focused on the previous task of the tool shed. "You really want to talk about this now?"

Mike leaned forward, desperately tossing his hands in the air. "I can't think about anything else, okay? I can't. I'm sorry."

"So is that it then?" His hands gestured wildly around the shed. "We're starting this now?"

Mike seemed a little less confident in his goal at Corey's reminder of where they were and what they were doing.

"Well shit, I—I don't know. Maybe we should!" Corey watched as Mike's fists tightened, and his voice softened. "I think we should."

"I..." Corey wasn't prepared for the sudden loss of words Mike brought upon him. The sudden cowardice. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Mike exhaled through his nose. "I don't want you to say anything."

"Then what do you want?"

"Answers!" he cried in exasperation.

Corey's lip curled in an ugly way he'd seen his dad react—a way Daniel reacted when he was trying to gain an upper hand. Irritation pricked down his spine when he snapped, "Actions speak a thousand words, don't they?"

This was the easy part: anger. Corey had always been great at it. It was a dingy, surprise gift he'd received from his father. He always swore he never wanted to be like Daniel Gray, but the older Corey got, the more resemblances he spotted between himself and his father.

It was a scary thing. It was part of what made him push from Mike so much.

"Not really!" Mike's jaw clenched, and while Corey knew there was much more anger inside himself than Mike, he was also aware Mike could snap in the same way he did. The only difference was that Mike lashed out verbally, while Corey tended to break things. "I can't shake the feeling I'm missing something. Am I missing something?"

Corey scoffed immediately, feeling cornered. "Like what?"

"I don't know! You're acting like you—like, regret it!" Tense seconds of silence followed. Painfully quiet, Mike asked, "Do you regret it?"

Corey was good at anger. He wasn't good at any other emotion.

"It's hard to explain how I feel," he answered softly.

"It shouldn't be," Mike rasped. "It should be a yes or a no. Do you regret kissing me?"

It was easy for Corey to get angry, but he was really trying not to—for Mike's sake. It felt like this conversation was greater than most, the pinnacle of importance. Corey was finally being presented with something he didn't want to break. And that something came in the form of lanky limbs and raven hair.

"Can we please not talk about this now?"

Mike let out a strained huff in disbelief. "When then, Corey? When are you not avoiding me at all times?"

"You avoided me first!"

Here they were, pointing fingers again.

"I didn't kiss you!" Mike accused.

Corey took a step, taken aback.

"That—that's not fair."

"You hating me like I'm the fucking Mind Flayer is unfair!" Mike pointed out, with an apparent new sense of self-worth he'd developed in the short while Corey had seen him last.

Mike really wasn't backing down this time.

"There!" Corey gestured at the mention of the name. "We can't have this conversation when He's back!"

"What conversation?"

Corey felt like a puzzle piece trying to force itself in a spot it didn't belong, just to avoid the one spot left for him to possibly fit in. It was a spot he was too scared to attempt. It was a spot that, if this conversation continued, he'd find out what it would be like to fit into.

"Corey." Mike's voice tightened as he repeated, "What conversation?"

They stood in the quaint tool shed that was doing nothing but rusting and wasting away. Outside, the midday sun beat down on everyone's back, but here they were, talking in the shade, fighting in the dark like they always did.

"You dated El, Mike," Corey said finally. "That conversation."

Mike breathed in heavily, and Corey was unsure if he saw Mike exhale. "I—I know we dated. I know that. You think I don't know that?"

"I think you don't fully understand."

"Then tell me so I will," Mike begged, voice slipping slightly. "You can't keep disappearing whenever this gets hard. Not this time. Just—just stay with me."

Corey didn't mean to do it, but he flinched at Mike's words anyways. There was a subtle tick in his face, flexing of his hand. He sucked in a rushed breath, urging, "Don't say that."

"Say... what? Stay?" Corey looked at Mike with a tortured emotion Corey had never let him see before. "Shit, okay, I won't. I won't. I promise."

A heavy silence filled the tool shed as the sun dimmed for a moment, presumably due to a cloud covering it. Shade inside, shade outside. Corey's eyes flitted to the open doors briefly, but Lucas and Will weren't there to rescue him.

"What is it I don't understand?" Mike asked again, softer.

"We don't work together, Mike," Corey said slowly. He didn't know why he was so desperate to win a battle that would devastate him to win. "I've known you since you were seven, and almost every conversation since then has been us arguing."

"Don't talk to me like that," Mike sneered, hurt. "Like I'm some baby who's younger than you. Like there's not a reason we would work."

Corey shook his head, finding himself having to search the depths of his mind for more things to say.

"It's not just that, and you know it. Let's disregard the whole fact you've been ditching me for six months for El—" Mike opened his mouth to argue this point again, but Corey stubbornly didn't give him the chance to "—there's still the Upside Down. There's still the Mind Flayer. The world's still about to end for a third time. You act like all of this is normal."

Mike brows drew together, any argument he'd quickly put together about his false relationship with El having been forgotten at Corey's new factors.

"It's not like we haven't been dealing with 'not normal. We've done that for the past three years already."

"Yeah, but it's—it's different now," Corey countered half-heartedly. "You know that."

"Because of yesterday?" Mike asked.

"Because of everything," Corey said. "Everything about you, and your life, and your family and friends that I know now, and... and because of yesterday too." The admission fell from his lips softly, an adverb that had never been associated with Corey, and his voice became rarely faint. "The way you were looking at me, Mike... I felt so close to you. My head was quiet for once. I wasn't angry anymore."

Corey was holding so much strain within himself; he wasn't used to feeling so calm or soft or anything that came associated with Mike and these... good feelings. It hurt Corey just as much as it healed him, because it reminded him of what he'd never gotten the opportunity to feel before.

"Corey," Mike said gently, watching Corey's head lift to meet Mike's eyes.

"What if we've gotten too close?" Corey whispered. "What if we can't come back from this?"

A fear Corey had never known by name split in his chest as Mike gazed back. His face was just as heavy as Corey's, eyes no longer that darkened brown but a warm, honey shade. It put Corey right at the brink of giving in. Neither of them dared to breathe, and Corey realized then just how close they'd gotten amidst it all.

Abruptly, Lucas and Will burst into the tool shed. Corey's heart jumped in his throat, and he and Mike jumped back. All four boys stared at each other, wide-eyed, none of them sure of what was actually happening.

"Uh... are we interrupting something?" Lucas asked.

"Nothing!" Corey and Mike chorused, both of their voices cracking embarrassingly.

Will nodded, though a knowing glint was in his eye. "Right..."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Published: January 15, 2024
Re-published: October 30, 2025

BAILEY YAPS...

This packed ass chapter holy christ

The Hughclair fight had to happen even though it was one of the most devastating things I've had to write. Like they deadass weren't joking with me when they said this was the long game

(Personally I understand Lucas's jealousy, and I obviously understand why he would hate Justin, for multiple reasons. He's just a boy with a crush. But Sam is a girl with feelings as much as Lucas is a boy with feelings, and he hasn't communicated those feelings with her, so the anger and the blame game and the poor treatment was more than unfair. I really hope they discuss this. Wink)

Also I am IN LOVE WITH SAM AND MIKE'S DYNAMIC!! HE CAME OUT YALL HE CAME OUT!! THIS IS A BIG DAY FOR THE MIKE WHEELER APOLOGIST COMMUNITY AND THE MIKE WHEELER UNDERSTANDERS!!

Sam just being a massive gay supporter is so funny to me loll she's so aggressive about her love and I often think about the fact she STILL buys Steph rainbow merch. Samantha Hughes has appointed herself both THE Number 1 Protecter of the Gays and THE woke person ever.

And to cap it off with Corey's repressed issues. The effect his dad has on him is so real and painful and obviously that's not made any easier by the fact it's the 80s in a small town. So I give him a little sympathy for pushing Mike away. But can he stop pushing Mike away

I've also just realized after years of having this story that Corey and Mike fit the red and blue character specifically gay character trope