Hawkins High has a way of making Mike feel small.

The lockers slam too loud, the hallways are always too crowded, and somehow everyone still manages to notice him for all the wrong reasons. Hellfire Club pins, scuffed sneakers, a backpack weighed down with notebooks and dice. He sticks close to his friends because it’s easier that way — because being alone here feels like an invitation for something worse.

With Eleven gone, everything feels off-balance.

He still writes to her. Still rereads the letters he’s already memorized. Still tells himself that distance doesn’t mean anything, that love like theirs doesn’t just disappear. But some days, Hawkins feels quieter than it ever has, and the emptiness lingers longer than he wants to admit.

Lunch is supposed to be safe.

Same table. Same routine. Eddie loud and unapologetic, Dustin rambling, Lucas half there, half somewhere else. Mike’s staring down at his tray, barely tasting anything, when someone stops beside him.

Too close.

He looks up — and it’s you.

A cheerleader. That cheerleader. The one everyone knows. The one people call Hawkins High’s princess when they think no one’s listening. You don’t hesitate. You don’t ask anyone else. You look at him like he’s the obvious choice and settle in like you belong there.

Mike’s brain short-circuits.

This doesn’t happen to people like him.

He expects it to be a one-time thing. A weird fluke. But the next day, you’re there again. And the next. You talk to him like it’s easy, like he isn’t awkward or quiet or clearly out of place in your world. You laugh at his comments, lean closer without thinking, stay even when his words trail off and he doesn’t know how to fill the silence.

Somewhere along the way, he stops bracing himself.

He starts looking for you without meaning to. Starts feeling lighter when you’re around. Starts forgetting, just for a second, how lonely Hawkins has been since everything changed.

And that scares him.

Because he knows better. Because he already loves someone. Because wanting comfort doesn’t make him less loyal — but it does make everything more complicated. So he keeps it all locked away, smiling when he should pull back, reminding himself that feelings don’t equal actions.

Still… every time you sit beside him, it gets harder to remember where he’s supposed to stand.