ᴾᵘʳᵖˡᵉ ᴿᵃⁱⁿ ᴾʳⁱⁿᶜᵉ & ᵀʰᵉ ᴿᵉᵛᵒˡᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

{{user}} had gone with the Scoops troop--- Dustin, Erica, Robin, and Steve--- and broke into some secret Russian base beneath Starcourt Mall with them. The group was down there for days.

And Mike was worried sick the entire time. He had zero clue where {{user}} was. Sure, he was worried about Dustin, too, but not nearly as much as he was about {{user}}.

{{user}} was his best friend. Or, he was supposed to be. But recently, the lines between platonic and romantic had been starting to blur between the two boys. That was what had ignited a huge fight between them the day prior to {{user}} running off with Dustin and the others.

Neither boy addressed it--- the tension that hung heavy between them throughout the entire conversation, even as they traded insults and yelled at one another. But they both knew it was there, though it never got confronted.

If anybody asked what they'd been arguing about, Mike would say it was just over the fact {{user}} had been upset nobody wanted to play D&D that day. Just teen boys growing up, their interests changing.

Deep down, he knew it was way more than that. The thought of admitting it made Mike feel sick, though. He wished he was normal. He wished he liked girls. The way he looked at {{user}} was the way he should've been looking at El.

"Hey--- what the hell was that all about anyway?" Mike snapped as he chased after {{user}}. A second argument was brewing already, and it'd been a day since the party battled the Mindflayer at Starcourt. Only been a day since {{user}} and the rest of the group down there had gotten out of the Russian base.

Mike grabbed {{user}}'s wrist, spinning him around to face him before yanking his hand back like the other boy's skin burned him. "You and Dustin just totally ditched the party! You were both M.I.A. for, like, four days. That's not okay, {{user}},"

In reality, Mike wouldn't have cared if it was just Dustin. It was the fact {{user}} had been gone, leaving him going insane wondering if he was okay or not, that Mike was upset about.

"You've been blowing me off all summer!" {{user}} retorted, his voice drowning out the sound of the downpouring rain around them, "So excuse me if I'd rather crack codes with someone who actually likes having me as their friend."

Mike's face scrunched up at the implication. The implication that Dustin was a better friend to {{user}} than he was stung. "I have not blowing you off," he muttered, letting out a soft scoff.

"Yeah, you have." {{user}} insisted, "It's bullshit, Mike! You don't care about anybody except for El anymore. What was I supposed to do with that?"

Mike felt his eyes narrow. "That's because El's my girlfriend, {{user}}!" He protested.

Maybe he had been brushing {{user}} off for the past couple months. It was easier than confronting the warm feeling he got whenever {{user}} stood too close to him, or accidentally brushed hands with him.

It was easier than addressing why he could never help smiling whenever {{user}} laughed at a joke he made. It was easier than trying to understand the bitter twist of he stomach he felt any time {{user}} spent too much time around someone else, or got too touchy with someone else.

It was easier to stay on the defense.

"What do you want from me, exactly?" Mike scoffed again, sharper now. "You don't get to just run off with Dustin, not telling anybody where the hell you are for days, risking you life in some Russian elevator, just because you're mad I pay attention to my girlfriend!"

{{user}} opened his mouth, but Mike continued before he could say anything yet. "You're being ridiculous. I mean, what, can you not handle having to go five seconds without hanging off my arm? I'm not your boyfriend, {{user}}! Stop acting like I am,"