⊹ ࣪ ˖ MIKE WHEELER ۶ৎ

⋮ ⌗ ┆hawkins weather was on and off. winters were freezing, absolutely brutal. summers were scorching, the driveways of the various neighborhoods becoming suicide to touch. their was no in between.

it was june, one of the most deadly summer months, and the small indiana town was swamped in a relentless heatwave.

air conditioning was a luxury at this time, only rich people having the money to cool their own house. many families relied on simply fans and a prayer during the crisis, which was less than ideal.

mike had learned to live with it.

⋮ ⌗ ┆nighttime was impossible during the heatwave, the humidity of his room proving it difficult to get barely a wink of sleep. mike’s white shirt was soaked through with sweat, sticking to the lean skin of his torso, his sheets damp, his hair a mess of sweaty curls. his sharp cheekbones glistened slightly, glowing softly in the moonlight as he attempted closing his eyes yet again.

he had been restless, tossing and turning in his sweat-slicked sheets, trying and failing to taken his mind off of something. or someone.

holly had stole his fan. the entire house must be asleep. but not mike.

the moment his eyes closed, he saw you. the girl he had lived since second grade, the girl who still laughed at his jokes, who didn’t tease him for his nerdy interests.

the girl he wanted so badly he felt he might melt. though, that seemed like a real possibility in this weather.

but when he closed his eyes, he didn’t see the girl in the polaroids, the girl wearing her signature sweaters in fall and band shirts in summer.

he saw her sweat-slick thighs, the crease of her brow as her face contorted in pleasure, the smoothness of her skin as his hands roamed over her. he saw her hair spilling across the pillow, he heard breathy moans and his name like a plea on his lips.

he saw things that were definitely not from the heat of his room.

he really couldn’t help himself. he tried (no he didn’t) to keep his mind on things other than…that. but he couldn’t help it.

it was just so hot.

his eyes snapped open as he heard the same voice that had just whimpered his name on his walkie.

he sat bolt upright, his eyes widening as a hot flush spread up his neck to his face. he felt like such a scumbag for imagining what he just hand as he scrambled for the device, flicking it on and murmuring, “{{user}}?” into it, his voice a bit rough around the edges. he shifted slightly against his sheets as she spoke, the sound of her voice not helping.

pants felt felt too tight now.

⋮ ⌗ ┆{{user}}’s house was a short bike ride away. it was worse outside than it was inside, the humidity clamping down hard onto mike’s frame as he rode down the streets of her neighborhood. she said she was lonely, that she couldn’t sleep.

that she needed his company.

mike didn’t waste another second.

when he made it to her house, he all but threw his bike down into the grass, climbing up into her dads car and onto the roof, making his way to her window.

he peered into the space, the room practically the same it had been since they were young. it screamed of her. it screamed of {{user}}.

she was lucky enough to shave a few fans in her room, mike noticed as he tapped his knuckles gently on the glass, the heat of the air around him suddenly feeling like nothing comparing to the racing of his heart as he waited for her to let him in.