𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫

✩ 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 ~ 𝚖.𝚑. ✩

pairing: (dead)mike hanlon x (fem)reader

warnings: as angsty as it gets (probably), au

word count: 1365

song preference: the night we met, lord huron

requested? [yes] [no]

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ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪᴛ.

She mustn't have heard her mother clearly, because if she did, the world would have collapsed in on itself. Everything that [Name] knew would have ceased to exist, but it was clear that no matter how much denial she put herself through, it was real

Mike, her best friend, her lover, the one she cared about the most, was dead.

He was far too young to be gone. She swore she had been playing with him in the mud just yesterday, even though they were teenagers now and had been for three years. Sixteen just seemed too young to die. No, not even seemed— it was.

"[Name], honey?" her mother said, although her voice seemed too far away, her face too out of focus, the cool touch of her hand unrecognizable. She swore she had just been sitting at the kitchen table, eating a turkey sandwich, listening to the radio. She swore she had just been waiting for Mike to call her because they were supposed to go to the park that day with the Losers. She swore she hadn't heard that he was gone.

"[Name]," her mother said becoming more frantic with every second going by. "Oh, [Name]. It'll be alright."

She wanted to crack a smile and force a fake laugh from her throat, telling her solemn-looking parents that they were funny and where Mike really was. Maybe he had a surprise for her. Maybe he was waiting behind her pale, sick-looking father.

But when she opened her mouth, words didn't erupt from her throat. Vomit did. She felt her throat swell and close up, then open and emit the most foul puke in her life in less than a second. Her mother cried out and tears burst from her eyes, her father gasped and quickly sprinted to the kitchen, but [Name] just sat there, staring ahead of her.

Mike was not dead.

Mike was not dead.

Mike was not gone.

✩

ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ꜱʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ drink of water and cleaned up herself, [Name] felt a numbness begin to seep into her clothes, spreading from her fingertips up her arms, twisting around her torso like a snake and injecting its poisonous venom directly into her heart.

"Dad," she rasped, her voice raw from the ever-flowing tears that seemed to rip a piece of her soul with them every time they left her eyes. "What happened to Mike?"

Her father clammed up and looked at her mother, who's tight-lipped expression and slight shake of her head made him stop up. She didn't need to know yet. "I'm sorry, my love," her father only said, looking at his hands. He liked Mike almost as much as his daughter did. He was a sweet boy with good manners and few complaints, as well as a good work ethic and a heart of gold. [Name]'s father was certain the two would be married within the next decade, but it seemed fate had to mess with their plans.