Greetings and salutations readers of the internet!

I've had this story floating around in my head for a while, and it makes me want to cry, but if I didn't do something with it I would hate myself.

This isn't a happy story, proceed at your own risk.

"Just be careful, alright" Mike implores her, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't lose you again."

"You won't lose me," She tells him, shaking her head.

"Do you promise?" Mike asks, not sure if he can go through this again.

"Promise," She answers with utter certainty.

XxX

November 3

The tension in the Byers' home is palpable, Mike relentlessly pacing around the house. His exhausted friends are sprawled anywhere there's space, long tired of Mike's pacing, but not willing to interrupt.

When the roar of the Chief's truck becomes audible, soon joined by light flooding the room, Mike rushes outside, almost running straight through the door before he can get it open.

His heart is pounding in chest, the anxiety of not knowing reaching its peak. When the engine cuts out the headlights turn off, and Hopper gets out.

Only Hopper gets out...

"Where's El?" Mike questions, the knot of tension in his stomach tightening.

Hopper's face is streaked with tears through the dust caked on it, his eyes puffy and red. He slowly shakes his head, only making it far enough to lean against the hood of the truck before he has to cover his eyes with his hand again.

"No," Mike murmurs, ice shooting through his veins. "She promised..."

His legs buckle underneath him, sending him crashing to his hands and knees. With the sound of rushing feet, Nancy hugs him close as his tears start to fall.

Mike's agonizing cries tear out his throat, the sound of someone who's lost the most important person they've ever known. The person they love more than life itself, ripped away forever.

Joyce rushes over to Hopper before he can collapse as well. It takes some struggle, but she manages to get him inside.

Once Mike's cries die down to strangled sobs Nancy tries to help him inside as well. She manages to get him on his feet and walking toward the door when he just breaks away, running as fast as his feet can carry him away from the house.

They call after him, too stunned and too deep in grief to think to run after him right away. He disappears into the trees, barely registering anything around him.

Mike's never been the most athletic kid, but when he stops the run doesn't seem to register with him. Nothing really seems to register anymore, not the cuts and scrapes all over his hands and face from when he tripped over roots and stones, not the fact that he just ran all the way to quarry, not even that he's standing perilously close to the edge of the cliff.

The only thing that he can think about is El.

Every moment they'd had together plays on repeat in his head, from finding her in the woods while looking for Will a year ago, to the time he managed to kiss her and ask her to the Snowball, to just a few hours ago when they'd finally reunited.

"Promise," She answered, with utter certainty.

Mike's cries start again, like a wounded animal. He doesn't even notice when Nancy and Jonathan drive up, or even when Nancy pulls him away from the edge.

He finally falls asleep in the back of the car from pure exhaustion, his sister still holding him.

XxX

December 8

"So tell me, how are you feeling this week?" Dr. Owens asks, sitting down in the armchair next to Mike's.

"The same way I've been the last four times Nancy dragged me here," Mike responds curtly, staring at the same stain on the carpet he looks at every week.

"How are things going at school?" The doctor continues, still ever friendly.

"How do you think?" Mike retorts, his grip on the arms of his chair tightening and loosening. His knuckles are red from his latest fight with Troy.

"I hear you were suspended for fighting this week," Dr. Owens comments, flipping a page over on his clipboard to see the school report. "You broke his nose, two teeth, two black eyes, and his jaw might be dislocated. It took two teachers to pull you off of him before you killed him."

Mike stays silent, sinking lower in the chair, but not shifting his gaze from the stain. The doctor stays silent as well, waiting for some kind of explanation.

"He said the world was better off without her," Mike finally mutters, his red knuckles turning white as he tightens his grip again.

"And that made you angry," The doctors says. "It's a perfectly normal reaction when dealing with grief like this."

Mike just scoffs at the observation.

"However, getting into fights isn't the way to process your anger," Dr. Owens continues. "Are you getting enough sleep? Or are the nightmares still happening?"

"Same as the last four times you asked," Mike tells him shortly.

"Have you been taking the sleeping pills I prescribed for you?" The doctor asks, making a few notes on his clipboard.

"No, and I don't want to," Mike answers, crossing his arms.

"And how about your journal?" Dr. Owens follows up. "Are you still writing in it?"

Mike stays silent again and Dr. Owens makes another note.

"It's a good thing to keep up with," He comments, flipping to another page. "You obviously don't want to talk to me, or to your sister or friends, so at least talk to the page. Once you can get your grief out in the open, even if it's a private journal, you'll be able to see more of how you can keep going."

Mike presses his lips together, determined not to speak anymore. The session continues a little longer with more fruitless questions, until Dr. Owens finally concedes for the week.

"Since you're not so talkative this week I think we can end a little early," He says, flipping all the pages closed on his board. "Unless you want to say anything."

He waits another few moments, but when no answer is forthcoming he sighs and gets up. The board clicks when he puts it down on the desk, and then he writes a short note on another piece of paper.

Mike gets up and leaves the office, the doctor not far behind him. Nancy gets up once Mike comes into the reception area of the office, but he just stalks past her toward the parking lot.

"He's making some progress," Dr. Owens tells her. "It's slow, but he's moved past the denial stage, at least partially. I know it's not the best solution, but if you could get some kind of punching bag together for him, it might let him vent some of his anger in a less destructive way."

He hands her the paper, with most of what he just said on it, as well as a few more private details he can't say aloud.

"Thank you," She says, looking it over. "For everything."

"Don't even think about," He tells her. "It's the least I can do after...everything."

Nancy just nods tiredly, putting the paper in her back before bidding the doctor goodbye. She heads out to the parking lot where Mike is impatiently waiting for her to unlock the car.

XxX

May 18

"Well, you've certainly made an impression on your school counselor," Dr. Owens comments, reading through a monthly report he'd received about Mike. "Straight A's since February, volunteering with the preschool and kindergarten programs after school every day, and community outreach with the St. John Youth Ministry every Sunday after mass."

"It's not that much," Mike mutters awkwardly.

"I beg to differ," Dr. Owens responds, sitting down in his usual chair again. "When I started seeing you, the last things you would have wanted to do were studying and community service. Now it's almost all you do, I just hope you're still giving yourself enough time to relax with your friends."

"It's a little hard sometimes," Mike tells him, actually looking at him for once. "They just don't seem to realize how important these things can be, all they ever want to do is play video games and D&D."

"That's not a problem for people your age, Michael," The doctor says, laying a reassuring hand on Mike's shoulder. "You don't have to do everything yourself. If you let yourself relax and have some mindless fun with your friends every once in awhile it can actually help you focus more into everything else."

Mike nods, genuinely taking the words into account.

"Now, what about things at home?" Dr. Owens asks. "How are things with your parents? And your sisters?"

"They're getting better," Mike answers, cracking a smile. "Mom let me have my allowance back since my grades are better. Dad's the same as always, but I guess that's not terrible. Nancy and I talk more, I guess, like we said we'd do. Even Holly and I are spending more time together since I volunteer with her class."

"That's great to hear, it's always good when you and your family can support each other," Dr. Owens tells him. "Now, just a little business to go over. How are you sleeping now that you're coming off the pills? Are you getting any nightmares?"

"I've had a few," Mike admits. "But they weren't as bad as before, and they're pretty far between instead of every night."

"The same ones as before?" The doctor continues, looking back at a different page on his clipboard.

Mike goes silent, looking down at the ground again, but nodding slowly.

"It's okay to say these things out loud, Michael, this is a safe place for you," The doctor informs him. "No details about what you tell me go to anyone but your parents, and they're letting Nancy handle this for you."

"The same ones," Mike finally murmurs, reaching up and grabbing the cross pendant around his neck, something he'd started doing a lot in the few months since he bought it.

Dr. Owens nods, giving the boy another reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"It's perfectly normal to still be grieving for someone you love," Dr. Owens explains. "Sometimes it can take days, sometimes weeks, months, even years before you can fully come to grips. You're doing remarkably well for your age, especially compared to how you started."

Mike nods, pushing up a tight smile.

"I think that's enough for today," Dr. Owens says, getting up to put his clipboard on his desk. As always he writes a few notes on another piece of paper, folds it in half, and then he and Mike exit the office.

Nancy waits in the reception area, reading through a few magazines. She looks up when the door opens and puts her reading away, giving her little brother a hug, though he pushes her off in embarrassment.

"I'll be in the car," Mike says after she hands him the key, now a routine for them.

Once he's gone she gives the doctor an expectant look.

"He's a remarkable boy," Dr. Owens starts. "He's throwing himself into a lot of goodwill projects, and for now it's helping him cope."

"Is that not a good thing?" Nancy asks, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

"For a time, yes, it can be very helpful in moving past the worst part of losing someone you love," He answers carefully. "But, this is just another stage of grief that he needs to make it through. He started going to church every Sunday, with or without the rest of the family, he joined the Youth Ministry, he started volunteering with young children, and the list goes on."

"I still don't see how any of that is bad for him," Nancy responds.

"It's a kind of bargaining," Dr. Owens clarifies. "Once people realize that getting angry at the world isn't going to change anything for them, they start trying to bargain with something greater than themselves. Most of the time it's along the lines of making a deal with God, 'if I do enough good things for the world, I'll get to wake up and it will all just be a bad dream'. Some people devote their whole lives to bargaining with God, hoping that the next day will be when they finally get to wake up."

Nancy doesn't say anything, giving a concerned glance over her shoulder toward the parking lot.

"What am I supposed to do about it?" Nancy questions, her grip tightening around her bag.

"Help him get back into the things he enjoyed before," Dr. Owens suggests. "He mentioned video games and D&D with his friends, those would be a good anchor for him in this stage. Even if the bargaining doesn't work, he can still find happiness in something with them."

Nancy nods, taking a deep breath as she accepts the paper from the doctor.

XxX

October 6

"Nancy tells me you've had a pretty hard week," Dr. Owens says, setting his clipboard on the arm of the chair. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Mike remains staunchly silent, lightly tracing over the small split in his lip. His eyes are puffy and red, and his knuckles aren't much better.

"It's definitely not an easy thing to go through, especially on top of everything else we've talked about," Dr. Owens continues. "But I think if you're willing to talk about it, you'll be able to work through it easier."

Mike still says nothing, crossing his arm over his chest and fixing his gaze on the same stain on the carpet.

"I'll tell you what," The doctor says after a few more silent moments. "I'll share my story with you, and then you can decide if you want to talk to me."

He only gets more silence as a response, so he delves into his personal story.

"When I was a child, my father liked to drink, quite often in fact," He starts. "And he had a terrible temper most of the time. Anytime my little brother or I did something he didn't like, he would unbuckle his belt, and we would try to run away. My brother was never very fast, so I let my father catch me instead."

Mike shifts uncomfortably in the chair, still not looking up.

"Around when I was a sophomore in high school, and my brother was in seventh, our mother finally decided to divorce our father," Dr. Owens continues. "They would have shouting matches every night, and my brother would be scared, so I let him sleep in my room. I have to doubt if our parents ever really loved each other when they fought like that."

Mike's lips press tightly against each other so he won't speak, though it seems like he has to focus some effort on it.

"It took me a long time to stop being bitter toward the both of them," Dr. Owens explains. "You want to know what finally did it for me? I realized that the most important thing wasn't what I didn't have anymore, the perfect little suburban family, it was what I did still have, my brother. No matter how bad our parents fought, I still had him in my life, and I knew that he needed me."

"At least you still had someone like that!" Mike shouts. "You know how many people need me?! None!"

"That's not true Michael," The doctor tells him calmly, having expected this reaction. "Your friends would be devastated to lose you, and your sisters would never be the same without you in their lives, especially now."

"I'm sure they'd move on just fine," Mike spits. "Just like they all move on from everything and forget it ever happened."

With that he storms out of the room, throwing the door open so hard it bangs against the wall. Nancy doesn't even have time to put her magazine down before he's already out the door.

"What happened?!" She demands when Dr. Owens appears in the doorway.

"A bit of a backfire on my part, though not entirely unexpected," He admits. "I told him a story about my parents' divorce, and how I found my strength to keep going from how my brother still needed me. He feels like nobody needs him anymore, and that everyone could just move on if he was gone."

"I thought you were supposed to help him!" Nancy shouts, angrily throwing her magazine on the ground.

"I can only do so much as a counselor," Dr. Owens tells her. "Unless he's willing to talk to me, all I can do is give suggestions."

"And what are you suggesting now?" Nancy asks, trying her hardest to regain her composure after her outburst.

"Don't let him be alone for extended periods of time," The doctor answers. "And try talking to him about this. He needs to know that there are still people in the world that need him, ones that would miss him if he was gone."

He hands her his latest note, and she stuffs it into her bag, quickly rushing out the door after her brother.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Dr. Owens mutters to himself in the empty reception room, moving to look out the window at the two siblings.

Nancy says something to him when she gets to the car, to which Mike just starts shouting. After a few more moments of that he just turns and leaves, stalking away across the parking lot.

Nancy races after him, just barely catching him at the edge of the road. She holds both of his arms before bringing him in for a hug. Mike doesn't push her away, but he doesn't hug her back either. When she pulls back he lets his sister lead him back to the car. He doesn't even resist, as if he's just given up all together.

XxX

October 22

"I don't think I can go to school today," Mike groans, holding his stomach.

His mother gives him a look, the same ones she's given him the last dozen times he's tried this. She puts a hand on his forehead, clearing his mess of hair out of the way so she can actually feel it.

"You are a little warm," She murmurs, biting the inside of her cheek.

She goes over to a drawer and takes out a thermometer. Mike doesn't try to stop her from putting it in his mouth. After a few minutes she takes it out.

"Ninety nine point eight," She reads, and then sighs. "I guess you can stay home for today, but I want you to get some of your chores done."

"Fine," Mike groans again, going back to holding his stomach.

Karen goes to get Holly from her room for preschool as Nancy comes back downstairs with her backpack on her shoulder.

"Where's your stuff?" She asks, looking around the kitchen.

"I'm staying home today," Mike answers, still holding his stomach. "I'm not feeling too well right now."

Nancy has the same slightly suspicious and concerned look that her mother had, feeling his forehead again.

"It's just a little fever," Mike tells her. "And my stomach."

"Alright, I guess feel better," She says, bringing him into a hug. "Maybe we can go to the arcade after school if you're feeling better?"

"Maybe," He murmurs back. When she starts to pull away he stops her, tightening his grip. "I love you."

For a few moments Nancy is too stunned to speak, it's been months since Mike said that too her without prompting.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She asks again.

"I will be," He assures her. "Thanks for everything, and I mean it, I love you for it."

"Okay," Nancy replies, still suspicious. "I love you too."

He finally lets her go and she hesitates a few seconds before starting to leave. When the door closes Karen and Holly come back down the stairs.

Holly rushes over to Mike when her mother sets her down. He picks her up with a smile, giving her a big hug as well.

"Good morning!" She exclaims, hugging her brother back.

"Morning Holly," He responds quietly. "You're gonna do your best today, right?"

"Yeah!" Holly answers with a giggle.

"You're such a good girl," He says, squeezing a little tighter. "I love you."

"I love you too," Holly tells him in her adorable five year old way.

"Okay, we need to get going or you'll be late," Karen interrupts. "Mike, you get started on those chores."

"Alright," Mike assures her, setting Holly down to give his mother a hug as well. "I know I don't say it enough, but I love you."

She eyes her son suspiciously again.

"Maybe it's good that you're staying home today," She comments, but hugs him back all the same. "Okay Mike, I love you too."

With that he lets her go, and she rushes out the door with Holly in tow. Mike sighs, going up to his room. He picks the few things on the floor up and puts them away, makes his bed, and even organizes his desk.

It takes him less than twenty minutes to get it done, which would have surprised his mother immensely. A quick trip downstairs gives him time to pop two Eggos in the toaster, and while he waits on them he grabs a few things from upstairs.

When he gets back down the Eggos have popped up and cooled enough for him to pick up and carry without a plate. He heads down to the basement and sits in the blanket fort, still standing exactly how it was when he put it up two years ago.

First he grabs his supercom, setting it to the same channel he's used for two years, the one his friends never use.

"Hi El, it's October twenty first, about seven forty five a.m, day three hundred fifty three. If you're out there at all, just give me some kind of sign," He says, the words desperate and hollow.

He waits for a while, just staring at the speaker on the supercom. When no answer is forthcoming he lets out a choked sigh, setting it down.

Second, Mike grabs his journal, the one Dr. Owens had suggested he keep. He hadn't written in it everyday, or even most days, but there was an entry for most of the important days of the last year.

He picks up his pencil, starting to write a new entry. This one is much longer than any of the others, it has to be. As he writes he starts to eat his Eggos, getting some crumbs on the pages but not bothering to wipe them off.

His mother comes back while he sits there writing, calling his name twice with no answer. She goes upstairs to check his room, pleasantly surprised by the immaculate condition of her son's room. Rather than hunt him down to do the other chores, she decides to let him be. She has an important meeting with the divorce lawyer and her soon-to-be ex-husband Ted that afternoon.

Mike just keeps writing, having to put the journal down more than once so he doesn't ruin the pages with tears. Hours later, when the water starts running in the shower upstairs and makes the pipes groan for a few seconds, Mike sets down the pencil. He takes another couple minutes to check what he wrote, holding the book away from him so his tears don't soak the page.

"I'm done," He murmurs, closing his eyes, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I'm coming El."

Finally he picks up the handgun, holds it against his temple, and pulls the trigger.

Writing this made me want to cry. All I was planning to do was go through the five stages of grief, but the more I wrote the more I realized that El not coming back would have destroyed Mike forever. I was hoping I could spin something where he made it to the acceptance stage, but that just didn't seem likely.

Just in case you don't know, the five stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

As for Dr. Owens being a psychiatrist, it just seemed partially fitting to his character. I see him as at least having some understanding of psychology, if not expressly being a psychologist, so a psychiatrist is the medium between since they're required to have medical training.

I have two more chapters of this planned, one where they find Mike's body, and one of all the journal entries he wrote. I also have a much less depressing story that I'll be posting later, so check that one out for some happy times for the Stranger Things cast.