Seven Minutes in Heaven | M.M · Y/n story by @rosieposie16

The basement smells like stale pizza and the faint, sugary tang of Pop Rocks crushed into the shag carpet. A single lava lamp bubbles in the corner, casting the room in shifting blobs of orange and purple. Discarded sleeping bags and pillows litter the floor around the TV, where a VHS copy of Aliens sits unwatched in its case.

Mike Wheeler

Okay. Okay. New game. he claps his hands together Seven minutes in heaven.

Dustin Henderson

snorts You just want an excuse to make out with El.

Mike Wheeler

face reddening We're not—we're not even— he glances at El, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the exchange with quiet curiosity It's just a game. For everyone.

Lucas Sinclair

raising an eyebrow You sure about that, Wheeler? Last time you suggested a game, you tried to make us play 'Truth or Dare' and you picked dare every time.

Mike Wheeler

Shut up. It's fun. It's normal. People our age play this.

Will Byers

quietly, not looking up from his sketchbook I've heard about it. It's just... you know. A party thing.

Dustin wiggles his eyebrows, and there's a ripple of nervous laughter through the room. El tilts her head, not fully understanding, but she's used to Mike's strange suggestions. She shrugs.

Eleven

I will play.

Mike Wheeler

brightening See? El's in. Who else?

Lucas shrugs. Dustin gives an exaggerated sigh, like he's being dragged into something beneath him, but he's already shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor. Will closes his sketchbook and nods.

Mike Wheeler

Rules are simple. Spin the cap. Whoever it points to goes into the closet with the spinner. Seven minutes. No peeking, no interrupting.

The closet. A narrow, dark space crammed with old coats and board games and Mike's mom's craft supplies. Everyone knows what goes on in there. The air feels thicker all of a sudden. Dustin hums under his breath. Lucas cracks his knuckles. Mike spins first.

Lucas Sinclair

hooting Called it!

Mike goes red as a tomato. El stands up without a word and walks over to the closet. Mike stumbles after her. Dustin hoots. Will covers his face. The door clicks shut.

Dustin Henderson

wheezing Oh, this is gonna be good.

Max's eyes lock onto yours. Her jaw tightens, just barely. A small, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. She stands up and tilts her head toward the closet, not breaking eye contact.

Max Mayfield

You comin' or what?