Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mike Wheeler has spent, what feels like, his entire life loving El Hopper.

He has spent a good chunk of that losing her, too.

He thinks a piece of him—a great big piece, impossible to ignore—dies every time she has left his life. Whether it was disappearing with the Upside Down or moving across the country or deep into a desert to get her powers back—El has slipped through Mike’s fingers four times too many, and it’s a fucking wonder he’s still standing now to live to tell the tale. He wonders, not for the first time, whether the universe is a friend or an enemy; it keeps ripping El away from him, yet bringing her back, time and time again. He hates it and loves it, is grateful for it and could do without it at the same time. It’s complicated, but his life has long since stopped being simple.

This last time. . . This last time, he thought he had lost her forever, and although El is living and breathing in front of him, Mike is terrified to fully, completely believe in it.

It’s why he has these moments, more often than not, where he gets lost in his head, in thoughts that don’t entirely bring him a peace of mind. Thoughts that stir up moments in his life he would desperately rather forget, and they hit him out of nowhere and unexpectedly. Whether he’s with El or not, Mike will end up reliving through all of those times where he lost her, and will have to make an excuse of needing to use the bathroom to let these feelings pass—the tightness in his chest, the ringing sound in his ears, his shaking hands. 

Panic attacks. He’s never had them before as a young kid, too determined and too angry to fall apart like that, but he guesses it was only a matter of time until everything finally took its toll on him.

He refuses to let El see, though. She has been through too much and after everything, she’s finally on the road of living a normal life. One without being hunted, without having to look over her shoulder. Mike will be damned if he’s the reason that gets derailed in any way.

So he tries. He tries to move forward, day by day. He does his best not to think of that night in the woods, finding her in the middle of the night—in the middle of running away because she thought it would be easier for him. The fact that she could ever think that. . . It makes Mike nauseous. It makes him sick to know that she thought his life could ever be better without her in it.

Mike knows what life without El is like, before and after. It’s a life he doesn’t see himself surviving in, ever. To lose El is to lose himself, without a doubt. 

His gaze keeps sliding towards the clock, knee bouncing under his desk as he watches the clock hands tick along. The final bell of the day rings in about six minutes and forty-three seconds, and Mike has long since stopped listening to Mr. Peterson talking about Bohr models. The sooner the bell rings, the sooner he can get out of here and see El back at the cabin, where she is.

She’s there. She’s there. She’s there—

“Dude, can you relax? You’re shaking your whole desk.”

Mike clenches his jaw at Lucas’s voice, but doesn’t tear his gaze away from the clock above the classroom door. He does, however, try to still his bouncing knee, though it takes great effort. El El El. Her name swims through his mind like a stream of consciousness, incapable of thinking about anything else. He has gotten to the point where he actually wants—maybe needs—El to visit him in the Void during random moments in the day. He certainly wouldn’t be upset if she decided to see him in the middle of a calculus pop quiz.

Hell, if anything, it’d help him breathe easier.

But she’s done it only once—about a week after he found her in the woods, around eight days ago now. In the middle of the night when he was asleep, except the nightmare that had visited him had him crying out her name, begging and pleading, only for him to be pulled out of the bad dream—losing El, because what else?—and end up in the Void.

“Are you okay?” El had asked him, hands running up his arms to his shoulders until they rested on the sides of his neck, thumbs against his jaw. The water rippled beneath them. Her frantic gaze was enough to get him to stop breathing so heavily. “I—I heard—I could feel—” She shook her head, brown hair brushing along her cheeks as her panicked eyes met his. “Are you okay?”

All Mike can do is stare at her for a few beats. One—she is a rewarding dream after that nightmare, even if this is real. Two—she felt his distress and found him immediately. Three—she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Four—being in the Void with her is preferred over sleeping alone in his bed.

“I’m okay.” Mike had tried not to cringe at the hoarseness of his voice, as though screaming for her in his nightmare had longlasting effects. “I’m okay. Just—Just a bad dream.”

El’s eyes ran over him once more, slightly less panicked, but the worry was evident. Mike’s own eyes drank her in—greedily, desperately. She was in her pajamas, dark hair falling around her shoulders, soft and sweet and the sleep chased away to be replaced by her concern. He fell in love all over again and hated that he did this to her. El has spent so much of her life being worried for the people she loves, and Mike fucking hated adding onto that.

“Come over tomorrow,” El had told him softly, her thumb running along his jaw. “We can spend the day together.”

It would be a Saturday. That was already his plan, anyway. 

He wanted to chase away the worry that was still etched on her face. “Sounds like a dream.”

His words got a gentle laugh out of El. Mission accomplished.

Mike is pulled out of his thoughts by the shrill ringing of the bell, and he immediately jumps into action. Doesn’t care if he’s crumpling papers as he stuffs his notebook and textbook into his backpack, ignoring the slightly bewildered look Lucas throws at him as Mike all but charges out of the classroom. He may not have muscle on him, but he’s tall and has the legs for long, purposeful strides that carry him out of the room quickly and easily.

Mike ignores the continuous thundering of his heart as he makes his way through the hallway, weaving around students walking way too fucking slow to get to his locker. His skin buzzes with anticipation, chewing on his bottom lip as his nimble fingers quickly put in the locker combination before he yanks the door open.

The hallway bustles with chatter, but Mike hears none of it as he takes out what he doesn’t need from his backpack and stuffs in whatever he needs for homework. He makes sure to tuck in his copy of Death of a Salesman that he’s reading for lit class, knowing El is going to want him to read it to him later. Dropping his backpack to his feet, Mike slips on the light jacket hanging in his locker, and as he goes to pick up the backpack, he sees someone come up next to him.

“You alright, man?” Lucas asks, eyeing him warily as he yanks the zipper of his bag shut. 

Mike raises his eyebrows as he slams the locker shut, the sound nearly getting drowned in the hallway thrumming with energy. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he deflects with the ease of a professional. He feels like he could crawl out of his skin right now, the sensation that will only be soothed once he’s with El.

Lucas looks at him like he’s full of shit. Which, okay, is fair. But Mike doesn’t have time for this. “Because you don’t look it,” Lucas says bluntly, not one to beat around the bush. He clicks his tongue when Mike huffs and walks past him towards the main entrance, but Lucas matches his stride easily. “You’ve been a little on edge lately.”

“I’m fine,” Mike answers dismissively, shouldering his way around a freshman. His jaw works, eyes glued to the school doors at the end of the hall. “Just—gotta go see El.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucas replies with a scoff, though Mike sees his friend smiling good naturedly. “But that doesn’t explain why you’ve been so. . . Bouncy.”

That has Mike throwing Lucas a bewildered look, eyebrows shooting up. “Bouncy?” The door is just ten feet away.

“You know! Like—” Lucas waves his hand around, like he’s searching for a word and trying to catch it between his fingers. “Like you’re gearing up for a fight or something. It’s not like she’s going anywhere, man.”

They exit the school the second Lucas says those words, and the blood freezes in Mike’s veins as they rattle around in his head. Even with the afternoon sun hitting his skin, threatening to burn his corneas even as he squints, all he can hear is the taunting echo of Lucas’s innocuous words.

It’s not like she’s going anywhere.

Except that’s not true, is it? She almost did, two weeks ago. She would have, if Mike hadn’t sensed it. If he hadn’t noticed her change in demeanor, the way her smile hadn’t reached her eyes, if she hadn’t kissed him that evening before he went home like it was going to be their last, then she would have slipped away from him again. He cannot forget it, yet every time it crosses his mind, Mike swears his heart stops, his lungs ceasing function. Every time he thinks of how close he got to losing her again, it takes him out at the knees, bile rising to his throat.

But Lucas doesn’t know. None of them do; none of them know about what El had planned to do that night. It has become a secret just for the two of them; one Mike hates thinking about—one El is ashamed to remember. So they carry it alone, together, because it’s for the best.

“I know,” Mike forces out, trying to keep the bite and the fear out of his voice. He goes for nonchalance, hiking the strap of his backpack higher up his shoulder even as his grip tightens. Mike tries to breathe through the thunderous beat of his heart as he adds, “But I don’t like to keep her waiting.”

Because what if she was waiting for too long? What if she thought he wasn’t coming? What if that’s all it took for her to change her mind? What if she left and didn’t come back?

All of these what if’s, yet they’re all borne from a little bit of truth, aren’t they? It’s why they haunt Mike so ruthlessly, why he needs to be with her to make sure those what if’s don’t root themselves into reality.

And maybe his words are a little too thick in their worry, because Lucas’s expression shifts into concern. He turns towards Mike, dark eyes searching. “You okay?”

She’s at the cabin. She’s waiting. She’s not gone. He keeps reminding himself of this as he nods quickly, flashing Lucas a smile that he finds too difficult. “Yeah, for sure,” Mike nods quickly. “I gotta get going. I’ll see you later.”

Lucas nods, but he still watches Mike carefully. “Sure. Tell El I said hi.”

Mike throws a wave his way before bounding down the front stairs, heading towards the bike rack to truly start his day.

It feels like the first time Mike truly breathes is when El throws her arms around his neck.

The second she hugs him at the threshold of the cabin, Mike’s eyes slip shut, arms winding around her waist as he sinks into the embrace. She smells like strawberries and home, and Mike can’t stop himself from lifting her. She giggles into the crook of his neck, fingers in his hair because that’s where they belong, and tension seeping out of his muscles is sweet, soothing relief. Here, here, here.

“How was your day?” El asks, pulling back enough to tug him further into the cabin, flicking the door shut with an upwards jerk of her head. He lets her pull him along, one of his hands in both of hers as she walks backwards, smiling eyes on him.

His chest tightens at the sight of her, mesmerized by how pretty she is, moving like he’s in a daze as his footsteps thud lightly against the wooden floorboards. The incessant worry that had been roiling in his gut all day slowly begins to ease, El’s mere presence enough to soothe away the anxieties that dry his throat and make his head throb at the temples. She is the breath of fresh air he needs to function, like the rest of the world is poison itself.

“Yeah, it was good,” Mike answers, lips curving up for real for the first time as he drops his backpack onto the couch. It’s just the two of them at the cabin, which Mike never takes for granted. Easier to breathe, now that it’s just him and her. “Got assigned new reading for my lit class.”

He adores the way El’s eyes light up in excitement, loves her hunger for knowledge. She can’t go to school, not yet, so he and the others always come by to do their homework at the cabin so she can learn with them. Mike thinks without the address social pressure of being in a classroom, El thrives and is a fast learner. She hates math, is fascinated by science, and loves English. She has her own notebooks for each subject, will write down the questions and their answers to learn from and Mike is hopelessly enamored by her for it. 

The air, he realizes, smells sweet. “Did you bake?” he asks as he follows El into the kitchen. 

“Chocolate chip cookies,” she confirms, gesturing towards the counter with a flourish.

It’s a new hobby she’s picked up recently. It took a lot of experimenting, with Mike being a willing guinea pig, but El quickly got the hang of it. He’s pretty sure he’s gained a few pounds eating all of the brownies, cakes, and cookies she has made.

The cookies look as delicious as they smell, thin streams of steam curling up from the tray. “Careful,” El says when he goes to grab one. “They’re hot.”

A little too late, his hunger getting the best of him as he takes a greedy bite of the cookie and instantly yelps when the melted chocolate chips damn near singe his tongue and the roof of his mouth. “Shit!” Mike curses, mouth dropping open as he fans it with his free hand.

“Mike!” El exclaims with a laugh, watching him with a combination of amusement and worry as she steps closer and, as he pants like an idiot to cool down the cookie in his mouth, she waves her own hands to cool it down for him. The warm balm of her laughter distracts him from the steaming cookie, his flapping hand slowing down while his gaze simply sinks into her. Like looking away from El could be detrimental. “Are you okay?” she asks, gaze flickering over his face. “I told you they were hot. I took them out of the oven right before you got here.”

Mike swallows the mouthful of cookie, wincing only a little as it burns a bit down his throat, but he shrugs with a small but lopsided smile. “Worth it.”

She shakes her head, though her smile remains, framed adorably by deep dimples as she looks up at him with pretty brown eyes that he sees in all of his dreams. “Good?” El asks.

Mike nods. He feels a little dumbstruck in her presence, a truth he became aware of the very night he met El. Like he isn’t worthy of breathing the same air as her, and maybe he isn’t, but here they are anyway. Even now, almost six years since they met, there are still moments when words fail Mike when it comes to El. Not because he doesn’t know how to express himself, but because El leaves him so speechless, he is so in awe of her all of the time, that saying anything would just fall short.

His life found meaning—real, true meaning—when El came into it. When she looked at him with those pretty eyes and trusted him implicitly. She took his hand, and their lives changed forever.

And yet Mike can’t stop thinking about all of those times when she let go of his hand, too. Those times she let go of him and everything they have together and, fuck, Mike knows—Mike knows that every time he had to say goodbye to El, it was because she was making a difficult decision. She was only thinking about everyone else, never herself. She is good and every heartbreak Mike has experienced is because El took it upon herself to same the damn world. Not even eighteen years old yet and selfless to her own detriment, no matter how much Mike tries to get her to stay.

"Promise me you’ll stop leaving me."

"I promise. I will never leave you, Mike. Never again."

Vows exchanged late at night in her room, filled with desperation and hope that Mike prayed meant this was a promise that will be kept for as long as they’re alive—and then some. Except—

Except Mike trusts El. He does—and yet he can’t shake this fear that has clung to him like second skin. It sticks to him when he’s at school, when he’s at home, when he’s riding his bike—anywhere he is that El isn’t, Mike feels this chilly, clammy sheen on him that he can’t get rid of. It’s a familiar sensation; the same kind of cold sweat he wakes in the middle of the night with following a nightmare. A feeling that is accompanied by a sense of impending doom.

It’s not as though Mike doesn’t believe El when she says she’s not going anywhere. But it’s terrifying knowing that this was a thought in her head; that she truly considered running away, leaving everyone and everything she knew behind, because she thought they all would be better off for it. That she would have succeeded if Mike hadn’t picked up on something being off with her and hadn’t stopped her. He convinced her to stay and Mike wonders how long that will last. He wonders if his worry and fear and anxiety are warranted or if he just needs to get the fuck over it.

“Mike? Mike!” He blinks out of his stupor, catching El staring up at him questioningly. “Hi,” she says with a gentle laugh when she realizes he’s back down in reality. “Do you want to do your homework?”

Absolutely not. “Um—” He glances over his shoulder at the wooden green door, heart pounding. Looking back at El, he raises his eyebrows hopefully, ignoring his rapid pulse as he asks her, “How about a nap instead?”

El’s expression softens into a smile, tilting her head slightly. “A nap sounds good,” she answers, taking his hand in hers before leading him to her bedroom, no questions asked.

He’s not sure if he actually sleeps. Maybe for twenty minutes, if he’s being generous. But it’s not long until Mike is awake once again, alone in the silence of the cabin with his only company being that of El’s gentle, steady breathing. She is tangled up with him, legs winding around his under the blankets yet somehow half on top of him with her cheek resting on his chest as she sleeps.

The weight of her is warm and welcome, a needed reminder of her presence, of her realness. Lately, Mike has been desperate for the physical reminder—it’s a constant need, one Mike thinks he can’t live without, and logically, he knows it’s bordering on concerning. Logically, he knows he can’t be glued to her side, can’t be with her twenty-four-seven. But after losing El, time and time again, logic has no room here. Logic can kiss his ass and leave him to be with the girl he loves. Any distance between them is felt deep in his chest; sharp and painful, locking his throat with anxiety and easing only when they’re in the same room together. Even then, sometimes it feels as though Mike is dreaming, and only touching her, feeling the warmth of her skin, can fully put him at ease.

So now he lays and watches El as she sleeps peacefully, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Her right hand rests right on top of his thudding heart, and he wonders if she can feel the beat even in her sleep. He thinks she might; they have always felt each other, in all states of being, Mike believes. Awake and asleep and in between in the Void—there is nowhere that Mike wouldn’t feel El, and nowhere she wouldn’t be able to find him.

His fingers idly brush up and down her spine through her soft shirt, dipping his chin enough to bury his nose in the soft strands of her hair. Mike breathes in deep, his eyes falling shut as the scent of strawberries and something so lovely and specifically El fills his nose, easing any remaining fluttering nerves. It lulls him, gentle and sweet, and he drifts back to sleep to the feel of being completely wrapped up in El.

He’s not sure how long it lasts. Maybe an hour or so, if he were to wager a guess, but it’s lower than the last thing Mike cares about when he wakes up to an empty bed.

Cold. Mike is instantly cold. The sheets have an imprint of where she had laid, the smell of strawberries clinging to the pillow and his shirt as he roughly runs a hand over the mattress. He can barely think over his thundering heart, the only thought running through his head being El, El, where’s El? as he sits up fast enough to make him dizzy if he was paying any mind to it. The tightness in his throat damn near burns as he haphazardly kicks the covers off, limbs too long and out of his panicked control that he falls to the floor with a thud. 

Mike grunts but doesn’t wince as his knees hit the wooden floorboards, scrambling up to his feet as his wild gaze darts out the open bedroom door. “El?” he calls out, her name ripping through his throat.

Calm down. She’s around here somewhere. Don’t panic. He stumbles forward, the thud thud thud of his heart painful in his chest as he exits the room, looking around the too fucking empty cabin. “El?” he calls out again, voice trembling and head on a swivel as he tries to look, look, look. Mike’s eyes burn, taking in the empty living room, the empty kitchen, even the bathroom door is open to show the vacant room. “El!”

Where is she where is she where is she—

“Mike?” The air stills in Mike’s aching lungs at the sweet sound of her voice, practically breaking his neck when he turns to see her entering the cabin through the front door. Concern and confusion pulls her eyebrows together as she kicks the door shut behind her, arms otherwise occupied by a pile of clothes she carries in. “Is. . . Everything okay?”

He stays frozen where he stands for a couple of beats, just drinking in the sight of her through heavy breaths. Here—she’s here. The icy blood in his veins slowly thaws as El moves carefully, keeping her eyes locked with his as she places the pile of clothes on the couch. Distantly, Mike knows she and Hopper hang their clothes out on the railing when the sun’s bright enough to let them air dry. Logically, he knows she was just outside, gathering the clothes as night fell. 

But, Jesus Christ, his heart is racing too fast and all he could think in those last few minutes was gone gone gone.

Her worry is palpable as she walks over to him, and Mike gets the distinct sense that she approaches him like one would a wounded animal. El’s light footsteps thud just as loudly as his heart on the floor in the quiet of the cabin, dark hair slightly messy from her nap. Mike’s fingers itch with the need to reach out as she nears, but he can’t move. He knows what this is. He recognizes the fear, the way it paralyzes him in place, the cold in his veins giving way to the heat of embarrassment at being such a scared fucking baby but—

The closer she gets, the more her worry deepens; Mike can see it in her big hazel eyes when he doesn’t move from place. The heat spreads across his face as his heart gradually begins to calm down, unable to tear his gaze away from her as he forces out, “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.” 

He’s lying through his damn teeth as he puts on a smile he doesn’t entirely mean—and El can easily tell. The corners of her mouth turn downwards, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows, gaze searching. The cabin is bathed in a soft glow from the lamps placed around, the sun having set, and Mike’s mind is jumping through all sorts of hoops. 

The panic of not seeing her immediately when he woke up. The sharp sting in his knees from falling off the bed in alarm. The warmth that radiates from El, bathed in a golden glow. The burning in his eyes as fear clawed at his throat. The cool relief the moment she walked back into the cabin. The mortification that replaces the terror as El looks at him with worry that only exists because he can’t keep it the fuck together.

He hates the distress that pulls at her features, concern for him that he put there. Mike wants to crawl out of his skin—is willing to do anything to get rid of this feeling for both of them. His panic coexists within him, a parasite he can’t flush out. It has dug its way deep into his skin and Mike dreads that it’s here to stay, never to leave him alone and truly enjoy the happiness of El being here and staying. This parasite is a nagging voice in the back of his head, taunting him with the possibility of her going back on her word. Forcing him to think about a day where he finds out she went through with it and left without a word—without a goodbye.

She wouldn’t do that. He reminds himself of that. But it doesn’t stick. Why won’t it fucking stick?

El sighs, the sound too sad for his liking. “Mike. . .”

“We should get started on homework,” he cuts in swiftly, but not before he takes her hand in his, needing to make sure she’s real. His thumb innocuously rests on her wrist, right at her pulse point. The tightness in his chest eases when he feels the beat. “We’ve got some reading to do, remember?” he adds, bringing forth a smile he hopes is believable.

He knows she wants to say something, but Mike doesn’t give her the chance. Just pulls her towards the couch where his backpack is, more than ready to dig into his homework just so he can avoid a conversation he doesn’t know how to have.

He feels El’s gaze on him the entire time they get their notebooks out, but he doesn’t meet it. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t revel in the weight of her gaze. It’s just another reminder that she’s here after all.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school, kid?” Hopper asks, unimpressed as he stands on his porch. The smoke from the cigarette between his fingers curls up into the sky, already dressed in his uniform with his work button down undone, white shirt underneath. His hair is slicked back, wet from his shower, as he raises his eyebrows at Mike walking his bike up to the cabin.

“I’ve got forty-five minutes until I have to be there,” Mike counters, leaning the bike against the porch, backpack strapped around both shoulders.

Hopper raises his eyebrows, bemused. They both know the cabin is too far out of the way for Mike to get to school on time, but to Mike’s relief, Hopper doesn’t further comment on it. At least, not yet. With a shake of his head, Hopper gestures to the door. “She’s having breakfast.”

Mike nods, stepping up. He’s still a little surprised, these days, when Hopper doesn’t put up much of a fight for how much Mike comes by, how long he spends at the cabin. But Mike can feel Hopper’s lingering stare each time, can feel the weight of words unsaid—and Mike has a distinct sense that it’s only a matter of time until Hopper does say something. At this point, after all these years, Mike knows the old man better than he ever thought he would. They’ve fought together, loved and lost and won together. 

So Mike knows that Hopper won’t hold his tongue for much longer. It’s yet another conversation Mike doesn’t want to have, but knows is inevitable. For now, though, he plays ignorant. He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

Leaving Hopper on the porch, Mike walks into the cabin, immediately spotting El sitting on the couch, TV playing a soap re-run with a plate of syrupy waffles on her lap. She immediately looks over, eyes brightening as she sits up, as if she wasn’t expecting his presence, as if he hasn’t been coming by at this time for the past couple of days.

“Good morning,” El greets softly as Mike drops his bag to the ground before flopping down onto the couch right next to her.

She’s already leaning towards him and Mike is quick, ready, to oblige as he closes the gap and presses his lips to hers. He inhales sharply through his nose the moment her soft lips touch his, every single nerve in his body relaxing as his hand slips up to cup her cheek and keep her close. The early morning birds chirp outside where Hopper is, likely to come in any second, but Mike doesn’t think about that right now. 

All he can think of is El parting her lips and deepening the kiss, and how she tastes of sweet maple syrup and whipped cream as her tongue languidly slips along his. The warmth in his chest solely belongs to El and, fuck, he wants to stay right here. Leaving El just to sit at school for the next eight hours sounds worse than facing Vecna at this point, especially when he feels her lips curve up against his, smiling into the kiss before they slowly part.

Not too far apart, though, his nose grazing along hers and not yet opening his eyes, wanting to drag this moment out as much as he can. “Hi,” he greets, thumb stroking the curve of her cheek.

Her giggle is soft. “Hi,” she returns before pulling back. Mike opens his eyes to see her smiling at him, hair falling around her shoulders. “Hungry?”

His gaze drops to the waffles. “I’ll take a bite.”

Smiling, El cuts a piece off the waffle and pierces it with the fork before bringing it up to his mouth, and Mike’s gaze locks with El’s as he closes his lips around the bite, familiar syrup and whipped cream exploding on his tongue. Mike hums as he chews. “No candy corn this morning?” he asks teasingly after eating.

El rolls her eyes, lips still curved up as she breaks off another piece and pops it into her mouth. Her gaze returns to the TV, but Mike’s lingers on her profile. The gentle curve of her nose, the natural pout her lips sit in, dark hair framing the face of his dreams. Mike feels that well known ache in his chest, yet he still feels a soft smile tug at his lips. It’s easy around her, even with all of the complicated shit that keeps getting stirred up. But El is his peace in all of the chaos—so how could anyone expect him to be away from her for too long?

“Do you get late?” El asks, breaking him out of his trance. She glances over, raising an eyebrow. “When you get to school after you’ve been here in the morning—do you get late?”

“Uh—” Those big eyes are impossible to lie to, but he manages to settle on a half truth. “Just a little. It’s no big deal.”

He’s been walking into first period nearly fifteen minutes late after visiting El in the morning, earning reprimands from his teachers, but he doesn’t really give a shit. But El shifts forward, putting her plate on the coffee table before shifting so she’s facing him, one leg folded beneath her as she frowns a little. Then there’s a tilt of her head, hazel eyes flickering all over his face, and Mike recognizes that look. The inquisitive expression she wears when she’s reading him and she’s damn good at it. 

His pulse quickens as she purses her lips, popping a dimple. “Are you getting enough sleep?” El asks.

Mike’s throat works. Friends don’t lie. Except he does as he says, “Yeah. Why?”

El sighs through her nose and something tugs in Mike’s chest. She can see right through him, he knows. Her hand reaches up to cup the back of his head, Mike unable to stop the way he leans back into the touch, though his gaze remains to the left, right on her. “You look tired,” she tells him gently. “You stay here late at night and then you’re back here early in the morning before school. You live on the other side of Hawkins, Mike. How are you getting enough sleep?”

Mike’s teeth press together, that tugging in his chest becoming a hard pang. His stomach drops, his hands that are resting on his lap curling into a fist as his eyes flicker over her face in alarm. He’s too aware of his pounding heart as he asks, “Do you—” Mike nearly chokes on the words, body tensing in tell-tale worry. Fear. “You don’t want me here?”

El’s eyes widen. “No, of course I do,” she says with a quick shake of her head, shifting closer under her leg presses against his. Mike’s breathing is quiet but sharp, trying to find relief through the pressure building in his chest. “I love when you’re here. I just—I’m worried. About you.”

“You don’t have to be,” he tells her, forcing the words out. “I’m fine, El.”

Her frown returns and her hand disappears from his hair, which Mike immediately misses. Lips turning downwards, she looks at him with equal parts worry and frustration. “You’re lying to me.” 

He doesn’t breathe. She sounds more disappointed than accusatory, which is worse, and yet—

And yet, Mike feels a swell of anger. Not towards El. It could never be towards El. More so the situation, the circumstances they had been thrown into for years. For choices both of them have been forced to make. It’s too much altogether, his thunderous heart behaving like it may kill him as he counters, “Like you haven’t lied to me before?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out, watching the way El’s expression falls and she pulls back. There’s a bitter taste in the back of Mike’s throat, especially when El averts her gaze, lips pressing together as shame colors her face. Fuck. The guilt on her face resonates deep in his chest, different but the same, and Mike wants to apologize. He wants to take the words back. He wants to hold her and kiss her and leave behind the ache and panic and fear that cling to him. To feel the peace he is so desperately craving.

“I’m—” Mike squeezes his eyes shut, unsure of what words to say as he shakes his head. He finds himself settling on, “I should get going.”

When he opens his eyes, El is chewing on her bottom lip and nodding, gaze casted downwards. He put that look on her face there, and Mike’s stomach churns in protest. Every fiber of his being goes against hurting or upsetting El. A crime of the greatest degree. But his hurt has gotten the better of him, and try as he might, he can’t bring himself to utter the apology that rests on the tip of his tongue. It winds around his muscles tightly, suppressing everything he wants to say but can’t.

“Okay,” El whispers, dragging her gaze to meet his. His heart tugs at her brown eyes, big and lovely, and at the way her lips curve up in a half smile. “Have a good day.”

There’s a beat of silence. Mike is unable to tear his gaze from her, the TV just background noise. Stay stay stay. He’s not sure if he’s pleading with her for the millionth time, or if he’s telling himself to blow off school. Both, maybe. The idea of leaving things on strained terms with El makes his stomach turn, and although he doesn’t apologize, he does lean towards her.

Her eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips to hers in a gentle, chaste kiss. Enough to leave his lips tingling with the need for more. Mike’s jaw clenches briefly before he says, “I love you.”

El’s smile is a little warmer as she looks at him. But her eyes are sad; it kills him. “I love you, too.”

He picks up his bag, eyes on hers as he stands up, his tone somber when he says, “Love you more.”

It’s probably the only truth he’s told her since he got here.

The library is about halfway to being fully reconstructed.

There’s no workers on site at the moment, but the town around him moves as the sun slowly begins to set. The lowering sunlight reflects against the memorial that has been erected, commemorating those lives lost in the great earthquake that shook Hawkins. None of these people know the truth of what happened to Hawkins. None of these people will know that the girl he loves risked her life to save every single one of them. None of these people will know about the times she walked out of his life and walked right back in.

Mike inhales sharply, letting the cooling air fill his lungs and soothe him, even if it doesn’t last long. Beams of headlights pass over him with every car that drives by, but Mike’s gaze doesn’t stray from the library’s entrance where the gate to the Upside Down once was. The very spot he had thought for two days, just a mere few months ago, was the last place he would ever see El.

El. The love of his life. His soul-fucking-mate. Just standing there, prepared to sacrifice her life for him, for this entire town, for the world. It doesn’t matter if she had done it just for show, to make the government think she was gone—for a short period of time, Mike had believed it. And then he had found out if all else failed, she would have sacrificed herself. She would have been gone and Mike—

He would have followed her. No matter what, he would have fucking followed.

Mike thinks about those two days following the Upside Down’s collapse often, held and interrogated by Dr. Kay and the military. He thinks of how hollow he had been inside, incapable of feeling anything, too numb to see even a foot in front of him. All he could hear in his head was the haunting echo of goodbye, Mike, before his entire world disappeared before his eyes.

If there had been anything other than a gaping emptiness where his heart would be, then Mike would have known. He would have realized that he didn’t feel the loss—not in the important way. He would have realized that there was a thrum in his chest, buried deep but present, that existed for those three hundred and fifty-three days. A thrum that he clung onto for that year because it told him that El was alive. She was still out there. Even if others thought he was crazy for believing it, he never stopped. And he was right.

Because if El was really, truly gone, Mike knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would have felt it. He would have felt that loss in the world. Her presence in it is too important, too necessary, for the world not to turn on its axis if she was actually gone. But the sun rose every morning and the world kept spinning, and that’s how Mike knew El was still alive.

He would have known it, too, during those two days being held by the military. But the way El had said goodbye to him, the finality of the Upside Down’s destruction. . . It had been too much too fast, too horrific, for him to be able to make sense of it. It threw him into the deepest pits of grief where nothing else made sense anymore, and it had been impossible to crawl out of it.

If he had, he would have known. He would have known.

She is too deeply woven into his soul for him to not know. He hates that he didn’t realize it sooner. He hates that her actions numbed him to that point. But most of all, Mike hates the circumstances that led to El having to make the choice in the first place.

“Detention, huh?”

Mike doesn’t look away upon hearing Hopper’s voice, nor does he move when the old man sits down on the bench next to him with a sigh. He remains quiet, lets the gentle bustle of Hawkins, lively once again, move around him with his arms settled on his thighs, hands interlaced in the space between them. 

Hopper doesn’t let the silence last too long. “You’ve ever gotten detention before?”

Mike’s eyebrows twitch together at the line of questioning, even if he has a faint idea of where Hopper’s going with this. “Will told you?” he asks instead of answering.

Hopper grunts. “Said you’ve been getting to school late the last couple of days, which is why you finally got the pink slip.” From his peripheral vision, Mike sees Hopper turn his head to look at him. “I can hazard a guess as to why you’ve been late.”

“It’s nothing,” Mike says, wringing his fingers together. They both know the reason—it’s no secret. Hopper’s cabin is too far out of the way for Mike to make it to school on time, but that’s never mattered to him. Mike has never been one to get in trouble at school, but getting detention is insignificant compared to being able to see El every morning before school.

“Can’t spend your junior year sitting in detention, Mike,” Hopper says with a tired sigh, taking off his hat and placing it between them. 

Mike’s jaw clenches, stomach turning with the familiar sense of dread—because then Hopper says the one thing he probably shouldn’t have.

“It’s not like she’s going anywhere, kid. She’ll be right there after school.”

It’s not like she’s going anywhere. People needed to stop saying that to him. 

“You don’t know that.”

The words escape him sharply, yet still hollow. They lay suspended in the space between him and Hopper, Mike’s gaze glued to the library. Some debris still lays around, the site corded off behind yellow caution tape. He sees her. Standing right there. Scared and looking too ready to leave everything behind even if she’s not planning on it—not entirely. 

His skin stretches over his bones tightly, painfully, as he sees the tears in El’s fearful eyes, the way she had kissed him like it was the last time. How she had disappeared and he was left standing there, staring at the space where she had been, only to see nothing but rubble. It’s all he sees as he sits on this bench, reliving one of the worst moments of his life. 

All of his bad memories, all of the most terrible experiences, have been losing El. And yet he sits here, reliving them over and over again, even as every cell in his body screams at him to get up and go to the cabin. He’d spent the hour in detention after school, watching the seconds tick by on the clock. He knew Lucas and Max were going over to the cabin and would tell El where Mike was, but that’s exactly where he wanted to be, too.

Except he got out of the detention and instead of taking the familiar path to the cabin, this is where he ended up. The sky changed colors and the sun began to set, and Mike didn’t move from the bench, lost in haunting memories like a ghost stuck in limbo.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hopper asks, caution slipping into his otherwise calm tone.

Mike can’t do this anymore.

“You don’t know that she’s not going anywhere,” Mike says slowly, the tremble slipping into his voice as he squeezes his fingers. 

“Mike—”

Now that he’s started, he can’t stop. His blood pumps, burning through him with a thunderous heart. “She could wake up any day and decide none of this is worth it. She’s—” His throat closes up, but he pushes forward. “She’s been through so much. More than any of us combined. This place, this town—she’s fucking suffered. Why the fuck would she stay?”

When she had asked him, that night, if he believed her when she said she would never leave him and Mike had said yes, he meant it at the time. But this specific kind of grief is both familiar and messy, and it crept back up again as the days went by, and his trust in her word slowly started disintegrating before he ever had a shot at putting it back together.

“Because this is her home,” Hopper says sharply. “Because her friends and family are here. Because you’re here.” He shifts then and Mike feels Hopper turn to face him properly. “I never thought I’d have to convince you of this. She’s got no reason to leave.”

“Then why the fuck did she try?” The words escape as a shout, enough to catch the attention of some passersby as Mike shoots to his feet. His heart is ready to leap out of his chest, breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps. The late evening air is cold, but Mike’s skin feels like it’s on fire as his wild gaze turns to Hopper, who frowns up at him from where he sits. 

The old man looks bewildered, shaking his head. “It wasn’t real, kid,” Hopper says slowly, leaning forward. “You know that—”

“I’m not talking about that night,” Mike snaps, unable to stay still as he paces. “I’m talking about months ago. I’m talking about catching her in those fucking woods, in the middle of her trying to run away from everything. Everyone. You. Me. She was going to leave us all behind and I convinced her to stay but who fucking knows how long that’s gonna last—”

“Wait, wait,” Hopper cuts in, frowning with eyes slipping shut briefly as he shakes his head again. He slowly gets to his feet, looking at Mike as if he didn’t hear him clearly. “What are you talking about—the woods? She was going to—”

“Run away,” Mike repeats through clenched teeth, fingers curling into fists at his sides as he looks Hopper dead in the eyes. His breathing is ragged, the weight of the truth suffocating as he watches the horror creep into Hopper’s features. “She was convinced she ruined my life. Thought I’d be better off if she was fucking gone, Hopper.” Mike’s eyes burn with the rawness of his throat, the mere idea that this was something El truly believed in making him sick. “So, yeah, I don’t give a shit if I’m late to school in the morning because I went to see her.” His voice shakes—his entire body does. “I need to be there so I can—I can remind her of all the reasons she needs to stay. And I can make sure that she’s still fucking here and hasn’t talked herself into a life of—of fucking isolation because she thinks we’d be better off without her.”

His breathing is hard and uncontrolled, months of suppressed emotions bubbling to the surface. Even now, Mike doesn’t think he’s gotten it all out, skinning buzzing with unkempt energy. 

Hopper’s struck silent, lips parting but unable to get any words out other than, “She wouldn’t—”

“She did,” Mike retorts, jaw clenching as he exhales slowly through his nose, blinking hard to keep some tears at bay as they burn his eyes. “She tried, Hop. She would’ve done it if I hadn’t stopped her. So excuse me if I don’t give a shit about detention. I’m happy to spend the rest of the year in it if it means seeing her in the morning. It’s what gets me through the fucking day.”

Hopper’s jaw works, looking at Mike with all the controlled terror of a man who was just told about his daughter’s intentions, whether past or present. “She never said anything,” Hopper says, his voice quiet, heavy.

Mike licks his teeth, temples throbbing. “Did you think she would?” he asks dully, the weight of fucking everything bearing down on his shoulders.

Hopper purses his lips, looking away as he rubs a hand over his jaw. Mike watches him try to work through emotions that Mike himself hasn’t completely sorted out, even months later. He feels his heart slow down, just a little, until Hopper says, “I need you to go home. I need you. . . To not come to the cabin tonight.”

Mike’s face instantly transforms, features tightening into a scowl. Not go to the cabin? Every cell in his body roars in protest, muscles tightening as he demands, “What?”

Hopper looks at him sternly. “I need to talk to her, and I can’t do that with you there, okay?” He steps closer, not to intimidate, Mike absently thinks, but to make understand. “It’s a conversation between me and her.”

Mike’s heart pounds. He already wasted time, sitting out here. Now he can’t see her tonight at all? No, no, no. “But—”

“Mike.” Hopper grips his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. The old man has four inches on him, so Hopper ducks his head to look Mike in the eye. The paternal grip does little to calm Mike’s racing pulse down. “You can come by in the morning, alright? Just—please. For tonight. Let me talk to her. If she asks, I’ll tell her I told you to wait until morning.” He takes a breath. “Please, kid.”

Selfishly, Mike wants to lash out. Wants to tell Hopper to screw off and get on his bike and go to the cabin—even if Hopper could beat him there in his truck. Every part of him thrums with the need to be with El. Why did he waste his time sitting here? Fuck.

But when Mike looks at Hopper, he sees the desperation in the chief’s face and Mike knows that this is a conversation that needs to happen between Hopper and El. Just like Mike and El needed that talk in the woods—just like, he thinks, they need to talk some more. He’s been sitting on this for months; this fear and anxiety and dread that hasn’t fully left him yet, no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind. It’s wrapped in the need to be close to El; smell her and touch her and taste her and just remind himself.

Hopper needs this, Mike knows. So he stuffs down his protest, throat working as his head jerks into a nod. “Okay,” he says finally, even if it’s really damn hard. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

“You told Hopper.”

It’s the first thing El says when she opens the cabin door the next morning, still in her pajamas and a frown, hair falling around her shoulders. She grips the door knob, a downwards tilt to her lips as she stares at Mike with disappointment etched across her otherwise soft features.

Mike takes a breath, chin lifting and his grip on the backpack strap tightening. He had been expecting this, of course, knowing that Hopper was going to talk to El about what Mike said. He also knew El wouldn’t be too happy about it.

Mike dips his chin into a single nod. “I did.”

El’s shoulders drop with a sharp exhale through her nose. “Why would you do that?” she asks, turning around to walk back into the cabin. Her tone isn’t sharp, but the weight in it is obvious. She walks to the middle of the living room as Mike shuts the door, Hopper already gone to work, and El turns around to continue, “He was so upset, Mike. I had to convince him that I was not going to run away in the middle of the night.”

She finishes with a scoff, like the idea is laughable, and it punches Mike in the gut. It forces the air out of his lungs as the backpack strap falls to the crook of his elbow before he lets it drop to the floor with a thud. “Can you blame him?” Mike asks in return, watching as El’s eyes widen in disbelief. Mike’s throat works; he hates arguing with El, hates upsetting her. But he’s afraid if he keeps this buried for too long, he’s going to ruin things for both of them. “El, come on. You did try to run away in the middle of the night.”

El presses her lips together, blinking a couple of times like she’s trying to school her expression. “I thought we were past this.”

Mike shrugs, the movement sharp and jerky as his own lips purse before he says, “I guess not.”

El nods slowly, looking away for a moment. He can see the gears in her head turning as she says, “Okay. Then let’s—” She meets his gaze. “Let’s talk about it.”

Pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth, Mike takes a breath. Rip the band-aid. “You were going to leave.”

Her face falls and Mike watches as her finger and thumb twist the ring on her left index finger—the gold and ruby ring he had given her. The one she never takes off. The sight of it on her finger, every day, warms him from the inside out, knowing that she constantly keeps him close to her. “I was,” she confirms with a whisper.

He knows the truth already, but it still stings. Still slowly squeezes the air out of his lungs. “Because you thought we’d be safer for it.”

“Yes.”

His nose burns, the pressure building. The cabin is warm but Mike feels the chill running down his spine. “Did you—” Mike swallows the lump that sits in the middle of his throat, fingers awkwardly stretching at his sides. “Did you even consider what that would do to me?”

El’s eyes slip shut, eyebrows pulling together as she winces. It kills him to see her like that but this conversation is necessary. They can’t move forward if they can’t resolve the past. And, fuck, Mike doesn’t want to put the blame on her, doesn’t want her to feel anything less than just happiness. God knows she has been through enough. But not talking about this feels like lying, and he’s tired of it. Life after the Upside Down, after the Mind Flayer, after Vecna—this is what they have been fighting for, for so long. How can they truly, fully enjoy it without wading through the messy aftermath?

“I know—” El starts, opening her glassy eyes as she meets his gaze. “I know it would have been painful, but you would have understood. Eventually, you would have understood my choice.”

But Mike is already shaking his head at the words she has already told him. “Don’t.” The word comes out sharply, his eyes squeezing shut as he shakes his head. When he looks at El again, she rolls her lips into her mouth as Mike’s jaw works. “Understanding your choice and being okay with it are two different things, El. In what world would I ever be okay with it? And why—” He cuts himself off with a tight inhale, feeling his bottom lip tremble. The words fight their way out. “Why is it so easy for you to leave me behind?”

It’s an unfair question, Mike knows. He sees it in the way El’s eyes widen in incredulity, mouth parting. “What?” she gasps, blinking rapidly as she approaches him. “It isn’t. How can you even ask that?”

“How can I not?” Mike counters with a humorless laugh. It’s killing him; this conversation, the look on her face. “You’re—” A rough exhale, shrugging. “You’re always leaving me, El.”

“And that has never been easy for me,” El says vehemently, her expression of disbelief intensifying like she can’t believe what he’s saying. She steps even closer, Mike unmoving. “That night at the middle school, the NINA project, after we killed Vecna—every time I went away, I did it for you—”

Mike inhales sharply, heart thudding in his ears. “I never asked you to—”

“You don’t have to!” El never raises her voice. His girlfriend has always been soft spoken, gentle, never raising her voice—only when she’s in pain, only when she’s using her powers to fight some monster or another. Her life has been violent enough, and it has always awed him that she has remained gentle through it all. But now, he sees the fire in her eyes, hears it in her voice, effectively silencing him. “You never have to ask me to put you above everything and everyone, Mike. I will do it, no matter what. Killing that Demogorgon, getting my powers back, defeating Henry—of course, I wanted to save everyone. But you—” El shakes her head, exhaling sharply. “It has always been about you, Mike. Making sure you are safe and alive—that is what matters to me the most.”

His lips part, but no words come out, and El continues as she looks up at him with a heartbreaking combination of desperation and hope. “You think it is easy for me to leave you behind?” Her face scrunches, blinking a couple of times, and he knows it’s because she’s holding back tears. The sheen in her eyes is unmistakeable, and it tightens his chest—only for it to collapse when a tear rolls down her cheek. Fuck. “I feel like I can’t breathe without you, Mike. And I—I told you that night. I thought I ruined your life. I wanted you to have a normal life at the end of all of this. My choice to leave that night was not made lightly. I just—” Her throat works, blowing out a breath. “I want you to be safe.”

Mike’s gaze bores deeply into hers. His voice is hoarse from his heart racing. “And I just want you.”

El’s eyes squeeze shut, forcing more tears down her cheeks. Like it pains her to hear him say that. The thought of it is a slap to the face, the ache sharp and stinging, and then El whispers, “What if I am not enough?”

The blood in Mike’s veins freezes at those words, rearing back as if she did slap him. Every thought in his head stills and all he can get out is a broken whisper of, “What?”

Her question doesn’t make sense to Mike. It holds no logic, no reason. What if I am not enough? Individually, Mike knows what those words mean. But that question, coming from El. . . it empties Mike’s head of any thought, makes his heart stop right then and there. Her words hang in the silence of the cabin, interrupted only by the occasional rattle of the radiator. 

Looking at El, Mike sees her expression—sees the shame that downcasts her gaze. So much of Mike’s fight leaves him, slowly shaking his head as his disbelief overwhelms him. His head spins as El sniffles, lips parting as she takes a breath, rubbing her hands down the sides of her thighs. “What if. . .” Her voice shakes, shrugging, but she doesn’t meet his gaze. “What if you realize one day there is more out there—” She haphazardly gestures towards the door. “For you? More than this, more than me?”

He wants to laugh. Honest to God, he wants to laugh, and it’s inappropriate and totally not the right time, but it bubbles up his throat anyway. It escapes, sharp and almost humorless, but it has El frowning, lip curling in confusion mixed with offense. He can’t blame her as he rubs a hand down his face, shaking his head as El asks, “That’s funny to you?”

“Yes.” El blinks. “No. I mean—a little?” Mike huffs out another laugh, eyebrows rising as he stares at her with his own sense of incredulity. “You—you realize this is exactly what happened a few years ago? In California?”

El shakes her head, wiping at her cheeks. “What?”

“You were upset with me, remember?” Mike says and he’s pacing now, El’s gaze tracking his movements back and forth in the living room. “Because I was being an idiot and wasn’t telling you I love you and it was—it was the same thing, El. I couldn’t say the words because I was too scared you would realize you were better off without me and would figure that out sooner or later.”

Realization slowly dawns on El’s face, lips forming a perfect O-shape, eyelashes still a little damp from her tears. “Oh—yes, I–I remember. . .”

“You asked me the other day if I was getting enough sleep,” Mike suddenly says, and El blinks, no doubt bewildered by the sudden shift in conversation. But she nods nonetheless, gaze flickering over his face. “I’m not.”

She lifts her chin, eyebrows tugging together briefly. “You lied.” Not an accusation; just a statement of fact.

“I did,” Mike answers, stopping in his pacing right in front of her. “I haven’t been getting much sleep because I leave my house early to come see you, I go home late so I can spend as much time as I can with you, and I—I don’t get much sleep because I lay in bed thinking about you. About the next time I get to see you. Being away from you, for any amount of time, kills me.” His hands cup her cheeks, feeling the dampness of where her tears had been as she stares up at him with those big eyes. “Not enough?” he asks with a scoff as El bites her bottom lip. “I told you, didn’t I? My life is yours, El. The happiest moments of my life have been with you, and if I lost you—in any way—that’s it for me.”

El immediately shakes her head. “Don’t say that,” she whispers pleadingly.

“No more lies,” Mike returns, pressing his forehead to hers as El’s eyes fall shut as she inhales deeply, her hands wrapping around his wrists to keep him in place. With a breathy chuckle, he says, “I’ve gotten worse, haven’t you noticed?”

El’s eyes flutter open, leaning back enough to look up at him quizzically. The tears linger in her expressive eyes, the warmth familiar. “What do you mean?”

His mouth curves up, head tilting. He doesn’t realize the tightness in his chest has disappeared until this moment, like everything that had been knotted up inside of him has loosened because he has said what he needed to say. “It’s just like that summer before high school,” he tells her. “When I’d come over every day until Hopper got sick of it.” That gets a gentle laugh out of her, music to his ears. “Except now, even with school during the day, I think I spend more time here than anywhere else. And Hopper still hasn’t kicked me out.”

“Well—” El’s lips press together, though she smiles, showing off hints of her dimples. Her thumbs rub against the inside of his wrists. “I don’t mind. I like having you here.”

“I like being here. My point is—” With his hands still cupping her face, Mike tilts El’s head up just enough to get her eyes to meet his, trying his hardest not to get lost in them. The brown of her eyes reminds him of caramel, light and warm. “—is that I can’t stay away from you, El. You’re everything. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

“Never,” El instantly replies with a frown so stern it’s adorable. “Everything I have done. . .  It’s for you, Mike. I did it for the life we could have. . . Together.” Her smile is gentle and sweet, showing dimples he wants to press his lips to. “And after everything, you are right. I want to stay for the life we both fought for. I need you to trust that I’m not going anywhere, but—” His eyebrows raise at the but, except El is giving him that shy smile even as she leans towards him slyly. “That doesn’t mean I want you to stop coming around.”

A laugh escapes Mike at that, warmth spreading through his chest, up his neck to his face. “Hopper could put a gun to my face and I still wouldn’t leave.”

“Mike,” she sighs with a roll of her eyes, hands dropping from his wrists, but he feels her grip his sides, her touch burning through his shirt. He chuckles as she presses closer, the sound dying in his throat as her front pushes against his. Her eyes meet his and El asks, “Do you trust me?”

He’s transported back to that night after he found her in the woods a couple months ago, laying in her bedroom. You believe me, right? she had asked. 

His gaze searches hers, sinking into the earnestness that swims in her eyes. In that moment, Mike seeks the dread and anxiety that had been his constant companions lately, but he doesn’t find them anywhere. To know that El has picked him over and over again, just like he has with her, fills him with soothing relief. It has chased away the demons that have haunted him, and Mike thinks this time, it’s for good. Nothing left to taunt him with, nothing remaining to scare him into an anxiety attack.

When he looks at El, he knows this is for real. He believes in her—in them—without dread lurking in the shadows of his mind.

“Yes,” Mike responds, feeling her grip on his sides tighten. He looks her in the eyes, sees the smile that pulls up her lips at his answer, brightening her entire face and deepening her dimples. 

El’s pressed up against him, her arms slipping so they’re winding around his waist as she tilts her head back to look up at him. She’s so much shorter than him—and Mike is obsessed with it. There’s a pretty pink flush across her cheeks as she asks, this time quietly, “Do you love me?”

They both know the answer to that, of course. But Mike’s throat works anyway, his thumb stroking her cheek. “More than anything else in the world.”

Her sigh is heavy and full of relief and peace. “Good,” she murmurs before pushing up on her toes to press her lips to his.

Mike pulls her in even closer, if possible, heat exploding throughout his body as El pushes him until the backs of his legs hit the couch and he’s dropping down onto it, El climbing onto his lap without breaking the kiss. 

Yes—this is exactly where he wants to be; feeling the weight of her on top of him, her soft lips working against his as his fears and doubts and anxieties fade away into nothing. To know this is permanent, this is forever, keeps his heart beating in a rhythm that belongs to El.

Now, the emotions that had plagued him these last couple of months feel silly. Keeping them buried and waiting until they burst out of him hadn’t been the smartest idea, but at the end of it all, it seemed to work out. 

He’s lucky—after all of the horror, the terror, he’s so fucking lucky to be here. And as El kisses him like she knows it too, he makes a promise to himself. 

No more worry, no more fear. Just him and El. Like it’s always meant to be. 

The nightmare is finally over; it’s time they live like it.