Chapter Text
“Hver er þessi gaur?” (Who’s that guy?)
“Er hann kærastinn hennar Eleanor?” (Is he Eleanor’s boyfriend?)
“Unnusti hennar, víst.” (Her fiancée, it seems.)
"Hann er myndarlegur." (He looks handsome.)
"En hann lítur samt út fyrir að borða of lítið." (But he looks like he eats too little.)
Three teachers, two ladies much older than El and one younger, gather around in the entrance near the reception area, cheeky expressions and hissing whispers that are actually quite listenable above the silence of the afternoon before the middle school kids get out.
El overhears a fraction of their talk but she couldn’t care less. All that matters to her now is her hand holding his, leading him to the gymnasium so she can find a towel to dry him off. She also doesn’t care that he’s still dripping a little, leaving a trail of droplets on the floor of the corridor they’re scurrying through (she’s sure they’ll call her out for this, but whatever, it’s their moment)
She eventually finds one in the girls’ changing room cabinet and rushes to Mike, who’s sitting on a bench in front of the bleachers of a multi-sport court, wincing at his own rain-soaked decision and trembling slightly. His curls let gravity and water win, gloomy and drooped.
“Thanks.” His boyish grin is adorable as she sits beside him, turning to face him and pressing the hot-pink towel to his ebony hair, neck and shoulders.
A snort escapes her. “Is it still gonna be romantic when you catch a cold and sneeze in my face? Waiting in the rain was so dramatic of you.”
“I am dramatic. You should’ve figured that out at this point.” Mike retorts, letting his eyelids drop in a relaxed manner. He can feel her fingers massaging through the fabric and it’s just so soothing he might fall asleep right there. His grin becomes wider and lazier. “You’re trapped with my drama forever.”
“Well, your life became a lot more dangerous after you found me, so I guess we’re even.” El shrugs, finishing the towel rubs and scanning him over with a head tilt. “I guess you’re good. For now. Sadly, all gym clothes in the storage are too tiny for you.”
“Nah, I’m good.” The damp-clothed man waves her off. “What do we do now? Do I get to see the classroom you teach in?”
The brunette smiles amusedly at his incapability of sitting still for more than a minute. “I can give you a quick tour if you want. But we need to go home for you to change clothes later.”
A mischievous glint crosses his grounded, rich brown eyes as they get up from the bench. Perhaps a flirty joke about clothes, or lack thereof, has crept up on his mind, but he keeps it to himself.
They link hands again as they walk and El asks after biting her lower lip, thoughtful. “Mike, can you do something for me?”
Her companion glances at her again, glad for the warmth of a smaller palm against his. “Anything.”
“Can you send me the e-mail addresses of everyone I knew back then?”
He’s slightly taken aback. “Sure, but not everybody has an e-mail.” A frown as he asks tentatively. “Why?”
“I wanna go to the internet café and contact them before we finish packing. I think it’s safe enough by now. If they know beforehand, it’ll be easier to meet everyone.” El explains with longing.
“Oh. Okay. If you want to.” The taller one shrugs, a bit bothered because this won’t be their own sneaky secret trip anymore.
She notices his subtle face drop and elaborates, comforting. “Besides, they might be worried about you. I mean, you just told them you were going to Iceland again, out of the blue. I can imagine Nancy being suspicious and fussing over this.”
A dismissive, resentful scoff and fake laugh pour out of his lips. “No one’s worried about me.”
“Mike.” She stops beside him and squeezes his hand in the middle of the hallway, turning to him. “Don’t say that.”
He slowly faces her, apologetic, like someone being scolded. “Shit. I didn’t mean it. It just slipped out.”
“If it slipped out, it’s because you were thinking about it. Do you really think that you don’t matter to them?” Her coppery gaze studies his firmly, coaxing an answer.
Okay. Time to be emotionally vulnerable. Deep breath.
“I mean…” He starts, clearing his throat. “They’re all either married or busy in demanding jobs or dealing with parenthood or whatever. We used to go out — the party, I mean — to catch up, but now… I barely see them anymore.”
Her stare turns soft, sending another squeeze to his hand interlacing with hers.
“Like I said before, it’s been hell.” He goes further, beholding their fingers. “Even with friendships… feels like it’s harder when you’re an adult. Does that make sense?”
“I know what you mean.” The brunette nods lightly. “It’s not like I’m a social butterfly here in Iceland, at all. I had a few contacts back in uni, but all surface level.”
Mike frowns at this information, because really, he wanted her to have friends. Yet, there’s an unspeakable notion between the pair that nothing can compare to the party. To their party.
She’s thoughtful with a head tilt, then speaks once more. “Anyway… you’re still the heart of the party.”
He raises his eyes to her again, unbelieving and even embarrassed about her remembrance of childish memories when D&D classes were taken seriously.
“And they worry about you. You matter. To all of them.”
She touches his clenched jaw with her free hand, fingertips touching skin as lightly as a feather. “How else would you explain Lucas and Max trying to fix your lovelife? As much as I hate that they did that.”
Mike’s lips curl up in a humming laugh as she feigns a jealous scowl. He knows he’s an important piece in his childhood friends’ lives, but El’s acknowledgement of this is such an unexpectedly needed reassurance.
“You know what? I kinda miss them now.”
El sighs wistfully. “I miss them so much.”
“Alright. I’ll give you all the e-mail addresses I know when we get there.” His expression turns determined and supportive as he nods.
They step inside, soothed by the heating that contrasts with the frosty air behind them. The Internet café downtown, although always cozy, is much more crowded this time. Customers roam around. Chatter, clatter of cups and plates resonate from the cashier area. The computer area is quieter, thankfully. Mike and El can’t choose freely, but they find empty booths eventually, a pair with monitors across from each other.
Both take their seats and she waits for him to type the addresses.
After he sends her a list, El thinks of the first person she wants to reach out to. A pretty figure with fiery hair, azure eyes and freckled cheeks pops into her mind.
From: eleanorguðnadó[email protected]
Subject: Hi
Hey! It’s me, El.
Yes, I’m alive and well. I’m sorry for not reaching out earlier. I’ll tell you all about it when we meet again. Mike and I are traveling back to the U.S. tomorrow (yes, he came to Iceland and found me. He’s okay too. We’re engaged by the way). You can ask me anything. We can even go shopping like in the good old days.
I missed you so much. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I’m glad I didn’t have to piggyback from a pizza dough freezer to reach out to you this time.
See you soon.
El presses send and searches for another name on the list. One that reminds her of hazelly green eyes, talented hands and a peaceful manner.
From: eleanorguðnadó[email protected]
Subject: Hi
Hi, Will.
In case you haven’t already figured it out, it’s your sister, El. I’m alive and have been living in Iceland for the past… almost seven years now? Mike told me you were suspicious about his trip and, well, I guess you got it right. He came to see me. I’ll tell you everything when we meet again (I’m traveling back with him tomorrow).
Missed you so much. I keep thinking about the California days when you and Jonathan called me your sister for the first time.
Hope to see you and him soon!
Okay, one more contact she has to write an e-mail ASAP. She’s reminded of mornings with coffee and contemplation, cigarette smoke and a police badge.
El scrolls through the list, but his name’s not there.
“Mike. What about Hopper?”
Her fiancée breaks concentration from his own screen, explaining in a quiet tone. "He doesn’t have an address. You can contact him through Joyce, though.”
She nods and commands the website to offer her a brand new blank space to write an e-mail.
From: eleanorguðnadó[email protected]
Subject: Hi, show this to Hopper
It’s me, El.
First of all, I’m alive and well.
Second of all, Doctor Sam Owens visited me recently and told me Hopper knew all about my escape, first to Canada and then Iceland. You should know all about it too, Joyce, but I prefer telling in person (I’m flying to the U.S. with Mike tomorrow, we’ll meet up soon!).
I wish I could’ve been there for your wedding. I’m so happy for you two and can’t wait to visit Montauk.
I’m kinda glad Owens told you everything, Hop. I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner. I simply can’t thank you enough for taking me in and raising me the best way you could. Seriously, don't feel guilty about anything. You did your best.
I’ll catch up with you and Joyce soon.
After sending the hardest message out of all of them, El writes to Lucas and Dustin as well, less serious and intense. She obliges Mike to write to Nancy explaining his whereabouts and decisions. He reluctantly obeys. After finishing his espresso, of course.
Feeling his sight complain about the brightness of the screen, Mike winces and reaches for his glasses case, puts them on. After a heartbeat, the lanky man suddenly remembers El’s comment about his bespectacled self in his book’s About the Author section photo and raises his gaze to the woman in the booth facing him.
He marvels at how adorably concentrated her visage is as she types, staring down at her keyboard. Then, as if sensing she’s being watched, she raises her eyes to him.
It looks like she’s caught by surprise, smitten at the sight of him wearing his black-framed glasses. Her caramel eyes grow slightly wider and brows raise.
He winks flirtatiously.
El’s cheeks turn bright red and she giggles quietly before lowering gaze to keys again. She shakes her head and the phrase "he's unbelievable" morphs inside her brain, remembering the last e-mail they've exchanged with various winking faces. Because his wink in real life is a million times more charming than a simple emoticon.
Mike, on the other hand, is thinking something else.
He doesn’t know which is better — making her blush or making her laugh. He’ll have a lifetime to figure it out, but right now, it’s a tie.
He silently thanks gravity again for making that dang book fall on her head.