Chapter Text
The pain had hardly been bearable before Mike had met her, but after — when she is gone — that is the definition of unbearable.
He had grown up with a constant ache of pain, an ache of panic, of loneliness. Never his, always hers. He'd been sure his soulmate was a her for as long as he could remember, despite knowing that some people could have a soulmate of the same sex, his definitely wasn't.
His was a her.
He knew the difference between their emotions, he wasn't really sure how he knew, he just did. One was his, and the other was hers.
When he was young, barely talking, that's when he first felt the staticky flutters that were her emotions spike and become so vivid and real it was like someone was drilling into his arm, but it wasn't his arm, it was her arm. But he could feel it, and it felt so real, he'd sat up in bed and screamed at a volume seemingly impossible for a child of his size. Ever since that night, the emotional connection between Mike and her (whoever she was) was strong. He could feel her every emotion, even when her heart just palpitated too fast.
It was unusual to have such a strong connection with your soulmate so young, unless you knew them from a young age, usually your connection with them didn’t become clear until you met them.
At age seven, Mike asked his sister (who was twelve, which to a seven-year-old is practically an adult), “Can you feel your soulmate?”
They were sitting on the floor of the living room, close to the TV so they didn’t have to get up off the couch and walk all the way to the TV if they wanted to change the channel.
Nancy shrugged, “Sometimes, but not very often… I’m only twelve, I just probably haven’t met him yet, I’ve got loads of time.”
A sudden terrifying question found its way into Mike’s mind, “What if you never meet your soulmate?”
Nancy glanced back into the kitchen — her mother inside it, cooking dinner for the whole family — and thought of her parents. “Some people never do, so they marry the wrong person for the wrong reasons because that’s easier than to continue to search for the right person.”
Mike sat there in shock of what his sister had said. What If he never found her?
“Now, scram,” Nancy said, shoving him lightly, “I’m trying to watch something.” She turned up the volume knob on the TV and Mike reluctantly left the room.
He walked up to his own room and shut his eyes hard. I’ll meet you, he thought, and he hoped she could hear him.
At age eight, he began watching the girls in school, not in a creepy way, just to see if their faces matched the emotions he could feel — they never did. He took out a book on the science of soulmates, which wasn’t very helpful. No one really seemed to have any solid answers to about how they worked, something to do with atoms and stardust, which to an eight-year-old (even one who read at a ninth grade level) sounded ridiculous.
At some point during the autumn of 1980, he found himself alone in the kitchen with his mother, helping her bake some muffins for Nancy’s bake sale (or something along those lines, he hadn’t really been paying attention). He watched his mother as she carefully filled up the patty pans, somehow managing to get every single one exactly even, which baffled him.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?” She doesn’t look up.
“How do you know when you’ve met your soulmate?”
Karen almost dropped the bowl of mixture. “You’re a bit young to be thinking about that, aren’t you, Mike?” She replied, after a moment.
Mike pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter. “I was just wondering, because what if I just see them in the street and then never again? How will I know it was them?”
Karen put down the bowl of mixture and looked at her tiny son sitting there on the kitchen bench, his legs barely dangling over the edge he was so small. He was young, too young to be worrying about things like this.
“Michael, one day, you’re going to meet a girl, who will be different from any other girl you’ve ever met, because she will be the girl meant for you. And maybe you won’t know right away, but it won’t take you long to work out, you’re a smart kid.”
Mike thought about what his mother said for a moment, it made sense, then he nodded and hopped down from the bench, leaving the kitchen.
“Michael!” Karen called out after him. “Do you want to lick out the bowl or not?”
Mike hurried back to the kitchen.
Sometimes the pain, sadness, scared or loneliness (or a melancholy mix of all four) was too great. Mike would lie on his bed and focus on his breathing and heart rate. He'd be able to feel her heart, as if beating next to his, and attempt to sync them.
"One day, when we meet," He'd whisper, staring at the ceiling, "I'll make you feel happy and safe. I promise.”
Somewhere, not too far away, a scared girl was sitting with her knees drawn up to chest all alone in a dark room. Every part of her hurt, but she could feel an emotion that wasn’t hers, and if she knew the word for it, she’d call it empathy .
In late 1982, and throughout '83, Mike began to get terrible headaches and often felt he was getting a nosebleed when he wasn't. He was placed on numerous medications as the headaches were interfering with school, but nothing worked, because they weren't his, they were hers. They weren't just normal ones either, they were monster headaches, so Mike came to the conclusion that they were being caused by someone. The amount of fear and pain she felt had to be because of someone. Adults didn’t listen when he told them the reasons behind the headaches, not even the doctor believed him, because having that strong of a connection just didn’t happen.
One night, after nursing a particular painful headache, Mike laid in his bed. There had to be a reason for him being able to feel her so strongly, it had to be a sign of something, but of what?
At that exact moment, he felt sudden rush of fear and panic. He sat up in bed, his own heart race quickening.
Save her.
He had to save her.
He spent many days during the summer of 1983 biking to neighbouring towns and searching for her. Of course, he was too nervous to go up and talk to any girls around his age, so he watched them from afar, trying to picture how someone who has lived with fear and anger for so long would look. He was not successful, all the girls he saw looked (and sounded) too happy, and if there was one thing his soulmate had never felt, it was happiness.
Operation Save His Soulmate wasn’t going perfectly to plan, because it was impossible to save anyone if you didn’t know who or where they were.
It had occurred to him that maybe she was on the other side of the world, in some far off place like Australia or Russia, but something — instinct, or maybe just hope — told him that she had to be close. That had to be one of the reasons he could feel her so strongly. So when her emotions were running exceptionally high, he’d run outside and shut his eyes. He’d try to block out noise and thoughts, and focus solely on her emotions, in a hope that they would direct him, like a needle of a compass.
It didn’t work, he’d often find himself walking into the forest, and then the emotions would die down, from flames to embers, and they would no longer direct him. One time, they led him all the way to Hawkins Energy Lab; he’d stared at the place through its fence — it seemed to leer over him, its grey, prison like building was anything but welcoming, and definitely not the sort of place a twelve-year-old girl. He sighed and walked home.
Operation Save His Soulmate wasn’t going to plan at all.
November the Sixth, 1983. He’ll remember that date for as long as he lives, the day when everything began. He could feel something was different, and he should’ve realised that something was about to change. Maybe that way, he could’ve saved Will and the others from a whole lot of pain. He and the rest of the boys were into their eighth hour of the campaign, when he felt it — her panic, fear, her heart racing at the speed of light. She was screaming, he knew that because he could actually hear her, which was a first. Over the years, he had gotten good at compartmentalising her emotions — she’d been feeling anxious all day, but he’d managed to ignore it — but this? This was too much.
He pressed his hands over his ears to try and block out her screams, but it wasn’t working, the screams were inside his head; he crouched down, his eyes shut tight as his own heart began to beat into overdrive.
He was vaguely aware of the other boys crowding around him. “Mike? Mike! Are you okay? What’s wrong, Mike?!”
He didn’t reply, he couldn’t, he was too scared that if he did he’d vomit. He had no idea what was going on, whatever was going, she was scared it was going to kill her, and he was scared it would kill him too.
Suddenly finding the ability to control his own limbs again, he raced up the basement stairs, and dashed into the bathroom. He lent over the toilet, and wretched into it.
He sat there, slumped against the wall, trying to control his breathing. The screaming had stopped, but the fear and panic was just as evident.
But there was a new emotion, something mixed into the fear and the panic — excitement.
“Mike?” It was Lucas, knocking on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”
Mike stood up slowly. “Y-yeah, I think so,”
He unlocked and opened the door, a concerned Lucas stood in front of him.
“Just one of my headaches, I’m okay now,”
Lucas didn’t look like he believed him.
“I think I might just have had food poisoning or something, as well,” Mike added, seeing Lucas’ sceptical expression.
“You sure you’re alright? Because we can get your mom—”
“No, not my mom. I’m fine, let’s just keep playing,” Mike walked past Lucas and headed for the basement. Lucas watched him for a moment, something was wrong, and Mike wasn’t telling him. It frustrated Lucas, because above all, all he wanted was to help his friends. He sighed, and followed Mike down to the basement.
Not too far away, a girl was running through a forest; her bare feet hardly touching the ground she was running so fast. She was free, for the first time in forever, and adrenaline was coursing through her veins. She ran into the night, away from her captors and towards her soulmate.
Mike awoke the next morning to a day like any other, except for one difference (he would soon discover that everything was different, but that’s for later), he felt — or rather, she felt — anticipation, an emotion he’d never known her to feel.
Anticipation when he woke up, curiosity as he got dressed, exhilaration as he ate breakfast, and anticipation once again as he brushed his teeth.
However, all care for his soulmate’s new emotions dissolved when Chief Hopper told them Will was missing; that’s when he realised everything was different.
Dustin and Lucas were babbling about Mirkwood; Mike sat in the middle, annoyed at the two of them, but mostly shocked — things like this just didn’t happen in Hawkins.
In a voice so deep and stern that they couldn’t help but be intimidated by him, Chief Hopper told them not to interfere, to go home, and not to do any detective work, despite their many protests.
“What are we going to do?” Mike asked the second they were out of earshot of Hopper.
“You heard the chief,” Lucas said.
“So we’re just going to do nothing?” Mike asked incredulously.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Lucas replied.
“We can’t really do anything big,” Dustin said to the two of them, “Did you hear Hopper? He sounded like he’d kill us if we don’t do what he said!”
“Hopper wouldn’t do that,” Mike protested.
Dustin rolled his eyes. “It’s called a figure of speech, Mike.”
Yet that night they found themselves out in the forest by Mirkwood, the rain thundering down.
Out there, in that same forest, she was there also.
The darkness was almost oppressive, and the forest for the first time in their lives felt small, as if the darkness was closing in on them.
The rain continued to pour down, the drops like bullets against the ground; a crack of thunder echoed suddenly through the trees.
The further they searched, the harder the rain came down, the darker it got, and the more helpless the whole situation began to feel.
It was Dustin who voiced his concerns first, “Guys, I really think we should turn back!”
Lucas fired back with a retort, which was Mike’s signal to tune himself out.
He could hear something… or rather he could hear someone .
Less than ten feet away, a girl was crouched in a bush, her heart racing as she watched the boys in front of her; her eyes fell on one of the boys, and she couldn’t say what it was about him, but a part of her was drawn to him, and before she knew what she was doing, she had rushed out of the bushes and was standing there in plain sight, waiting for them to see her.
They spun around, and she winced in the sudden beam of light from their torches, but there she stood, chest heaving, rooted to the spot; terrified.
Mike stared at the figure in the torch light, and it took him a second to process that she wasn’t boy, but a girl with a shaved head.
He stared at her, but it wasn’t the strangeness that made him stare, the shaved head, the large yellow Benny’s Burger shirt, or the fact that she was out in a forest in a storm in the middle of the night, there was just something about her, that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
“Hello?!” Lucas said loudly to the girl, stepping towards her; bringing Mike back to reality.
The girl stepped away from Lucas, scared and unsure.
“We’re looking for our friend, have you seen him?” Lucas asked slowly and deliberately.
She didn't reply, looking wildly at the other two boys, her eyes finding Mike’s.
He could see her emotions in them.
She was scared. She needed help.
He was so preoccupied in his own thoughts and own goings-ons that he didn’t put the fact that what his soulmate was feeling and what the strange girl was feeling were the same, together.
“Maybe she doesn’t speak English,” Mike offered.
“Or maybe she’s one of those savage children who are raised by wolves,” Dustin said in awe.
“I really highly doubt that, Dustin,” Mike replied.
“Look, whoever she is, she isn’t Will, which is who we need to find.” Lucas said firmly. “Let’s keep looking,”
“No,” Mike found himself saying, “we should go back, Dustin was right, it could be dangerous, and plus we’re not going to find him in these conditions, and —” he looked over at the girl “— she’s lost, we should help her.”
“We set out to find Will, and that’s what we’ll do!” Lucas responded stubbornly.
“We’re not going to find him like this, Lucas!” he gestured haphazardly to their surroundings. “Let’s go back to mine and figure out what to do there.”
“C’mon, Lucas, we’ll go tomorrow after school,” Dustin suggested.
Lucas sighed, he knew when he’d lost an argument, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. “Okay, we’ll go,” he began to trudge off in the wrong direction.
“Uhh, Lucas?” Dustin called after him.
“Yeah?”
“It’s the other way.”
“Oh…” Lucas turned around and walked quickly in the correct direction this time, Dustin following after him.
Mike glanced at the girl. “Are you okay?”
No reply.
“Do you want to come with us?”
No reply.
“Are you cold?”
No reply.
“Here, you can have my jacket,”
No reply.
Mike shrugged off the jacket and approached the girl carefully, she took a step back, her eyes wide and fearful. He held the jacket out, she hesitated, before taking it and draping it over her shoulders. She nodded a thank you to Mike, a small smile ghosting her face.
“Mike!” Dustin called out. “Hurry!”
“Come with me,” Mike said to the girl, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
He began to walk, slowly, so she’d know to follow.
She watched him, and after a moment — for a reason unbeknownst to even herself — she followed him.
Lucas rolled his eyes when he saw Mike emerge from the forest, the girl following him.
“We don’t know anything about her, this is a bad idea,” he said, as if the others were idiots.
“We know she’s scared and lost,” Mike argued, getting onto his bike.
Lucas sighed dramatically, but didn’t reply otherwise, as he hopped onto his bike.
Mike looked back at the girl, who was standing beside his bike looking lost and confused. Mike patted the back of the bike. “Sit here.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide, as if she’d never seen a bicycle; Dustin and Lucas both exchanged looks.
Mike patted the back of the bike again, and she took a tentative step forward before swinging her leg over the end of the bike, she grabbed ahold of Mike’s waist (so tightly that he could feel her fingers digging into his skin through his clothes) to pull herself up.
“Yeah, just like that,” he said encouragingly.
“She good?” Dustin called out, gesturing to the girl with his head.
“Yeah, I think,” Mike replied, turning his head to look at her, but her expression was just the same as before: wild, desperate, lost.
The boys began to peddle, and Mike heard the girl inhale sharply, and her hands tighten even more around him.
“It’s okay!” he said to her, his words carried away with the wind. “It’s okay!”
She didn’t reply.
“Eleven,” she murmured, pointing at herself.
None of the strangeness of the fact that she had a tattoo and a number for a name really processed in Mike’s mind; maybe that’s just what having your best friend go missing does though, everything else, no matter how odd, just seems pointless to fret over.
They’re in his basement and she’s sitting in a fort he constructed for her.
“Well my name’s Mike, short for Michael. Maybe we can call you El for short,” he suggested, kneeling in front of her.
Eleven nodded quickly, and Mike felt a sudden stroke an emotion that was almost like happiness, but not quite, come from his soulmate.
“Well… goodnight El,” he said to her, standing up.
She looked up at him, her large brown eyes shining in thanks. “Night, Mike,”
He smiled at her before he dropped the edge of the blanket down, and it fell down over the fort, hiding El from the world.
El listened to Mike’s footsteps as he climbed the stairs out of the basement; she heard the door at the top shut and she began to cry, and no amount of joy at the fact that the nice boy had given her a letter name, rather than a number name, could stop the tears. She was overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last 24 hours — the bath, the monster, escaping, Benny, killing the two men, running and hiding, and finally being found by Mike.
She cried until it hurt, and she let out 12 years of pain with those tears; outside, the sky was crying too.
Upstairs Mike lay in his bed, unable to sleep; all he could think about was the strange girl in the basement (the strangeness of her was beginning to hit him); then he began to feel the pain of his soulmate. She was crying somewhere, he could tell, and he suddenly found tears on his own cheeks; he began to cry harder, not just because of what she was feeling, but because his friend was missing and he had no idea where he was or how to help him.
Downstairs, Eleven began to cry harder, as a sudden wave of helplessness that did not belong to her washed over her.