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She’s bleeding.
He’s holding her in his arms and muttering incoherently, all good things, and mentally thanking a god he doesn’t believe in that they made it this far. She’s alive, and he’s got her, and she’s gonna be okay. He’ll make sure of that if he dies trying.
But he doesn’t have to.
The rope slowly winds, the elevator shifting dangerously as they’re reeled skyward. He can’t help looking up, watching their slow crawl, listening to his little girl (Jesus when did that happen?) cry almost silent tears.
Hopper takes a deep breath when they finally break through the barrier, because they’d made it. After hell, after heartbreak. He scoops her up. His mind barely registers the walk to the Blazer; it’s so cluttered with everything else. With this whole week. It’s been a shitstorm, and yet here they are.
He fumbles with the doors. The metal handles are so cold, they almost burn. Hopper manages to situate her in the passenger seat, and she’s drifted off again by the time they pull out of the parking lot.
As he drives, he thinks. He realises that this is too much for all of them, that things are never gonna go back to the way they were before. He flicks the radio on and off, unable to stand the silence but equally unable to stomach the ditzy pop songs that play. They make the abnormalities of their situation stand out more, somehow.
Before he knows it, they’re parked in front of the Byers home. The lights are on, which he’s thankful for. He’d been half worried those kids would come running after them.
Hopper shakes El’s shoulder. “Wake up, kid.”
Her eyelids barely flutter. She looks so worn out, so broken. A shadow of how Sara had looked on her deathbed. Don’t think about that. Don’t go there. Not tonight.
Hopper closes his eyes for just a moment, because he’s so god damned tired, but it doesn’t matter. What he wants doesn’t matter anymore. At least not right now.
The car jostles lightly as he slips out, circling to her side. She practically falls into his arms, weakly and unconsciously wrapping her own around his neck. He feels that warmth in his stomach, like the embers of a dying fire. If he’s the coals, she’s the flame.
Hopper slips through the gaps between the other vehicles and marches up the porch steps. The dim voices within quiet at the sound of creaking wood. The door is thrown open before he can even knock.
The kid is there, eyes wide as he takes in the two of them—both looking worn to hell, and her bloody. He swallows. “Is she okay?”
“‘Long as we don’t freeze to death out here she will be,” he says. “Outta my way, kid.”
Mike skirts aside, allowing Hopper to walk in. The house is both warmer and more welcoming than the dark roads and woods. He breathes in the smell of crayola wax and dead demodog. It’s not pleasant, but somehow it’s better.
The kids are there—some huddled around the kitchen table, some on the floor, but the couch is empty. Dimly, Hopper wonders if maybe they kept it clear for her. It seems like the sort of thing they’d do.
He lowers her onto the cushions gently. She lets out a small groan, still clutching his jacket. Her eyes open briefly, and then snap shut at the light. “Home?”
He wipes his mouth. “Something like that,” he tells her, wondering if it’s the right thing to say. It feels like it, somehow.
Mike is there again, eyes wide and holding a wet rag. “Um,” he eyes the drying blood lines streaming from both of her nostrils. “Can I...?”
“You don’t have to ask,” he sighs, standing so that the kid can take his place at the coffee table, and watches as he gently dabs at the stains. El barely responds.
“Where’s Joyce?”
It’s Jonathan who answers him. “Will’s room,” he says. He looks like shit; sweaty, tired, and clearly in shock. Nancy is wrapping ice in a towel. She drapes it over his neck.
Hopper nods. He gives his girl (his girl, Jesus she did so good, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so proud) one last look and then retreats.
He looks like shit.
She doesn’t know what to call him. Her... ex-boyfriend, now, she supposes. It feels weird. It feels wrong, but nothing with them was ever perfectly right. Something inside screams that it’s never supposed to be, but another part of her knows that their wrong was the right kind of wrong to warrant this.
Her eyes follow his form as he makes his way through the house. He does the things none of the others think to do; piling the frozens into an ice filled cooler so that they don’t spoil (given that the fridge is currently occupied by one of those things), washing the dishes, and peeling those horrid drawings off the wall.
He doesn’t throw them out, though. He piles them up and sets them on a table.
The kids help him without question. She watches they way the look to him, silently asking “What’s next?”, watches the way he watches them.
It’s all so foreign.
“Don’t spill that shit,” Steve warns Dustin, who’s carrying a box of sodas. “I swear to god, kid, I’ll kick your face in.”
Dustin rolls his eyes. “Please, Steve, I could totally beat your ass.”
“Anyone could,” pipes up Lucas, grinning.
Steve huffs. His hands are on his hips. He looks like an irritated mother. Christ, he looks like her mother. A beat up, swollen version, sure.
She doesn’t know what to say to him. Doesn’t know what can be said.
He’s curled up at her feet, and he can’t take his eyes off of her.
She’s beautiful. That’s a fact. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so amazing. Even with the pink-tainted upper lip, and the messy eyeliner, she’s stunning. She’s sleeping and he can barely breathe at the sight of her—because she’s here. She’s right here.
It’s been a year. A year of calling and praying and crying, a year of smothering that lingering hope in the pit of his stomach which slowly ate away at everything else. It blocked out the good, and the bad, until all he could feel was nothing.
Maybe that was dramatic, but it seems that way, now. Now that his chest is about to burst because his heart is beating so fast, and his palms are sweating.
She rolls over, and he doesn’t think much of it. He leans his head against the couch cushions, pulling at a thread in his jeans.
“Mike?”
In an instant, he’s alert. Mike sits straighter, catching her eyes. They’re bloodshot and brown. He wishes things were easier.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
She manages to sit up, grunting just a little. It seems to take up all of her energy. He doesn’t know why she does it. “Good.”
At that, he’s laughing. “Bull, El.”
She smiles, which he’s missed—he hadn’t even known that; it’s something so small, but it’s so good. It makes the room brighter.
“You?”
He shrugs. What is he? Everything about tonight was bad except for her. He can barely concentrate on anything else. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m better than I have been, I guess.”
El nods like she understands, and he realises that she probably does. She settles back against the cushion behind her, pulling at the strip of fabric around her wrist—but that ease drops away in a second, and her eyes are wide. “Where is Hop?”
There’s worry in her voice. Mike wants to be angry at that asshole, but a part of him gets it. A part of him knows it was all necessary, because what would they have done otherwise? He knows now that she couldn’t have just shacked up in his basement. That was naive, it was stupid.
“He’s with Joyce and Will,” Mike says. He wants to grab her hand but he doesn’t know how. “He’s okay.”
Her shoulders sag with relief. She closes her eyes briefly. Out of nowhere he feels cold against his fingers and looks down. She’s holding his hand. His stomach flops. Jesus.
“Who’s Max?”
Their gazes both find her. She’s scrubbing the blood covered kitchen tile with Steve, who’s wearing some old faded apron and trying to pep the others up. Dustin and Lucas glance over at them. Dustin flashes El a smile.
“She’s.. new,” Mike finds himself explaining. “She’s cool, don’t worry.”
“I was new,” El says, looking back at him. “I was cool.”
It takes him a second to realise what she’s asking. “Oh! No, no way,” he holds her hand a little tighter. “No, it’s... Lucas... he likes her. And Dustin. It’s weird. But I kind of hated her until like two hours ago.”
El’s brow furrows. “I saw you in the gym,” she says. “You were laughing.”
Mike’s blood cools. “You were there?! Why didn’t you say something?”
“You were laughing,” she says again. “And... I felt... mad.”
Mike’s cheeks warm. “Mad? Why?”
“Because... of her. Of you.”
“You were jealous?”
“Jealous?”
“Jealous. You know, like... Like you wished that was you, I guess.”
El stares at him for a minute. Another smile breaks through. “Hop is better at explaining things,” she says.
Mike shifts. “I’m sorry. But you don’t have to like, worry about Max. I don’t like her like I like you.”
“Good,” she says. He can’t tell if she’s blushing, but he is. She plays with his fingers. “I like you too.”
He doesn’t know what he’s doing. All he knows is that he wants to—that he has to. He’s kissing her before he can even process the fact that he’s moved. Warmth explodes in his chest. Her hand is on his cheek. Another one is clutching his shirt. His brain melts.
“Oh my god. Lucas! Lucas! Lucas, they just—”
“I know, numb-nuts, I have eyes.”
Mike flashes them the finger, which shuts them up enough. He can hear them furiously whispering together, but he doesn’t care. El presses her forehead against his own. “Good?”
He grins. “Pretty good.”
She can barely believe how grown up he is.
Her stupid, dorky little brother who still plays with toy dinosaurs is sitting on the couch with his girlfriend, and she can’t process any of it.
Nancy finds herself digging through the cooler and producing a can of beer. Before she can even crack it, Hopper and Joyce are walking out of the bedroom.
They all start talking at once. The kids are asking about Will, and so is Jon. Steve is trying to get them all to calm down. Nancy stands there with her dripping can, watching them all, barely breathing.
“Hey! Hey!”
Hopper’s aggressive tone breaks through the din. He’s scowling at all of them, face shadowed. “Everyone shut the hell up, alright?”
“Will is okay,” Joyce pipes up from behind him, smaller and paler but equally exhausted. “He has a bit of a fever, but he’s cooling down.”
The boys’ shoulders sag with relief. Dustin and Lucas high five each other. Nancy feels some collective wave of pride toward that little kid in the next room. She thinks they all might. He made it. Of course he did.
Hopper takes off his hat and throws it down on the table. He grabs the beer out of her hands and pops the can. She can’t bring herself to protest. “You all need to go home. It’s way too late—”
“No, no way!” Mike shoots to his feet. “We’re staying here. For Will.”
“Yeah,” Lucas steps forward. “No way are we just leaving him.”
They all start talking at once, full of protests. “Alright, alright! Calm down!” Hopper glares at all of them one by one, lips downturned. “You can stay, as long as Joyce is okay with it,” he glances at her, to which she responds with a shrug. “I don’t want any funny business, or arguing. Call your parents, whoever, I don’t care.” He pauses, fingering away the condensation on his can. “Maybe this is for the best, anyway.”
Nancy frowns. “Isn’t the gate closed?”
“Yes.” El’s voice is small, but she looks practically Wiccan with those dark-shaded eyes and greased back hair. “But the monster isn’t dead.”
“I just...” Hopper sighs. “Things need to settle down. This is good. No one leaves tonight, okay?”
They’re all nodding and muttering, even Jonathan, who lives here anyway. Nancy looks to Mike. “Where does mom think you are?”
“Here, I guess,” he shrugs.
She nods. “I’ll call.”
Before she knows it she’s punching the number into the phone, very aware that the kids are watching her, maybe for tips.
Hopper lights a cigarette. The phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Mommy! Hi!”
“Nancy, sweetie, how is everything? I thought you would call earlier.”
Nancy bites her lip. “Yeah, I was gonna, but we got caught up in schoolwork, and Trish has this boy thing going on—”
“I thought you were at Ally’s?”
Fuck. “Trish is here too. Anyway, um, we still have a lot more to go over. You don’t mind if I spend another night do you? I swear to god, I’ll be home for dinner tomorrow.”
Her mom is silent. There’s a small sigh. “Yes, of course. Just don’t be late, and make sure you’re not overstaying your welcome, okay?”
Nancy thinks of the hot poker she shoved into Will’s side and winces. “Yeah. Totally. Trish’s mom is in and out anyway, so it’s cool.”
“But she’s there now?”
“Yeah, of course.” She wipes a sweaty palm on her pant leg and waits.
“Have you heard from Mike?”
“He’s um, he’s still at Will’s,” Nancy catches Mike’s eye. He makes a camera gesture with his hands. “They’re um... filming a movie?”
Mike rolls his eyes.
“A movie?”
“Yeah. I guess watching isn’t good enough anymore.”
Her mom laughs. “Okay, well, have a good time. I love you, honey.”
“I love you too, mommy. Goodnight.”
The phone clatters back into its cradle. Mike glares at her. “‘Mommy’?”
“Oh, shut up.”
He isn’t done yet though. “I can’t believe you told her we were filming a movie.”
“Well, what did you want me to say?!”
“It doesn’t even matter,” Mike shakes his head. “Just give the phone to Dustin.”
She moves out of the way. Dustin, while an okay liar, spends most of his phone call laughing awkwardly at whatever his mom is saying. She gives him an encouraging thumbs up which seems to steel his nerves.
“Nancy? Could you help me set everything up?”
Joyce’s hand is on her shoulder. She looks ragged. Nancy nods, managing a painful smile. “Of course.”
It doesn’t take them very long; Joyce has what seems like thousands of blankets and pillows on hand, and a spare mattress in the closet. They use Jonathan and Will’s sleeping bags to make the floor more comfortable.
Halfway through, though, Will wanders out. The minute she sees him, Nancy drops the throw in her hands. He looks half-dead; eyes sunken, skin so pale she can see the veins beneath... She feels a pang of guilt when she catches the bandage on his left side, easily visible beneath his white thermal.
“Hey, baby,” Joyce is at his side in an instant, Jonathan hovering close. “How are you feeling?”
“Like complete crap,” Will replies, rubbing his eyes. “W...What are you guys doing?”
“We’re staying,” says Dustin.
Mike nods. “For you.”
Will takes in the mess they’ve made of the living room, and their worried faces. He swallows. “Is it okay if I sleep out here with you guys? I don’t... I don’t really wanna be alone.”
“Of course, sweetie,” Joyce ruffles his hair, trying for a smile which Will reciprocates with more ease than Nancy would have expected. “Go get your pillow, okay?”
A cabinet bangs shut. They all jump, rounding on the sound, but it’s only Dustin. “Where am I supposed to put my teeth?! I can’t sleep with them in,” he’s looking at them, but mostly at Steve, and tears are beginning to form. “Where am I supposed to put them?!”
Steve grabs him and pulls him into a rough hug, one hand cradling Dustin’s curly head of hair. “It’s okay,” he says. “You’re safe, okay?”
“I just want to go home...”
“You can sleep next to me, okay? Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.”
He pulls away for just a second, rummaging through the drawers, and produces a clean ashtray which he fills with water from the sink. “Is this good?”
Dustin nods tearfully. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
He finds himself sandwiched between his sister and El, which is disconcerting to say the least. In the darkness, he can just make out El’s messy mop of curls, now visible that the gel has been washed out. He can’t believe her hair is curly. It’s so... amazing.
“Stop staring at her and sleep,” grunts Hopper, eyes still closed.
Mike blushes and rolls onto his back. He doesn’t catch the smile that graces El’s features, or the way she scoots just a tad closer.
“Ow! Lucas!” Max’s voice breaks through, laced with irritation.
Dustin pops up. “What’d he do?”
“Pinched me.”
“I did not.”
“All of you rascals shut up,” Steve snaps. He’s laying face down on the ground, one arm reaching out to pull Dustin back down. “Go to sleep, okay?”
A part of Mike wishes he were over there with them. It feels like they’ve been so wrapped up in their own worlds lately—and for him, these last few months... things haven’t been the same.
Hop starts to snore, and Mike sighs. He feels someone grab his hand—not El, but Nancy. “Hey,” she whispers. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “I’m fine.”
She closes her eyes for a minute and manages to scoot closer. Her hair tickles his cheek. “I know... I haven’t been there, like I should have—”
“Nancy, it’s fine, really—”
“No it isn’t.” He breaks off when he realises that she’s crying. “I should have been there for you. I was stupid.”
“You had things going on,” he says, because the last thing he wants is her crying. He squeezes her hand. Somehow that makes it worse.
“I’m your big sister,” she tells him, “I’m supposed to be there for you.”
“You are, now.”
“But I—”
“Fuck the past, Nancy,” he hisses. She winces, but her lips curl upward. “Just... it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Please don’t.
She’s quiet for a minute, and then, “I love you.”
“Oh, god...”
“No, seriously, Mike, I do. I don’t say it enough.”
He can’t quite bring himself to roll his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” he says. “I love you too, I guess.”
That makes her laugh. She punches his chest lightly. “You’re such a dick.”
They both grin. It feels good. He can’t remember the last time things were like this between them—maybe sixth grade? Fifth?
He falls asleep to the sound of snoring and angry hisses from the other side of the room (which end swiftly when Steve whacks Dustin and Lucas both on their heads with his pillow). It’s good. Weird. Like family.
Our party.
The light streaming through the windows is so bright, it has to be the thing that wakes her.
El rolls away from where she’s huddled into Hop’s side. It’s a little difficult, given that his arm is around her whole midriff. She manages to break away, glaring through slitted eyelids at the sun.
Mike mumbles something beside her. He shifts, twitches, and then stills again. El purses her lips, contemplating her decision, before shaking his shoulder.
“Mike... Mike, wake up...”
He shoots up, knocking their foreheads together. “Ow, shit... Sorry, El.”
She can’t help laughing, rubbing the aching spot, and holds out her hand. “Get up, come on.”
Mike looks confused. He glances uneasily at Hopper before letting her help him up. “What are we doing, exactly?”
“Breakfast.”
She leads him to the kitchen, which she knows by now. It feels weird to be anywhere besides the cabin (home, it’s home now), but good, too.
“I can make eggs,” Mike offers.
El nods. She goes over to the cooler and rifles through the melted ice water, retrieving a soggy box of eggos. “Perfect.”
Mike grins when he sees them. “I haven’t had those in ages.”
They work slowly. Mike burns the first batch of eggs but manages to get it right the second time. El makes the whole box, setting aside three, and manages to find whipped cream.
“What is that?”
“Breakfast,” El replies. Mike is staring at the mound of whipped cream, eggos, and chocolate with wide eyes. “Best part is that it’s only 8,000 calories.”
He laughs. El shuffles over to Hop, nudging him with her foot. “Get up.”
Hop grunts. “Five more minutes...”
“Get up, numb-nuts.” The word is weird, but she’s pretty sure she’s using it right.
Hop glares. “Watch your language, kid.”
“Fine,” she settles at his feet as he sits up. “Rise and shine, numb-nuts.”
A part of her is very aware that the others are waking up. Some of them are watching her (Mike is, slack jawed), but she doesn’t care. She holds out the plate of food. “Eggo extravaganza.”
He raises a brow, cigarette dangling between his lips. “You gonna throw it at me, this time?”
She shrugs. “Only if you piss me off.”
Joyce looks between them with wide eyes, not at all groggy. “What on earth have you been teaching her, Hopper?”
“Oh, you know, the essentials,” Hop takes a fork, “bad words, rebellion, self defence...”
“Morse code,” El adds. Hopper barks out a laugh, ruffling her hair.
Somehow it ends up that they all gather around the whip cream topped waffles, each cramming for a bite and bickering over who gets what. El doesn’t mind, not at all, because they’re all together. That’s what matters. For the first time, the word fits: family.