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All El knows as she tosses and turns in bed, is that Christmas sucks. She absolutely, wholeheartedly resents it.
She’s observed people around her make a big thing out of it for three consecutive years – shops and houses adorned with twinkle lights and festive decorations, music flowing from the speakers wherever she went, streets bustling with people doing their shopping, everyone happier with holiday cheer, merry chatter here and there, and some more shimmering lights. But most importantly, she’s quickly learned that Christmas is all about inspiring stories - the possibility of the highly improbable and some divine interventions simple known as, well, miracles.
Everyone, from TV hosts, characters from books and movies to even people she knows in real life has been convinced there is something magical about the Holiday season. If someone asked El around the same time last year, when she finally reunited with her friends and got to go to the Snowball with Mike, she would admit there was indeed something special about Christmas time.
But right now she feels miserable.
Her throat is painfully sore, she’s shivering and a fine sheen of sweat is covering her forehead. Joyce says it’s just a cold that should go away in a couple of days, as long as she takes medicine.
Though, her sickness isn’t what’s bothering her, it’s not what makes her turn her anger against Christmas at all.
Through heavy lids she looks at the calendar on the wall, where the number twenty-five is circled by a red marker; not just because it’s a holiday, but because it’s so happened that the Byers and her were supposed to go to Hawkins for two days. The Wheelers have been hosting a big party, inviting them over, as well as their other friends.
Her cold started with sneezing and scratchy throat few days before, and despite Mrs Byers’ concern, she tried to appear cheerful and unbothered. She dutifully swallowed a spoonful of the warm chicken soup under Joyce’s watchful eye even though she had no appetite. She tried to make her energy level appear normal and counteracted looking sluggish by saying everything with enthusiasm. She went as far as disposing used tissues without anyone’s knowledge. But to El’s great regret, on the day they were supposed to depart, she woke up with fever. One look at Joyce’s face was enough to understand that she knew how sick she was and they wouldn’t be going. It was simply out of question.
El still opened presents on Christmas morning together with the Byers’ and was grateful for their attempts to make up for the unfortunate change of plans. However, later she excused herself to her room and let the tears finally fall.
Everything seemed to go wrong.
She made a mental list and wasn’t sure what was worse – that she had spoiled everyone’s plans? She wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to their arrival – the Party missed both Will and her. Will spent weeks making gifts, and was as excited to go back as ever. Jonathan stayed behind too, offering to watch a movie of her choice and assuring her he could see Nancy any other time. Or perhaps it was the fact she still hasn’t called Mike? She heard Joyce speaking on the phone with Mrs Wheeler and knew that Mike’d already found out they weren’t coming. Her mind kept going back to the last conversation she had with him and simply couldn’t bear the thought of telling him she couldn’t make it. Mike would be crushed to hear it. It’s not like she can visit him when she recovers – his family is going away for a week to visit relatives in Michigan and Pennsylvania on the 27th.
More than anything El wants to go back to the way things used to be, when Hopper were still alive. Christmas is about family and he was hers. Some memories from the cabin are more clear than others and she tries hard to hold onto them, not let them fade away (“What is that?” she asks Hopper on Christmas morning of ’84, pointing at the plate in his hands with something indistinguishable from where she stands. He comes in her bedroom fully grinning, presenting her morning breakfast – eggos in the shape on a snowman, with ice cream and powdered sugar on top. Later, when she’s discovered she can’t get enough of it, Hopper promises it to be their Christmas tradition – which was never destined to become one as she founds out 7 months later). She misses her powers as well, feeling like she’s been stripped of something that has always been a part of who she was. Nothing in her world is going right, everything seems to—
Her train of thought is interrupted when she hears a knock on the door and Joyce comes in, looking thoroughly pleased.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she sits down on the bed and brings her hand to El’s forehead to check temperature. “Looks like your fever dropped,” she adds, satisfied. “Do you feel better?”
“Yeah,” El croaks, hardly recognizing her voice, “I think so.”
“Good,” Joyce bites her lip, suppressing a smile. “Let’s get you dressed. Why don’t you put on a sweater and come down? There’s a surprise waiting for you.”
When the woman leaves her to it, El reluctantly gets out of bed and puts on the first sweater she finds over her pyjamas. Whatever that surprise it, she doubts it will cheer her up.
Well, she turns out to be wrong.
El’s on the top of the stairs when she spots Mike standing in the hallway. There’s Nancy, and the Byers too, but for the time being she can only see him.
Mike must have heard her footsteps too, because he looks right at her, the corners of his mouth turning up.
“Mike!” Her feet move on their own accord and she quickly descends down the stairs, wasting not a second more.
When she flings her arms around his neck, he eagerly pulls her into him. He smells like fresh air and the woods and soap, and she is swallowed up inside his arms. A burst of warmth explodes in her chest and spreads all over her body. She’s missed this so much she feels like her heart can burst.
“Merry Christmas, El,” he whispers into her hair and it’s enough to make her eyes glisten. Mike’s burrows his face deeper into her hair, and she sways a little against him, both of them squeezing hard enough they can hardly breathe but neither seem to care.
El would like nothing more but to stay like this for hours, but she needs to see his face up close to make sure her eyes didn’t deceive her before. She half expects this to be some fever dream, because this is too good to be true.
At last, she pulls back just a little and looks at him, dazed. Specks of snow have settled on his dark hair, his features still flushed with winter cold and gaze as soft as she remembers. El blinks rapidly fighting back the tears.
Behind her, Jonathan clears his throat.
“Found him in the basement, moping around,” he informs casually, taking off his winter jacket.
“Found you sucking faces with Nancy!” Mike turns to glower at Jonathan, but it’s half-hearted, because he seems to be in a good mood to actually get mad.
“That was after,” Nancy huffs in indignation, crossing her arms.
“Gross,” says Will, “These two totally left us in the car to make out,” it’s Joyce it’s addressed to.
“To fill up the car and get you home, smartass,” Jonathan laughs and ruffles Will’s hair.
“Okay, let her catch a breath,” the woman chides playfully and comes up to El, putting an arm over her shoulder. “The boys were up at the crack of the dawn, drove all the way to Hawkins to bring Mike,” she kindly explains to El.
El is to stunned to say anything…
… and this time around she can’t help bursting into tears.
“Oh, honey,” Joyce exclaims.
“Merry Christmas, El,” Nancy pulls her into tight hug. “Everyone’s missed you so much.”
***
It’s hard to complain.
Soon after the Byers and Nancy leave “to show Nancy around the town”- not bothering much with coming up with a more convincing lie - Mike and El are bundled up on the couch right in front of the fireplace with a blanket thrown over their shoulders. It’s perfectly quiet save for the soft crackling of fire, and for a few moments none them says anything, content with just being next to each other. She can’t remember who reached out a hand first, but their fingers are intertwined, his colder than hers, yet sending waves of tingling warmth through her body.
It will never cease to surprise her how his presence can suddenly make everything better, how her mind goes quiet at once when she’s with him.
“Are you feeling any better?” he’s the first to break the silence with voice full of concern.
El opens her mouth to speak, but at first attempt all that comes out is a round of coughing.
“A little, yeah. It’s just a cold,” she shrugs, repeating what Joyce’s been saying to her for the last few days, “I’ll get better soon.”
Mike nods in agreement, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Just when she thinks how much she would like to run her finger over the wrinkles in his forehead, the concerned look on his face is all of a sudden gone, the corners of his mouth turning up as his eyes set a trail down her temples, her cheeks, to her chin and back to her eyes. Though his eyes say otherwise, she can’t imagine being anything pleasant to look at. If a quick look she took in the mirror this morning is anything to go by, her eyes are watery, skin looks sickly and to top it all she hasn’t bothered to brush her hair since yesterday.
“You’re still the prettiest even when you’re sick,” he says, as if he can read her mind.
“Liar,” El accuses him, smiling, because she knows he’s probably saying what he really thinks. Wasn’t he the boy who once told her she was really pretty when she had a buzz cut and smudges of dirt on her face and dress? The one who assured her the scar on her leg would make her look badass?
El’s sure he says something in reply, but being too lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t quite catch it.
Now he is the one who actually looks pretty, she thinks. Or handsome – which is “pretty” for boys, as she’s learned. His skin is pale, having not been touched by rays of sunshine in months – a big contrast to his dark disheveled mop of hair. His freckles faded a little after summer, but they’re still there and she wants to keep staring at them just as badly as ever. She likes his knitted dark green sweater, too; it brings out the color of his eyes and makes them warmer.
But it’s not just that.
With Mike in the living room, it somehow looks more lively and cozier. She can’t really explain it. It just does. A modest Christmas tree in the corner by the window could fool you into thinking it’s the real deal, picture-perfect like from a Christmas card - it seems bushier and robust; a string of multicolored Christmas tree lights flickers beautifully. Outside a frosted window the snow is falling in big white flakes and she finds herself feeling happy at seeing snow for the first time this winter.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” El whispers, turning her gaze back to the boy beside her.
Mike’s mouth stretches into wide smile, his eyes shining with unmistakable affection.
“It’s all Jonathan,” he says. “He wouldn’t leave until he convinced mom. Dad wasn’t home, so it went better than we expected. And mom... she knows how much I wanted to see you,” he adds, “I don’t know… I wouldn’t shut up about you coming to Hawkins for weeks, so she let me come.”
His arm reaches up slowly, his knuckles brushing down her cheek in a tender touch.
“I miss you so much,” he finishes softly, his smile faltering, and eyes never leaving hers. “All the time.”
Mike is usually the one to tell her it’s okay, that they’ll see each other soon, that it’s temporary or something of the like. She supposes it’s only fair, he can’t always be the stronger one, so she decides to take on the role on herself this time.
“I know,” El shifts closer to him, taking a more comfortable position. She pulls her legs underneath her and covers his hand on her cheek with her own. “I miss you too. Jonathan told me he’ll be visiting Nancy more often next year. Every month or even every couple of weeks. We’ll see each other more.”
“Yeah,” he says, “Nancy said the same thing.”
“And Mike?” El swallows nervously, putting their hands in her lap and looking down. Her apology is way overdue. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I… I just— “
“It’s okay, El,” he’s quick to assure her, looking earnest when El looks up at him. “Really. I was just worried.”
In an instant, his mood changes. She can tell he’s losing the battle trying not to smirk, his laughter-filled eyes dancing across her face. He’s blushing fiercely, though his voice is confident when he says:
“But if you’re really sorry, I can accept a kiss.”
With that, Mike leans forward, just a bit, his gaze dropping and intent on looking at her mouth. She feels her cheeks heat up; it’s been something that was on her mind ever since he arrived.
“I’m gonna get you sick,” El reminds him weakly, sniffing. “It’s… not smart.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he whispers against her lips. His eyes are still flickering between her eyes and mouth, he’s grinning in a way that makes her heart flutter. “I’ll take my chances.”
It takes her all her willpower to be the sensible one. She covers his mouth with her hand, shaking her head in disapproval.
“Mike,” she whines.
“Fine,” he rolls his eyes and leans away. “You so teamed up with Nancy.”
“Teamed up… with Nancy?”
He scoffs.
“She kind of gave me this whole speech about being careful not to get sick. Mom would— “ she doesn’t hear the rest of what he says, as she violently sneezes two times in a row. El reaches for a tissue, blowing her nose. Ugh, gross.
Mike instantly gives her a worried look.
“El, maybe you should go to bed? Or I could make you tea or I don’t know—”
“No,” she shakes her head, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, cautious. “I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning, you should rest,” he adds softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
El rests her head on Mike’s shoulder then, snuggling closer. She can feel the warmth coming off of him and through his sweater as he wraps his arms around her and she revels in it.
“I’m okay. Just tell me how you spent Christmas,” she mutters, voice muffled. “Or anything.”
There’s a pause before El can feel him dropping a kiss on her head. He speaks animatedly in length then of all the relatives and family friends who came to visit, of how his mom went overboard with cooking as always, of his cousins, one of which was apparently unbearable, of how Dustin, Lucas and Max coming over made Christmas Eve a little better. He skips the part where he finds out she’s not coming to Hawkins and it’s not until he mentions presents that she remembers she still hasn’t given him his.
“Presents!” she bolts upright, cutting him off and startling him a little. “I have one for you.”
He breaths a laugh. “Me too.”
El rushes to her room where she left the present, ignoring dizziness overtaking her for just a moment until she regains balance. She’s back after a minute, completely overjoyed at the prospect of finally being able to give it.
“You go first,” Mike encourages her, smiling about this in a way that suggests he’s well aware how impatient she is.
El hands him a small package, neatly wrapped in red paper with a little green bow on the top. She plops on the couch next to him with an expectant look on her face.
Slowly, Mike pulls away a ribbon and tears the wrapping, removing the item inside.
“It’s a mix tape,” El explains, worrying her lip with teeth. “I told you, sometimes Jonathan and I listen to music together, some of it is really nice. And… these songs on the tape make me think of you.“
By the time she finishes, she’s flustered. It’s not like she hasn’t told him or implied about the depth of her feelings, but it’s her first Christmas present to him and for the peace of her mind she needs it to be good. It took her weeks to make it: to pick songs (she was especially happy with “I Melt With You”, “The Power of Love”, “Hand In Glove”, “Songbird” and some other tracks making it to the final list), to put tracks in perfect order and to create a cassette cover.
He raises his head, face glowing gratefully, and she feels like she can finally breathe, now relieved.
“El,” Mike takes a moment to speak, and when he does, it’s hushed, “It’s perfect.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he says, nodding enthusiastically.
“Even better than Atari or Nintendo?” she challenges, unable to stop herself from teasing him.
Mike gives her an amused look and leans forward, so he can rest his forehead against hers. Her eyes flutter close as she takes joy at his close proximity.
“It’s the best present I’ve ever received,” he all but whispers, with a hint of smile in his voice. “Thank you.”
There’s a bit and then he says the words:
“I love you.”
At this, her eyes snap open. Hearing Mike say he loved her to her friends back in summer was unexpected and amazing; reading these words in the letter he sent her two months ago was wonderful – that week she would stare at them every so often, admiring the way it was written in his confident hand; hearing them on the phone or walkie-talkie filled her with indescribable happiness to the brim, but this… This is all of that at once, and more. Because now, she can see that certain softness creeps into his eyes while he is looking at her, and the way a smile begins to tag at his face.
Her stomach is swooping, heart is thudding, close to bursting from love she feels for him.
“I love you too.”
Taking his eyes off her seems to be a difficult task for him, so she giggles (or rasps, her throat painfully sore) and reminds him:
“Want to show me your present?”
“Oh, uh… Yeah, it’s my turn,” Mike replies, reaching for his backpack on the floor. It takes him a few seconds to rummage through contents of his backpack and retrieve what he’s been looking for.
Without further ado, he hands her a package wrapped in shiny gold paper. She grasps it eagerly, wasting no time to tore the wrapping. It’s a plain notebook at first glance and she wonders if it’s the pages that are of more importance.
“It’s— I wrote a story, sort of,” he licks his lips, confirming her guess. “Inspired by you.”
El turns pages, instantly recognizing his slanted handwriting. She stares down at pages for a long moment, unsure how to react. He wrote a story. Inspired by her.
“It’s fantasy fiction,” Mike adds, filling the silence. “It’s not great, obviously, I mean, not as great as I hoped, but… yeah.”
She can do little but look up at him in amazement and complete bafflement. She feels like laughing, but also crying or maybe both at the same time. There is a lump in her throat she swallows and she tries to form her lips around the things she wants to say.
She can’t quiet articulate how touched she is.
“I don’t know what to say,” she says, tears glimmering in her honey eyes. “I already love it.”
Mike gives a lopsided shrug and smiles bashfully, his leg bouncing. “It’s not that special.”
“It’s everything,” El shakes her head. “Will you read to me?”
They make themselves comfortable by arranging cushions and lying down, with Mike on his back and El curling up right next to him. She rests her head on his shoulder and Mike pulls the blanket over the both of them. Once they’re fully settled, he begins to read to her. It doesn’t escape El that his voice is timid at first, like he’s unsure if his story is any good, until she tilts her head up and something in her reaction puts him at ease. Before long, she finds herself completely engrossed, enraptured with the story, letting Mike’s narration wash over her – she enjoys the lull of comfort that is his voice, his lively characters, his embrace. After half an hour, she can feel the fatigue take over her and the ambiance of coziness pull her to toward sleep.
When she wakes up, there’s a faint murmur of voices coming from the kitchen, which indicates that the Byers and Nancy came back. She’s still tucked into Mike’s side, who is asleep with his arms secure around her.
It strikes her then, that she’s surrounded by those who always go out of their way to make her feel happy and safe – it’s Joyce staying up all night beside her until her fever has dropped, it’s Jonathan and Will driving for long hours to bring Mike to her, and it’s Mike being who he is. Because, isn’t it a blessing in itself that she’s made it this far?
And at this moment, she feels like it’s enough. Perhaps, her luck is people in her life ready to make miracles happen when they aren’t happening on their own.