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It’s something he’s wanted to say since he first met her: I love you. When he found her in the rain, when she walked through the Byers front door, when she was gasping and crying on the floor of the crumbling ruins of Starcourt, he’s wanted to tell her since she walked into his life.
To Mike, there’s no future he can see where she’s not there, there’s no future he wants to have that doesn’t have her in it. It’s something he’s known since he got her back, since she returned in the dead of night, blood streaming from her nose and a relieved smile on her face.
It’s why the moment she stops shaking beneath his fingers feels like an eternity. Her breathing slows, the lights have stopped flickering, and she’s lying there, still, lifeless.
He's had way too many nightmares about this. In the year she was missing he would fall asleep and find himself in the woods, her dead, decomposing body caught in the beam of his flashlight. After starcourt, she would be in that same spot where she was before, only this time, she’s dead, right alongside Billy. Even when she was only gone for a few days, he couldn’t help but imagine finding her, hooked up to a medical table, strapped down and no longer breathing, abandoned by the scientists that supposedly wanted to help her.
Despite what everyone else thinks, she isn’t unbreakable. Mike sometimes wishes he could believe that, too.
So when she stops gasping and shaking, stops writhing on the surface of the metal table, his heart nearly stops. He starts speaking before he’s realized that he can even talk, and the voice that comes out of him sounds so lost, so desperate, but he hardly thinks about that, all he thinks about is-
“ El? El, come on, El. El I know you can hear me, El? El, what’s wrong? El come on, wake up, wake up, El! El wake up please El- I can’t- you have to wake up-“
She isn’t moving, and Mike can hear his voice rising, can feel fear and panic start to take over, but with one last coherent thought, he thinks to check for her pulse. Dustin once said that’s the first thing to do in a medical emergency, to check that the person injured is still alive. It seems ridiculous to remember that fact now, when he never even planned to need it one day (he never planned to let any harm come to her ever again), but he’s thankful that he does, because when he does check, two fingers jutting into the soft skin between her neck and her jaw, he can feel her pulse, soft and weak, but still there.
The relief that crashes through him is unmeasurable, but it’s all incredibly short lived, because once he can feel her pulse, he realizes that her breathing has stopped.
“El? El, please. El you have to wake up! El I can’t lose you come o-”
“Mike!”
“What!?” It’s Jonathan who gets him out of his own head, and when he turns to look at him, he realizes that he’s staring down at El’s hands.
Her hand is weakly moving at her side (her left hand, the one that he’s standing by), and it appears as if she’s reaching for something, hand outstretched blindly in his direction. He grabs it without any hesitation, holding on as tight as he possibly can, as if he’s holding on for his life (and he kind of is).
“Mike.”
It’s a broken whisper, so silent that only he can really hear her, but he startles anyways. He regains his focus quickly, and when he looks up at her face again, her left hand firmly held between his, she’s crying.
“El,” he breathes out her name like it’s a relief, and leans down to hold her, pulling her into his arms as his own tears begin to flow once again, “you’re okay.”
El sniffles against his shoulder, burying her head into him and letting her weight settle into his embrace. The angle they’re at is awkward and uncomfortable, but Mike isn’t letting go anytime soon.
She doesn’t stop crying until she’s in the car with him, legs settled over his lap and elbows caged around his neck, her head pressed into his shoulder. At some point, Jonathan had asked if Mike could move El outside. He doesn’t remember doing it, but now he’s settled into the backseat with her while Jonathan, Will and Argyle put the kitchen back together as best as they can.
Her tears are getting fewer and farther between, and Mike knows it’s not because she’s relaxed, but because she’s run out of tears entirely. It’s been nearly an hour, hiccuping sobs still leaving her body, shoulders rising and falling rapidly with labored breaths. He’s able to calm her down some, a hand on her head makes her shoulders relax, a kiss to her temple slows her breathing for a moment, but it feels insignificant- he’s unable to help her, it’s like she’s miles away in her own head.
He wants to ask her what she saw, what happened in there when she was choking, body seizing, struggling to inhale, but he knows it’s not his place to ask. He isn’t even fully sure if he wants to know what happened, if knowing the truth would hurt more. He wishes he knew what he wanted.
But I do, he thinks, I just want to be with her, by her side. I want her to know I’m here, that I’ll be with her, for as long as she’ll have me.
“What are you thinking about?”
Mike blinks, hand stilling its absent-minded movement on her head. Her voice sounds so dry, and he wishes that he could somehow fix it, that for once, he could help her.
“I wish I could help you. When you’re in there, I mean.”
She sighs, “Mike-”
“I know”, he says, moving to nuzzle more into her neck, eyes closed so tightly it hurts.
“No, Mike,” she pulls away then, her voice still raspy but firm, “Mike, look at me.”
He opens his eyes, and her stare is piercing, like she can see right through him. In a weird way, he likes it. He likes knowing that she can see him so easily, that she understands him.
“I love you,” she says it like it’s a fact, like it’s some kind of innate truth to the universe, that she loves him.
He hates to admit it, but he feels relieved when she says it. He knows she loves him, she says it all the time, shows it all the time. Some small part of him, though, believes that when she left, she realized that she didn’t want him anymore. That the fight they had was the last straw, that she was giving up on him.
He leans forwards without thinking, forehead resting against her own as a stupid, relieved smile takes over his face. “I love you too.” She softens then, like she’s let go of a breath she’s been holding for years, “So, so much. Way more than I know how to express.”
She smiles, eyes soft and warm, “I know, I feel the same way.”
He reaches for her, brushing away the last bits of moisture still stuck to her cheeks. “Did you hear me? When you were in there?”
She falters, eyes glassy and unfocused, before a small sob leaves her lips, and Mike feels himself go pale.
“El? Hey, El? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Her cheek still rests in his palm, but her eyes won’t look at him, her body tense against him.
“It’s…” she shudders, “we have to get back to Hawkins, Mike. They need us, now more than ever.”
He feels confusion cloud his mind for a moment, “is it vecna? Is he still…”
“No.” She says it resolutely, “it’s…” a shaky exhale, “Max.”
“Max? What-” but he knows. He knows what happened. He doesn’t need to ask, doesn’t need to hear the words. She collapses into him, and he accepts her, his own tears starting to well up.
The last time he saw Max, they weren’t speaking. He remembers the last time he felt close to her, the day the Byers moved away. He remembers how cheerful she had been, despite how hopeless everything felt that day. She would never admit this, but she’s the heart of the party, too. He thinks that’s why they dont always see eye to eye, or, well… why they didn’t always see eye to eye.
“I saved her, I think.”
Mike leans back, sniffling and wiping away the tears in his vision. “You saved her?”
She nods, “I think so,” she pauses, “I hope so.” She looks down at her knees, eyes distant. “We need to get back home.”
They don’t say much after that. The sun is starting to edge at the horizon, five o-clock coming up on them without much notice, and then he blinks and they’re driving. A street full of houses passes by them through the car windows, and Mike finds himself almost unwilling to wake up.
Almost being the key-word.
Jonathan is driving, and he has the radio tuned into a rock station, the volume just about loud enough to fill up the front seat with sound and drown out any noise from the back. It looks around mid-day, and Mike realizes with a small stretch that they’re pretty far from California now.
“Hey.”
Mike jumps, eyes going wide as he looks around the car frantically, eyes eventually landing on Will, sitting in the seat in front of him. Despite his fatigue and stress, he smiles.
“Hey.”
“How is she?” Will asks, peering up and over the seat a bit to look at Eleven, half slumped over in Mike's lap, head resting just above his heart. Her breathing is steady and warm against his chest, even through his thick cloth shirt.
“She’s fine. She was crying a lot earlier, but I think it’s better now.” He watches Will smile and nod, starting to turn back around to sketch what Mike assumes is the passing scenery, but something heavy lurches in his gut, something filled with fear and guilt.
“We’re heading back to Hawkins, right?” It’s enough to get Will to turn back around, and Mike is relieved when he receives a nod in response, “good. She really wants to get back to Hawkins. Things are… bad there.”
Will nods, “We know. Jonathan called everyone’s houses after you guys headed out to the car. Nancy answered the phone at your house and gave us a run-down.”
“Okay, cool.”
Again, Will goes to turn around, and that feeling returns, the heaviness in his chest, in his gut. He searches blindly for something to say, and he lands on-
“Thank you, by the way.”
Will turns around, only this time his face is curled up into acute confusion, “Thanks for what?”
Mike swallows, runs his hand along the shape of El’s head, through the prickly, shaved hairs on her scalp (he still can’t believe that they shaved her hair, that they took away one of the few things that she had as proof of her freedom, it makes him feel sick). He keeps his eyes trained on her face, relaxed but covered in days-old dirt, and he feels a small swell of adoration come over him, and it only works to strengthen the truth behind his next words.
“I don’t think I could’ve saved her without your help,” he says, taking in a deep breath, “I know that I’m not the best friend, and, I’ve been kinda shitty this past week, well, this past year , really, but-”
He spares a glance up at Will, an appreciative smile on his face, “what you said meant a lot to me,” he forces himself to hold the gaze, to show Will that he’s being sincere when he is saying this, “all I ever want to be for you guys- for the party, for El, for you - is supportive. It’s like, I have this part of me that just wants to make everyone happy, and if I’m not able to do that, I convince myself that I don’t deserve to be a part of the party.”
Will frowns, “Mike-”
“I know it’s stupid, okay. I know that I’m always going to be part of the party, but I think when you went missing, a part of me felt… I don’t know, responsible for it? Like it was my fault.” He’s crying already, he can feel it, the tears in his eyes collecting on his cheeks, “I don’t know why, but at some point, I think I convinced myself that me being your friend was what was hurting you,” he swallows, but his mouth still feels gross and slimy, “And it’s not like it’s just you, I mean, I did it with El, too. When she lost her powers defending us, I felt like it was my fault.”
He passes that same hand over her buzzed hairs, but keeps his focus on the moment at hand. If he loses focus, he knows that he won’t be able to gain his courage back again.
“I guess… I’ve built this kind of wall around myself in my head, and I’ve made up this idea that being distant is better than opening up, because I believe that you guys deserve way better friends than a guy like me. At some point, I think I thought that me distancing myself would not only protect you guys, but it would ultimately be better for me. I felt like, when you realized- not if, when - that you deserved someone better, me keeping myself distant would make it less painful. But, that’s not true, because somehow, along the way, I ended up hurting you guys instead.”
Will is crying now, too. He has this bittersweet smile on his face, like he’s proud of Mike, but is sad that it took him this long to realize how much he was hurting himself, how much he was hurting others. The exhale he releases is shaky, “Mike, I know you think that you’re not a good friend, but you are. You are my best friend and you are worth it . You are more than worth our time. When I said you were the heart, I meant that, because you keep us together. You are the uniting force between us. You are the lifeblood of this party,” he wipes away a stray tear before it drops from his chin, “please, don’t push us away.”
Mike sniffles, a sad smile taking over his features, “thanks Will. You’re my best friend, too.”
They don’t really say much more, they just cry. All of the emotions from the last year coming into the light. Jonathan, for his part, seems to be fine with pretending he can’t hear them, despite his occasional glances to the rear view mirror.
They make it to a gas station somewhere in Colorado, and Jonathan, Argyle, and Will all leave the car to go do various things (Jonathan to actually fill up the car, Will to use the restroom, and Argyle to look for “some wicked road snacks” or whatever he said). Mike stays in the car with El.
Her head is still resting on his shoulder, it’s been there for a few hours now. Mike loves having El close to him, he really, really does, but his shoulder is starting to cramp up and he needs to stretch it out a little bit. He tries to gently move her so that she’s resting on the back of the seat, his movements slow and precise, but only moments after he’s begun moving, El stirs from her place beside him.
Mike freezes as she turns to look at him, eyes hazy and half-lidded with sleep, and he feels a strong pull in his heart at how she looks. It’s oddly reminiscent of how she looked that first week he knew her, when she had used up all of her energy and would collapse back onto him, weak and seeking rest. He wishes that he had nicer memories of her like this, because she looks beautiful this way now, exhausted and worn, but content to be there with him, as if he’s something special.
“Hey,” he says, and it sounds raw, like the feeling is trying to burst free from his body. It’s a little embarrassing, just how often she manages to get him like this, to have him so open. It’s almost like she draws all of his feelings right out of him, like she’s a catalyst of light, hope, love .
“Hey,” she says, and oh . If he sounded wrecked, she sounded even worse. It’s a weird feeling, to fully accept that she actually loves him, that she feels that same kind of weightlessness with him that he does with her. She’s looking up at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, like him just being there with her was the most incredible thing he could ever do.
He’s overwhelmed, and so, when he says, “I love you,” it’s not even something he thinks before he’s saying it. He takes in a sharp breath once it leaves him, and she just melts into him. He smiles “So, so much.”
She giggles, light and carefree, “you said that earlier, Mike.”
He laughs along with her, because he always laughs with her (how can he not when her laugh sounds like sunshine, and warm winter sweaters, and the dew on the grass in the mornings, and-). He tips his head forwards and presses his forehead to hers, “I know, I just…” he trails off, momentarily lost in her gaze, “I just can’t seem to stop saying it now, I guess,” she laughs again, a soft sound laced with happiness, “I wanna make up for all the times I was too chickenshit.”
El actually laughs this time, fully, her eyes scrunching up and her cheeks going a little pink from how hard she’s smiling. “Good, because you have a lot of making up to do.”
Sometimes, when he’s with her, reality feels a little too far away, but now, in the back of this van, he feels as though this is the most real moment he’s ever lived in his life. So, he kisses her, because what else is there to do when he feels this strongly, when he feels this alive .
She catches him halfway, lips meeting in the middle, almost like magnets, drawn to each other like how gravity draws in a meteor. It’s as easy as breathing, kissing her, like they were just made to do this, as if this is the only thing in the world that can’t be tainted.
It's a brief kiss, neither of them really wanting to get too into it with Jonathan just outside the car, and Argyle and Will only a few moments away. They’re both smiling into it, all curled lips and teeth, and it feels joyful. Mike can’t remember a time in the last week that he was this happy . But, all good things come to an end, and it still feels kind of disappointing when she pulls away.
The silence after they’ve separated is filled with a hazy kind of hesitance, like she wants to speak but doesn’t know where to start. Mike wants to kiss her again, because he always wants to kiss her, but he knows that’s not what she really wants right now. She wants to talk, and Mike, for his part, is more than willing to start a conversation.
“So… has anyone ever told you that you're, like, kind of amazing?” She laughs, but he continues to speak, “no, really El, I mean it.”
“ Mike ,” she’s got that smile on her face, the one that’s telling him that she wants him to keep talking, that she wants to listen to him speak for just a little while. It’s one of the millions of things that he loves about her, the way she listens; her attention rapt and enthusiastic, never wavering.
“What I said back at surfer boy, I meant every word of it,” he falters a little at that admission, but her eyes are warm and expectant and he can’t just stop now. “You’re like, this amazing superhero, and I’m just this total nerd, but you make me feel so special . It’s crazy to me how someone like you can love someone like me, but at the same time, it feels kind of… inevitable, you know? Like…” he trails off, searching for something to explain how he feels, when his mind flashes to the book Dustin gave him for Christmas, “like binary stars.”
She blinks, eyebrows pulling together curiously, “What?”
“Binary stars, it’s like…” he trails off, thoughtful, staring off out the window behind her, “it’s when two stars orbit each other, like they’re so close to each other in space that we only really see them as one thing from down here on earth. They don’t start out orbiting each other, but once they find each other they can stay together for millions and millions of years.” He turns his attention to her, and her eyes are sparkling, as if she can read his thoughts exactly, but she still hangs onto every word.
“That night you found me in the woods…” she says softly, a small, sappy smile on her face.
“We’re like binary stars. You’ve been in my orbit since that night in the woods, and you always will be.” One of her hands is resting in his, and he absently strokes the golden ring on her finger, “I promise.”
She smiles and kisses him again, and this time it lasts longer, but it feels slower, less rushed. The drag of her mouth against his feels delicate, like something cherished, and when he returns that same kind of softness, they melt into each other a little. In that moment, nothing matters but this: one of Mike’s hands coming up to up her cheek, the other loosely holding onto her hand, and El, clinging lightly to the front of his shirt as she leans up into him where their lips connect. They’re safe and they’re together, and for the time being, it’s all that matters.
Mike wakes up early the next morning, with the sun in his eyes and an ache in his neck.
They’re positioned awkwardly in the back seat, Mike using the window as a pillow and El using the way he’s leaning to rest, her body nearly on top of him, head landing somewhere just below his collarbone. They’re pressed together from shoulder to ankles, their feet still planted on the floor of the van, but their legs leaning along with their positions, as if they’re laying down.
When Mike fell asleep, he remembers it feeling extremely comfortable, with her warmth pressed up against his side and her breath steady against the bit of his chest that peeks out of his shirt. Her body is tucked underneath his arm, and she’s nuzzled in as close as she possibly can be- in theory, this is where he always wants to be. Now, though, as he’s slowly waking up, eyes squinted and muscles positioned in an awkwardly stiff strain, he almost regrets the position they chose.
It doesn’t take long for him to realize El’s already awake. One of her hands is up by his face, curled up against his chest as her fingers carefully wrap around the strands of hair framing his face, curling them around her fingers and then gently pulling away, letting it fall back into the dark mass of hair. He’s guessing she’s been doing this since she woke up, prodding him with gentle curiosity, gentle admiration. It almost makes him want to stay completely still, let her do this for a little while longer without any interruption, but his neck feels broken and his shoulder feels squished, so he shifts his head away from the window to look at her, not fully sitting up, but taking the tension out of his position.
As he expected, she startles, a small little jump that allows him to shift his weight more upwards, so he can fully wrap both of his arms around her. She eases back into him easily, and they’re shifted now so that they’re almost chest to chest, about halfway to sitting up.
She’s blushing, probably embarrassed from being caught, but he just smiles and kisses the tip of her nose, and in response she giggles, tension leaving her just as quickly as it appeared.
“Your hair is getting long, you know.”
Mike feels himself blush, suddenly hyper-aware of every strand of hair touching the back of his neck and the sides of his face, aware of how it’s now longer than her own, for the first time in years (which he wants to ask about but now is not the time ). He can’t help but feel a little embarrassed, because of course El wouldn’t like him having long hair, he doesn’t even know why he ever let it grow out in the first place.
His worries are short lived, though, because she smiles, reaching out a hand to fully bury it in the black mane, “I like it. It’s pretty.”
He feels his heart soar at the word. He’s pretty. Mike Wheeler is pretty. He never knew that word could be used to describe him. He had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he was even attractive in the first place, let alone the fact that he was pretty . It’s so much better than when his relatives call him a handsome young man, not only because it comes from her, but because the word feels right.
Pretty. He’s pretty.
He wants to say a million things, but all he says is, “you’re pretty, too.”
El frowns then, momentarily distracted from their bliss, her hand stilling its movement, “even without my hair?”
Mike exhales a laugh, incredulous, “El, are you kidding? You’re like, the most beautiful girl in the world, hair or not.”
He was hoping that comment would lift her spirits, that he would make her smile that brilliant smile and that she would forget about what happened these past few days. It doesn’t happen. She only slumps forwards, leaning into his neck, nuzzling herself there.
He can feel it in the way that she reaches for the hand that’s not wrapped around her back, the way she nervously plays with his fingers and how she leans her weight into his side, wanting to stay as close as possible. He can feel the way she’s standing at the edge of something huge, the way she’s just waiting for the dam to break already, until, finally, it does.
“I wish they hadn’t shaved it this time.”
“El…”
“I wanted to go,” he can feel tears beginning to drip down onto his skin, and without another thought he moves the hand resting above her hip to cup the back of her head, holding her close to him, almost protective, “I wanted to go because I knew that I had to save them. I had to save Max, and Dustin, and Lucas, and Nancy, and everyone else back in Hawkins because I already lost so many people and-”
“El.”
His voice is firm enough to startle her back out of what was becoming a spiral of panic, and she sobs quietly into his neck, sucking in heaving breaths of air. She clings to him, the hand holding his moving to grasp at his shirt sleeve, so he fully envelops her.
“El, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You aren’t the monster, remember?” He can feel his own tears starting to run, and he instinctively presses his face into the crown of her head, tucking himself into her just as easily. “I’m here for you. No matter what, okay? And, I’m sure the party would do the same.”
She smiles, a tearful, shattered smile into his skin, “I know you would. You drove all the way out here to save me, after all.”
He leans back to press his forehead to hers, feeling tears roll down his cheeks as well, “I’m never, ever leaving your side, okay. We’re binary stars, remember?” She nods, a weak, broken smile on her face, and he’s reflecting one right back, tears falling into the space between them like the rain did on a cold night in November, so many years ago.
The smile doesn’t take long to fade, her eyes going hazy and unfocused. She leans back a little and takes a deep breath, words still caught between her teeth.
“He showed me memories. Memories from the lab. Memories that I forgot about,” she says, tears still falling steadily from her cheeks. “He made me relive some of the worst moments of my life, all to get my powers back.”
He grips her sides a little tighter, silently telling her it’s okay to go on, that she can do it, that he’s right here, listening. She squeezes back.
“I died,” it’s something she says so easily, as if it’s a fact that’s not earth shattering, as if it isn’t something that sends shockwaves through his entire being. She exhales, her head heavy against his shoulder, “The memories were too much, and they had to restart my heart. Twice.”
He lets out a whimper when she squeezes him again, reassuring, I’m okay, Mike, but the tears just never seem to stop. He nearly lost her, and he didn’t even know. He wasn’t even there to help her.
“He wanted to keep me there, in the lab,” she says, voice on the edge of breaking, “he told me that I couldn’t save you. That I couldn’t save them.” She shifts to hug him tighter, to nuzzle in farther, and her next words are almost completely muffled by his skin.
“He said that One was stronger than me- that he could fly,” she sniffles, “he said that he doesn’t just kill people, that he… consumes them.”
She pulls back, looking him in the eyes as she sobs, hot tears leaving her cheeks a sickly red, “when I was in there Mike, I saw Max die,” she heaves out a breath, sobs starting to take over her voice yet again, her body shaking. “I did everything I could, and- and I fought , but she died. And now, somehow, I think I brought her back.”
She brings a hand to his face, as if to punctuate her next words, “but what if he was right? What if I wasn’t ready? What if now, after all of this, he wins, and Max is consumed by him.” She removes one of her hands from his hair, What happens if we lose , Mike?”
It’s something he’s known was possible, losing. Losing to the Upside Down, losing his friends, his family, losing El again. The thought is usually unbearable, and only ever comes to mind on dark lonely nights spent curled up under his covers, willing the nightmares away, as if it would make them any less real. Sometimes he would sneak out and steal cerebro from Dustin’s house, just so he could talk to her on those nights, to give him peace of mind, that she was real and not something he made up in his own mind.
It all feels like a little too much for people their age. His father was always telling him how going to see his girlfriend in California wasn’t a good idea. Telling him how he was only fourteen, and fourteen year olds had no business falling in love, when they didn’t even have the slightest clue what it was. Mike never believed him, though. He believed in rainy November nights and stolen kisses and the feeling of wrapping his hand around hers.
He can’t lose her. He isn’t sure if he could survive that kind of loss. Not when it’s her, not when they’re this young, not when she’s only had a few years to live her life the way she deserves to.
“We won’t lose,” and he knows it’s a lie, he knows that they can lose, that he might lose her, but, “we have to have faith. We can’t let him get into our heads, you can’t let him get to you, El. Brenner is dead, and you’ve done nothing wrong.” She sniffles, thumb moving to brush away a few of his tears, “we can’t lose you, El. Not because you’re meant to save us, but because we love you, I love you, way too much. El, in all honesty,” he reaches up, holding her head between his hands, letting her rest her weight on him, “I think I’d lose myself if I lost you.”
She seems to have stopped crying, tears run dry from dehydration. He feels about the same, his head throbbing and his heart shattered, but when she offers him a weak smile, he kind of forgets about it.
“I think I’d be lost without you too, Mike,” she says, eyes shining from the little bit of light peeking in through the window. “So, I guess we can’t lose, can we?”
Mike smiles, tears starting to dry out his skin, leaving it feeling feverish, “I love you so much, you're like, the coolest person in the entire world.”
She kisses his lips, just a small peck, “binary stars. I’ve loved you since that first night you found me, and I’ll love you for the rest of our lives.”
He stills, blinking, “you’ve loved me since that night, too?”
She laughs, like it’s a stupid question with an answer that he should already know, “Of course. You were the first person to ever make me feel like a person, not a freak or an experiment, just a girl.”
Oh. Well, that’s cool.
“You were the first person to ever protect me.” He doesn’t know where the admission comes from, but it’s out of his mouth before he can even really process it. He watches her face melt into a smile before she leans up to kiss him, first on his lips, then his cheeks, his nose, his forehead-
“El! El-” he giggles through his words, heart fluttering giddily in his chest, “El- stop, stop-” but he doesn’t mean it. If he had the choice, he would freeze this moment in time, and they would stay in this bubble they’ve created in the backseat, unaware of the terrors that they face back in Hawkins.
“Hey! Could you two quit it back there! I can’t hear my tunes!” Argyle turns up the radio, and some kind of funky beat starts floating out of the speakers.
They laugh, and Mike just shrugs, reaching down for something in the back pocket of the seat in front of him. He flips the map over to a blank side and reaches over the seat to grab one of Will's pencils.
He’s got this stupid, dopey smile on his face that she loves, and she can’t help but smile back. He raises his eyebrows, “Wanna play tic-tac-toe?”
She laughs and nods, already content to forget about the world around them for the time being.