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Kissing Eleven was great.
Well, it was a little wet and a bit awkward, but it wasn’t bad. Mike enjoyed the feeling of his lips on hers, the faint smell of her shampoo, the taste of her strawberry lip balm and the way her eyes sparkled when they pulled apart. He liked the dimples on her cheeks when she smiled, and the pink blush that dusted across her face whenever they talked. Mike could actually form a list of things he liked about her, just because he liked her so much. He was sure that she could do the same for him.
They had spent all of their possible time together since El and him were reunited. Having her so far away, not knowing whether or not she was safe for a whole year drove him up the wall. He had missed her so much; Mike needed El like an addict needed the subject of their want. Maybe that was a bit of an over exaggeration, but it was his truth. He would even go so far as to say it was a fact.
Mike and Eleven need each other.
If you were to ask anyone, they would agree. To him, El was a goddess. His adoration may seem childish, or baseless to some, but that didn’t matter to him, because she was his superhero; his saviour. She made his world just that much brighter just by being there.
After everything she’s done for him, all he wanted was to keep her safe; to be her saviour this time; her knight in shining armour. He wanted to be her constant in a world that would never settle, her oasis in the desert of life.
That’s why when the Byers decided they were leaving, Mike felt everything collapse around him, his heart stopping for a brief moment. The feelings from every one of those 353 days he had waited for her resurfaced at once, like a tsunami of sorrow and despair, crushing him as easily as a paper plate in a typhoon. Would his life be stationary while he waited for her again and again? Would the misery of her absence return, this time leaving a hole in his chest, unable to be filled? God, he hoped not. He couldn’t bear to see everything else continue as normal when he was here, held, frozen in time by his own feelings. Mike’s greatest adversary had always been himself, after all. He simply couldn’t help but fuck up every good thing that came his way. He wasn’t the eye of the storm; he was the storm itself; a swirl of chaos and disorder with far too much energy to do itself well. It was a surprise on its own that someone like El could ever come to love him; she was an angel amongst mortals.
Saying goodbye was the worst part of leaving.
Mike had waffled on about Thanksgiving and Christmas and presents, and yet El still declared her love for him, before she captured him in a kiss. It wasn’t like this was their first, but thoughts still flew through his head at a million a minute.
He had always thought that kissing was overrated, in a way. Movies and books always described it to be more electric; with more passion and hunger. For him, kissing was none of these things, instead, it provided a comfort that couldn’t be replicated by anything else.
So when their lips had met, confusion was first to take hold. Why didn’t kissing her feel like how it was supposed to? Why couldn’t he have this one normal thing? Why wasn’t this taste of normality a relief? Being bullied his whole life, having a chance to be just like everyone else should feel like a heavy weight lifted off of his tired shoulders, but it wasn’t; it was just another extra weight. He hated this. He hated being a freak, yet he hated being normal. He hated that all his efforts seemed to be in vain. He hated how Eleven didn’t make everything else go away. He hated his feelings. He hated his parents. He hated himself. He hated Will.
…
Woah.
Where had that come from? Hating Will? This concept wasn’t something that could ever make sense in his mind. He and Will would be friends forever; they would never drift apart and there was nothing Will could do to make Mike hate him. …So why had that thought in particular appeared in the forest of other indiscernible thoughts? Will had done nothing wrong. He was objectively perfect. He was quiet, kind, brave, and very pretty (for a boy).
Now that this thought was stuck in his mind like a pesky weed, Mike supposed that the way he wanted to protect El and the way that he wanted to protect Will were startlingly similar. Why was it he wanted to scoop Will into his arms and hold him every time that he felt uneasy? Why did he crave to have Will’s touch- and to touch Will as well? These were not normal feelings to have, especially not for another boy. When he was just a little kid, about 6 or 7, he vividly remembered his mom taking him to Sunday mass at church. Mike didn’t remember much, except that the pastor had droned on, and on, in a laughably monotone voice, until he had uttered the word, ‘homosexuals’. The word had been uttered in a low tone, with a layer of unsaid shame and disgust. The pastor had talked about the dirtiness of homosexuality, and the diseases that these individuals harboured. They were filthy, tainted people, straying far from God’s light to indulge in selfish sin. These people were the epitome of the devil, as they had turned their back on faith, and instead embraced Lucifer and his temptations. Mike had glanced to the side, toward his mother during the speech, to see her nodding, solemnly, in agreement. That day, he had sworn to himself that he would never allow himself to be lost in this sin. Will and his beauty were just another test from God. He couldn’t let himself fall for it. These feelings would fade in time, and he would be able to forget all about his sweet smile, his starry eyes, and his pink lips. Will would be yet another afterthought once his life with El kickstarts.
Life with El would be a mundane, grey thing, but it was normal.
With her lips on his, Mike decided that he could settle for this.