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There’s a handful of Dungeons & Dragons miniatures scattered across the table and a half-eaten plate of Eggo waffles off to one side when it happens.
The basement is tidier than usual. The Party has all returned from college for a couple of weeks to spend time with their families over the holidays, with Mike and El shacking up at his childhood home.
They’ve lived together for about a year now; nobody bats an eye anymore when they share his old bedroom or come downstairs disheveled after staying up late. They eat breakfast with Holly and have dinner with either set of parents. Joyce offers to cook for them their second night in town and even though the meatloaf ends up burnt it’s still a fairly pleasant evening.
Later, Mike corners Hopper in the garage when he’s knee-deep in a box of Christmas lights and lays it all out for the man, cards on the table. He tells him of his plan, and if the former chief of police has a problem with any part of it, he doesn’t say a word. He claps Mike on the shoulder with a half-smile and that’s all Mike needs to know that he has his acceptance should he want it. He doesn’t—Hopper’s approval has never factored into his relationship with El. He just felt courteous sometimes because the man was still her dad after all.
A couple of days later, he has her alone in the basement, a rerun of Bewitched playing to itself on the small television his dad set up for their stay. Their attention’s not on the screen; Mike is focused on the hands softly tugging at his hair when he moves his lips down her neck, El’s back arching under the press of his palm along her spine. It wasn’t part of the plan. They’d agreed to hang out for a bit before the rest of the Party arrived for a quick D&D session—Mike had been working on it since before they left Chicago—but she’d had Eggo crumbs on her chin and when he’d brushed them away she nipped at his thumb and that just about did it.
Now they’re sharing a chair, El has one hand wound in his hair and the other over the backrest, and Mike is positive she’s trying to kill him with sweetness—or at least stop him from finally putting his plan into motion. But he’s been working on it for so long, going over his speech again and again to the point he has it memorized, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go through with it because his girlfriend’s lips taste like an addictive mix of almond and cherry.
“El?”
She mumbles something he can’t make out, but the hum courses through his body all the way to his toes and Mike resigns himself for a moment. They could stay like this forever if he let them; feeling the dull twist of hair at the base of his neck, the drag of teeth along his bottom lip when he pinches her waist. No, he reminds himself. You promised. He cups the side of her face and gently tears the kiss.
El, to his surprise, doesn’t say a word. She lays her hands on his shoulders and waits for him to speak, an eyebrow raised in question.
“Erm-” Mike starts, but he’s still staring at her mouth where the red chapstick smudges and holy shit! It’s probably all over his face, too. He makes a mental note to check himself in the mirror before their friends arrive and he’s endlessly teased over it as if it’s not been a regular occurrence since they were fourteen and old enough to kiss without supervision.
“Mike?”
He plucks at a loose strand on her t-shirt, watching as a thin stretch of mustard wraps around his index finger. “Yeah?”
“Why are we not kissing?” El asks him, blunt as ever. She grabs his wrist to check his watch, a crease in her brow when she says, “we only have twenty minutes.”
He knows exactly why he pulled away but as the seconds tick by, Mike finds it increasingly more difficult to care about anything but the girl in his lap and the faded design of her t-shirt.
Joyce picked it out for her by chance a few years back when there'd been a clothes drive after the rift had first opened up and left a lot of families devastated. She and Will returned to the cabin one afternoon with two bags of clothing for the whole family — It felt weird at first to think of them as such a thing, El told him one day. ‘Blended’ is what people called it, as if they were just ingredients in a milkshake or something. El preferred to think of them as being stitched together like one of those ugly patchwork comforters they have down at the library for the little kids to fall asleep on when it’s storytime.
All of their stuff was still in Lenora, and Mike only had so many hoodies she could steal before his mom noticed. So when Joyce handed her the stack of clothes to go through, mostly denim and plaids, El took them with a smile. She set aside the overalls and a pair of burgundy corduroys and a black jean jacket, along with a couple of shirts that weren’t too big, but when she spotted it.
It wasn’t the same shirt—it couldn’t be. The old one had been taken away by the bad men shortly after she’d first changed out of it, leaving it in the Wheeler’s laundry to be washed, and she’d never seen it again. Mike told her he would have given it back if he still had it. But people liked Benny, she learned over time—Hop was even friends with him—and the diner had been pretty popular back when he was still around so it went without saying that other people in Hawkins would own one of these shirts, too. It was only a matter of time before she found another.
She’d run her finger over the burger print for a moment in remembrance, in honor, before neatly folding it away in the top drawer of her dresser for safekeeping. When she finally tried it on, it was only slightly too large—she wasn’t swimming in it.
Now years later, her body’s filled out more and she can comfortably tuck it into the waistband of her jeans. If Mike stares at her longer than usual when she wears it, she knows precisely the reason why.
He told her once that it was like he was meeting her eye for the first time all over again; like time had suspended itself to give them a moment to catch up, air caught in his lungs. — Maybe time runs backward and he’s just been holding his breath for years.
“Mike!”
“Sorry,” he sighs, lowering his gaze to the small figurines on the table. “I… got lost there.”
It’s the t-shirt, he thinks, it’s cursed. It has to be. It awakens something in him every time he sees her in it. It doesn’t help that her hair is pulled up in a loose ponytail with that bright green scrunchie she dug out from an old jewelry box last week, the one that matches their sofa back home, or that her high-waisted jeans press into her ribs when she leans over to kiss him, or–
He shakes his head slightly, black hair falling into his eyes. El aches to brush it away but refrains. “So, erm, I wanted to run something by you, actually. For the new campaign.”
“Your story?” El quirks a brow, not sure how much help she could be. She’s still learning how the game works, even all these years later. “You want my help?”
Mike nods, eyes wide as boyish glee takes over his face. “Not help, really, just- I just need to bounce some ideas off of you before the guys get here. You know, like the ending. I haven’t quite figured it out yet and I thought maybe you could help me with that.”
“Okay,” she says with a smile. Eleven shuffles out of his lap and grabs the nearest chair. She scoots over to him, wood dragging across the old carpet as she bumps into his side, laying her hand on his knee. “Tell me.”
He tells her everything she needs to know, and if El only remembers half of the storyline it’s not for lack of trying. She wants to, really, and she does at least attempt to focus, but Mike’s hair keeps flapping about because he’s so animated when he talks and she’s hungry for more hot waffles and he promised they could go to the movies to go see ‘Ghost’ tonight if the game was over early enough and he has cherry red chapst–
“So then we, you and me, we hopefully get to the edge of the forest before the Troglodytes catch up — You thwart them with an attack. We’ll see how it goes but you should be good with, like, a nine.” The mention of her character, Eleven the Elf, catches her attention.
Brazen, she asks, “do I kill them?”
“I- Do you want to?” Mike considers the idea for a moment. “I mean, you can if you want but really you just have to hold them off. You know, so I have time to come up with a plan.”
“Right.” El frowns, sounding slightly deflated. “I don’t think you need my help, Mike. You have the whole thing in your head already.”
“No, no! No, I do. I just- I haven’t told you about the ending yet. I mean, I guess I could skip the part with the new slinger and Waterdeep because you don’t really care about all that and I- I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Mike sighs.
The thing he’d been working on for weeks is going to shit, and fast. Maybe he should’ve just gone about it the regular, less nerdy way. Dinner. Flowers. A surprise at the bottom of her tiramisu.
“I’m sorry. You just wanted to spend time together while we’re back home, I get it, and I just, like, preemptively started the game…”
Mike picks up her miniature from the board, eyeing the mage in consideration. Now or never, Wheeler. “I just wanted you to help me with the ending really quick because it’s kind of important but- Yeah, I dunno, it’s stupid anyway.”
“How important?”
“Life or death,” Mike tells her, voice dropping to a whisper when he tacks on, dramatically because maybe there’s hope yet, “like I might die if you say no.”
El shrugs as if it’s not even a question. “Then I will say yes.”
The young man grins, “cool.” He drops the piece and reaches for her hand instead, the one still gripping his thigh like she’s afraid he might drift away if she dared let go. “So… here’s the thing. Our characters are in a relationship, right? They’re like us.”
“Paladin and mage,” she says, a pleased look crossing her features. “I like them together.”
“I do too! And that’s- that’s kind of where I’m going with this,” he holds a hand up with a smile when she opens her mouth to cut him off, “just bear with me for a sec. So, like, I have this whole idea for the end of the campaign. You know, after they’ve been through all of this shit; they get a moment to just be together. We’re at this inn and- and you know how paladins are kind of like… like knights, right? Like from the fairytales that you read to the kids?”
“Yes,” El nods. “Are you… are you saying you’re like a Prince Charming?” She scrunches her nose, “because I love you but that’s kind of stupid, Mike. They’re not real.”
“What? No! No, I have a point, I promise. I just- What I’m trying to say is that… you know, paladins, like knights… kneel before people. Right? Because they’re loyal and honorable… and they love, you know, sorta like how I love you. They’re the reason people get down on one knee when they propose—it’s like a show of nobility or something.” Mike pauses, taking a moment to find his words.
This is not the speech he’d had prepared, but he’s in too deep to back out now and El is staring at him with those big hazel eyes that could eat him alive and he would let her if she asked, and she has still that faraway but attentive gleam in her eye and goddamnit does he love her and–
“My character, when he finally gets to be with this girl—this you —that he loves, I think he might want to kneel... before her. And it’s not out of servitude or anything, just- He just wants her to know that he’ll be there forever if she wants him to.”
El pulls a face, soft brows pulling into a frown. “At… her feet?”
“With her. He wants to be at her side,” he clarifies with a laugh. “And he has this ring that he got from his mo- that he inherited, and they’ve talked about it before–”
“–like we did?”
“Exactly. And we promised, right? I mean, I promised I would do it when we were ready. But, see, this particular Mike is ready, and he thinks his Eleven might be, too. At least he hopes she is.”
Understand? Please? Save me the struggle. Or else the embarrassment, Mike thinks, free hand roaming to his jean pocket. It’s empty. Shit.
“What’s wrong?” El asks, and he realizes that he’d signaled his alarm out loud.
“Huh?” Mike Gapes, “nothing! No, I- Nothing. I just- have you…” He pats his front pocket again, then the other, then the back ones to make sure. Fuck, fuck, fuck! If he hasn’t already messed this whole thing up, his mom is surely going to kill him when she finds out he lost his nana’s heirloom ring.
“Mike, what are you looking for?”
“You haven’t, like, seen a little thing lying around, have you?”
“A thing?” Eleven copies him when he stands, pushing her hair behind her ears as Mike ducks down to inspect under the table and starts crawling around the floor. “What kind of thing?”
“Like a,” he pinches his fingers together and freely gestures about, running his other hand through his mass of black curls. “Just, you know, something small. Tiny, even. Well, not in your hand but, like, it would be tiny in my hand.”
“Tiny like a pea?” She raises a nearby cushion, then moves the plate of Eggos aside, still not sure what she’s even looking for. “Mike, how tiny?”
“Like a ring!” he exclaims, louder than he intended.
Well, shit, there goes your master plan, genius. Real smooth. He can practically hear Max taunting him.
“It’s just a ring that I had in my pocket, okay? I can’t find it and- and I kind of need it.”
“Is it-” Eleven’s not stupid. “If I find it, can I wear it?”
The color drains from Mike’s face then, and when he turns to look at her he’s wide-eyed with a faceful of awe. “You… yeah.” He shrugs, nonchalantly, his hands flat on the ground, but his eyebrows are up to his hairline, his cheeks flushed. “If you want. You can totally wear it if you want.”
El grins, but she keeps her cool, lazily flipping the game board upside down as if there’s any chance it slipped underneath. “Can you get down on one knee anyway?”
“I mean, I could… but without the ring, it might be really weird. I’d look kind of stupid.”
“Mike,” she starts, crouching so they’re at eye level. She rests a hand on his arm and softly says, “you’re already on the floor—you might as well do it.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.” He huffs, blinking back realization. A beat, then, “wait, right now?”
“Yes.” The brunette nods, “you promised.”
“Uh, no, I promised I would do it; I didn’t specify when. If I had, El, I don’t think it’d be when I lost the ring. That defeats the point.”
“Mike, I am ready for you to ask me now.”
He rolls his eyes, but can’t help the crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Look, how about we just find it first–”
“–no,” she deadpans. “If you want me to finish your story, then ask me to finish it. Ask me to marry you.”
“Alright. Marry me?”
She gasps, “not like that!”
“What?” Mike pulls back, “what was wrong with that?”
“You didn’t even try! Do it properly.”
“Why can't we just try to find the ring first and then I can-”
“Why are you guys on the floor?” A voice calls out from the top of the stairs, and Mike whips his head around to spot Dustin standing there; hands on his hips, an amused look on his face. Lucas is right behind him, peeking over his shoulder.
“Is he doing it?” he hears his best friend whisper, then Lucas smacks their curly-haired friend with a loud thwack!
"Dummy, we ruined the moment! He's in the middle of doing it."
“Nobody’s doing anything,” Mike grumbles.
El pushes up on her hands to peer over her boyfriend’s head, “Mike lost my ring.”
“I didn’t lose- Okay, yeah, fine, I lost it.” He moves to stand, brushing his hands down his sides before helping Eleven back up, too. “Can you guys just help look before my mom sucks it up with the vacuum while she’s cleaning or something? She’ll kill me.”
Dustin snickers, “I think El might kill you if you don’t ask her already.” They’re down the stairs down. He pulls the blanket from over the sofa and jams his hand between the cushions. “Nope. Found a nickel, though!”
“Great,” Mike huffs. He’s going through the laundry hamper. Maybe it was in his other pair of jeans…
Lucas doesn’t help in the search. He does, however, pat Mike on the shoulder and offer, “dude, if you want we can go back upstairs and leave you to it. ‘Oh, El, I love you so, so much. Marry me, El? Forget about the ring. Pretty please?’”
“Shut up, Lucas.”
El stares him down, “help us look or you’re not invited.”
“What?” The other boy gapes, “I’m the best man!”
“How come you get to be the best man?” Dustin shrieks, hand over his heart in mock hurt. “What if I wanna be the best man? I’m his best friend, too. I call dibs!”
“What are calling dibs on?” Will interrupts from the staircase.
Beside him, Max loudly cackles. “I guess Mike grew a pair.”
“Bite me.”
“Would rather not.”
“Found it!” Dustin declares.
Suddenly there’s a ring held up in El’s face, pinched between two fingers. It’s a gold band with a pretty yellow diamond. — It matches her t-shirt perfectly.
“That’s your cue, buddy,” Lucas mutters behind his teeth, shoving Mike toward his girlfriend.
“Yeah, I got that.” He snatches the ring from Dustin and steers El away from the group, a hand softly curling around her elbow. They stop by the bathroom door, just out of earshot.
“This is so stupid.” Mike shakes his head, clearly downhearted by the turn of events. But he’ll give it his second—or maybe third—best try. “I-” he sighs but it feels inverted somehow like he’s taking a breath when he should be releasing one.
“Mike,” falls from her lips, soft like silk, and it’s all he needs to hear to know this is right. To hell with the plan and to hell with the story.
“I love you, El. I do and I… I wanna be with you all the time. You know that. I promised I would do this someday and, I don’t know, I guess even if this isn’t how I wanted it to go exactly, I just… have to accept it’s what we’ve got right now. It’s all we ever get. Right? I mean, I kept losing you but you came back every time, and we made it work, so I can make this work, I guess. I have to because I love you, and I want to marry you—to be with you. Like, even when we’re old and have to feed each other soup with a spoon and you get mad at me because I forgot to pick up the milk or the kids from, like, daycare or whatever. I want that. All of it. I- I want to be with you forever so I don’t ever have to feel what life is like without you ever again and this- this is kind of a way to make sure you don’t lose me either. Like we’re connected, you know. Not, like, legally, because that’s what marriage is, but sorta–”
“–halfway married.”
“Yeah, halfway married.” Mike smirks, “so do you wanna... you know... halfway-marry me?”
El seems to consider her answer for a moment, then her eyes light up and she teases behind a smile, “if I say yes, do I get to wear the ring?”
Mike shrugs. “I mean, it’s for you.”
And like it’s not even a question anymore, she replies, “then I say yes.”