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E .
It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be a good day for once. Mike was here—the person she finds comfort in finally in the place she’s been struggling to call home. It should have been the best day.
Eleven had never meant to lie to him, at least not for so long and so deeply. All of those promises that they would tell each other the truth, and all of the times she’d gotten upset when Mike told a simple white lie, and she had gone and spun a web of lies so massive she could barely see through it anymore.
She’d allowed hope to settle in and had convinced herself that these people — these strangers. Cruel, loud and unkind — weren’t all bad. Maybe they could be friends. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could be accepted by them and treated like a normal person.
Eleven isn’t stupid. She knows there was never a chance of her seamlessly blending in here. But what she did imagine was that maybe if she laughed with them, they’d finally let her in on the joke.
What she hadn’t realized was that she had just been the punchline all along. It didn’t matter how many times she lied to Mike, trying to act fine without him, without her friends…without Hop. It didn’t matter if she planned a whole day for them to just be together for the first time in months. It didn’t matter how hard she tried to be normal, to fit in, because these people were never going to see her as anything but a freak. What she wouldn’t give for her powers right now…
This isn't how her day was supposed to go. She was supposed to be skating with Mike, and Will, too. And they’d have milkshakes and fries, and tomorrow she’d get Jonathan to take them to the aquarium to see the otters. She was supposed to be hugging Mike, kissing Mike, and being happy with Mike—not crying in the staff room of the roller rink where they stored all the old machines and spare rolls of print wallpaper because this life she wanted to lead didn’t want her back.
Eleven isn’t allowed good days. Instead, she gets humiliation and name-calling, and the outfit she specifically chose because Mike likes stripes soaked in chocolate milk. Her tailbone aches and her right ankle is sore from where it twisted in the fall, but she thinks she could walk it off. She’s been through worse, after all.
There’s laughter seeping through the crack beneath the door then, the loud cacophony of people she’s grown used to but not familiar with, and El decides to be brave and take a peek. She pushes up on sock-clad feet, uncurling her body, and walks over to the window with baby steps. Peering through the blinds, she spots them. They’re giggling, Angela mindlessly sipping her drink as she chats with her friends. El narrows her eyes in concentration as if she’s capable of doing something to shut her up—old habits—but then she spots Mike and Will, further away, her boyfriend clearly irritated.
With me , she thinks, taking a step away from the window. He’s annoyed with me. Her fingers caress the edge of the dusty slats and then she’s walking backward, almost stumbling over her discarded skates, until she’s back where she started; arms around her legs in a self-embrace, lip quivering to stop a scream from falling.
Mike can’t find her like this. She won’t know what to do. Should she apologize for being such an embarrassing girlfriend and tell him that she understands if he doesn’t want her anymore? Does she tell him that she’s sorry for lying? Maybe both, maybe neither. Maybe he’s more concerned with what this means for him. He’d wanted a break from Hawkins’ melancholy and she’d promised he would have fun here. They’d only had a couple of hours before it all went wrong.
Will told her that Mike would be mad when he found out about the lies—and he’s known him longer than anyone so surely he’s right. El can’t decide what is worse: if he were mad about her lying, or about her lack of adjustment to life without powers. She’s never really known how Mike felt about her owning them in the first place outside of his concern for their use. What if he preferred her without? What if he wanted her to be normal? Would he finally tell her he loved her then?
Eleven would be lying if she said it wasn’t one of the reasons she started lying in the first place. If she fit in, maybe he could make room for her; in his heart, properly. She can’t tell him this though because Mike will say it’s ridiculous or crazy to even think that and he’ll beat around the bush—Jonathan told her what that meant one day—instead of just saying those three little words she so desperately needs to hear. El knows that she shouldn’t seek validation in the eyes of others, but it’s Mike; he’s always made her differences feel special. Always made them feel like strengths. It wouldn’t matter how many milkshakes or names were thrown at her because she’d have the knowledge that he loved her regardless.
He was bullied too, sure, but that was different. It was because of his interests and friends and his looks. He wasn’t bullied for merely being himself, or for standing out the way she does. Mike at least always stood a chance. Eleven was never given one until he came along to give it to her.
Before she can think about it anymore, the door opens, and between the neon glare of overhead lighting and the tears clouding her vision, she sees him.
M.
“El.”
Truthfully, Mike is not sure what he expected when he pushed open the door labeled ‘Employees Only’, but it definitely hadn’t been his girlfriend folded in on herself between out-of-service gumball machines and cardboard boxes full of crap.
She’s kicked off her shoes, has been wiping at the stain on her dress with dry paper towels, and there are mascara streaks running down her cheeks—This is not what he wanted to happen today. Or ever.
Eleven isn’t looking at him, but she must know someone is there because when he shuts the door behind him with a quick glance over his shoulder to alert Will, a shaky, almost hiccup of a breath, escapes past her lips. It catches the same way Mike has just caught her, but she’s still staring at her hands, fists clenched around a single towel.
He keeps a hold of the handle for a second, unsure of how to approach her, but then fuck it —she needs him. Mike closes the door and wanders further into the dark space, hip narrowly dodging the open drawer of a filing cabinet, and he crouches down in front of her. He hadn’t even known she was in here, honestly. It was just luck. A feeling.
“El,” Mike repeats, a little harder this time. “Look at me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and it’s so quiet and so fast that he barely catches it. “For lying.”
He doesn’t know the extent to which she lied—maybe she has made other friends. Maybe there were good days—but Mike isn’t too hung up on that right now.
“I don’t care that you lied about being happy. I just-” Squeezing his eyes shut, Mike shakes his head as if it’ll erase the words he’s already given voice to.
Of course, he cares about her happiness. Sometimes it’s all he can think about — Is she safe? Is she smiling? Is she doing just fine without me? Sometimes the thought of her getting on with her life and moving on from him eats Mike alive, but he’s never given himself the freedom to tell her that. He can’t blame El for pretending to be happy when it’s the exact same thing he’s been doing. Of course, he cares about the lying, but her dishonesty pales in comparison to whatever she’s feeling right now.
Eleven spent the first twelve years of her life raised in a lab; sheltered behind high walls by government agents, kept from the public eye, and she has known nothing but confinement for most of the rest of it. Nobody ever taught her how to handle public humiliation because she was never public enough to become a target in the first place.
“I meant... happy in Lenora.” Mike sighs, deflating. “I just want to know if you’re okay right now. All right?”
“No,” is all she says, not lifting her gaze from the crumpled-up tissue between her fingers. El pulls her legs closer to her chest, tear-stained cheek resting atop her left knee as she mumbles between soft pants, “I didn’t… want you to see.”
“Want me to see what?”
“What happens.”
“Do they…” he starts, voice dipping, moving onto his knees in the cramped space. The carpet chafes his knees. “Does it happen a lot?” He considers reaching for her but figures she might not want to be touched. “El, trust me, I get it. I-”
“No, you don’t.” Eleven meets his eye, if only fleetingly.
“I don’t?” he asks. “Okay. What don’t I understand?”
“It’s different. I am different.” When she finally looks at him, Mike is pretty sure something in his chest snaps—whether it’s a nerve or a heartstring he has no way of knowing. “I thought it would be okay… eventually. That it would take time like you said. That is why I lied to you, I- I thought I could be normal. After a while, it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“You-” he starts, but nothing he can think to say seems quite right, so instead he grabs her hand and pries the tissue free and- “you’re probably never going to be normal, El. Okay? There’s no- there’s no such thing anyway. But if- if those assholes don’t like you for who you are then screw them. They don’t matter. I know you think they do but they don’t, El. They don’t.”
You don’t get it , she wants to tell him, but before she can even open her mouth Mike has pulled her closer and is fingering the stain on her dress as if to see if it’s still wet. A distraction from big feelings.
“You matter, okay? We- you can’t let them ruin you. Ruin us. It doesn’t… I know it sucks right now, but it’s just temporary, El, and we can fix it. All right? We will. I will.” They lock eyes at that, and for the first time since he found her in here, Eleven doesn’t look on the precipice of tears. “I dunno how but I’m sure we can figure something out. I am going to figure something out. I mean, like, I’ll just never go home and move out here myself if I have to. Really, I don’t care. We just have to get through right now and I’m gonna help you, okay? And Will is going to help you, and your mom and- and you’re gonna be fine. We are going to be fine. I don’t… I don’t care that you lied as much as I care about you.”
“Care,” she rasps, voice hoarse, and it cuts deep when she says, “but you don’t… you don’t love me anymore?”
There it is. The elephant in the room that he’s been dodging for several months. Mike knows it’s what she wants to hear, but as soon as the words reach the tip of his tongue, his heart starts hammering and hammering and he feels like it might start beating outside of his chest. It’s not a good feeling, nor one he knows how to handle. Nobody showed him how.
“I…” Obviously, he loves her. He hoped he’d get there one day, to a place where he could say it without feeling like the words might open up and swallow him whole. One day, if his fears and insecurities left him alone long enough so he could come up for air. Mike has been holding his breath for years. “Who said that I didn’t?”
“You never say it, Mike.”
“I say it.”
Isn’t he doing it right now? Is seeking her out when she hides away not an act of love?
“I do, I just- you know what I think of you. Right? You’re the most incredible person in the world, and- and you can’t let other people make you doubt that because I’m too much of an idiot to tell you every day. It’s not- I’m not blaming you for lying, El—I understand why you did it, but it kinda hurt to think you didn’t need me anymore so I guess I just… I closed off and I know I shouldn’t have done that but now- now I’m behind where you are.”
Mike furrows his brows, uncertain if even he understands what he’s trying to get across. “I couldn’t tell you because it’d only hurt more when you realized that you didn’t need me in order to be happy anymore, El. Like you- you don’t need it—my love. And now I know you were lying and it’s like… like, I just need a minute for my brain to catch up.”
Eleven nods, still rather forlorn as she lowers her gaze to his mouth and mutters, as if he hasn’t just uncapped the bottle containing his every emotion to give her a glimpse inside, “I can’t leave, Mike.” She wraps her arms around herself, pulling out of his embrace. “Can’t go out there.”
“Yeah, you can,” he tells her with a nod, confident. “I’m gonna be right next to you. We’re going to find Will and get the hell out of this place, all right? We’ll call Jonathan and his… friend,” Mike pulls a face at the thought of the weed-infused van and the long-haired pothead who drives it, unintentionally earning a small grin from Eleven, “We’re gonna go home and Mrs. Byers has probably cooked, like, a bitchin’ dinner and then tomorrow is gonna be a whole new day.”
“You’re gonna look beautiful — You do today, too. I- I totally forgot to tell you that.” Mike says, color heating his cheeks. “Some mouthbreather ruining your dress doesn’t change that, I promise.” Mike leans forward, pressing a kiss to her temple. Then another. “The point is, shit sucks right now but we don’t have to deal with those assholes again. We can do whatever you want. If you wanna have burgers for breakfast and throw M&Ms at my face all night to make yourself feel better or whatever, I’m totally cool with that.”
“I don’t…” El purses her lips, unwinding her arms to reach for him. She cups one side of his face in her palm and softly says, “I don’t want burgers for breakfast, Mike..”
“No? Churros then?” he teases, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Please don’t say corn dogs. I can’t eat another one of those.”
She gasps, and her eyes brim with something other than tears finally—shock. “They’re delicious!”
“Not, they’re not! It’s not even meat!”
“Yes, it is!” El pulls back, “it’s… corn.”
“Corn meat?” He laughs, but it’s not mocking. “What exactly do you think hotdogs are?”
“They’re sausage, Mike. I’m not stupid.”
“I know! I’m just saying… It’s kind of gross that you like corn dogs, but whatever. We need to get you out of here before you start telling me you like pineapple on your pizza or, like, cherry cola.” Mike stands, moving to pull her up by the wrist but remembers- “wait, are you okay?”
“Yes. M-My ankle hurts but I can walk.”
“If not, just tell me and I’ll put my skates back on and I can carry you out of here, like, twice as fast.”
Eleven latches onto his forearm then, holding herself to his side. “I lied about that, too. You are really bad at skating.”
“So?” He smiles down at her, “better they laugh at me than you. At least it’d be funny, watching me flail about.”
“Mike,” she says in a droll just as the door opens. Angela and her friends are nowhere in sight but, still, it doesn’t put her at ease—no matter how hard Mike clutches her hand and presses against her. “I-”
“Come on.” He swoops down to press a kiss to her lips; short but slow, just long and deep enough to make one dude wolf-whistle as he walks by. “We need to go find Will before he ditches us and I have to walk back to your house in flip-flops.”