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Breathe.
Amidst the all-consuming darkness, her mother’s gentle echo rattles through El’s brain. Another voice permeates the silence, but it’s distorted like a Supercom with a draining battery. Curiosity for what she hears draws her out of a haze.
Breathe.
She assesses her surroundings, finding a noticeably cold, hard surface where she should feel warm, salty water. Her clothes stick to her body like melting wax, stiffening her movements — or rather her attempted movements. Fluorescent lights poke holes in her void as she forces her brain to send wiggling signals to her fingers and toes. She manages a twitch, and the distorted voice grows clearer. Happier.
Breathe.
A coughing fit unceremoniously thrusts her into consciousness. She’s still in the Surfer Boy Pizza, yes, but she now lies on a nearby table as opposed to the salt bath in the pizza dough freezer. Her chest heaves — in-out-in-out — steadying her rapid heartbeat. As artificial lights sting her maladjusted eyes, she blinks away the confusion and focuses on the lanky, dark-haired boy gripping tightly to her hand and shoulder. Ever so gently, the distorted voice pieces itself together, and her curiosity is satiated, with only one thought left to ponder: Mike. His confession from earlier takes hold.
I love you.
They lock eyes, and déjà vu floods her brain. Suddenly, she’s back in the woods in her yellow Benny’s Burgers t-shirt, soaked through to the bone, staring into the eyes of that very same boy. He’s loved me since the moment we met, she reminds herself as the smallest smile spreads across her lips. She heard him, clearer than ever before. No stumbling over words. No substitutions. No interruptions. Not a single “from” in sight. She finally heard the words she’d been waiting to hear for almost a year, admitting now that she always knew how he felt, but something about hearing it expressed out loud calmed her mind and helped her focus on the task at hand.
She sits up and wraps Mike in a tight hug. Her right hand strokes his hair, confirming that he is, in fact, real, as she sighs and relaxes into his embrace. She feels his long arms clutch desperately to her torso, his fingernails threatening to tear a hole in her shirt, while he seemingly pays no mind to the dampness of her clothes seeping through his top. They’re here. They’re safe. They’re loved. Everything else is background noise.
After a moment of reveling in his existence, she musters up the energy to utter one very important phrase, “I love you, too.”
His embrace tightens. She heard. “I love you…so much,” he responds, pressing a small kiss to her temple as he mumbles words of encouragement into her ear. Softly. Sweetly. Lovingly.
Without warning, the reality of what she saw, and what she did moments before waking up, forces its way into her mind. It’s all too much, now. Too many thoughts and feelings, piling high like dirty clothes in a hamper. Nothing can stop the instantaneous and overwhelming barrage of guilt from tearing her apart. She thinks of what he — what Henry — took from her, and all the memories he tainted. She thinks of the silo and Papa, and all the broken promises he tossed aside. But mostly, she thinks of Max: finding her in the Snow Ball, watching her tangled up in the vines, and trying her hardest to restart the cyclical “buh-bum” of her heart whilst unable to answer Lucas’ desperate cries for help.
Argyle, Jonathan, and Will silently watch the scene unfold, with the only sound being Mike’s whispered affirmations, incomprehensible to everyone except their intended target. They all share a few knowing looks while trying not to startle the couple with unnecessary noise.
One by one, the three men exit the kitchen, leaving Mike and El entangled with each other, the hum of the fluorescents steadying their heartbeats. El releases a gentle sob, through which Mike can make out the name, “Max”. He sighs and pulls back to observe her face, wiping away tears and salty water using the sleeve of his already very soaked pull-over.
“You did everything you could, okay,” he says proudly. “You fought so hard.” He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he can offer right now. Words. Words of encouragement. Words of love. That’s his specialty, really, and El loves him even more for it. How lucky she is to love a boy who never stops talking. She could listen to his voice for the rest of her life and never get sick of it. He doesn’t even know exactly what happened with Vecna and Max, but somehow, he’s able to pick out precisely the words she needs to hear.
Deciding to take him at his word for now, she nods and sniffles slightly as her eyes begin darting around looking for her belongings. Mike leaves her briefly to grab her socks and shoes, and she takes this opportunity to shift her legs, so they hang off the side of the table, gripping tightly to the cold metal to stabilize herself. He returns, helping her put the items back on, despite knowing she’s more than capable of doing it alone. She makes no objection.
Once he finishes, she wraps her arm around his shoulder, he snakes one around her waist, and she plants her feet on the ground. Within seconds, she buckles, tumbling to the floor with Mike in tow and a loud thud. She lands squarely on top of him, his body absorbing most of the impact, but he hides the discomfort behind frantic concern while he checks all around for any signs of a fresh wound. “Woah,” he breathes, “are you okay?”
“Yes. Just drained,” she assures him as she sees Will rush into the kitchen with Jonathan close behind.
“She’s fine. She’s just tired,” Mike explains, eliciting small nods from the Byers brothers. He kisses El’s forehead, his lips lingering on the exposed skin long enough to pucker them into a second kiss. “Okay,” he sighs while pulling away, “let’s try this again. Slowly. Are you ready?” She nods. Attempt number two is better, but she’s still too tired, only managing to get back to the table. Mike ponders the dilemma for a moment before abruptly whipping his head towards the kitchen door. “Hey, Jonathan, do you have the keys to the van?”
Jonathan fumbles in his pocket until he hears the tinkling sound of metal. “Uhh…yeah. Got ‘em right here.”
“Great, can you unlock the car? Will, can you hold the doors open?” As the boys rush off to perform their tasks, Mike turns back to El, his dilated pupils quizzically putting the pieces of his plan together. He looks her up and down, considering the logistics involved, and his eyebrows peak as his eureka moment hits him. “Okay, when you’re ready, get on my back.”
“A piggyback?” She furrows her brow — adorably, Mike might add.
He chuckles. “Yeah. A piggyback. A real one.” It’s certainly their best shot, given the circumstances. Mike has grown taller, no question, but physical strength still eludes him from time to time. Hopefully, this solution works, otherwise he’ll have to call in some backup. El nods and smiles as he turns around and positions himself right in front of her, lowering his body to match her height. She leans forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, while he reaches for her legs. With a heave, he lifts her up, straightens his posture, and settles the extra weight. “Alright, you good back there,” he asks.
“Yes,” she responds breathlessly, and after a quick nod, he sets off.
It’s a struggle, but he would never admit it out loud. As far as El’s concerned, he could carry her for miles and never break a sweat. For now, he’ll settle for the walk from the kitchen to the van. Passing through the first set of doors, El rests her head delicately on Mike’s shoulder, and he instinctually leans into the gesture. They spot Argyle, who is quietly — for once — cleaning up the mess they left.
As Will opens the remaining doors, the cold, dry night air hits them both like a train, and El shivers and tightens her grip on Mike’s neck, attempting to soak up every bit of heat she can find. The wet clothes only worsen the effect, and he realizes that El has nothing dry to wear. Everything happened so quickly after they found her, that it took until now to notice a lack of other belongings. It’s a simple thought, given everything that’s going on, but it’s easy to focus on simple when the world is anything but.
Jonathan passes by, having performed his requested task, and he mutters something incomprehensible to Will while handing him the keys. The looks of distress on everyone’s faces do not go unnoticed.
Eventually, they make it to the open van, and Will helps guide El off Mike’s back and into the car. With a desperate whimper, she reaches for Mike, pulling him to the corner and laying her body against him like a pillow, curling up into a ball. She settles between his thighs, leaning her head against his left shoulder and draping her legs across his lap, while Mike hugs her closely.
“Uhh…I’m gonna help Jonathan and Argyle clean up,” Will declares after a few seconds of watching the pair snuggle into the embrace.
Mike looks up. “Oh, do you — ” He’s interrupted by a tightened grip on his pull-over and El rubbing her cheek against his chest. Clearly, the girl in his arms has other plans.
“Don’t worry about it,” Will pauses, taking in the picture before him of his friend and his sister clinging to each other as if they are the only people in existence. With a sigh, he continues, “She needs you.” The two friends — best friends — share a knowing glance as Will shuts the door to the van and heads into the Surfer Boy Pizza.
Mike looks back down at the exhausted girl in his arms and can’t help but feel utterly content — but also perturbed. He’d spent nearly his entire Spring Break searching for her, driving hundreds of miles stuck in a pizza van, only to find her in the middle of the desert, collared like a dog with a freshly shaven head. He’d been so focused on seeing her again, that the new haircut never crossed his mind, though the collar was another story.
After hauling El to her feet and sending her towards a hopeful Will, he had heard a resonate click from El’s collar, and he followed her eye line to find a wounded Brenner lying on the ground, a remote in his outstretched hand. Thoughts had raced through Mike’s head — shouldn’t he be dead, why is he here — and his body wanted desperately to run to him and make him feel the physical manifestation of the pain he had caused El all those years in the lab, but he had held back when he saw El walk confidently towards her dying captor. This was never his fight.
Now, as they lie here quietly in the pizza van, he finally has a chance to really see her. She’s bruised, broken, and battle hardened. Something happened in that silo, and something happened in the mind fight, he’s sure of it. He wants nothing more than to kiss her trauma away, leaving the happy-go-lucky girl he’d spent six months really getting to know the previous year, but at the same time he loves who she’s become after confronting Brenner and setting herself free. He loves every version of her. From the girl in the woods, to the girl at the Snow Ball, to the girl in his arms right now. No matter who she is from moment to moment, he’ll continue to love her to the end of his days.
She snuggles closer to him, taking in the scent of flour and salt emanating from his pull-over. He places a hand on her head, gently stroking her temple, as the other grips her arm tighter. Her quiet sobs from earlier return, and she completely gives into the comfort. The much overdue breakdown engulfs her, blocking out any attempt at self-soothing. From elation to determination to disappointment in a matter of minutes, her actions in the mind fight replay in her head.
She’d felt Max die. She knows it. The heartbeat disappeared, replaced by Lucas’ pleas for Max to wake up. But they’d already lost so much, and El wasn’t going to lose her best friend too. As she frantically reviewed her limited options in the dark, empty, endless void, Mike’s long-awaited declaration came to mind.
”Fight El…you can do anything…you can fly…you can move mountains…I believe that…”
And now she did, too. The memories she’d spent so long repressing had wormed their way to the surface, tainting her already fragile self-esteem. But through Nina, the truth of that fateful day — Papa’s plan, Henry’s massacre, Mama’s love — confirmed what Brenner had tried so hard to make El forget. He was the monster all along.
El had glowered at Max’s lifeless and broken form, the injustice of it all steeling her resolve. ”You’re not going…no.” A deep breath helped quiet her mind, as she gently pressed her palm over Max’s heart. Mike’s declaration saturated her body, and the electrostatic tingle of her powers grew stronger and stronger with every word. It all came naturally to her in the moment, as if she’d always known how to use her powers this way, and when she’d at last felt a gentle thump in Max’s chest, El’s grip on the void had loosened until she’d finally returned to her own beaten and weakened body.
With the attack of memories finally subsiding, El’s focus turns back to the present, and she clutches tightly to Mike’s pull-over as the guilt over not acting fast enough invades her thoughts. Tears fall from her eyes in an endless wave, and the ever-increasing tempo of her heartbeat stymies any effort to hold back the undeniable dread. Was she too late? Did something happen to Max after El left the void? Did Vecna survive? Is the rest of Hawkins okay? Are their friends safe? Question after question tumbles around her brain, sowing the seeds of doubt and worsening her already palpable panic. All of this leads to one sickening — yet inevitable — conclusion. One she’d been pondering since the moment she opened her eyes: “Papa was right.”
Wait, what? Did he hear her right? What’s she talking about?
Mike looks down and pulls her away slightly, the evident hurt in her face breaking his heart into a million pieces. “What do you mean,” he asks, using his sleeve to wipe away the dried blood under her nose. Probably should have done that earlier, he scolds himself.
Her crying continues. “I was not ready.”
He gasps and pulls her back into his chest, kissing the top of her head. For the first time in his life, words escape him. He knows nothing he says will change how she feels in that moment, so instead he holds her tight.
They stay like this, wrapped up in their own world. For how long, exactly? Who knows. Long enough for the tears to slow and dry, and for the breathing of both to calm. At some point, Mike grabs one of the blankets nearby and drapes it over El’s wet body, hoping the fabric could help soak up what’s left of the salt bath from her clothes.
Mike looks out the back of the van, watching Jonathan, Will, and Argyle putter around the restaurant, erasing the remaining evidence of their existence. Guess we really made a mess, huh? Although he feels a small tinge of guilt for not helping, he smiles knowing he’s exactly where he’s needed the most.
“Mm…Mike,” El breathes, using up what little strength she has left before exhaustion sets in.
“Yeah?”
“Th-thank you.” She smiles, small and sweet, as Mike rests his pointer finger under her chin and tilts it up ever so slightly. Her droopy eyes signal that sleep is imminent.
“For what?” He asks.
She’s not sure exactly, only that she is. For his love? For his confession? For his existence? All of it, she decides. She’s thankful for everything he’s done to help her, protect her, love her. Though, she figures, if she had to answer the question, only one response comes to mind. “For finding me in the woods.”
He sighs as the beginnings of his own tears glisten in his eyes. His hand moves from her chin to the back of her neck, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It’s brief, innocent, but somehow so full of passion.
It was easy, now, this kind of affection. As easy as breathing. Yet, each time they kiss feels like the first time back in the cafeteria: electric, though the skill has improved.
El draws enough energy to respond in kind, feeling his thumb caress the back of her head and wishing she still had enough hair for him to run his fingers through. But she takes comfort in knowing Mike sees her the same way with or without hair: pretty.
As the kiss comes to an agonizing end, both wanting to enjoy it but knowing their energy is spent, they rest their foreheads against each other, giggling slightly at the unexpected, yet entirely welcome moment. They live contentedly in their own world, until a yawn breaks through on El’s part.
“Get some sleep,” Mike carefully requests.
“Will you stay?” She looks up, and her pleading eyes hold his gaze like a magnet, pointing his internal compass right to her.
“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.”
She relaxes the remaining tension holding her consciousness together, finally letting the need to rest flood her body. He feels her slouch and loosen her grip on his pull-over. Through the fog of exhaustion, she takes a second to utter one last thing. “I love you, Mike.”
He smiles, reveling in the notion that nothing can hold him back from returning her love now. Once he said it, the last wall holding his emotions crumbled into dust, and he couldn’t stop. He wants to say it every minute of every hour of every day, so that she always knows how he feels. He presses one final kiss to the top of her head, and responds, “I love you, too, El,” before they both close their eyes and wait for dreams to start.
Sometime after the two teenagers slip into unconsciousness, Will — clutching El’s blue shirt which they had mistakenly left behind — Jonathan, and Argyle return to the van, having finished their cleanup in the restaurant. They pay no mind to the slumbering companions in the corner, knowing there will be time to break down what happened with the mind fight during the drive back. For now, they quietly pile into the car, and begin their journey home, unaware of what lies ahead, but ready to face the danger that awaits them.
When El finally wakes up hours later, still entangled in Mike’s embrace, she smiles and decides to stay “asleep” for just a little longer, enjoying the moment as much as possible until reality inevitably comes knocking.