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She’s not sure how long she waits for.
When the minutes turn to hours, El sits on her bed, blindfold on and static crackling through the room, and focuses on her father.
The Void, as always, is dark as the water ripples beneath her bare feet, her eyebrows furrowing together as Hopper comes into view. He looks like he’s sitting, and El’s heart clenches at the look on his face. His expression is. . . Empty. Blood and dirt from his encounter earlier with the soldiers still marrs his face, his beard, but he is hollow. El has never seen that look on his face—so utterly hopeless, like he has lost all sense of purpose.
The tightness in her chest intensifies as she moves closer, the water on the floor of the Void gently lapping beneath her feet. She pauses when someone else comes into view. A soldier and—her.
El’s jaw clenches tightly, hard enough to grind her teeth into dust, as Dr. Kay slams her hands down on the table in front of her. There’s a wild look in the older woman’s eyes, white hair disheveled as she demands, “Where is she? Where is the girl?”
The anger simmers in El’s blood. Even now, this woman won’t leave her well enough alone. Regret burns in El’s veins; she should have snapped her neck when she had the chance.
El’s gaze slips over to Hopper, who has slowly raised his eyes, and she thinks the hate she feels brewing in her belly is reflected intensely in Hopper’s dark eyes. “Are you fucking blind?” His voice is deceptively soft. El has never been afraid of Hopper but, in this moment, she feels a shiver run down her spine at the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes. “That entire place imploded and she—” He chokes and El’s own throat tightens at the glassy look in his eyes, red rimmed as the tears come in. “She stayed. She stayed because you were so hell bent in using her like a fucking weapon. My daughter—” Hopper slowly rises and she sees Dr. Kay tense, the soldiers at her sides ready to intervene. “Is fucking dead just so she could get away from you!”
He roars the last few words, launching himself at Dr. Kay, and El gasps at the display of anger, the heartbreak. Her heart pounds, devastation curling through her as Hopper resists against the grips of the soldiers holding him back from ripping Dr. Kay’s head off. He keeps yelling—keeps yelling at Kay, keeps yelling for El, and her eyes burn because he doesn’t know—non of them do—and it’s killer her.
El forces herself to look away from her dad, gaze sharpening on Dr. Kay, and El sees the look on her face. Sees the refusal to accept defeat, even if it slowly begins to creep in with realization. It gives El a little hope—that maybe Dr. Kay will accept what she saw. That she will finally leave and El will be able to breathe, once and for all.
Gasping out of the void, El takes the blindfold off, catching her breath. It’s easy to understand what’s happening—after the Upside Down was destroyed, the military has taken Hopper and the others into custody. Most likely questioning them on their whereabouts, but no one will be able to say anything other than what they saw. That El was dead. Gone, with the Upside Down.
She suspects it will be easy to convince the government of this. Her friends’ reactions were genuine and real—because none of them know the truth. None of them know that she is here, in the cabin where she has spent many years hiding in plain sight, waiting for their return.
El squeezes her eyes shut, throat tight and dry, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes as Mike’s voice echoes in her ears. His screams—calling out her name, begging her to stay. A quiet sob escapes her, though it feels like it echoes within the walls of her room. She could have told him the truth but she needed it to be believable. She needed everyone to believe she was gone, at least in that moment.
Visiting Mike in the Void delayed him trying to get to her, and gave her the perfect cover to push him away from the gate. If he had gotten to her, he—and everyone else—would find out she was just an illusion. The plan wouldn’t have worked and, what’s worse, Mike possibly wouldn’t have made it back out in time before the Upside Down exploded into nothing. If he died trying to get to her. . .
“Please don’t leave me, El.”
“I will never leave you. I love you.”
El stops that train of thought with another quiet sob. He’s okay. He may be in military custody for now, but he’s alive. She clings to that thought, and to the hope of seeing him soon. Every cell in her body tells her to go to him, to help her friends, but that would make her plan worthless—make Kali’s plan worthless. Her sister sacrificed herself so El could have the life that Kali hadn’t thought was possible, and El refuses to let her sister’s final act of love be in vain.
The thought of Kali pierces through El’s chest, making it a little harder to breathe. Her fingers tremble and she needs something, anything, to distract her. Suddenly, the wetsuit she has been wearing for what feels like days feels too tight on her skin, too dry. Dirt, sweat, and blood cling to her skin and El needs it off. It makes her want to crawl out of her skin and she shoots up to her feet, only a little dizzy by the sudden motion.
There’s a faint ringing in her head as she moves to the dresser, pulling out clean clothes. Her footsteps are quiet, light, as she walks to the bathroom. Standing in the middle of it, El finally takes off her sweatpants before peeling off the wetsuit, cringing as she does. The tanktop follows soon after, followed by her underwear, ending it with taking her hair out of its tight ponytail. Her scalp throbs now that her hair is loose, and El runs trembling fingers through the strands that finally reach a little past her shoulders.
Her hand drops down to her side, but El doesn’t otherwise move where she stands in front of the mirror, peering at her reflection. The exhaustion is evident on her face; bags under her dark eyes, red rimmed, with blood dried around her left nostril, the skin a little pink. She thinks she could sleep for a week straight, but she needs to wait. They will be home soon.
Her legs shake as she steps into the tub, under the spray of scalding water. The echo of the shower against the porcelain of the tub drowns out the sounds of the cries that escape El. Her head bows, lips trembling with the shudder of her shoulders, watching as the dirt and grime wash off of her and swirl down the drain. The tightness in El’s chest is too much, grief and sorrow and exhaustion joining together to beat her down until El can’t stay up.
She sinks to the floor of the tub, tears mixing with the shower water running down her face as she folds into herself, bringing her legs up until she can press her forehead to her knees. So much death. So much pain and fear. So much sorrow and grief. All of it threatens to drown El, right here in the tub, sinking coldly into her bones despite the heat of the shower.
But for now, she is alone, and so she lets herself cry until she runs out of tears. For the time being, at least.
It takes almost two days, but as El sits on the couch, she hears the unmistakable creak of the tunnel door opening. Two days had felt like two years, struggling against every fiber of her being from going to them, but now El jumps to her feet with a pounding heart, carefully moving towards the windows where the curtains are drawn.
With trembling fingers, she shifts the side of the curtain to peer through, and the air rushes out of her lungs when she sees the group approaching. Hopper, Joyce, Jonathan, and Will in the back with—Mike.
A shaky sob escapes El. She should probably wait until they’re inside, but the military hasn’t found this cabin in years, and she doesn’t think they will now. So El nearly trips over her feet as she gets to the door, her heart pounding in her ears as she throws it open and—
Everyone freezes.
The first person whose gaze she locks with is Hopper. He’s on the bottom step of the porch, Joyce next to him, but he has frozen in place at the sound of the door opening, at the sight of El before him. The day is bright, the breeze rustling the dry leaves of the woods, but through it, she hears her father whisper shakily, “Jane?”
He swims in and out of her blurry vision, tears flooding her eyes without preamble as she returns just as tremulously, “Hi.”
A beat passes. Hopper is too big for her to see anyone behind him, but she sees him trip over the steps until he’s on her, and El sobs when he wraps his arms around her and picks her up into a hug that is crushing and wonderful and warm. He smells like dirt, blood, sweat, and tears, but El holds him just as tightly, presses her face into his shoulder as she feels him shake against her, feels the wetness of his tears on her own shoulder.
“You’re okay. Jesus Christ, you’re okay.” He puts her down so her feet land back on the ground, but he doesn’t let go of her. Not even when Joyce is crying next to them and El feels her hand on her back, not even when Jonathan and Will stand frozen. El manages to see them with a turn of her head, still pressed into Hopper, and she shoots them a watery, teary smile.
They stare at her in wonder, in disbelief, in utter relief. Jonathan rubs the tears out of his left eye, shaking his head, but Will is openly crying. “Oh, my God, El,” he cries through a laugh.
“I’m here,” she tells him reassuringly, hand sneaking away from Hopper to hold out to Will. He squeezes it between both of his, laughing again through his tears.
“Jesus Christ, kid,” Hopper mutters before finally pulling away. Tears run down his cheeks, but his smile is real, the relief so bright.
“I’m sorry,” El tells him, her gaze flickering between Hopper and Joyce, who presses a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry for making you think that I—I had to do it. The plan—”
“El?”
She trembles as she steps away from Hopper, gaze going past Will and Jonathan, and a sob climbs up her throat at the sight of Mike. He still stands a few feet behind the brothers, staring at her as though he’s looking at a ghost. Still in his mission clothes from before, dark hair peeking out from beneath the green beanie, eyes red like he has been crying for hours. Or two days.
In that moment, everything and everyone else fades away.
El doesn’t even notice Jonathan and Will moving to the side to allow her to step down from the porch, the ground hard beneath her sock clad feet that carry her slowly towards Mike. She is deaf to everything but the sound of her thundering heart and the way Mike said her name—soft and quivering and with so much hope it only intensifies the tears that burn her eyes.
His dark eyes don’t leave her as she approaches, and she wonders what’s going through his mind. Is he angry with her? Does he hate her for what she did? For making him think that she was dead, gone with the destruction of the Upside Down? For letting him grieve and sit in heartbreak for two days while the military interrogated them?
El had been so focused on seeing him again, reuniting with everyone, that she hadn’t allowed herself to wonder if he’d be angry. All she had wanted to do was touch him again. She only allowed herself to focus on the good things she was looking forward to, rather than the potential consequences of her actions.
Now, her approach slows, her steps faltering with the apprehensive thoughts that infiltrate her mind. But despite the heaviness settling on El’s chest, she still manages to whisper, “Mike,” and that’s all it takes.
The moment she utters his name, Mike flies into action. In two strides with his long legs, Mike is right in front of her, and El gasps when he wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her in for a hug. She breaks, right there with him, arms winding around him under his and pressing her face to the crook of his neck. If Hopper had been shaking while he held her, Mike is shuddering in their embrace. His fingers dig into her back through her sweater, like he wants to press her as deeply into himself as he can, and El will happily let him as they stand there, her tears hot as they roll down her cheeks.
“El, El, El,” he cries into her shoulder and her eyes squeeze shut, thrown back to the other night, him screaming for her as if he was being skinned alive. Now, her name is a prayer rather than a plea, his salvation rather than his destruction. “You’re here. Are you real? Is this happening? Is this real?”
El sobs as she lifts her head from his shoulder, enough to pull back to press her forehead against his. “I’m here,” she assures him, her hands coming up to cup his face, his tears soaking her palms and fingers. His eyes are on hers, looking at her as if he can’t believe this is real at all. “I’m so sorry. I’m right here.”
Mike shakes his head and El’s throat works at his disbelief, his terror that he’s dreaming. “How—”
“Guys.” They don’t look back when Hopper’s voice calls out. “Let’s continue this inside, alright? Come on. Please.”
El knows he’s begging when he adds that last word, and El nods at him even if she keeps her gaze locked with Mike’s. “I’ll explain everything,” she promises, dropping one hand from his face to interlock her fingers with his. “I promise. Come.”
Mike doesn’t tear his gaze from her. El feels the weight of it as they walk side by side back towards the cabin, everyone else looking at El like she’s some sort of illusion that will disappear if they blink. El would laugh at the irony, if everyone’s emotions weren’t so high and sensitive. She cannot blame them, only herself for the mental anguish she had put them through in the last two days.
She feels Mike’s hand shift, just enough for his thumb to brush against her wrist, and El’s throat tightens because she knows he’s feeling for her pulse. She presses her lips together to keep them from trembling, guilt churning in her stomach for the pain she caused, even if she thought she was doing the right thing. Her plan, horribly, relied on everyone’s pain, and she hates that it was a factor in all of this. Perhaps, in the long run, it will be worth it. But right now, the cloud over them was too dark, too menacing.
Hopper gives one last cursory look out at the woods before shutting the door as everyone gathers in the living room. She gingerly sits on the couch, Mike sitting close, their sides touching from their arms down to their legs.
The others exchange looks, not yet sitting down, as Hopper meets her gaze and asks a little breathily, “How are you here?”
“We—We saw you,” Will says, shaking his head. “We saw you dis—disappear. How—”
El offers them all a small smile. “Are you sure you guys don’t want to get cleaned up first?”
“El.” Mike squeezes their hands, which rest on top of his lap. His other hand sandwiches hers between both of his. When she looks over at him, she sees the plea in his dark eyes, the desperation. “Please.”
His look is mirrored on everyone else’s faces, and El lets out a slow breath. “Okay,” she nods, and then she explains.
She tells them everything. How Kali hadn’t died in the lab—at least not when Hopper saw her. She tells them that Kali still wanted to go through with the plan, except with some adjustments. How they both knew the military and Dr. Kay would be waiting for them at the gate, and that they would never stop looking for El until they had a damn good reason not to. That this would only stop if they believed El was dead, and the only way to ensure that was for them to see her be. . . Destroyed with the Upside Down. And that Kali was alive for long enough to cast an illusion; make El invisible so she could easily escape without being seen or captured since the Kryptonite had suppressed her powers, while casting an image of El standing at the gate.
“I was able to talk to you in the Void because I was far from those machines,” El finishes, looking over at Mike, who stares at her with a look that El can’t quite read. “I needed to buy some time and I—I needed to make sure you couldn’t get to the gate.”
Mike doesn’t say anything, and it makes El’s stomach twist, nose stinging with new tears she blinks back as Will shakily asks, “Why didn’t you—you could’ve said something. We wouldn’t have said anything.”
“I know,” El says, gaze sliding over to Will, nodding as she offers a small smile. “I know you wouldn’t have. But I needed—”
“You needed it to be believable,” Hopper finishes knowingly, slowly. El rolls her bottom lip into her mouth and nods, sniffling as Hopper releases a long exhale. “That’s hell of a plan, kid.”
El’s throat works. “But it worked,” she says quietly, timidly, before shaking her head. She looks at everyone, her gaze lingering longest on Hopper and Mike, who is too quiet for her liking. “I’m sorry. I know it must have—I know it was hard, seeing that. But I needed them to believe I was gone and all of you, your reactions—” She cringes. “Helped with that.”
Silence follows for a few long seconds. Her heart pounds and pounds until Joyce lets out a breath of her own. “The important part is that you’re here,” she says, eyes glassy and a smile pulling up on her quivering lips. “You saved us and you’re here and that—that’s what matters most.”
Will nods, rubbing at his cheeks. “You’re incredible, El.”
Jonathan shoots her a smile, kind and warm as always. “No doubt about that.”
She lets out a breathy laugh, some of the weight falling off her shoulders as most of the tension in the room dissipates. But then El looks over at Mike, who is looking down at their joined hands, and a lump forms in El’s throat as her eyes flicker over his profile. The sharp line of his jaw, his nose, the dirt that hides his freckles. “Mike?” she whispers hopefully, hesitantly.
He lifts his head to look at her, and the emotions that swim in his dark eyes are overwhelming. Each fighting its way to the forefront, but he struggles which one should make itself known. Pain and relief and heartbreak and love all at the same time. But grief is there, too. And anger. She expects all of it, despite the weight it settles on her heart.
Mike brings their joined hands up, and El’s pulse jumps as he presses a kiss to the back of her hand. He doesn’t break their gazes as he tells her quietly, “I love you.”
It’s a beautiful thing to hear, but the tightness in El’s chest doesn’t disappear. Not when she knows there’s so much more he wants to say, but doesn’t. Not yet, anyway.
It takes nearly two hours for everyone else to use the single bathroom to clean up, eager to get the grime of the final battle off their bodies. No one said much as they rotated in and out of bathrooms, but whoever wasn’t showering chose to sit with El in the living room. They recounted the military’s questioning, how Dr. Kay had grilled them for hours trying to prove that El was alive. Only for it all to end with some of her superior officers pulling a plug on the whole operation. They all saw El disappear in the destruction; it was determined there was no way anyone could have survived that.
In a few days, the military will be moving out of Hawkins. Soon after that, she will be considered dead by the military. It’s a good thing Dr. Owens had long since prepared a new identity for her to presume at the end of this all. In a years’ time, the government won’t think twice about some girl named Eleanor Jane Rich. The name given to her by Mama, and the last name she may have had if her biological father was still around. El will always remain, and the military had never considered her human enough to believe her attachment to any semblance of Eleven. But it was the name Mike had given her, and it’s the name she wants to keep. It’s hers.
Mike doesn’t speak much—if at all. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the others, especially El, but she doesn’t comment on it. Not yet, not in front of everyone. That doesn’t mean the dread doesn’t pool in the pit of her stomach. But even still, Mike sits close to her, like any space between their bodies is forbidden. They sit side by side on the couch, his warmth seeping into her, and El is eager for it. She is eager for him to speak, but she gives him the space.
She can’t imagine what he has been through these last few days, after thinking she was dead. El hates herself for the pain she put him through, the cruelty of this kind of torture. She knows, if the roles were reversed, she would have burned the world down for taking Mike away from her. She would not care about anything or anyone else. If Mike was gone from this world, then the world didn’t deserve to exist.
It’s a violent but honest truth, a belief she feels deep in her bones.
He’s the last to take a shower, taking a pair of his own sweatpants and a shirt from El’s room. He spends the night at the cabin often, when his house felt too overwhelming with the Byers also living there, and it took a while, but Hopper accepted it. They had far bigger things to worry about, anyway, than his daughter and her boyfriend sharing a bed on occasion.
“Come here, kid,” Hopper calls out to her from where he is in the kitchen.
She wanders over as Jonathan and Will bring pillows and blankets for them to sleep in the living room. In the kitchen, Hopper and Joyce are preparing dinner, and as Joyce chops some vegetables, Hopper takes a swig from his bottle of beer and sets it down on the counter as El approaches. As soon as she’s near, Hopper pulls her in for another hug, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and El welcomes the weight as she wraps her arms around him.
“Scared the hell out of me,” he whispers into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I know,” El says just as quietly, gaze downcast. “I’m sorry—”
Hopper makes a small noise. “Listen to me.” He pulls back enough for El to tilt her head back to look up at him. His gaze is warm, but stern. “You don’t ever apologize for saving yourself, alright? It’s a hell of a thing you did. The last two days were shit, sure, but worth it. You saved yourself and everyone.”
El’s throat works. “Not everyone,” she whispers, heart heavy.
Hopper’s expression falls, a knowing look in his eyes as he purses his lips and nods. “Your sister wanted you to live, El. She wanted you to have a life. The best way you can honor her is by doing just that.”
El nods, despite the stinging in her eyes, because she knows Hopper is right. Kali’s decision, her actions, will not be in vain. Her gaze slides towards the bathroom as she asks, “How was he?”
Joyce drifts closer, giving a small, sad smile. “He was devastated,” she tells her truthfully, and El appreciates the honesty. She needs it to know how she can help Mike after what she did. “They questioned him for hours but he didn’t say a word. He—”
She hesitates with a breath, and Hopper squeezes El’s shoulders, pulling her gaze to him. His expression is somber. “He hasn’t said much of anything. It’s. . . It’s going to take him a minute, El. He—He thought he saw you die.” His throat works. “We all did.”
El’s throat is dry as she nods, the heaviness in her chest intensifying. She doesn’t know how to make this better for Mike, but she will try.
“El.” She looks over to see Will standing by the couch, looking at her curiously. “The others—are you going to tell them you’re still—”
“Alive?” she offers with a crack of a smile, and Will nods. “Yes. I think it’d be better if I stayed here but they can visit—” She glances up at Hopper for confirmation. “Right?”
He nods, much to her relief. “We gotta be extra careful. The military might be moving out but for the next few days, we need to be vigilant in case anyone’s watching us. Tunnels only. No Squawk.”
Not after Kay and her men had found Max there. From what the others told El, everyone broke off to get some rest after the last two days. The Wheeler house is a little wrecked, and no one has the energy to fix it just yet, nor does anyone want to be separated for too long. So Steve and Robin are at Dustin’s, while Max, Nancy, and Holly are at Lucas’s. Tomorrow, Will and Jonathan are going to bring everyone over, not quite relying on the phones, and the walkies are too far out of range. It’s safer, anyway.
The bathroom door opens and Mike steps out, running a towel through his wet hair and eyes instantly finding El’s. She doesn’t miss the relief that swims in those dark eyes as though, while he was in the shower, he had to remind himself that she was still here and didn’t believe it until he saw her again. El gives him a reassuring smile the moment their gazes meet, and she sees him try. She sees Mike attempt at a smile, one corner of his mouth lifting, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The effort is there, but El’s sharp eyes take note of the slump of his shoulders, catches the tremble of his fingers before he curls them into a fist at his sides like he wants to hide the shaking.
A touch to her shoulder steals El’s attention, glancing over to see Joyce giving her a warm smile. “We’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
El nods, offering a grateful smile, before meeting Mike’s gaze and tipping her head towards her bedroom. Mike is quick to follow, his footsteps quiet behind El as they walk to her room, her throat working as she holds the door open and he walks in. She shuts the door and just as she turns around to face Mike, he’s right in front of her, swallowing her surprised gasp with his hands on her cheeks and his lips pressing to hers in a hard, desperate kiss.
El’s hands fly up to grasp his forearms, returning the kiss just as eagerly, feeling the furrow of Mike’s eyebrows against her forehead as he presses into her. The kiss is deep, passionate, making El’s heart race. She wants to bury herself into him, get rid of any distance between them, but her heart trips as Mike fiercely, devastatingly, says into the kiss, “Why did you do that? Why the fuck did you do that?”
“Mike—”
“You should’ve told me.” He doesn’t let go of her as he speaks, doesn’t break the kiss either way. He speaks against her lips, burning his words into her skin. “I would’ve helped you. I could’ve—”
El shakes her head, eyes searing. “It was the only way I could make sure you were okay—”
“Okay?” Mike repeats with a harsh laugh, and El’s heart flies to her throat when he pulls away from her, taking a step back. But not a big one, like even now he can’t bear to be too far. Mike’s own eyes are red rimmed as he looks down at her in disbelief, eyebrows pulled together. “You think I was okay these last two days?”
“I know you weren’t,” El says, her voice breaking under the weight of his pain. “But you—you’re alive, Mike. And I’m sorry but that alone makes it worth it.” He’s struck silent and El’s throat works when she sees a tear escape his eye, and Mike doesn’t bother wiping it away as it rolls down his cheek. The heaviness remains in El’s chest as she steps towards him, eyes locked on his in hope that he will understand her. He knows her; he knows her better than anyone. “Mike, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you think I was—gone.” His Adam’s apple bobs, not hiding the flinch that comes with her words. El’s guilt throbs in her chest like an alive thing. “But I had to be sure. I had to make sure they wouldn’t try to keep finding me and—and you—”
“I sold it,” Mike finishes knowingly, bluntly, but not unkindly. Just with the heaviness of a man who understands the bitter truth.
El blinks a couple of times to clear her blurry vision. “I wasn’t lying to you before. This never would have stopped if they thought I was alive. All those women—” El chokes on her words, thinking of those poor women, pregnant and dead, gone with the destruction of the Upside Down. She can feel her heart trembling inside of her chest, the same way it had struck her when Kali told her about them. Tortured and experimented on, all for the hopes of creating replicas of them—of Henry. “I needed to stop it, Mike. I needed to make sure no other woman or child was going to experience what Mama and Kali did. What I did.”
“I know.” Mike is quick to respond, the two words a whisper, but his understanding is evident. She looks at him and, oh, he looks so tired. As tired as she feels, despite having two days to recover. Though, she didn’t actually get any real rest, too anxiously waiting for everyone’s return. “I know. I just—I wish I could’ve done something more. Something to help.”
Her heart strings tug, closing the distance between them with a whisper of his name. El’s hands find his and Mike instantly intertwines their fingers together, chin dipping to meet her gaze. Her words are quiet, but hold nothing but the weight of the truth. “You are the most important person in the world to me. Knowing that you would be safe if I went through with my plan—it gave me the strength to do it. Knowing I would be coming back to you, whether—” She pauses to swallow the guilty lump in her throat. “Whether you knew it or not. I was always going to come back to you. You made me believe in that.” El smiles, fond and warm as Mike inhales shakily. “You’ve helped me more than you know.”
Her first friend. Her first safe space. Her first and only love. She belongs with him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she continues softly, squeezing his hands. “You didn’t deserve that. It was a—” She hesitates when her tongue lands on the word that Hopper had used the other day. A word that she knows Mike won’t take to kindly. But she does not lie. “A failsafe.”
He rears back, blinking at her in bewilderment. “A failsafe?” he repeats, dark eyes searching hers. El’s throat tightens as she nods, biting her bottom lip, and she watches as horrific realization dawns on his face as he understands, “In case the plan didn’t work.”
When he takes an actual step back, El’s stomach lurches, though their hands still remain joined. But Mike stares at her in betrayal. In the utmost terror, like he is understanding, in real time, the very real possibility of losing her even in the process of recovering from not losing her the way he thought he did.
El feels her lips tremble as she nears the truth she didn’t want to admit even to herself. “I didn’t want to give you false hope. In case something went wrong,” she confesses, the rock in her throat making it hard to speak around.
“Jesus Christ, El.” The words escape him with a sharp, heavy exhale with a bob of his Adam’s apple, staring at her in horror. One of his hands lets go of hers and she misses it immediately, tightening her fingers around his on his other hand to keep him from pulling away completely. “You were just—” He shakes his head. “You were going to leave. Just like that?”
“It wasn’t—” El stops to take a deep breath, keeping her grip on him as she tries to calm her racing pulse. “It was not my intention. It was a—a last resort. I—” She moves closer. Carefully, as if not to scare him, but Mike doesn’t move. Just watches her as she nears. “Mike, the last thing I want to do is leave you.”
“But it was a thought,” he counters, a tremble in his voice. “You considered it.”
It’s not accusatory. Not really. Which only tightens the knots in her stomach because it’s worse—it’s a sort of hopelessness she has never heard from Mike. She doesn’t lie. Her voice is a whisper as she tells him, “I considered every single thing I could have done if it meant you were safe.”
Mike’s own voice is firm, unrelenting, as he says, “I’d rather be with you and unsafe than safe without you.”
She swallows. “That is not reasonable.”
Finally, Mike takes a step back towards her, dark eyes searching hers. “I don’t care. It’s the truth. You are my world, El. If you had wanted to leave this all behind and run before you killed Vecna, I would have happily joined you.”
El gapes at him, eyes widening as she shakes her head. But she knows—deep down, she knows Mike is being honest. Knows that he means every word as he stares down at her and she says, “Mike, that’s not reasonable.”
“Fuck being reasonable!” he exclaims, though not angrily. It’s another declaration, another way for him to tell her he loves her, she knows. “If it meant you got to get away from all of this, that you were safe and no one could hurt you anymore? I’d choose that option in a heartbeat and come with you.”
El’s lips remain parted, staring up at him in wonder. It’s not that she ever doubted Mike’s love for her—it’s just that she never wanted his love for her to be his detriment or cause him any harm. She doesn’t want it to be something he has to give up so much else for to have.
“When are you going to understand, El?” Mike continues, his voice a little defeated, looking at her in a heartbreaking combination of disappointment and fear. “My life means nothing without you. I would’ve followed you—”
“And you would have died for it,” El cuts him off, already knowing where he was going with this. Her throat tightens off Mike’s silence, a slow breath escaping her nose. El’s eyes burn with the mere thought of something happening to Mike, a fear striking through her entire being that paralyzes her. “Don’t you understand, Mike? They would’ve kept trying to find me. They would have done anything to get to me—including hurting you. They would have killed you if it meant they could get me.” The words come out harshly, poison on her tongue. Anger burns through her veins at the mere idea of someone getting to Mike; this boy, who has gone through so much already with her, because of her. She refuses to let anything else happen to him.
Mike remains silent, and El suspects it’s because he knows she’s right. Whether it was into the Upside Down or running away without faking her death, if it came with the possibility of bringing harm to Mike or resulting in his death, then it wasn’t a plan she would ever entertain.
“I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was planning.” El uses her grip on his hand to pull herself closer to him, relieved when he lets her. “My only goal was for everyone to be safe. Alive.”
“El—”
“I love you, Mike.” She says the words fiercely, rendering him silent. “But I’m not sorry for putting you first.”
The muscle in Mike’s jaw works, the silence between them stretching. But he doesn’t let go of her hand, which she takes as a good sign, though the tension between them remains until—
“I love you,” Mike returns, eyes flickering between hers. “But I wish you’d put yourself first.”
And what can she possibly say to that?
She can’t find the words. Not even as a knock startles them both and Hopper’s voice calls out, “Dinner’s on, you two.”
Mike raises their joined hands, eyes never leaving El’s as he kisses the back of her hand. Her skin tingles where his lips touch it, the air hitching in El’s throat. “I love you,” Mike says again, brown eyes watching her with such sincerity that it melts away the rest of the tension from her body. From behind their hands, she sees him smile. “Let’s go celebrate.”
The days seem to blur together.
After reuniting with her friends—with lots of tears and hugs and joy mixed with relief—El’s life went back to being what it was: in hiding, though this time, with a true end in sight. She knew it was only a matter of time until she would be able to live freely with her friends and family, no longer fearing for her life or theirs. For now, though, she lives her days in the cabin with her friends and Mike coming over to spend time with her after school. Back to normal lives, in the wake of Vecna’s and the Mind Flayer’s deaths.
It doesn’t feel as lonely, not this time around. The fear of being caught diminishes day by day, and with the company of the Party coming over to spend time with her, El finally feels normal. Max is also getting better, day by day, much to everyone’s great relief. El loves the days when everyone comes to the cabin, to be with her friends without a care, but her favorites are when it’s just her and Mike. Days when they will read together, when he will teach her new card games, when they will watch movies that they take turns in choosing.
It’s good. It’s easy. It’s what she has wanted for so long.
So, of course, it doesn’t last as peacefully.
The nightmares are nothing new for El. She has experienced them her entire life; different reincarnations of her past, or deep fears throughout the years that come to life while she’s asleep. Memories from the lab, losing Hopper, the misery in California, not being able to save Max and the gates opening up in Hawkins, everything leading up to the final battle with Henry. Moments she would rather forget creeping forward like vines and reminding her of everything she has been through, as if she doesn’t think about it already.
But with those nightmares, at least she knows the outcome. At least she knows, at the end of it all, they defeat Henry, and Max is safe and Hopper is alive, and Hawkins has been saved. No matter the terror of the memories, the ending is a good one, for the most part. So the worst nightmares are ones that come from El’s deep fears—all of which include Mike.
They mostly come to her on the nights when Mike isn’t at the cabin. She wakes in a cold sweat, heart pounding like it’s desperate to escape from her chest cavity, throat burning as she tries to catch her breath with Mike’s name on her tongue. A glass of water, a late night Eggo—nothing helps in erasing the images of the nightmares.
Of Mike with a gun pressed to his temple, a soldier behind him as they warn El if she doesn’t come with them, the trigger would be pulled. All the while Mike begged and pleaded for her to run, to save herself. El, making the wrong choice and trying to save Mike—only she isn’t fast enough to throw the soldier off, and the paralyzing sound of a gun firing makes her gasp awake. But it never stops there. The next nightmare is a continued variation of the one before.
Of Mike, with a bullet in his forehead because he got in between El and the military—whether it be the soldiers or Dr. Kay herself. Blood, so much blood, all of it his. Too much lost to bring him back. His skin too pale, his eyes—lovely and brown and always so warm—now empty and unseeing.
Mike. Gone. Exactly how Kali had warned El. She hadn’t been fast enough, smart enough, to save him. No color in his skin, no life in his eyes, no upward curve of his lips in that gentle smile he always gives her. El trying to stop the bleeding, unable to breathe life back into him like she did Max, hands covered in crimson.
She has cried and screamed herself awake, making Hopper run into the room, half asleep but with a gun in his hand, until El reassures him she’s fine and makes him swear to not mention a word to Mike.
“I don’t want to worry him,” El would say.
Hopper would just give her a sympathetic look. “That kid is always going to worry about you.”
It’s not a reassuring concept. It only tightens El’s chest with anxiety.
She had thought seeing Mike, hanging out with him, would ease her. That touching him and feeling his warmth, reassuring herself that he is here and he is real and alive, would get rid of the terror she felt from her nightmares. Her legs thrown over his lap, her head resting against his shoulder while they watch a movie, and even that is not enough to remind her that her nightmares are just that—simply nightmares.
For months, it does not get better.
Her friends go to school and often, when they recount their day to her, El starts growing antsy. They will do their homework at the cabin so El can learn alongside them, but she begins drifting. Losing focus. Lost in her thoughts—in the idea of never finding that normal she believed to be so close in reach. It feels like her life is at a standstill while everyone else keeps moving forward, even with the constant reassurance that she will be joining them soon enough.
El wants to believe them, desperately. For so long, all she has wanted was to be normal, hang out with her friends at the movies, the mall—places that weren’t secret like the cabin or Mike’s basement. This future is there; in the back of El’s mind, she knows this to be true, no matter how blurry it seems at the moment. But with these nightmares, she wonders—is it truly a free future? Will the government monitor them? Even if they declared her dead, Mike and her friends became so entangled in everything. . . Will they ever be truly free from the government?
“Hey.”
El snaps out of her thoughts at Mike’s soft voice. She turns her head to see him laying to her right, squinting one eye against the sun that peeks out from behind some clouds. It’s nice out as spring slowly melts into summer, the Sunday afternoon lazy. The Party is over at the cabin and they’re hanging out back, grass soft underneath them as she and Mike lay. She can hear the others; the scrape of Will’s pencil as he sketches mixing in with Max, Lucas, and Dustin arguing over whatever card game they’re playing.
El’s throat works, finding the will to offer a smile. “Hi,” she returns softly. Her gaze flickers up to his hair, and her smile turns a little more real as she reaches over and picks a leaf out of the dark locks. “Better,” she adds, giggling gently when she brushes the leaf under Mike’s nose and he instantly scrunches his face up adorably in return.
Mike releases a huff of a chuckle before his expression sobers up. His gaze searches her face and El’s heart flutters. He always looks at her like he’s memorizing her features every time. El is certain, after all these years, Mike could draw her perfectly by memory if he wanted to—or if he could draw. But El loves the way he looks at her; she can’t ever get enough of it.
“How are you?” Mike whispers, tilting his head towards her as much as he can, their shoulders touching.
El blinks in confusion. “I am. . . Fine,” she says, eyebrows furrowing. “Why are you asking?”
Mike shrugs, lips turning downwards briefly. “You’ve been quiet,” he responds gently.
Pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth, El tries not to let her expression shift in giving away the alarm bells that ring in her head. Instead, she forces out a quiet chuckle and asks, “Since when have you known me to be talkative?”
But Mike doesn’t smile. Instead, El feels his fingers find hers against the grass in the little space between them, loosely linking them together. “This is different.” Mike turns to prop himself up on his side, gazing down at her. “It’s like something’s been on your mind for a while and you’re not—you’re just keeping it to yourself.”
Her throat works. “Am I not allowed to do that?”
She doesn’t mean to sound defensive, but the words come out like that anyway. Mike blinks, a little surprised and she can’t blame him for it, but the gentleness of his voice doesn’t fade. “Of course you are,” he says with a nod. Never one to deny her anything.
It sends an aching pang through her chest. He’s always on her side, puts her above everyone else—including himself. He has shown it to her time and time again, proved to her repeatedly that nothing is more important to him than she is. And that—that worries her.
Mike’s loyalty and love for her always made El feel like a superhero, more than her powers did. That this boy would do whatever he could to make sure she came out on top, that he was someone she could always rely on, made El believe that she was truly worth all of the trouble.
But he deserves better.
He deserves someone he doesn’t have to sneak through tunnels to see. He deserves someone who he can go outside with, without fear of the wrong person finding them. He deserves to be normal.
And no matter how hard she tries, no matter how much she hopes, normal isn’t something El will ever be.
“. . . anything, you can always tell me,” Mike is saying, which El misses half of thanks to her spiraling thoughts.
She blinks rapidly, though it does little to ease the tightness in her chest as she looks up at him leaning over her. For a moment, El is mesmerized by the dark curls falling over his forehead. So handsome—hers, even if she doesn’t deserve him. “Sorry—what?” she asks, forcing the words out.
Concern flickers through his gaze. “I was just saying if there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m here.” His Adam’s apple bobs, a sort of desperation slipping across his face. “You know that, don’t you, El?”
She nods quickly, blinking a few too many times and lips pressing up into a wobbly smile. “I do,” she says. She can’t help the way her hand reaches up to rest on the back of his neck, fingers slipping into his hair, and applying the right amount of pressure to pull him down.
Mike is quick to return the kiss, despite Dustin’s voice calling out, “Hey, you two—stop with that shit! I’m dealing you in for this next round.”
But El pays him no mind. She just kisses Mike like it’s the last time—because it might just be.
“Thank you, Mike,” she murmurs against his lips, his forehead against hers as she keeps her eyes closed, as if it will make the moment last a little longer.
He doesn’t ask her what she’s thanking him for, but El feels his eyes on her throughout every round of cards they play with the others. She pretends she doesn’t.
The distant thunder is the only sound in the quiet of the night. The warning of the oncoming storm has silenced everything else, the usual sounds of nature taking a break for the time being. The rumblings of the impending rain silence the hiss of a window sliding open, the soft thud of a heavy backpack hitting the ground, followed by featherlight feet joining. The dark night sky provides the perfect cover, silhouetting the slim figure that snatches the backpack up and walks a few feet from the cabin, only to stop and turn to give it one last look.
El’s grip the backpack straps tighten, staring up at the darkened cabin, lights off since Hopper—and Joyce—are asleep in his room. There’s a burning in her nose, one that is always followed by an onslaught of tears that blur her vision as she gazes upon her home.
Her pulse is erratic from the nerves that haven’t left her since this afternoon—since the moment she decided to go forward with this decision. The rock that has made residence in her chest remains firm, unmoving, her breaths coming out harshly as she moves backwards, one small step at a time. There are letters that sit on her bed, one for everyone. Just some words to soften a blow that will land like a bomb—but El cannot think about their reactions. She cannot think of the way they would all have begged and pleaded for her not to do this—the very same way Mike had when she led him to believe she was sacrificing herself.
She tries not to think of their faces, the distraught, the pain. She keeps walking with the reminder that this is for the better; that, at the end of it all, they will all be truly free. They will no longer have to tip toe their way around their lives, waiting for the day she can finally join them out in the light.
El’s eyes squeeze shut as she finally turns, giving her back to the cabin. The lump in her throat makes it hard to breathe around, every exhale coming out like a sob the further she walks. It’s for the better, she tells herself. Repeats the words over and over again like a mantra. They will be fine. Mike will be fine—
A whimper escapes El as Mike’s face flashes across her mind, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she squeezes her eyes shut. His voice screaming her name echoes in her head and El stops dead in her tracks, bending over at the waist as she stifles the cries that burn their way up her throat. Her limbs are heavy, even as her brain screams at her to move, to get going. There is paperwork in her backpack—important paperwork, courtesy of Dr. Owens, that will help her start over—that she cannot let get wet if she gets caught in the rain.
But she cannot move. She is paralyzed by the pain that this will bring Mike when he finds out what she has done. To disappear without a trace, nothing but a letter left behind telling him how sorry she is, how much she loves him—it will destroy Mike. And that kills her. It makes her want to stay. It makes her want to run back and pretend she didn’t almost leave everything she knows and everyone she loves behind.
Then she sees Mike in her head. Not her Mike, but the Mike from her nightmares. Bloody. Dead. All her fault. Her fault, her fault, her fault—
She senses him before she sees him.
El is positive she and Mike have a sixth sense for each other. They can feel each other, both in the real world and in the Void. He knows her better than anyone so of course—of course, he’s here.
She slowly straightens, her erratic pulse growing wilder. The chill in her bones has nothing to do with the electricity in the air preceding the incoming storm. Instead, it settles as she turns around, breathing coming heavy and thunder rumbling across the sky the second her eyes meet his through the dark of the woods.
And, oh, the look on his face. The knowing, the hurt, the anger—it all slaps her in the face as she stands frozen in place. But leaves and branches crunch under Mike’s shoes as he walks closer, his own breathing heavy as if he ran all the way here, dark hair windswept and disheveled. El thinks she feels a rain drop or two as she watches him approach.
“Where are you going?” Mike asks. The closer he gets, the clearer she sees his expression. Mike is intelligent; he knows exactly what’s running through her mind. She knows he knows by the way he frantically looks over her. “El, what are you doing?”
“What are you doing here?” is how she chooses to respond, too afraid to answer his questions. Her voice isn’t as steady as she hoped it would be, but as grounded as Mike has always made her feel, he also has the effect on her to make her dizzy—always in the best way. Though, it’s slightly inconvenient right now.
Ten feet of space between them now. “I knew something was off.” El is sure, now, that she is feeling the beginning splatter of rainfall. The concern is etched onto Mike’s face; she sees it in the heaviness in his eyes, the furrow of his eyebrows, the downward tilt of his full lips. “You’ve—You’ve been so quiet lately. Lost in your head.” He shakes his head, his frown deepening. Five feet of space between them. “I knew something was wrong. And I was right, wasn’t I?”
The lump in El’s throat is tight as he looks her in the eyes and she sees the depth of his hurt, hears it in the tremble of his voice. The rain starts falling in earnest, quickly beginning to soak them. El pays no mind to the cold that chills her body.
“It was a good plan,” she says with a somber smile, a whisper not lost in the rumble of rain as she blinks a few times, rain mixing with tears. “Running away, starting over. . .”
A sharp breath escapes Mike, droplets of water running down the sharp planes of his face, giving way to the betrayal that parts his lips. “Yeah—it was our plan,” he counters, staring at her in incredulity. “You and me, leaving this place together. Not—” He shakes his head, gesturing towards her backpack as if it’s a bomb. “Not this. What were you thinking?”
El blinks rapidly. “What was I thinking?” she repeats, voice rising over the rain as it continues to pelt them, strands of her hair sticking to her temples, the sides of her face. Her head spins, emotions from the past few—God, she’s lost count—weeks rising to the surface. Panic and fear that have made her nauseous and have stirred up paralyzing nightmares buzz across her skin and El can’t do it. She could just run, turn her back on Mike, but that is impossible.
“I was thinking that I—that I’ve put everyone—put you—through too much,” El tells him, voice shaking with emotions she can barely carry. She feels like she’s a child again, when her emotions are intense and she cannot find the right words at the right time to express them. But Mike waits, Mike listens with desperation. “Mike, you—you have spent years waiting on me,” she continues with a short, humorless laugh. “How much longer can we do this? We—”
“This isn’t forever, El,” Mike cuts in, bewilderment and fervor coloring his tone as he takes another step forward. “All the hiding would’ve been over soon enough.”
“How soon?” El asks, squinting through the rain that picks up even as her eyes burn with more tears. “A few more days? Weeks? Months? I don’t know and neither do you. Not for sure.”
Mike is unrelenting, though. “We’ve waited this long. I don’t care how much longer we’d have to wait—” Just a foot away from her now, causing El to look up at him, rain hitting her in the face. Under the dark canopy of the woods and rain, El is thrown back to that night when they first met. Cold and rainy, just like this. Full of fear yet such an inherent feeling of trust that she had felt the moment they met. “I’m willing to wait a hundred—a thousand—years for you. It doesn’t matter to me—”
“But it matters to me!” El exclaims vehemently, blinking her tears away. Her throat burns already as she shouts, but it’s too much. Too many emotions she has been suppressing to keep buried now, fear opening the cover of a tightly sealed box. “That’s what you don’t understand, Mike. I—I’ve ruined your life.” His eyes widen in shock, but El keeps going. “All of the pain, the death, the loss. I—I stole your childhood—everyone’s childhood. The only thing you should have had to worry about was school and—and your next D&D campaign.” Rain pelts her face, soaking her to the bone, hair and clothes sticking to her, and she doesn’t let it deter her. “Instead, you spent it fighting monsters and soldiers and fighting for your life. You lost people and you almost lost your family. You—You—” A sob escapes El, her heartbeat as harsh as the thunder rumbling above them as she shakes her head. So much. She has put him through so much. “You watched people die in front of you. I made you think I was dead twice.” He blurs in and out of her vision, her tears overwhelming, her breath stuttering with the words that tumble out. “Your life would have been easier, normal—safer—if I had never been in it.”
Her throat is raw, burning from her words, her emotions. El’s shoulders shake under the weight she carries, the sobs that wrack through her body. The rush of rain continues around them, but they don’t swallow her words. Instead, El feels Mike’s gaze heavily on her, his own breathing harsh like her words knocked the air out of his lungs. She is cold—so cold, so scared. She doesn’t want to do this; the mere thought of leaving Mike behind fills her with a kind of ache that is impossible to breathe through. He means more to her than anything and anyone; the same reason why she doesn’t want to leave him is the same reason why she has to.
She can hear his harsh, heavy breathing as he stands near. El’s eyes drop to his shoes, unable to meet his gaze as she takes in his muddied sneakers, laces tied neatly and precisely. He was the one, back when they were kids, who taught her how to tie laces when he had given her those Converse to wear. It had taken her a couple of tries, but El was a fast learner. She still remembers the bright, proud smile twelve year old Mike had given her when she had gotten it. It had made her heart flutter back then. Now, as it flashes through her mind, El drops her chin to her chest and squeezes her eyes shut, shoulders shaking with another sob.
“I don’t know how many times I can say it before you understand,” Mike finally says, his voice low under the rain but loud enough for her to hear. “I didn’t find you in the woods—we found each other, okay? I used to think that night wasn’t fate or destiny, but I was wrong. We were meant to be in each other’s lives—I fucking believe that, alright?” His hands rest on her shoulders and despite the rain soaking them both, his touch is still warm. Mike lowers his head to be at her eye level, locking their slightly squinted gazes through the rain. “I need you to understand, El, that knowing everything that I know now, knowing everything we’ve all been through, I would still choose to go through it again if it means getting to be with you. My life was—it was nothing before you, but you made it worth it.”
El tastes salt and fresh water, both, on her lips as the rain and her tears mix together. “Mike—”
“You can’t leave me, El.” Desperation deepens his voice. “Please don’t do this.” He drops his forehead to hers as a sob escapes El, and she wonders if he can feel her resolve slipping. “If you need to go, then take me with you. Please—please—” His voice breaks, and so does a piece of her heart. “I can’t do this without you. Just stay. I know it seems like you’ve been waiting forever, and you have, but I promise you, it’s going to be over soon. And you know I never—I never break my promises. Not to you.”
El squeezes her eyes shut as his words sink in, a soothing balm to the stinging pain that has kept her company recently. Her backpack and clothes feel heavy on her body, but nothing is more of a weight than her pounding heart as Mike’s hands slide from her shoulders up her neck to cup her jaw.
“Please, please, please,” he repeats, his breath warm against her lips. “This is what you’ve been fighting for all this time. You deserve a normal life with your friends and Hopper and me. You deserve to be happy, El. I know it feels like you’ve been waiting your entire life, but trust me; the waiting will end soon.” He kisses her nose. “Okay?” Another kiss, this time to her closed right eye. “Please.” Her left eye next. Everywhere his lips touch, her skin ignites, buzzing for more. “I love you so much.” His voice is a whisper, lips brushing against hers with his next few words. “Stay for the life you deserve. Stay, baby, please.”
A sob escapes El. It’s rare for Mike to use any pet names. He had told her, once, that he felt like it didn’t suit him, that the words sounded awkward in his mouth, as if they didn’t fit. Only in his most vulnerable, sweetest moments did Mike let endearing words like that slip—and that’s how El knows, when she hears him say it now, that he truly means it. That he is begging and pleading, just like he had in the Void when she made him believe she was going to die.
Doing that, months ago, had been bad enough, even when she knew she wasn’t truly leaving him. Now, with both of them fully aware of her intentions, the melancholy ache of it is significantly worse.
El had thought, despite the devastation and hurt of her decision, it was one that she would go through with. She had been so sure that this was the way to let everyone else’s lives be back to normal. She would miss them like a missing limb, ache for their company and their love, but knowing they were alive and safe would keep her going. She would use the money and papers Dr. Owens had given her to go far away, try to build a life for herself, even if it would be a lonely one. The thought terrified her, but she would do it for them.
She would have done it.
El can feel Mike shaking against her, his pleas a physical thing as he holds her close. The rain roars around them and it beats the fight out of El because, God, she wants. She wants to stay. She wants to build a life with friends who have become family, with Mike. It was a good idea, running away to a faraway land, maybe somewhere with some waterfalls, but it would undoubtedly be better if she and Mike could go together. A trip for fun, instead of an escape to survive.
A breath shudders out of El as she raises her hands to grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling Mike as close as possible until she finally, finally kisses him. Mike melts into it instantly and El can taste his relief and tears and the rain as Mike deepens the kiss. It’s desperate and frenzied as Mike’s hands drop to her shoulders and they move together, as though reading one another’s minds, as Mike slips the straps of her backpack down her shoulders and El drops her arms down so he can slip the backpack off.
She pays no mind to it dropping to the wet, muddy ground. Not as Mike’s hands find her hips and they’re stumbling backwards until her back is against a tree and her hands are in his wet hair.
For the first time in weeks, El feels a true sense of calmness, tension melting away from her body as Mike kisses her desperately, like a man starved. Like he very well will never let go. El can’t blame him for it, not after everything. She doesn’t want him to let go, either.
Every touch, every kiss—it all makes her feel alive. Mike pours every ounce of love, and then some, he feels for her into their kisses, and El clings onto it. Lets it ground her into reality, into this truth, as the cold of the rain is chased away by Mike’s heat. He is excellent at getting rid of her fears, reminding her that there is so much more to life than her fears and worries. Reminding her, always, of the light at the end of the tunnel when it’s too dark for her to see herself.
How could she leave this behind? Leave him?
“Stay,” Mike mumbles between desperate kisses. They’re a mess of lips and teeth and tongue, but every kiss shoots electricity through every vein. His hands remain cupping her face, thumbs moving to wipe away her tears and the rain alike. “Please, El, stay.”
He keeps mumbling it into their kisses, the front of his body pressing against hers, so close that she can’t tell what’s their heartbeats and what’s the thunder above. “I will,” El replies, nodding quickly. The truth bursts out of her, no longer wanting to keep him in the dark. “I will, I will. I’m sorry, Mike. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Mike shakes against her in relief. “Thank God, thank God,” he whispers, pulling her closer, kissing her again and again and again.
The hope in his voice springs more tears into her eyes, the guilt returning in full force. El wraps her arms around Mike’s neck, breaking the kiss only to pull him into a hug. She breathes heavily, the rain relentless, but she doesn’t care as his arms wind around her waist, his face burying into the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry,” El gasps into the rain. “I love you. I’m sorry.”
She feels him shake his head. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He shifts just enough to press a kiss over her racing pulse point. “Just—come back with me. Come home.”
They walk back silently hand in hand, her backpack slung over Mike’s shoulder as the mud squelches beneath their sneakers and the rain remains unforgiving. The trek back to the cabin seems shorter than when she was leaving, and it makes El realize just how quickly, how easily, Mike found her. He always finds her, doesn’t he?
When they get to the cabin, they don’t go around front. El could easily unlock the door from the inside using her powers, but neither of them want to risk waking Hopper or Joyce, or tracking water through the cabin. So they go in from the same way El had snuck out, Mike’s bike leaning against the cabin, and they slip through the window and into her bedroom.
Water drips onto the floor and El is quick to move towards the closet where there are a few spare towels. She holds one out to Mike, the silence between them stretching as she peels off her jacket and overshirt, leaving her in just a tank top and jeans that stick to her like a second skin. El watches quietly as Mike puts her backpack down before peeling off his own jacket, leaving him in his collared shirt and pants.
As El rubs the towel along her arms and neck, she watches as Mike runs his own towel through his hair. He watches her right back, the two of them working in silence as they dry themselves. The only light in the room comes from the lamp on her bedside table, bathing them in a soft yellow glow. With the window shut, the sound of the rain is muffled, but it heightens every other sound in the room.
The soft rasp of towels rubbing against skin, the gentle ticking of the hands on her bedside clock, the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards if she or Mike move. Some of the tension from earlier returns as El moves to open one of her drawers, grabbing a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized shirt. The second drawer holds some of Mike’s clothes, and she pulls out a shirt and sweatpants for him, his eyes already on her as she turns to hand them over.
At this point in their relationship, there’s not much they get shy about. So it’s easy for them to slip out of their wet clothes, leaving them in a wet pile by the window—El will take care of them tomorrow—and slip into dry clothes. El runs the towel through her hair as much as she can, wondering if her own nose and cheek are as pink as Mike’s are, as she slowly approaches him where he stands by the bed.
El’s throat works, hesitating for a moment before hooking her index finger with his and feeling a small sigh escape when he squeezes her finger in return. “Sleep?” she asks quietly.
The corner of his mouth quirks up and he nods. His hair is still damp, hanging over his forehead, and she still wants to run her fingers through it. “Yeah. Come on.”
They climb into her bed, slipping under the covers, their heads resting on the same pillow, and with a flick of El’s wrist, the light switches off. They’re thrown into darkness, though El’s eyes are quick to adjust. Her bed isn’t too big, but she and Mike have grown used to the size, and El gives into her wants and turns to lay on her left side.
Under the covers, her right leg slips in between both of Mike’s, and it’s enough to get him to move as well, turning to his side so he’s facing her. El blinks a couple of times until Mike’s features clear into view through the dark, finding his brown eyes watching her intently. His hand finds hers, linking their fingers together and bringing them up until he’s got them tucked under his chin. She is so warm, so safe, it makes her heart ache in the best way.
“El.” Her name is a quiet whisper spoken in the mere inches of space separating them. “I need you to promise me something.”
She’s quick to nod. “Anything.”
Mike is silent for a beat before he says, “Promise me you’ll stop leaving me.”
The words pull a small gasp from her, heart stuttering. In an instant, all she can think of is how many times she has done this to Mike that prompted him to request this of her. The first time at the school when she disappeared for a year, moving to California, another goodbye months ago in case her plan—in the same kind of word her friends would use—went to shit.
Time and time again, El has left Mike. Time and time again, she always finds her way back to him. No matter what, the universe always brings them back together. All of the pain and heartbreak always rewards them in the end, bringing them to each other once more. But El. . . El doesn’t want to run anymore. She doesn’t want to disappear. Right here, with Mike, is where she wants to be, and El no longer wants to deprive herself of this happiness.
It hurts, deep in her chest, to hear Mike ask that of her because she knows it comes from all of the pain he went through because of her.
And yet he wants her every time. Waits for her, no matter what. Loves her, more and more.
El blinks rapidly, nodding her head just as quickly. “I promise,” she says. It’s the easiest promise she’s made—and one she vows to keep for as long as she’s alive. “I will never leave you, Mike. Never again.”
“Good,” Mike breathes, kissing the back of her hand. “My life starts and ends with you, El. I love you.”
He is her everything. He has been the second they met. Mike is so deeply intertwined into her soul, she doesn’t know where she ends and he starts. El has always known that her life is only ever complete with Mike in it, and she will no longer run from this. Mike is right; she deserves this.
“I love you,” she says in return, tangling their legs tighter together. “I love—love you more than anything else in this world. I promise I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.” She keeps repeating the words in a whisper—against their joined hands, against the minimal space between their lips. “You believe me, right?”
“I do,” Mike answers immediately. “As long as you believe that I’d follow you anywhere.”
A breathy laugh escapes her, and it’s her turn to say, “I do.”
Her eyes flutter shut when Mike kisses her forehead and pulls her closer, and El shifts so she can tuck her head under his chin. He lets go of her hand just to wrap his arm around her body, and a heavy sigh escapes her.
Safe—she is always so safe with him and El makes another promise to herself. To let her enjoy the love that life has given her and to stop running away from it because her fears have gotten the better of her. It has never been that easy to talk about her feelings, but talking to Mike has always eased her worries, bringing her back down to the ground. She promises herself if she feels that doubt stirring up, she will talk to him. She will let their love do its job and remind her of this life she has built for herself. Because this is the life her twelve year old self didn’t think was a possibility to even dream about, and El owes it to that little girl to experience this life to its fullest.
And she will do it with Mike by her side, always.