Chapter Text
Sometimes, Mike feels like he is a ghost of his past self. Don’t get him wrong, it’s not like he wants to disappear from the world or like he wants to do something impulsive (or maybe he does want to vanish, but not in that kind of way). The first eighteen months he did think about it, more than once. But he found, day by day, moment by moment, little things to hold on to. Eventually, as time passed by, it got a bit easier.
He still thinks about her. In fact, there isn’t a single day in which he doesn’t think of her. But he believes he overcame the grieving part and he is now just trying to live as best he can.
Sometimes he looks at himself in the mirror and doesn’t recognize his face anymore. He stares at his reflection, wondering what happened with those traces of childhood, of innocence he used to have back in the day. Even with everything that was happening, he always managed to still keep some sort of naiveté. Now he just misses having hope and something to hold on to. He misses his old self. He is not angry anymore, but he just wishes things were different. Sometimes, he thinks life is unfair.
When he thinks about it, he can’t believe how much time has passed since then. Eleven years is a lot. And at the same time, he looks at those Hawkins days as if they had just happened yesterday. Time works in crazy ways.
Life as a best selling author is not difficult, per se. It has its perks. When he started writing, he never imagined his books would take off the way they did. He just began writing them to purge everything he had, and it was Will who encouraged him to try to publish them, telling him he had nothing to lose. So he took the shot. He asked Nancy, who was working in the field, if she could help him, and she did. He got rejected the first two times, but suddenly, the third editorial he went to, was fascinated by his story and offered him a great deal.
He got to meet lots of wonderful new people who have the same interests he has. Some of them even clicked with him so much that, from time to time, they join him and his friends in campaigns. That is, when he has time to play.
He is grateful for still being friends with everyone, even the older ones. Maybe they don’t see each other as much as they did, especially since they all managed to leave that shitty town.
Travelling across the US, Canada and sometimes countries in Europe like Italy, England or Spain, makes his schedule messy. He gets to see Will the most because since Nancy and Jonathan got back together, they get to spend more time with their family. Sometimes, he goes for the weekend to California where Lucas, Max and their two kids moved, and he brings them presents and tells them stories until they fall asleep. Maybe the one he sees the least is Dustin: since he became a physics professor in Harvard and their schedules are even harder to match. However, he calls him every week to discuss movies, TV series and fantasy books. Sometimes, he thinks Dustin really gets him, when it comes to mourning. He knows that even if he managed to overcome the total self-destructive grief part, still misses Eddie.
He found that writing was a healthy way of trying to lick his wounds. Sometimes, though, wounds hurt more than other days. Sometimes, his chest feels so heavy he thinks he can barely breathe.
He thinks, no, he knows that when he last lost El, he lost a part of himself, too. Despite trying to move on, despite rebuilding his life in some kind of way, she’s always there in his mind, like a memory that still lingers through space and time.
He thinks of her when he wakes up and can smell the Eggos in the cafe where he usually has breakfast. He thinks of her when he is working on his next book and he can see her in the portrait next to his writing machine. He thinks of her when he is with Lucas and Max and wonders what would have happened if she had stayed, how their lives would have gone. He thinks of her when people ask him about his book and the Mage’s character, and when he goes to sleep begging to, at least, catch a glimpse of her in his dreams. Even though he knows it wouldn’t be the same as Eleven contacting him, he just wishes he could see a little bit of her, even if it wasn’t real.
Mike isn’t sure. He believes, or at least would like to believe, that El is alive and well, but it’s been so many years and there has been no signal whatsoever, he isn’t sure anymore. He lost hope of finding her a long time ago, and he’s not sure how he feels about that.
He tried to move on, he really tried. Tried to date, tried to meet people, but in the end he gave up. He thought it was unfair not only to him but especially to the girls he went out with, because internally he was always comparing them to her. And the truth is nobody was nor could be like Eleven.
There’s a saying Mike heard once which goes that a man can’t never forget nor overcome his first love. He isn’t certain if this is a universal truth, but it’s certainly true for him. And he hates it.
Of all the places he got to visit to promote his sixth and newest book, he would have never guessed he would have to go to Norway and Iceland. Sure, he had been to Europe before, but the idea of his books being best sellers in Nordic countries never really crossed his mind. He went to a couple cities in Norway, and then went to Iceland. First to Reijavik, then to Grindavík, and now he is in Sellfoss, a smaller city located in the south he had never heard of. Apparently there they are eager to see him.
The bookstore is cozy and not as big as the one in Reijavik. It has wooden walls, short wooden shelves and some red sofas next to a window. There’s a table set for him in front of rows of chairs where his readers are sitting, waiting for him to start the press. Some of them are dressed up in Dungeons & Dragons costumes, like a blonde girl in the second row who even has the make up on.
Mike drinks a sip of water before starting to talk about the book he is there to promote and what inspired him to write that story. He never got to tell the actual story. He couldn’t just tell people that during six years from his adolescence he got to fight interdimensional monsters alongside his friends and his girlfriend who happened to have telekinesis and magical powers. But he did manage to write their story in his first trilogy. Of course he didn’t do it in a literal way. No. He had to disguise the limits. He chose to set up the story in a medieval setting, where he narrated how the Mage, the most powerful character in his books, sacrificed herself for the greater good. In his fourth book, he decided to use his same characters, the ones that were clearly based on him, Eleven and his friends, in an alternate universe. Yes, it was medieval as well, but at least the dangers were different, and the Mage didn’t have to leave them.
Once he has finished presenting the books, his manager tells him it is time for the fans’ questions.
“Are the characters based on people you know?” a guy in the front row asks.
“They are, yes,” Mike smiles.
“On who?” the guy asks again.
“On my and my friends. When we were kids we loved to play Dungeons & Dragons, and we each had our own character, so I thought it was a good start.”
“Are you suggesting what happened was real?” another man asks, with a mocking tone.
He looks at him, at his smug face, at his slightly curved lips in a sarcastic way. What is he even doing there?, he wonders.
“I’ve never said that. These are adventure books. I just pictured myself and my friends as fantasy characters, that’s all,” he answers, not as friendly as before. Fans like that one really get on his nerves. He isn’t even sure if he should call them his fans.
“What about the Mage?” the blonde girl asks. “There’s an intense connection between the Paladin and the Mage in every book, even in the ones which are set in, let’s say, an alternate universe or timeline like the first three books you wrote.”
Mike nods, without saying a word.
“Assuming you’re the Paladin, because I’m guessing you are, is the Mage based on someone you knew?”
He knows she means no harm, but he didn’t expect that question. It’s not the first time someone asks him about the people who inspired the characters, but no one ever asked him so directly about her.
“Someone you fell in love with?” the blonde girl continues, when someone appears at the back of the audience.
Suddenly, it feels as if time has stopped.
Mike is unable to answer. He just stares at the woman who just entered and is staring right back at him, with a subtle smile. She has long, wavy hair, a glimmer on her eyes, and is dressed up in a waiter uniform. She’s the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on.
Are fans still talking to him? He isn’t sure. To him, everything is silent. Nothing around him, around them, exists anymore. He looks at her like if he had seen a ghost, because maybe she is one. Or at least, she has been for the past eleven years. The only thing he can hear is the sound of his own breathing, and his heart violently beating inside his chest.
“El?” he says, almost in a gasp, breaking the silence.
“What?” the blond girl asks. “What do you mean El?”
“Uhm, yes, I mean no,” he stutters. “I mean, yes… She is based on someone I knew.”
“What happened to her?”
Mike smiles but doesn’t answer.
Eleven smiles at him.
He isn’t even sure how he manages to finish the rest of the press without completely losing his composure.
“Wait.” He runs to stop her before she can exit the bookshop.
She turns around.
“Hi, Mike,” she answers.
“You’re-”
“Alive,” she nods.
Mike blinks, as if he is trying to process the information. Like if he was trying to decide whether this is real or not, whether this is actually happening or a dream.
“Kali?”
El nods. So he was right. He was right all along. And now he can’t decide how he feels about it.
“I can’t… I mean, I can, but I can’t believe it.”
Eleven looks over his shoulder.
“I think your fans are waiting for you.”
“I don’t care,” he replies as he shakes his head. It’s true, he doesn’t. He has so many questions, so many things he wants to know. How could he care about his book when Eleven is actually standing there, in front of him, after so long?
“Mike…”
“El, please. I truly don’t care.”
“Mike… Go, sign those books.”
“I don’t want to.” He suddenly feels a little bit hurt, as if she was trying to get rid of him.
“We’ll meet each other later.”
He isn’t a big fan of this idea. He would rather talk now.
“Later?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” he nods. “Where?”
“At the café around the corner, in two hours?”
“The cozy one, with the big windows.”
Eleven nods.
“That one. I’ll be with you once I finish my shift.”
“You work there?” he asks.
Eleven nods.
“Promise?” Mike asks.
“Promise.”
Mike feels a warm sensation spreading across his chest