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i.
At 8:50 in the morning, El is standing in front of the window in the cabin living room, eyes focused on the tree line for any sign of sunlight gleaming off the metal of a bike. She can’t even bring herself to sit down, bouncing on the balls of her feet, excitement humming through her veins like a lively thing. The makeshift driveway is clear, Hopper having left for work about twenty minutes ago after El spent most of yesterday convincing him she was okay and had gotten plenty of rest.
She had only closed the gate the day before yesterday. She had been exhausted, and Hopper had stayed home from work to make sure she would recover well. Had only let Mike, Dustin, and Lucas come by for an hour to visit her before kicking them out again—but not before Mike had promised her he would come by again. Hopper hadn’t been thrilled at the thought of her and Mike being alone in the cabin while he was at work, but she had begged and pleaded, and after everything, he gave in. Told her he would be checking in periodically, as usual, which was perfectly fine with El. So long as Mike got to be here. There is so much lost time to make up for. El’s chest aches with the excitement of it all.
When the boys had come, they all stayed out in the living room. They played a few rounds of Snakes and Ladders all the while catching El up on everything that went on during the year she was gone. El thinks it has helped her recovery, getting to be with her friends again. There had been an overwhelming sense of relief to know that they missed her as much as she missed them, and to see how happy they truly are now that she’s back. Especially Mike.
Which is why El stands at the window, waiting for his arrival. It’s Saturday and he had told her he can hang out here for the whole day, and then his mom expects him home for dinner. As much as El would hate to see him go later tonight, she is happy he can be here all day. It’s so much more than what they got for 353 days.
A quiet gasp of elation escapes her when she sees Mike emerging from the treeline, walking his bike along, backpack strapped on as usual and guarded gaze looking around to keep an eye out for the traps she and Hopper had warned the others about. Pushing away from the window, El hurries over to the door, undoing all of the locks as quickly as her fingers will allow. She knows Hopper’s rules about opening the door, but El doesn’t care about them, not as her heart pounds in her chest and all she can hear in her head is Mike Mike Mike that leads her to successfully opening the door.
She throws it open the moment Mike is leaning his bike against the cabin, his head snapping up and dark eyes finding where she stands in the doorway. The chill of the November morning air hits her face, but the smile is already growing on El’s face when their eyes meet.
Mike stands at the foot of the porch steps, staring up at her as if he’s not entirely sure she is real. Despite her excitement for his arrival, El can’t bring herself to move, pulse wild with happiness as Mike stumbles up one step. “Hi,” he greets, blinking up at her.
“Hi,” she returns, hand raising in a wave as her cheeks warm with the smile that he gives her, making his way up to the porch.
He stops in front of her and El loves that he’s a little taller than her. She noticed it the other night at the Byers’ house, when the two of them laid eyes on each other for the first time in a year. He is growing, El realizes, and she absently wonders how much taller he will get. She cannot wait to see.
Mike’s throat works, his smile turning a little teasing as he asks, “Doesn’t Hopper have a rule about opening the door?”
Hopper had taught Mike the secret knock because he knew that now that Mike and the others knew El was here, knowing there was no stopping them—especially Mike—coming over to the cabin to see El. But she didn’t particularly care to wait to have Mike use the special knock.
“What Hopper does not know won’t hurt him,” El says, recalling the phrase she had heard on one of her soaps. Her smile widens when Mike chuckles, and she steps aside to let him in.
El feels his eyes on her as she turns to put all the locks back in place, biting down on her bottom lip to stop her smile from widening—even if she fails. When she turns around, Mike is just standing there, watching her, and despite her racing heart, she gives into what her heart is screaming at her to do and throws her arms around Mike.
He makes a small noise of surprise but he is quick to return the hug, his arms going around her, under her arms, and holding her close as her hands press to the back of his backpack. El’s eyes slip shut, a slow breath escaping her as they stand there hugging, her chin hooked over his shoulder and feeling his face buried into the crook of her neck. He smells like soap and Hawkins and Mike, her arms around him tight as they sway back and forth, enjoying each other’s warmth.
They haven’t been able to be alone since she had saved them all from the Demodog—named by Dustin—at the Byers. They have always been around other people, under Hopper’s watchful gaze, and as happy as El was to see everyone else too, she was desperately waiting for some time with just Mike. The only one she visited, as much as she could, to make sure he was okay. And he had been—physically, at least. But she felt his sadness like it was her own, and now as she holds him, she feels it all melt away, too.
“I’m happy you’re here,” El whispers, reluctantly loosening her arms, knowing they cannot realistically stand like that all day. Though, neither would complain if they did.
“Yeah, me too,” Mike replies as they slowly pull back, his hands settling on her upper arms like he isn’t ready to let go of her completely just yet. Her own hands have slipped down to lightly grasp the open halves of his jacket. His hair is growing a little longer and El wants to put her fingers through them, but she doesn’t. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Yes,” El nods. “I feel better.”
Mike’s smile is one of pure relief, shoulders dropping as he nods. It makes El’s stomach feel fuzzy, seeing his visible happiness at her feeling good after closing the gate. “Good,” he says softly, brown eyes looking her over.
She had gotten up early to change out of her pajamas, putting on cargo pants and one of her flannels, making sure her curls aren’t messy. Now, Mike’s gaze lingers on her hair and El’s cheeks warm as his lips part, his own smile present. She had caught him staring yesterday too, which she can’t blame him for. It was the first time he, or any of them, were seeing her with grown out hair. While she had gotten used to it over the year it was growing, they hadn’t, and she would be lying if she said their fascination wasn’t amusing.
“Mike,” El says softly, eyebrows subtly raising.
“Yeah?” His eyes are on the few curls falling over her forehead.
El’s skin is warm as she says, “You are staring.”
“Oh.” He blinks quickly a few times and El swears she sees his cheeks pinken a little, averting his gaze shyly. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head, rolling her smiling lips into her mouth before saying, “Don’t be.” Playing with her fingers, she asks, “Do you want to play a game or watch something?”
“Whatever you want,” Mike says quickly, moving his shoulders to bring his backpack around to his front. “I actually brought a couple of movies. I’ve got Indiana Jones, Star Wars—I also borrowed Nancy’s VHS of Sixteen Candles, if that’s more your taste.”
El feels her smile grow, heart flipping as Mike pulls out the three VHS boxes from his bag. Meeting his gaze, she asks, “All three?”
Mike pauses before his face breaks out into a smile. “Yeah, why not? We’ve got the time.”
They round the couch and decide on Star Wars: A New Hope, a move that instantly fascinates El as she watches the characters, the Jedis, use something called the Force to fight and make things move with their minds—just like her. Using their powers for good; to fight and to help, just like she hopes to do despite years and years in the lab forcing her to do bad things. El watches with her lips parted and leaning forward where she sits on the couch, unable to take her gaze off the TV—and only doing it when Mike crosses his arms like he is hugging himself, and it’s when his body shakes a little that she understands and springs into action.
“Cold?” she asks, already getting to her feet.
“No, I’m ok—El!”
She is in her room before he can even finish speaking, walking to her bed and grabbing the blanket. When she turns, she stops when she spots Mike standing in the doorway, not entering the room but lingering in the entryway, his dark eyes looking around her bedroom.
El blinks, watching him quietly as his gaze wanders. Her room doesn’t have much—not like Mike’s room, not like Nancy’s. There are some boxes of puzzles and books that Hopper got for her, papers scattered on her dresser of drawings she did when she was bored, along with boxes of colored pencils and markers. Her radio sits on the nightstand table with the lamp and some cassettes, the closet door closed to hide the few clothes she’s got that Hopper scrounged up for her.
It’s not much, but it’s hers, and Hopper promised her she can decorate it however she wants, and he always gets her whatever she asks for, whenever she thinks of something.
El looks at Mike, tries to read his expression as he takes everything in. She wants to tell him she will make it prettier, that it is a work in progress, as Hopper had called it. But no words come out as a corner of Mike’s mouth kicks up. “So. . . This is your room, huh?” he asks, still not walking further inside.
“Yes,” El answers, hugging the blanket to herself. There is a softness in Mike’s gaze that warms El’s chest, and she finds herself saying, “You can come in, if you want.”
Mike’s eyes find hers, eyebrows rising. “Are you sure?”
It makes her chuckle softly as she nods. Mike tentatively takes a step inside, and El bites the inside of her cheek. “There is not much, but—” She shrugs as she looks around as well, as if for the first time, though now it’s through Mike’s eyes. The walls are a pale green color, lighter than the green of the door, but otherwise empty. She has no board of pictures like Nancy, and no posters like Mike. One day she will, though. “It’s mine.”
“It’s great, El,” Mike says, walking closer to where she stands. “You can decorate it however you want. I can even bring you stuff, if you want, to decorate with.”
Her face lights up, eyes widening in delight at the idea. “Really?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course!”
Pressing her lips together, El feels her cheeks warm again, but finds the courage to ask, “Can you bring me pictures?”
“Sure.” He tilts his head slightly and El can tell he’s a little bit confused. It almost makes her giggle, realizing he agreed without even understanding. “Pictures of what?”
“Of you,” she answers, flutters in her stomach going up to her chest when Mike’s eyes widen a little.
“Me?” he asks, blinking those dark eyes El is a little bit obsessed with, looking like he thinks he didn’t hear her right. It makes her smile despite her nervousness of her request. When she nods, he scoffs lightly, the sound more anxious than anything else as he looks away. “I’m not—I don’t think I take good pictures, El. I always look really awkward and—”
“Mike,” she cuts in softly, effectively silencing him. When his darting gaze finds hers again, she tilts her head. “Please?”
He presses his lips together and El gives him her best hopeful look, watching as his resolve slips and he finally nods with a sigh. “Okay, yeah. I’ll find something. I’m sure my mom has tons of them.”
Her giddiness takes over, a wide smile breaking across as she bounces on the heels of her feet. “Thank you!” El exclaims and, before she can think twice, leans up on her toes and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. When she pulls back, her own face is on fire as Mike gapes at her, lips parted and wide eyes unblinking, and her lips buzz where they touched his skin. She can’t help the shy grin, shoulders rising to her ears as she hugs the blanket close with one arm while her other grabs his hand. “Come on. I want to finish the movie.”
It’s effortless to lead Mike back to the couch, sitting him down as she joins next to him. With Hopper not being home, the space between her and Mike is practically nonexistent as she spreads the blanket over them both, her feet folded beneath her as she leans into Mike. To his credit, he doesn’t freeze; instead, Mike settles back into the couch, slipping down just enough for El to comfortably rest her head against his shoulder, and she smiles as their hands find one another’s under the blanket.
She hopes, in that moment, days like these are what await them, not knowing that’s exactly what she gets well into the summer.
As those days come, however, Mike brings El exactly what she asks for—more books and magazines, Lego sets they build together and, her favorite, photos of himself.
He brings her a few different options, his face flushed in embarrassment and endearment all at the same time as El looks through all of the pictures—and then decides to keep them all.
Her favorite, though, is the one of him from Halloween, and she carefully puts it in a frame with red hearts all over it before placing the frame on her desk.
“I look ridiculous,” Mike would bemoan every now and then when he sees the picture, the scowl he wears similar to what he looks like in the picture.
“No. Handsome,” El would correct—and then she would kiss him before he could complain again.
She’s pretty sure he makes that comment every time now, because he knows she will kiss him to shut up.
El cannot be upset about that. Not when it’s rewarding for her, too.
ii.
She senses Mike before even feeling the mattress dip under his weight.
El sees the damp spot on the pillow she rests her head on, where the tears have rolled from the corner of her eye and seeped into the pillow where she lays. She doesn’t care. Doesn’t move. It’s as if she is acutely aware of the very weight of her bones, heavier now, noticeable in a way that renders her motionless. She isn’t sure how long she has laid like this; she only moves when absolutely necessary—either to use the bathroom, or when she is being forced to eat and drink water.
Or in moments like this, when Mike refuses to let her be alone as she loses the war against her tears and lets them fall. He has been coming by every day since everything that happened at the mall. The Mind Flayer. Billy. Hopper—
The thought of her dad, gone forever, makes her throat close up, a sob choking out as she clenches her eyes shut, fisting the pillowcase under her head. Pain explodes throughout her chest, vibrating through her entire body. The visceral kind, one that has no start or finish and just is, and El doesn’t know how to make it better. She is pretty sure nothing can.
She feels Mike’s arm slip over her waist, feels the warmth of his solid chest against her back, his lips by her ear as he murmurs, “I’m here, El. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
His words, meant to be comforting. only push more tears forward, her body shaking with the force of how they escape. She can’t breathe through her nose, stuffed with tears, tasting the salt of them on her lips as she openly cries, letting out the endless well of grief that has filled up inside of her. She hurts everywhere—deep in her heart and pounding in her head, her stomach roiling with nausea that never finds a way out as she gasps and chokes, struggling to find air between her sobs.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Mike continues to murmur, holding her close, and his tight grasp does help in calming her nervous system down a little, the effect slow but present, until he says, “I’m not going anywhere,” and El’s heart twists violently in her chest.
He’s not going anywhere—but she is.
El squeezes her eyes shut, trembling lips pressing together. She isn’t supposed to know yet, but she had heard Joyce on the phone last night. Had heard, very clearly, that the Byers will be moving out of Hawkins at the end of summer to California. El hadn’t been able to quite remember where that was, had snuck into Will’s room to look at the globe he had, and felt her already broken heart shatter more when she traced California all the way on the other side of the country. Far—so far from Hawkins, from her friends, from Mike.
There is some time, El knows. A few months until they leave, but the pain of not seeing Mike every day is already settling. They had already spent a year apart, got eight months of time together before the events at the mall and now. . . Now she will lose him again.
She can’t hold it, this pain. Can’t stuff it down and bury it deep and pretend it doesn’t exist. The tears clog her throat, but they don’t prevent her from blurting, “We’re leaving.”
El feels Mike pause, his fingers on the front of her shirt over her stomach tightening ever so slightly, like in impending dread. “What?”
El squeezes her eyes shut once more before opening them, sniffling as she turns in Mike’s arms to face him. He is staring at her in disbelief, in utter confusion, in dread. She doesn’t need to press her hand to his chest to know that his heart is racing in panic, his dark eyes taking in her tear stained face, her red nose as she drops the bomb. “Joyce is selling the house. We are moving. . . To California. At the end of summer.”
Suffocating silence follows her words, watching as Mike processes them. There’s a distinct hitch in his breath as he suddenly sits up, looking down at her with wide, alarmed eyes. “Even you?”
He blinks like he knows it’s a silly question to ask, but El doesn’t admonish him for it. She only sits up, wiping at her nose. “Joyce is my guardian. I have to go.”
She sees the shift in Mike’s features, and knows that he’s trying to figure out a way out of this. That his clever brain is working through any scenario, any possibility, of getting her to stay. “She can’t do that. She can’t. We’ll fix this, El, I’ll—”
Her heart shatters even more. She didn’t think that was possible. “This isn’t something you can fix—”
“No! Screw that! I can—”
“Mike. Stop. Please.” Her hand finds his and Mike instantly stops when her voice breaks, despite the panic in his wild gaze. His shoulders, tense and raised, lower just a little when he takes note of her glassy eyes, her vision blurring from fresh tears, and Mike immediately pulls her in.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, arms around her and lips pressing to the top of her head as he settles her sideways on his lap. He leans back against the propped up pillows and El squeezes her eyes shut, crying once again at the apologies he has no reason to give.
El’s forehead presses against the side of his neck, curling into herself as Mike holds her steady, an arm around her back and the other across her front. She misses Mike already, and she is drowning in her grief. She lost Hopper, she lost her powers, lost her home with the cabin getting wrecked after the attack, and now she will lose Mike, too. She needs him—how is she supposed to live without him? How is she supposed to survive losing him on top of everything else that is already weighing her down?
It’s all too much, brutal and unforgiving as Mike rubs soothing circles on her back, murmurs sweet reassurances while never loosening his hold on her. She can feel his heart pounding in his chest and, oh, she hates this. She hates all of this. She could have helped, she could have prevented all of this from happening. Now it’s too late. Now she’s useless.
“I could’ve helped him,” El cries, her voice shaky and words laced with a bone deep ache. Her tears dampen his skin, the collar of his shirt, but Mike holds her close. “If he let me come with him, he would’ve been okay, maybe. I could have fought, I could have—”
The guilt claws at her throat, cutting her off with a choke as Mike squeezes her. “El, don’t do that to yourself, please.” His words are firm, but there is a subtle tremble in his voice, like her pain is his own and he feels the weight of it, too. “Hop—Hopper wanted you to be safe. He did it to protect you—”
“He shouldn’t have,” El says sharply, pulling back enough to see the look on Mike’s face—heartbroken for her. “I need him here—with me.” She slaps a hand to her chest, both for emphasis and to keep her fingers from shaking. “And now he’s gone.”
She’s over the edge again, crying in earnest, letting her emotions take over in the safety of Mike’s arms. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling her back in, hand on the back of her head and gently guiding her against him as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. El feels him rock her back and forth gently, his embrace warm and loving and present.
El’s not sure how long they stay like this, her fingers clutching his shirt, her hands trapped between his back and the pillows. Slowly, though, she feels herself calm down, feels the tears slow down—at least for now. Her heavy cries subside into quieter whimpers until she is simply resting against Mike, breathing him in and letting the warmth of his hold bring her back down.
She thinks of Hopper, her heart clenching as she begins to wonder if there will come a day where she forgets the sound of his voice, the deep rumble of his laugh. Will she forget what he smells like? Like the woods and cigarette smoke that has become such a comfort to her. Will she forget what it feels like to be hugged by him? Will she ever be able to make Eggo Extravaganzas as good as he did?
How could he do this? How could he leave her? He’s her father, he should be here. He should be here—
El squeezes her eyes shut, shifting her head so her face is once again tucked into the crook of Mike’s neck. She relishes in the closeness even as she tries not to think about how, in a few months, they won’t be able to do this all of the time. Chest tight, El’s eyes flutter open, gaze dropping to his hand resting on her thigh, his thumb absently rubbing circles through the material of her pajamas. The very leg she had was attacked on.
They will be so far apart, with so many states and cities separating them, and El’s throat dries at distance they will have to face. Would he still want her when he’s in Hawkins and she’s in California? They won’t see each other every day, not the way they were able to for the last eight months—would Mike forget her? Would it be easier for him to find someone still in Hawkins?
El tells herself she’s being stupid. He waited for her for almost a year. She knows how much Mike likes her—loves her even, maybe, though if he hasn’t told her—and so she knows it’s not fair to assume he would forget about her so easily.
But the heartache of losing Hopper morphs into the dread of possibly losing Mike, and it involuntarily makes her tighten her grip on his shirt, afraid to let go.
“Hey,” Mike murmurs gently. She can feel his head shift so he can look at her, but her gaze remains fixed on his hand on her leg. “What is it?” He knows her so well, so deeply, and El bites the inside of her cheek to keep her insecurities from spilling out. But then Mike’s hand lifts and he brushes some of her hair behind her ear, and her heart trips at the touch of his palm against her cheek as he gently lifts her head to get her to look at him as he says, “Talk to me, please.”
El leans into his touch, eyes looking into the dark depths of his, seeing the plea and the warmth and the love. It makes her feel a little guilty when she speaks. “When I’m in California—” God, it hurts to even think that. “—will you still—” love me “—want to be with me?”
“What?” Mike asks, eyes widening in such pure bewilderment that El almost feels stupid for her question. But Mike shakes his head, his expression shifting into one of gentle firmness as he keeps his eyes locked with hers. “El, of course I will. I—” His confusion makes her bite her lip, because it’s obvious the thought never crossed his mind. That the very notion of it is so ridiculous to him. “You are the only person I have ever wanted, and the only person I ever will. You could be on the other side of the world and it will only ever be you. Please, I need you to know that.”
El blinks quickly a couple of times, effectively pushing back the fresh tears and sniffling before she smiles, as much as she can. “I do, I’m sorry,” she whispers, idly playing with one of the buttons of his shirt. She doesn’t mean to doubt him—and she doesn’t. She’s just scared and anxious and there is so much going on in her head and heart that it’s difficult to make any real sense of any of it.
“Don’t be sorry,” Mike says, thumb stroking her cheek. “I get it. You’ve been through a lot. Too much.” He shakes his head with a clench of his jaw, anger flashing across his face, and it does nothing but make El fall for him even more, knowing it’s on her behalf. “A lot has happened but, El, the one thing you’ll never have to worry about is how I feel about you.”
She nods slowly, heart swelling and warmth spreading, his words a soothing balm to the ache that has resided inside of her for days. He is so good to her, no matter what, and it overwhelms El to know she has him in her corner, always.
Throat working in a swallow, El leans her forehead against Mike’s, slipping her eyes shut long enough to let out a sigh. Cheeks warming, she says, “Thank you. For being my person.”
Mike lets out a breath of his own, his hand slipping from her cheek to the back of her head. She sees him smile, cheeky yet real as he says, “It’s my honor.”
It makes her laugh, for the first time since everything, further easing the hurt that lives inside. Of course Mike is the only one who has made her smile and laugh. Of course Mike is the only one who can make the hurt go away. Just him—from the moment they met.
iii.
El recognizes the girl staring back at her in the reflection, the sadness greeting her like an old friend. The last few days have been so hectic that El hadn’t had the chance to really look at herself. The mirror above her vanity has a couple of cracks in it, but her reflection is clear. The bedroom has been power washed and cleaned, the mattress thoroughly cleaned and new bedsheets placed. Murray had been sent back to California and, somehow, managed to grab a bunch of their belongings from the house, and although many of El’s things are lost, this room is once again hers.
The cabin is slowly getting back to its original state, the debris cleared and furniture righted, and the guys had worked overtime in fixing up the broken windows and sections of the wall and roof. Her home is once again hers. Finally.
So she stands in her bedroom, staring at her reflection, and raises her hand until she is running her palm over the top of her head. The strands are short—so, so short. Like they had been for the first decade or so of her life. There is a tell-tale stinging in her nose that is always followed by tears, but El clenches her jaw, refusing to let them fall, even if her chest tightens as she looks at herself. She does not feel fifteen anymore. The girl looking back at her is twelve years old, just as defeated, but a lot more angry than scared. That’s something, she guesses.
From the corner of her eye, she sees movement, and El glances over to see Mike standing in the doorway of her room. She attempts a smile. “Hi.”
Mike takes it as an invitation to walk in. Eyes on her, he says, “You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to.”
It’s like his words give her the permission she didn’t realize she was looking for, her smile instantly dropping along with her shoulders, a sigh escaping her as she turns to look back at the mirror. Mike moves closer, his footsteps light but present, until he comes to a stop behind her. El glances at him through the reflection, heart skipping at how tall he is, over a head taller. Mike loops his arm around her from behind, pulling her until her back is against his chest.
He smells good, familiar and lovely, and El’s hands lightly grasp Mike’s that rests over her stomach. The gentle intimacy warms her from the inside, different from before. Deeper, somehow, and El thinks it’s because of what they went through.
Mike, being the one to pull her out of Henry’s hold. Mike, telling her he loves her, telling her why he couldn’t say it for so long. He saved her life and he loves her, and El holds onto that tightly.
“You okay?” he asks, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“For the most part,” comes El’s soft reply. When he raises his eyebrows, she sighs.
So much has happened. So many emotions have been swimming inside of El. She is angry about Max’s condition, relieved that she has her powers back, anxious about the state of Hawkins, dreading the inevitable fight with Henry yet determined to face him, and happy—so, so happy that Hopper is alive.
And yet, one of the most prominent things she feels is the profound sadness at her hair. Or lack thereof.
Is that shallow of her? Self absorbed? So much needs to be done, and El feels like if she’s not mourning one thing, she’s mourning something else. She loved her hair; loved growing it out, loved styling it, only for it to be taken away from her. Papa may have had a hand in getting her powers back, but he always makes sure to take something from her, too.
And because it’s Mike, he knows exactly what’s going through her head as he looks at her reflection. His lips turn downwards as he says, “I’m sorry about your hair.”
He doesn’t say it’s okay, doesn’t tell her what she already knows, which is that it will grow back. No platitudes, no empty words—and she appreciates it. Because Mike knows how important her hair is to her, would always update him on how much it has grown, the different hairstyles she has learned.
El’s throat works. “It feels silly to be upset about this, with everything that’s going on,” she says quietly, leaning further back into his hold, seeking the comfort he always provides.
Mike’s eyebrows pull together, shaking his head. “It’s not silly.” His jaw works and El feels it against her temple. “They took something you care about. Be upset. Be angry. You have a right to be. Just—promise me one thing.”
Her eyebrows rise slightly, her gaze on his through the mirror. “Yeah?”
His throat works, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Just don’t let it consume you, okay? You are who you are no matter what they take from you. No one can change that—so don’t let them.”
El releases a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, chest loosening as Mike’s words wash over her. He looks at her with so much love, so much understanding, and despite her lingering sadness, the smile that pulls at her lips is genuine. El turns around in Mike’s arms until she is looking up at him. His arm is still around her, and she takes his other to wrap it around herself as well before she rests her hands on his chest.
“I won’t,” she reassures him softly, her smile growing as she admires him, the way she has for years.
As the weather gets warmer, his freckles stand out across his face, bangs covering his forehead. El’s gaze slips along his face, melting under the gentleness of his eyes, looking at her the way he always does. How could she have ever doubted his love for her?
When her smile grows, Mike quirks an eyebrow. “What?” he prods.
“Nothing,” El answers lightly, tilting her head slightly. “Just. . . Thank you.”
“Thank you?” he repeats, eyebrows pulling together as a confused smile touches his lips and his arms tighten around her waist, just a little. “For what?”
“Everything,” El says with a shrug, sliding her hands up until her arms drape around his shoulders, fingers finding home in his hair. “You found me. You saved me when I was fighting Henry. You’re here—always. You brought me back in all of the ways that matter.”
Mike’s throat works before his lips part, though no words come out as he stares at El like she isn’t real. He looks at her like that often, and it makes her heart flutter every time. “You—” Mike clears his throat, lips pressing together as the air between them stirs. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
El purses her lips, expression bemused. “I’m being honest,” she whispers as she rises on her toes, effectively closing the gap between them, Mike’s gaze never straying from her. Against his lips, she murmurs, “Just accept it.”
She doesn’t give him the chance to reply, pressing her lips to his in a deep kiss. A thanks, whether he knows it or not, but Mike responds instantly, lips moving with hers and arms around her waist tightening as he leans into her. Electricity zips down her spine as Mike folds forward, holding her close and practically bending her over, and a soft, needy noise escapes El when Mike deepens the kiss, parting her lips with a slip of his tongue.
Her fingers tighten in his hair, pulse kicking wildly as Mike kisses her like it’s his only purpose in life. In this moment, El forgets about everything else. Every thought slips out of her head, leaving just Mike behind, which is, frankly, exactly how she likes it. She feels alive when he kisses and holds her like this, skin burning with want and stomach flipping with needy excitement.
“I love you,” Mike says in between kisses, his hold on her tightening. “God, fuck, I love you so much.”
El can’t stop the grin from exploding across her face and, even so, Mike doesn’t pull away. He kisses the corners of her mouth, her dimples, as she says breathlessly, “I love you more.”
It’s so easy for him to say it now. He tells her whenever he can, with the confidence and sincerity of a boy deeply in love, and El melts every time she hears it. She will never get tired of it, she knows.
“Mm-mm,” Mike protests, lips running along the line of her jaw, El’s mouth parting at the electric sparks that break across her skin wherever his lips touch. “Not possible.”
“Mike,” El giggles, head tilting back to give him access, hugging him close by the neck. There is a lightness in her chest that hadn’t been there before he arrived, a distinct happiness that only ever exists because of him. “Mike—”
“Yes?” he asks, kissing her again.
She’s breathless, heart pounding. She wants to hold onto this feeling for as long as she can. It’s better than anything else, addictive and necessary, and she murmurs into the kiss, “Hopper’s not home.”
Mike makes a small noise of confusion. “I know?”
It comes out as a question, and El smiles in exasperation and fondness. She pulls back enough to meet his gaze, smile widening when he tries to chase her lips before his eyes open. Her gaze is meaningful, stomach flipping as she clarifies pointedly, “He won’t be home for a while.”
She sees the realization dawn on his face. “Oh,” he says, color rising in his cheeks and El bites her bottom lip, still tingling with the heat of Mike’s kisses as her gaze slips past him to her bed. Mike follows her gaze over his shoulder before looking back down at her, and she wonders if his heart is thundering as wildly as hers as he asks, “Yeah?”
El nods, trying not to be too eager despite the excited butterflies in her stomach. Mike’s throat works as El reaches behind her to grasp his hands that rest on her back, bringing his hands between them before she pulls him towards the bed, eyes never leaving his.
He loves her and she loves him, and with a cabin all to themselves, why not take the opportunity to show each other just how much?
iv.
El’s eyes are fixed on her hand—or, more accurately, the switchblade that rests on her palm. Rests isn’t the right word, though; no, with the high frequency ringing in her ears, El channels her powers to spin the open switchblade in a circle, holding it an inch or so above her hand. The blade is one of Hopper’s that she had found lying on the kitchen counter, swiping it up before she settled on the steps on the back porch of the cabin.
It’s a pleasant, early September day. Just a little after noon, with the sun shining through the few clouds that float by. Hopper is over at the Squawk and El had opted to stay home, since Mike would be coming by, and the two of them liked to take advantage of any alone time they could find.
She’s not sitting alone for long when she hears footsteps crunching dried leaves, glancing over to the left when she sees someone rounding the side of the cabin. The ringing in her ears instantly cuts out, the blade dropping back onto her open palm as she gapes at the boy approaching her.
El’s lips part, eyes slightly wide as she takes in the sight of Mike. He looks at her with a slightly nervous smile, apprehensively walking over as he grips the strap of his backpack hanging over one shoulder. “Hi,” he greets.
She knows she should say hi back. Can feel the word on the tip of her tongue, except what comes out is an incredulous, “Your. . . Your hair.”
“Yeah, I know.” Mike runs his fingers through it and El’s fingers itch to replace his as Mike watches her with hesitation. “Wanted to try something new before the school year started.” His Adam’s apple bobs, hand dropping to his side as he watches her. She would be endeared by his nervous expression if she wasn’t absolutely stunned. “What do you think?”
Oh, he has always been handsome to her. There is nothing about Mike—emotionally and physically—that she doesn’t like. He had short hair when they met, but it had been the longest she had ever seen it this past year or so. Now, his hair is an artful combination of curls and waves, stopping around his ears, no more bangs—at least, not like before. His dark hair does fall over his forehead a bit, but he looks so much more grown now.
El’s heart is a wild thing inside of her chest, mouth dry as she gets to her feet. Mike watches her silently, with bated breath, as El takes the few steps towards him and, oh, the closer she gets, the more she feels her self-restraint slipping from her grasp. When she’s a mere foot away from him, El gives in, skin warm as she launches herself at Mike and kisses him soundly.
He makes a quiet noise of surprise but is quick to return the kiss. El barely hears the sound of his backpack dropping to the ground before his arms wrap around her waist, her own hands briefly cupping his cheeks before they, as expected, slip up to his newly cut hair. She hums appreciatively against his lips as she feels the softness of the strands between her fingers, pressing herself into him as his arms around her tighten, smiling when he lifts her off her feet a bit.
“Does that mean you like it?” Mike asks in between kisses, his own lips curving up against hers.
El giggles, cheeks warm and chest fluttering as he sets her back on her feet. But she doesn’t pull back too much, looking up at him, squinting slightly against the sunlight that peeks through the clouds. Mike looks both satisfied and dazed, his smile only serving to quicken her pulse even more. “I love it,” she gushes. “It looks really good.”
His smile widens as his cheeks pinken. “Thanks. I think this suits me more than the long hair.”
El shrugs, fingers still playing with the ends of his hair at the back of his head. “You look good all the time,” she says simply, like it’s a universal truth. It is to her—and she loves that it makes his cheeks flush even more. With a widening grin, she adds with an approving nod, “Very pretty.”
He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, but his own smile remains as his gaze drops to something on the ground. Arching an eyebrow, he lets go of her enough to bend down and pick up, what El realizes, is the switch blade she didn’t realize she had dropped. “What’re you doing with this?” he asks once he straightens.
El takes it from him. “Nothing. I was just bored,” she says, flipping the switchblade between her fingers. “No training today, so.” She finishes with a shrug.
Mike sighs through his nose. “I know you don’t like when you’re not training but it’s good to take a break every now and then.”
El purses her lips. “Do you think Henry is taking breaks?”
“No,” Mike concedes with a reluctant nod. “But I’ve seen the way you push yourself to the point of exhaustion. Can you blame me for being worried?”
A slow breath escapes El just as a gentle breeze rustles the dry leaves. “No,” she says, shoulders dropping as she runs her free hand through her hair. “But I’m fine, Mike. I just—I need to end this. I need to kill him and have this be done.”
“And you will.” No hesitation, no doubt. Her heart swells at how much faith he has in her, not that that’s ever been up for debate. But Mike’s belief in her is one of the things that keeps El going, keeps her pushing. She wants to get to the other side of this, to fight and win and settle into a life with Mike and her friends and family. “But for now, just—” He gives her a little smile, stepping close to her once more and putting his arms around her shoulders, not quite hugging her yet. “Just be with me.”
El smiles up at him, admiring the line of his jaw and freckles and sweeping eyelashes. “I’ll always be with you,” she tells him easily.
Something picks at the back of her mind, and an idea crops up in El’s mind. Her smile grows and Mike raises his eyebrows in silent question, and she tilts her head. “Come with me.”
El makes her way towards a looming tree, just a few feet away, hearing the twigs and leaves crunch under their shoes as Mike follows close behind, being dragged by her free hand clasped in his. “What are we doing?” he asks through a laugh, letting her pull him along.
“You’ll see,” she hums, stopping in front of the tree of choice.
There’s a perfect view of it from the cabin, especially from her bedroom window. Mike stands next to her as El takes the switchblade, flipping it open once more. Biting her bottom lip in concentration, El steps close to the tree and begins carving into the trunk. From her peripheral vision, she sees Mike’s eyebrows shoot up in curiosity but El is focused on the task at hand.
She starts with an E, carving down the vertical line first, doing so a couple of times until it’s as deep as she would like, before doing the same for the three smaller horizontal lines. There’s a giddiness that bubbles up in her chest as she works, a feeling she hasn’t felt often since her fight with Henry, but it is a feeling that makes itself known when she is with Mike.
She hears him let out a breath when she quickly does the plus sign before carving in the M, silence stretching between them save for the scrape of the blade against wood. When the M is carved in, El pauses for a brief second before she carves an ’86 underneath.
When she smiles over at Mike, proud but a little shy, she is met with his own smile, warmth swimming in his eyes. “Can I finish it off?” he asks.
El nods, handing him the blade and stepping aside to watch him work. She admires the subtle concentrated narrowing of his eyes, the gentle furrow of his dark eyebrows as he digs and drags the blade on the trunk. Her smile widens when she sees the heart he surrounds their initials with, an arrow piercing through.
“There,” Mike says once he’s finished, stepping back to admire their joint work.
El wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a sideways hug as his arm instantly drapes across her shoulders. “Perfect,” she murmurs, one hand reaching out to brush her fingers along the engraving.
Her heart thumps as she gazes at the tree, a physical imprint of their mark on their world. Her and Mike, always, from the day they met. It fills her up, all this love that she feels for him, wanting to burst out of her so the whole world can see. She loves this feeling of love, loves that he loves her back just the same, loves that they choose each other, time and time again.
She will fight and she will win. For her friends and family and for the world. But, perhaps selfishly and most importantly, for her and for Mike.
“You’re my favorite person. You know that, right?” El says, her voice quiet as she looks up at him.
“I do,” Mike answers softly, his smile gentle and eyes loving. “And you’re mine. No competition.”
El laughs lightly, heart fluttering happily as she leans her head against him, hold on him tightening as her gaze drifts back to the tree. Its foundation is strong, its roots deep—just like her and Mike. And decades from now, when they’re both nothing but the stars in the sky, this tree will remain and, with it, the proof of their love and devotion to one another. In this life, and all of the others.