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i. June 1985 — 14 years old
“This one’s from all of us,” Mike says, handing El a box, purple and pink checkered wrapping paper sealing it up.
From his place on the recliner, Hopper remarks, “Not bad on the wrapping job.”
Dustin snickers. “Nancy did it.”
El smiles, and just like with the wrapping paper on the gifts from Joyce and Hopper, she meticulously pulls it apart. She will save them for crafting purposes, and Mike is careful in taking them from her and placing them away for her so they don’t get crumpled.
Sitting on the living room floor of the cabin, all eyes are on El as she opens the gift that, according to Mike, the whole party chipped in to buy for El. All of the boys, plus Max, who El isn’t quite sure about, but her friends trust the new girl, she had helped with the monsters while El was closing the gate, and so it was only fair for El to invite Max to her birthday party.
A party—for her.
She had never had one before. Didn’t even understand the concept of one until Hopper told her—after he got Dr. Owens to do some digging and found out the date El was born. June 7th, 1971. El hadn’t understood the significance of it—not really, not until she told Mike, who had been adamant that birthdays are meant to be celebrated with friends and gifts and lots of cake.
“You’re amazing, El, and turning a year older is fun. You should celebrate it every year,” Mike had said, essentially sealing El’s opinion on something that was so normal for everyone else, but foreign to her.
For thirteen years, there were no birthdays. No cakes, no balloons, no gifts, no friends. For twelve years, every day was the same; testing and experiments and needles and punishments if she didn’t rise to Papa’s expectations. And then she had that one year after Hopper found her, and while there were no birthday celebrations because Hopper didn’t know when she was born, it was still safe. Warmer. No tests, no being locked in a windowless room for failing.
At fourteen, El gets to celebrate her birthday with the friends she saved, and who saved her in return. She woke to Hopper having made her an Eggo extravaganza, with the promise of buying her a two-tiered cake for later that night when her friends came over. Now, there is a Happy Birthday! banner that is hung on the wall above the TV and balloons taped to the wall as well. El and her friends wear party hats where the string digs into her cheeks, but she doesn’t care.
They had all surrounded her, singing and clapping, and Mike had leaned close and whispered, “Make a wish and blow out the candles,” reminding her of the birthday tradition he had informed her of earlier that week. She has everything she could ever want, right in this room, she thinks.
This is a kind of happiness she had never been allowed before, and El holds onto it tightly. She wishes it lasts forever.
The breath in her throat hitches when she finally gets the wrapping paper off, eyes widening as she takes in the labeling of the box. Her gaping eyes look towards her friends, all of whom watch her with various excited and hopeful expressions. While Hopper had gotten her new puzzles, Joyce had gotten her a pretty sweater, and Nancy had sent over a new stuffed bear and some books in Mike’s hands—this gift might be El’s favorite.
“Would you look at that,” Hopper comments, his tone impressed as he leans forward to see what’s in El’s hand. “Your very own SuperComm.”
“They’ve all been saving up for it,” Joyce says with a smile, tapping her cigarette over the ashtray that sits between her and Hopper.
Next to El, Mike smiles at her softly, hands gripping his pale, knobby knees like he doesn’t know where else to put them. “This way, you can talk to all of us whenever you want,” he tells her, eyes alight with the mere thought of them being able to communicate more often than before.
El’s smile widens, despite the tightness in her chest. But it’s a good kind of ache, she thinks. Living so far away, right on the outskirts of Hawkins in the middle of the woods, often makes her feel lonely because she’s so far away from her friends. Mike lives clear on the other side of the town, yet he has been biking over to her place every day without fail just to spend time with her—save for a couple of days two weeks ago, when he came down with a summer cold and couldn’t get out of bed.
But this—this makes her feel like she belongs. El has no doubt that these friends she has made care about her, but for them all to buy this together for her. . . It makes her feel loved and wanted in a way that is almost foreign to her, but is quickly becoming familiar.
“Thank you,” El says, her voice a little hoarse from the tears that tighten her throat, blinking quickly to hold back the tears that burn her eyes. She hugs the box to her chest, smiling at each of them as she adds, “I love it.”
They have her open it while Joyce and Hopper clear up the kitchen, paper plates and plastic forks and cups spread about after they all ate food and cake. Will, who borrowed Jonathan’s camera, had been snapping pictures of them all throughout the party, and El occasionally hears the click of the shutter. Her friends tell her the channels they all are usually on, which Max helpfully writes down for her, along with the channel Mike tells her would be just theirs.
“No eavesdropping,” he adds pointedly to the others, giving them a look that has a grin spreading across El’s face.
Dustin and Lucas both scrunch their faces up in disgust. “As if we want to bear witness to your love fest,” Dustin says with a shudder.
“At least you’ll be at camp,” Lucas says. “The chances of the rest of us accidentally tuning into the wrong channel are high.”
He fake gags and while Dustin snorts, Max rolls her eyes, and Mike scowls, El can’t help but smile, running her fingers along the walkie-talkie, admiring the way the light gleams against the silver antenna. She already knows this is a gift she will treasure forever—and get great use out of.
Eventually, everyone starts to head out. Joyce drives the others home, since she had given them a ride, but Mike stays back, since he had biked over. Will leaves with the promise of asking Jonathan to develop the pictures soon so El can have them. Fortunately, Hopper doesn’t make any comments about Mike staying, though he does silently roll his eyes, and El suspects he keeps his mouth shut because it’s her birthday. She appreciates it, either way, as she and Mike retreat to her bedroom, the door kept open its standard three inches.
Mike sits cross legged on the bed, holding the bear Nancy got her in his lap, and El feels his eyes on her as she folds away the sweater Joyce got her, stacks the books and puzzles from Nancy and Hop on the shelf. With a smile touching her lips, she takes the cards everyone got her, gaze moving thoughtfully around her walls before finding the perfect spot to pin them all up on. There’s six cards—from Max, Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Hop, and the Byers—and El pins them all up, and with each one that goes up, she feels the tightness in her throat return.
By the time she’s done, she finds herself standing before the wall, looking at all of the cards, and the kind messages they all wrote in them, and the burning in her eyes returns. There is so much love written in the cards, in the gifts she received, kindness that she never experienced until she met these people.
Right as the first tear escapes, she hears her bed creak before the sounds of Mike’s footsteps approaching behind her. “El, you okay?” he asks, worry slipping into his gentle voice.
El nods, her growing curls bouncing. “I’m okay,” she whispers, sniffling as she turns around. He’s growing taller than her as she looks up at him, wiping at her cheek, which only makes his eyebrows furrow deeper in concern. “Just—happy.”
She sees his shoulders relax, reassured that it wasn’t anything bad. “Happy tears?” he asks knowingly, the corner of his mouth kicking up in a smile that makes her heart flutter.“Happy tears,” she repeats reassuringly, a short but breathless chuckle escaping her. “I’m glad everyone came.”
“Of course they came,” Mike says, as if anything else is impossible. “You’re our friend, and this is only your first birthday we’ll be celebrating with you. There’s so many more to come,” he finishes with a widening grin, eyes alight with the thought of more birthdays and more celebrations.
“I like that,” El murmurs, rolling her bottom lip into her mouth as she balances herself on the balls of her feet, hands behind her back. Cheeks warming, she says, “Thank you for the SuperComm.”
Mike shrugs, like it’s no big deal. But she sees the pink in his cheeks as he averts his gaze. “We all pitched in.”
El smiles fondly, tilting her head. “I know,” she says. “But I know it was your idea.”
Because of course it was Mike’s idea. Such a thoughtful and useful gift—it could only ever come from him. She is grateful for him, for all of their friends, and she cannot wait to use it all of the time.
“Well,” Mike clears his throat, and her smile widens at his awkwardness. “I just wanted you to have the perfect gift—and the perfect day.”
Her heart swells, skin flushing. “It was perfect,” she reassures with a nod, looking up at him through her eyelashes. The warmth in her cheeks intensifies as the words dance on her tongue, a little shy, but not shy enough to not go through with it. “But. . . There is one thing that’s missing. Then it will be better than perfect.”
Mike blinks, confused but intrigued. “What’s that?”
El steps closer, diminishing the gap between them, looking up at him meaningfully. She sees Mike’s lips part and eyes widen slightly, the way they dip to her lips, and her pulse quickens when she sees the realization dawn on his face with a fiercer flush of his cheeks. “Mike,” El whispers—a prompt, an encouragement, a wish.
She feels bold for her silent request, but Mike has never been one to make her feel silly about anything. Her heart dips and flips when he leans in without hesitation, his eyes on her lips and hers on his, and with an upwards tilt of her chin and eyes fluttering shut, El feels the gentle press of Mike’s lips on hers.
El welcomes the familiar sensation of the butterflies erupting in her stomach, the softness of his lips as he kisses her. Like always, her entire body grows warm, excited, relieved at his kiss, El’s hands coming up to rest on his shoulders as his hold her waist.
They kiss for what feels like hours but could only be a minute or so, both pulling away breathlessly—but not far as Mike presses his forehead to El’s. Her eyes remain closed but her smile returns happily, widening as Mike whispers, “Happy birthday, El.”
Yes, she was right. Better than perfect.
ii. June 1987 — 16 years old
The sun is bright when El wakes on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, but it does little to lift her spirits. When her eyes open, she stares at the ceiling, not having the energy or desire to get up. What’s the point? Hawkins is still split in four, the military is still looking for her and won’t let anyone leave town, Max is still in a coma, Henry is still gone but not dead yet, and El is another year older. Why does that matter when they have bigger things to worry about?
If she had it her way, she would be spending the day out in the field where her obstacle course had been made, training to be better, faster, stronger. Training to kill Henry.
Except—El moves away her comforter and lifts her head, gaze dropping towards her feet, and her jaw clenches as she exhales roughly through her nose at the sight of her right foot wrapped up. She had screwed up during her last training session. Timed a jump wrong and landed badly on her foot, effectively spraining it. She’s lucky she didn’t break it, but Hopper had forbidden her from training until her foot was properly healed. El wasn’t stupid; she knew if she tried to train before it was fully healed, she would only further damage it, and that would mean delaying training even more. She couldn’t do that.
Still, she’s annoyed. Angry with herself for screwing up a jump she has gotten right countless times before. She has been training for a year, has done that jump so many times before, and one wrong move has her down for the count until her foot gets better.
So, no. El doesn’t care about turning sixteen. There is very little to celebrate. She hadn’t wanted to celebrate last year, either, so soon after everything happened, but Hopper was back and they were all together in Hawkins again, and despite Max being in the hospital and so much still unknown, everyone wanted something good. A small affair in the cabin that was still being fixed, but it had been good. Her birthday had followed Mike’s, and other than dinner with his family, he had come right over to spend most of the day with her. That had been good, too.
When she sits up, her annoyed glare falls on the single crutch Hopper had found, leaning against her nightstand. With a sigh, El uses her nightstand as leverage to get up, making sure not to put any weight on her busted ankle as she grabs the crutch and tucks it under her right arm, gripping the lower rung as she walks—hobbles, really—out of the room.
“Is that the birthday girl I hear?” Hopper’s voice calls out, bouncing off the walls of the cabin.
When El emerges, her eyes find him by the table, and a heavy breath escapes her when she sees what’s waiting for her. A glass of orange juice and a triple decker Eggo Extravaganza. He gestures to it in a ta-da fashion, waving her over. “Come on. Birthday breakfast of champions.”
With a sigh, El moves over, the bottom of the crutch tapping loudly against the wooden floorboards. Hopper pulls the chair out for her and she turns sideways before dropping onto the chair, leaning the crutch against the wall. “I told you. No celebrations,” El says, though she does eye her plate hungrily.
Hopper rolls his eyes as he sits opposite of her. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you. It’s just breakfast, kid.” He gestures to her fork with his own, and when El picks it up, Hopper says, “You know your no celebrations rule isn’t gonna stop Mike from coming over today, right?”
She feels some of her annoyance fizzle away at the mention of Mike, a small smile touching her mouth. “I know,” El says, cutting a piece of waffle with her fork, making sure to get syrup and whipped cream and chocolate chips. “He doesn’t count.”
Hopper snorts, unsurprised. “How’s the foot doing?”
El’s lips turn downwards as she chews, exhaling sharply through her nose. “Still hurts,” she answers honestly, begrudgingly.
He purses his lips, nodding. “It’ll be a while before it’s feeling like normal again. Don’t try to rush the healing process.”
“I know,” El says a little sharply, grip on the fork tightening. She’s not going to make any stupid choices, not now.
Hopper doesn’t say anything about his tone, and they eat in silence for the next few minutes, the only sounds coming from the clinking of forks against the plate. She feels guilt dip her stomach for snapping at Hopper, but before she can apologize, he breaks the silence. “I have to go to the Squawk for a little while. Can I trust you and Wheeler to behave yourselves while I’m gone?”
El’s head snaps up, eyes widening a little. Hopper doesn’t leave the two of them alone in the cabin all that often but when he does, she and Mike grab the opportunity as hard as they can. It’s hard for them to find some alone time, since she and Hopper are in hiding with the military in town. The only places she can be is the cabin, the field where she trains, and the Squawk. Only the cabin is where she and Mike can be truly alone, and pulse quickens at the thought of it being just them today.
“I—yes,” El says, trying not to sound too excited. She knows she fails, though, the way Hopper shakes his head but smiles knowingly. “Of course.” Releasing a breath, she smiles gratefully and says, “Thanks, Hop.”
He chuckles lowly. “Anything for the birthday girl.”
She grins, licking her fork before saying, “You’ve got whipped cream on your beard.”
“Jesus Christ.”
About an hour or so later, Hopper is getting ready to leave right as a familiar knock sounds at the door. El immediately sits up, but Hopper clicks his tongue. “I’ve got it,” he says, already walking towards the door.
El watches him undo the locks before opening the door, and her smile is bright and happy at the sight of Mike on the other side. Her heart skips a beat at the bouquet of flowers he holds in his hands, purple and yellow like the ones he brought for her in California, and a smile on his face that has her melting into the couch.
“Morning, Hop,” he greets as her dad opens the door wider.
“Morning, kid. Come on in.” Hopper steps to the side, letting Mike walk in. “I’m gonna head out,” he informs them both. “Mike, lock the door behind me, would ya?”
Mike nods, eyebrows rising. “Yeah, sure.”
Once Hopper leaves with a final “Behave, you two,” and Mike puts the locks back in place, El immediately holds her arms out, wiggling her fingers. Her earlier annoyance has all but disappeared, replaced by a giddiness that only exists when Mike is around. When he looks at her, a laugh escapes him and immediately comes over. “Happy birthday, El!” he exclaims, coming over and dropping down on the couch, letting her pull him in for a hug.
Her fingers immediately find home in his hair, chin hooking over his shoulder as she’s enveloped in his arms and the familiar scent of his cologne and soap. “Hi,” she says as they pull away.
His grin is wide. “Hi,” he returns. “These are for you,” he adds, holding the flowers, wrapped together in a purple bow that only widens her grin.
El takes them from him, chest warm as she smells them, the floral scent relaxing her. “Thank you,” she says, leaning in and pressing her lips to his.
The kiss is gentle and sweet, his hand finding her cheek as she leans further into him, careful not to jostle her foot that is propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. When she pulls him in deeper, her back against the couch, Mike chuckles into the kiss. “Wait, wait—” She feels his grin against her lips. “I still have to give you your present.”
She breaks the kiss, at home with her racing pulse and tingling lips. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” El says, even as her grin widens and eyes brighten, hugging the flowers to her chest.
Mike snorts out a laugh as he brings his backpack around to settle on his lap. She bites her bottom lip, unable to stop herself from grinning as he unzips the bag and pulls out a small velvet box, holding it out for her.
She meets his gaze, catches the raise of his eyebrows, and smiles as she takes the box. Mike takes the flowers from her lap, leaning over to put them on the coffee table as he watches her open the box. The breath hitches in El’s throat at the necklace that sits inside. A simple gold chain, with a small pearl pendant hanging from it, her lips parting at how lovely it is.
“Mike. . .” His name is a whisper on her lips, blinking quickly as tears burn her eyes.
“It’s your birthstone,” he tells her as El’s fingers lightly brush against the pearl, her throat closing up.
“It’s. . . This is beautiful, Mike,” El says. She touches the pearl gently, the light catching the ruby stone of the ring she wears on her left hand, another piece of jewelry given to her by Mike. “It’s too much. You shouldn’t—”
“Hey,” he gently cuts in, shifting closer to her, bringing her gaze back to him as her throat works to swallow down the emotion that tightens it. “I should, because it’s—it’s small in comparison to what you deserve.”
She lets out a sound that is halfway between a laugh and a sob, her heart running a mile a minute as she carefully lifts the necklace out. “Put it on me?”
Mike nods, carefully taking the necklace. El shifts forward, gathering her hair over her left shoulder, her eyes on Mike’s face as he unclasps the necklace before bringing it around her neck, looking over her shoulder. Her throat dries at the sensation of his nimble fingers brushing along the skin of her neck, and it’s a warm summer day but goosebumps break out across her skin under his familiar touch.
Her fingers touch the pearl pendant, the chain of the necklace cool against her warming skin as Mike clasps it. When he leans back, her eyes find his and there’s a soft smile on his face as he says, “Beautiful.”
The heat in her cheeks intensifies, because he’s looking right into her eyes rather than at the necklace, and her heart swells as her other hand cups his cheek. She feels his smile against her palm, with the curve of his cheek, and El’s throat works before she says, “I love you.”
Mike’s long fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, turning his head to press a kiss on her palm, her skin tingling where his lips touch. “I love you,” he returns and, oh, El will never get tired of hearing those words come out of Mike. Raising his eyebrows, he asks, “So—what do you want to do? I’m yours for the whole day.”
El scoffs out a laugh. “I don’t have a plan,” she says with a shrug. “I’m fine with watching movies. I can’t really do much,” she adds, lips turning downwards as she gestures to her wrapped up foot.
Mike follows her gaze, pursing his lips at her injury, wincing as though he feels it in his own body. “Have you iced it today?” When El shakes her head, Mike is on his feet before she can even stop him. He takes the flowers, going to the kitchen, and El follows him with her gaze as she watches him work. First by pulling a small vase out of one of the cabinets and filling it with water, placing the flowers in them. Then, he pulls out an ice pack from the freezer, walking back over with it in one hand and the vase in the other. “Do you want these in your room?” he asks, raising the flowers.
El nods and he goes to her room first, putting the flowers away, before he returns to the couch. He hands El the ice pack and goes to the shelf holding the VHS collection that has been growing once again, since a lot were destroyed back when the Mind Flayer had attacked. She watches Mike crouch down to look at the tapes on the lower shelves, rummaging through before he asks, “How about The Breakfast Club?”
El smiles. “Sounds perfect.”
Once he puts the tape in, Mike grabs the remote off the coffee table and moves back to the couch. “Here, get more comfortable,” he says and, after checking with her, loops his arm carefully under her legs.
They maneuver until El is lying on her side, head leaning against the arm rest, with Mike right next to her with her legs carefully placed over his lap. Taking the ice pack from her, he carefully places it on her ankle, and El hisses more from the cold than any pain as Mike grimaces. “I’m fine,” she says before he can apologize, prompting him to fully rest the pack on her ankle over the wrapping, since she needs to change it, anyway.
As they watch the movie, Mike’s left hand settles on the curve of her hip, his touch warm through the material of her romper. Every now and then, he readjusts the ice pack on her ankle, the two of them existing in silence as the movie plays. Halfway through, however, El’s gaze begins to wander, slipping from the TV towards Mike, and her eyes linger on him. She happily, greedily, takes in his profile; the proud length of his nose, the sharp line of his jaw, the dark hair that curls around his ears. Her heart aches, sometimes, when she looks at him. When she is able to admire the sight of him, knowing he’s hers to keep, knowing he loves her and only her.
It bursts out of her, this love she has only ever felt for him—will only ever feel for him—and keeps her eyes glued onto him, even as Mike looks away from the TV and locks gazes with her. Despite the heat in El’s cheeks, she doesn’t look away as he arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile touching his lips. “You’re not watching the movie.”
Her right hand reaches up, the proximity between them making it easy for her to lightly grasp the collar of his shirt. “Found something better,” El answers simply, shy smile widening when both of his eyebrows, now, rise up high on his forehead as she gives him a little tug.
He is never one to deny her, and El pushes herself up enough to meet him halfway, their lips finding one another in a slow, deliberate kiss that makes her stomach swoop and her heart flutter. Without fail, every time they kiss, it’s like the first time back in the middle school cafeteria, when so much was unknown but this was thrilling and real and full of hope and promise.
El sighs into the kiss, melting in the feel of Mike’s lips moving against hers as her hand loosens from the collar of his shirt to slipping to the back of his neck, needing him closer. Mike makes a small noise. “Careful—your foot,” he mumbles. While one hand braces himself on the arm rest behind her, the other still committed to holding the icepack against the ankle.
She makes her own noise of protest. “I don’t care,” she says before kissing him again—harder, fuller.
The chuckle that escapes Mike is both adoring and exasperated. “El—”
She kisses the corner of his mouth, bumping her nose with his. “My birthday, my rules.”
“Okay—well—” He laughs as El continues raining kisses on his lips, the corners, his jaw, his cheeks. “I’m sure there’s a more—” He hums when El kisses him again, speaking in between her loving attack. “A more comfortable way—”
El’s lips curl up. The giddiness that swells inside of her is unstoppable, their smiles touching as she keeps him close. El craves his warmth, craves to keep this fluttering in her stomach forever, craves to keep running her fingers through his hair like she is now. “There is,” she answers, arching an eyebrow before, eyes on his, she jerks her chin towards her bedroom.
Mike raises his eyebrows, the flush of his cheeks mirroring her own. “Pretty sure that’s not what Hopper meant when he said behave.”
El pulls back, pursing her lips as she shoots him a flat look. “Do you want to keep talking about Hop or do you want to go to my room and—”
“Nope, no, you’re right. I’m going to shut up now,” Mike says, making El grin in triumph as he sits up. He tosses the ice pack onto the coffee table with a thud, arching an eyebrow. “You ready?”
El blinks. “Ready for wha—Mike!” She laughs out his name amidst a startled shout, arms immediately wrapping around his neck when he uses his seated position to his advantage by getting to his feet with El in his arms, carrying her bridal style.
She stares at him incredulously, though her grin is wide and her heart is singing, as Mike rounds the couch to head towards her room. They’re both cautious of her foot, but his wide and mischievous grin is accompanied by her giggles, and although her bed is bigger than the couch, her foot is still injured—but they find a way to make it work. They always do.
iii. June 1988 — 17 years old
El’s seventeenth is her first birthday after faking her death. After leaving behind everything and everyone she loves.
Her seventeenth birthday is spent in a shady motel in a no name town, with the curtains drawn and the lights off. Nothing to celebrate and no one to celebrate with.
The sun rises and sets on El’s seventeenth birthday, but it does not take her grief and loneliness with it. It is her gift to keep for years to come.
iv. June 1989 — 18 years old
A lot changes between her seventeenth and eighteenth birthdays.
She is far, far away from the only home she has ever had, slowly building a new one that doesn’t feel quite complete, no matter how hard she tries. Slowly learning a foreign language to further solidify the reality of this new home. Slowly becoming a local rather than the mysterious American girl whose story no one knows.
When her boss at the café learns that it’s her birthday—turning an age a few years older than what she actually is, according to all of her fake but believable paperwork—she gives El the day off. “It is your day. Take a break, relax, do something fun,” Johánna had said.
And El tries—she really does. But it’s only her second birthday after she ran away, and despite the friendly smiles and waves she is greeted by when she walks down the streets of this little Icelandic town, it is still lonely. Her stomach hollows at the memory of eating Triple Decker Eggo Extravaganzas with Hopper, cutting her birthday cake with her friends surrounding her and clapping, stealing kisses with Mike whenever she got the chance.
She didn’t get many birthdays with them, but the ones she was gifted with. . . El holds those memories close. Holds them in her tender, bruised heart that yearns for that familiar love that she has deprived herself of.
When the sun is high, El packs a small basket. Fills it with a bottle of water, soda, makes herself a hearty sandwich she won’t finish, puts some chips, and the brownies Johánna had given her for free from the café. Folds a blanket on top and with her backpack on, she leaves her apartment and begins the trek she has made dozens of times already during the year she has been living here.
The waterfalls are a near half an hour walk from her apartment, but El enjoys it. Feels giddy when the pavement gives way to gravel and then grass as she nears the valley, the roar of the water growing louder and louder with every step she takes.
When she reaches her preferred spot, the view of the two waterfalls breathtaking with a rainbow forming near the base where the sunlight hits, El sets the basket down and spreads the blanket, before settling down herself. It is quiet, save for the rush of water, just her and the falls.
As she eats, El tries to find peace in it. In the warmth of the sunlight and the hiss of the water, El tries to find a sense of happiness that she hasn’t felt in a long time. There is only contentment, but contentment is not happiness. There is safety, being so far from those who mean her harm, but there is also loneliness, being so far from those who mean her only love.
Sandwich half eaten, El’s gaze lingers on the waterfalls, her throat tightening. He should be here with me. He should see this. It’s all El can think about—he is all she can ever think about, every day for the last eighteen months. Is he thinking about her today? Is he thinking about her at all?
Her bottom lip trembles, her right index finger and thumb finding the ring she still wears on her left index finger, and the breath she exhales is shaky. Blinking back the tears from her eyes, El looks around, unsurprised but relieved to see she is alone. Swallowing the lump in her throat, El digs into her backpack, sifting through until she finds the blindfold.
El looks down at the dark blue material in her hand, taking a few breaths as her pulse quickens. She doesn’t need a tub, and the rush of the water is loud enough. Her fingers tremble as she closes her eyes and ties the blindfold over them, sitting cross legged and channeling her powers, as easy as breathing.
Mike.
When El opens her eyes, she is in the familiar darkness of the void, and her gaze is immediate to land on Mike.
A sob escapes her, uncontrolled and unrestrained, when she looks at him. His hair is still cut short, his jaw just as sharp, lips just as full, but his eyes—oh, those eyes. Dark eyes that she loves so much, that were always so bright, so warm, so loving, so full of life every time he looked at her—now are dull and hollow.
The tightness in El’s chest is sharp and painful as she slowly walks over to where he is sitting on the ground, and the air catches in her chest as she nears him, stepping a little more into his world, and realizes with tears burning in her eyes that he is sitting at the base of a tree. Their tree—the very tree they had carved their initials in, back in 1986.
She grows closer and closer and she knows she should stop, knows she cannot let herself get too close. Mike has always had some kind of sixth sense for her, being the only person ever who can sense her in the void, other than Mama. But Mama was like El, so it made sense.
And Mike. . . Mike loves El enough to break through interdimensional space, it seems.
Oh, Mike. Her heart aches fiercely as she takes in his tear streaked face, her knees shaking until she collapses when she’s next to him. She does not touch him, does not reach for him even though every part of her screams at her to. The water ripples beneath her, but El takes in Mike, sitting with his knees brought up and arms propped on top of them, and her already dried throat burns when she sees what is dangling between the fingers of his right hand.
Even in the darkness of the void, the gold and pearl necklace Mike had gotten her for her sixteenth birthday gleams with the subtlest of movements. El’s face crumples, tears flowing freely as her hand presses to the base of her throat where the pendant would lay, if she still had it.
She wants it back around her neck, wants Mike to be the one to return it to its rightful place once more. Instead, El sits next to him, watches him fall apart as every cell in her body begs her to touch him, to let him know she’s okay, she’s right here. Even now, even after so long, Mike is still hurting for her, missing her. She sees it in the hollowness of his cheeks, the dullness of his eyes, the way he breathes like it’s difficult for him to do so.
To see him in so much pain, knowing she is the cause of it, kills her. It cleaves her heart in two and then shatters the halves into a million pieces. It is an agony far worse than the pain she felt with those suppression machines; the same kind of agony she feels when she wakes in the middle of the night, chased out of sleep by the haunting sounds of Mike’s screams of her name.
How could she do this to him?
“You’re eighteen today.” The sound of Mike’s voice has her gasping out of her thoughts, blinking the tears away as she looks at him. Mike’s eyes are on the necklace, nose pink and eyes glassy. His voice is rough, like he has gone too long without using it. “I hope you’re eating a lot of cake today. Chocolate, with your favorite buttercream frosting. I–I wish—” His voice breaks and a sob escapes El as Mike’s throat works, blinking hard a few times. “I wish I was there with you, wherever you are, to celebrate. Eighteen’s a big number. Legally an adult.” He nods a couple of times, his other hand reaching so his fingers can brush against the pearl. “I hope your adult years are better, happier, than your childhood was. You deserve better. You deserve more—more than I could’ve ever given you.”
El shakes her head, the salt of her tears stinging her lips, trying to breathe through her nose and failing from the tears that have filled it. Her chest burns, hating his words. Hating that he thinks her childhood wasn’t happy. And, for the most part, maybe it wasn’t. She went through so much, too much, than a child ever should. And yet, there were still happy moments, moments filled with love, and that was thanks to Mike. Whatever pain she had felt when she was a child, it paled in comparison to the love and peace she felt when she was with Mike. How could he not know that? How could he diminish his significance in her life?
She knows it’s because she left him. Knows that it’s his grief, his anger, his pain talking. Knows that she’s the reason for all of it.
“I love you, I miss you, all the time. Eat lots of cake for me, baby,” Mike whispers, the corner of his mouth barely lifting into a half hearted smile. And then his eyes shift and El holds her breath when they lock with hers, like he is looking right at her. There is a subtle furrow in his brows, like he can feel her as El remains frozen, pulse pounding wildly. But Mike doesn’t do anything; he doesn’t say anything, either, other than a whispered, “Happy birthday, El,” right to her face.
He curls his fingers around the necklace, El’s heart in her throat as he brings the fist up to his mouth and presses his lips to his knuckles, and she can’t breathe through this pain. He talks about her like she is still alive, like he has convinced himself of it and won’t believe otherwise.
It kills her, because he hasn’t moved on. He is stuck on her, just like she is stuck on him.
And yet. . . And yet it fills her with hope, too. Maybe one day. Maybe when the time is right. Maybe when it’s safer. Maybe when the world has moved on but they haven’t. . .
Maybe there will be more birthdays to celebrate together.
Later, in her apartment, after stopping by the bakery to get herself a small cake, El sits it down on her kitchen counter and sticks a single candle in the middle of the chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. The flame of the match bursts to life and El lights the candlewick, blowing out the match before leaning forward on the counter, arms folded as she nears the flame.
El lets her eyes slip shut. Mike’s voice whispers in her ear. Make a wish.
And so she does.
v. June 1996 — 25 years old
El’s twenty-fifth birthday is the loudest affair of them all.
Long gone is the apartment she lived in when she first arrived to Iceland, and in its place is her very own cabin, reminiscent of the one she shared with Hopper, but bigger, brighter, decorated with pieces of her and Mike and the life they have built together. It is big enough for them, their dog Chewie, and the baby girl they welcomed a few months prior at the end of March, two weeks shy of Mike’s birthday.
That baby girl looks exceptionally tiny in Hopper’s arms, her tiny hand wrapped around Hopper’s finger as he coos and makes faces at her. Around them, the world is bright and chaotic—because everyone is here.
Over the last week or so, somehow, all of El’s loved ones found time off from work and their lives to come to Iceland to simply celebrate El’s birthday. Hopper and the Byers, Lucas and Max, Dustin and Steve, Robin, and Nancy. El had thought it was impossible, for some reason, to think of everyone being together again, in her new home of all places. Over the years, they visited separately on their own time, after finding out she was still alive, one it was safe to do so. The reunions had been teary and beautiful, with promises to visit more, to write often.
But El’s birthday, and Grace’s birth, had been the perfect reason for everyone to come. To celebrate two lives—three, really, because there would be no Grace if Mike wasn’t here, and so it’s a celebration of their family growing, of the love spreading.
El is twenty-five years old today and she remembers, once, thinking it was a miracle she even made it to fifteen. Ten years later, and she has plenty of reasons to see more birthdays.
The cabin’s backyard had been transformed for the party. Foldable tables and chairs were brought out, balloons and a birthday banner that reminded her of her fourteenth birthday back in Hopper’s cabin. There was water and soda and alcohol and more than enough food to keep everyone’s bellies full, and El can’t help but look at it all with gratitude bursting out of every pore.
An arm slips around her waist from behind and El’s hands immediately find the hand resting on top of her stomach, leaning backwards until she is pressed against Mike’s chest. “Having fun?” he murmurs into her ear, lips brushing along the shell of her ear.
She watches as Robin and Max play with Chewie, as Steve animatedly tells a story of a recent baseball game he coached while the others laugh, as Hopper and Joyce sit together and smile over their granddaughter, and El’s throat tightens at the sight of it all. “I think I might cry,” she tells Mike quietly, honestly.
“What? Why?” Mike asks, instantly on alert, tensing against her and she can feel him beginning to move so he can come around her, but she tightens her hold on him.
“Happy tears,” she says, effectively making him relax. She hears him let out a breath, and her lips curl up. “All of this—” Her gaze sweeps over her surroundings once more, her heart swelling. “Feels like a dream come true.”
She turns around in his arms, then, so she can look up at Mike and loop her arms around his neck. His hands immediately settle on her hips, his touch burning her skin through the soft material of her summer dress. Her hair, longer than ever and dyed a dark red because she wanted to try something new, flows down her back as she tips her head to look Mike in the eye.
With her own fingers finding home in his hair, she whispers, “You are a dream come true. Our daughter is a dream come true. This life we’ve made—it’s everything I could ever want.”
Mike’s throat works, his gaze softening yet never wavering with the love that fills them. El feels Mike’s hands tighten on her hips, keeping her close as his eyebrows do that thing—rising a little and coming together in the middle, briefly, like she has surprised him. It never gets old. “You deserve it, El,” Mike says, one hand leaving her hip and before she can miss the loss, his hand rises to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear before he cups her cheek. “All of this and so much more.”
She parts her lips to argue, to tell him this is enough, more than she ever thought she could get, but he cuts her off by closing the gap and pressing his lips to hers. Whatever she was going to say flies out of her mind as Mike kisses her, her fingers tightening in his hair as she deepens the kiss greedily, uncaring of where they are and who they’re with. She feels alive, feels the beauty of twenty-five, as Mike’s other arm slips fully around her waist, leaning into her until she’s bent backwards and pulling him with her, arms around his neck.
Somewhere in the distance, she hears a camera shutter and she knows Jonathan will send her copies of all the photos once he gets them developed. She already has an album ready for just the event of everyone being here.
For now, she loses herself in Mike’s kiss, in her fluttering stomach and racing heart and burning skin. In the way she feels him smiling against her lips, in the faint taste of the beer on his tongue mixing with the taste of Coke on hers. She is lost and floating and exactly where she wants to be, and it’s only interrupted when—
“Time for cake!” Joyce’s voice calls out.
Their kiss breaks, even though Mike chases her lips for a split second before they both look over to see Joyce carrying a large cake with two candles lit atop—a two and a five. She brings it towards one of the tables, everyone gathering around as Mike takes El’s right hand, smiling at her as he pulls her along.
El laughs, her left hand wrapping around his elbow as they approach the table. Everyone is watching her, smiles on their faces, with Hopper still holding Grace until he hands her off to Mike. They coo at their baby girl, who blinks up at them with big brown eyes, curious of the world and people around her. But there’s a look in her eyes that El swears means she recognizes her and Mike, and it makes her heart swell as she leans down to kiss her daughter’s round, full cheek.
Everyone sings happy birthday and El looks around at all of these people she loves, who traveled thousands of miles for them, who came bearing gifts and smiles and so much love. With Mike next to her, holding Grace, El takes the knife as she looks down at the candles that don’t blow out even as a gentle breeze caresses them all.
As the song comes to an end, she feels Mike lean towards her before he says, “Make a wish, El.” He seals it with a kiss to her cheek that
El glances over at him, at the brown eyes that were the first home she has ever known, that continue to be the source of safety and love every day of her life. She admires his smile, one that also carries relief and gratitude of his own, and El has to tell herself repeatedly to keep the tears at bay.
And then her gaze dips, breath hitching to see her daughter looking up at El from her father’s arms, and El thinks this is a kind of love she wasn’t sure would be possible for her. But here is Grace, living proof that it is. Living proof that all of the fighting, the blood, the pain—all of it had been worth it, if it meant El gets to be here with Grace and Mike and everyone.
This is not the first time El has gotten everything she could ever want—but it is the first time that this will stick. She knows it like a fact set in stone, carved deep into her soul. This is it. This is her life—this is forever. No more fighting, no more monsters, no more fear. Just an abundance of happiness, relief, and love. It is here to stay, she knows.
So with all of the people she loves watching her, El leans down, fingers lightly grasping the pearl pendant around her neck, and lets her eyes slip shut, a smile of untouchable happiness gracing her lips as she makes a wish that lasts for the rest of her life—and then some.
I wish for exactly this—forever.