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She had wanted it to be different from the cabin. Open windows to let the morning light in and to allow the afternoon breeze to flow freely through the kitchen. She had wanted big potted plants in the doorway and soft blankets on the couch. She’d wanted posters and pictures and mirrors like she’d seen Nancy and Max had in their bedrooms. The only thing El wanted, the only thing she allowed herself to long for, was for her tiny cottage to belong to her, to feel like a home.
It took her 79 days to get there. The waterfalls, the quiet, a little town in Iceland with one story houses and a daycare with less than twenty children. They hired her as an assistant, wiping tear soaked little faces and helping out with fuzzy kids during meal times. It was repetitive and grueling; she had to deal with messy diapers and knee scratches, every day this one kid would cry and yell and punch during drop off and everyday it took her about twenty minutes to get him to settle and go join the others. Eleven loved it. By day 284 she almost felt like she could exhale.
It was just a fifteen minute walk from town to her cottage, surrounded by big arid rocks and grass that prevailed and grew through the cracks. Every afternoon she would stop by the bakery for a pastry on her way back and maybe the market as well. Flowers don’t grow here like they do in Hawkins, too cold, but there was a big blue house on the edge of town, with tulips and poppies in the garden.
It’s day 284 when El takes some for the first time, she was walking back from the daycare, the loose strands of hair from her ponytail were sticking to her face due to sweat and her jeans were stained with paint and maybe something else. She walks past the blue house and looks at the garden like she does every day, only today there is no old lady sitting by the porch, no dog sleeping by the wooden fence, only the distant noise of water falling, Enough time has passed, she thinks. El looks around for a moment before climbing to the other side. She picks some flowers, purple and yellow, and makes sure to not clutch the stems too tight in her hand as she makes the rest of her way back home.
Nighttime comes early in Iceland. Eleven gets home, splashes water on her face, unties her hair. She doesn’t have posters yet, all her pictures and memories she had to leave behind, but she does have a fluffy blanket and now she also has two glass bottles filled with flowers, sitting by the windowsill. It’s day 284, Eleven curls up on the couch, the tv is playing some soap opera she doesn’t understand a word of, she watches for a while, piecing together movements and facial expressions to understand what’s happening in front of her, this is something she’s more than used to. She told herself that morning that this would be the night, but she now knows it isn’t, she’s way too run down and exhausted. The characters on the screen keep making incomprehensible sounds, and she just keeps watching.
She doesn’t dare the next night, because it’s been raining all day and so she brought mud into the house. Cleaning the floor and washing her clothes seems like a much more responsible use of her time, after all, she only owns two pairs of pants.
Days 286 was no good either, She had to stay late at work helping clean up after a birthday party they had. On day 287 the couple from the soap opera found out they were siblings, or cousins or something like that, and she just had to watch and figure it out.
It’ not until day 292, a quiet and restless Sunday, that El finally brings herself to do it. She’s already read her book and written in her journal, she cleaned the bathrooms and changed her sheets in the morning, made lunch and went to town and back to get some vegetables and bread. It’s only three in the afternoon after all that. She sips tea standing in her kitchen and remembers: the gate, his distorted face and the pleading screams they’d all let out, the back of the truck she’d sneak into a couple of days later to cross state lines. Those nights she slept on the streets of an unknown city, not for the first time in her life.
Eleven puts her mug down on the counter, lets out a shaky breath and grabs her scarf from the hanger by the door. She sits down on the floor, and with a slight tilt of her head the black screen from the tv turns to static. She rolls her shoulders back, takes a deep breath, she’s back in the void.
El steps forward.
It’s all dark for a second, just the splash of her footsteps and the all consuming vast blackness.
Then she finds him.
Mike
He’s sitting on his bed, over the covers, legs drawn close to his chest. Eleven takes a step forward, he is smoking a cigarette. She reaches her hand out, his eyes are closed as he blows the smoke out into the air above him. She touches it, and watches as the smoke fades away into nothingness.
Mike opens his eyes suddenly.
She freezes.
He looks around for a second, shoulders tense, before letting out a shaky breath. He pinches the bridge of his nose. They both stay still for just a moment. Eleven notices how his cheeks are slightly hollow and there are purple bags under his eyes. He takes another drag of his cigarette and turns to the side. El follows his gaze to the picture of herself that rests on his nightstand, next to it the alarm clock reads 3:24am.
She wants to sit in bed next to him, wants to feel his warmth and tell him it’s okay, that somehow, against all odds she is okay. Mike puts off the cigarette in the ashtray. Eleven hates it, hates the look in his eyes. She is so tired of fighting, yet somehow she finds the strength to reach out her hand again.
Mike runs a hand through his hair, it’s getting long. He is now sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at his feet and breathing heavily. Just one second, just one sign, Eleven thinks. She allows herself to cup his face, he looks up immediately. Their eyes don’t get to meet, as soon as she brushes his cheek, Mike fades away into a cloud of smoke.
Eleven is back in her cottage, back on the floor, sitting alone.
It is so cold.
There’s one little girl at the daycare, Unnur, who clings to Eleven’s leg most mornings and who lays awake and silent all through naptime. She has soft, blonde hair like Holly Wheeler and big piercing dark eyes.
All the kids are supposed to be asleep right now. Eleven and Freyja, the only other daycare worker even remotely close to her age, are getting the afternoon snack ready while silently standing watch.
Eleven is mindlessly portioning yogurt into plastic cups when she notices Unnur kicking her blanket away, clearly uncomfortable.
“I’ve got it,” El says to Freyja, who gives her a small distracted nod in return.
She sits next to Unnur, who curls up in her lap immediately, quiet.
“Can’t sleep?” El whispers, the girl just blinks up at her. Everyone has said it’s good that she speaks to the children in English so they can start learning, sometimes it just makes her feel far away from them, though. The familiarity of being unable to communicate sits uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach.
Unnur takes one of El’s small braids and inspects it, softly brushing it against her face, she then reaches out towards El,who leans forward so the little girl can tickle her nose with the braid. They share a soft giggle, Eleven brushes her hand through Unnur’s hair and lets the little girl play with her fingers, she spins and fidgets with El’s ring and compares the size of their hands. Eleven doesn’t get Unnur to fall asleep, but she’s calmed and content for the remainder of nap time, they both are.
As soon as she gets home that night, Eleven opens the kitchen tap, letting the water run. She grabs her scarf, turns on the TV. He’d look so sad, the dark in his eyes hasn’t left her mind, It’s day 293.
She has to look only for a second, she pictures his face and the sensation of holding his hand.
They’re in Hawkins High.
Eleven stands in the middle of a classroom, walking past the tired looking woman by the whiteboard. She spots Will and Dustin first, they sit next to each other by the front, close to the door. They’re taking a test, El realizes. She peaks over her friend’s shoulders and notices how Will writes steadily and doodles in the corner of the page when he has to stop to think for a second. Dustin is fast, as if he were competing in a race. It makes Eleven smile.
It takes her a second to spot Mike because he’s not where she assumed he’d be. Instead he sits in the back corner, resting his head in his arm. He glances up as Eleven walks over to his desk, but looks right through her, with a small sigh he casts his eyes back down. His test is blank, he’s not even holding a pen.
Eleven remembers that feeling, being in Lenora and staring down at a sheet of paper asking her to list and explain things she’d never even heard of. She remembers feeling helpless and thinking that writing nothing was better than writing something that showed how much she didn’t know; but Mike had never struggled in school, not in that way at least. She crouches by his desk and wishes she could help him, tell him the answer, tell him anything at all. Instead she just looks at him, at the freckles on his cheek and the hairs that fall and cover his forehead. She takes him in, looks at his striped sweater and wishes she could smell it again, wear it at night. She looks at him greedily, trying to soak up as much Mike as she can get; even if he’s just a vision, just a mirage, even if this version of him is in so much pain.
The school bell rings, Eleven watches as all the students walk past her to hand in their papers. She notices Dustin and Will waiting for Mike by the door. She follows him, she’s not ready to let go. Mike hands in his blank test without a word, going to join his friends when the teacher calls his name.
“Micheal, can you hang back for a second, please.” Mike stops in his tracks and looks at his friends.
“You don’t have to wait outside for me,” he says to them, like this has happened before. Will seems like he is about to protest, but Mike cuts in, “You’ll be late.”
Dustin and Will look at each other, Dustin puts a hand on Mike’s shoulder, “See you at lunch, man,” he says, like he’s trying to sound casual, but there’s a seriousness behind his words.
Mike nods once and turns away.
“Can you explain this?” The teacher says as soon as everyone else has left the classroom. She holds the blank test in her hand.
Mike shrugs, not really looking at her, “ I’ll do better next time.”
“This is the third time something like this has happened, Mike. I’ve been wanting to help you, but there’s nothing I can do if you don’t work with me.”
Eleven’s eyes widened, even at the height of their search last year, Mike often did school work when he’d go visit her at the cabin. They would sit in her bedroom, she’d read a comic book or draw while he did his physics homework. He would do his English class reading out loud, she would lay her head on his lap and listen, making little remarks about what she thought was interesting or funny.
Mike's reading voice was soft and steady, it had been getting deeper lately. Still, he could not resist making silly voices and big gestures to make her giggle.
“ I like this,” El said. She was tired from training, Mike was absentmindedly pressing his fingers into the side of her neck, releasing tension.
“The Great Gatsby?”
“Being normal,” she said, “or pretending to be normal, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Mike pressed a small kiss on top of her head, “yeah, I like it too.”
“I just didn’t know the answers, okay? I’m sorry.” Mike’s eyes go towards the door, clearly wanting to escape the conversation.
“ I talked to some of your teachers from last year, you know? They all said you were a bright student.” Something shifts in Mike then, something hardens.
“Yeah well, a lot has changed.” He snaps. The teacher leans back on her desk, a soft, pitting smile on her face.
“ You’re not alone, Mike,” she speaks like she understands, Eleven hates her.
“ Everyone in Hawkins, we’re all trying to move on.” She continues, “ And we all have to put in a little effort for that to happen, okay?”
Mike raises his eyebrows slightly at the comment, but other than that he does not react. El, however, can feel her heart going fast, can feel the anger and the hurt moving through her body with nowhere to go.
“ Can I leave now?” His voice is flat and emotionless, and so so different now, rougher.
The teacher nods, defeated, and Eleven watches as Mike walks away.
She plays with the children, goes on walks, cleans the cottage. Stealing flowers from the blue house has become a weekly habit. She also got a library book all about gardening, and so every afternoon she’s started tending to the little patch that’s slowly growing in front of her cottage. Icelandic floor is mostly cold and arid, not many things grow here; El manages.
She’s reading a fantasy book she’d once heard Dustin talk about, she knows that’s how Mike saw her, magic. She has a hard time agreeing, but it’s nice to believe, even if it only serves as a momentary comfort.
On day 326 she sees a red headed woman when leaving the bakery, it tugs at something beneath her chest. She never got to really be with Max after leaving for California, the memory of having a girl best friend is hazy, she barely got to have it. Her last memories of Max are maybe even more blurry. She wonders about her all the time.
El sits on her little sofa, eats pasta straight from the pot, less dishes that way, the TV is on but she is not really watching. She hasn’t been back in the void in over a month, last time left her feeling guilty and useless.
She doesn’t want to disturb, and doesn't want to haunt him any more than she already does. Mike is living a normal life now, just like she’d wanted him to, but there’s little peace in normality for people that have gone through what they have, that’s what El is starting to realize.
She thinks of Max again, her arms laying still on her lap and her eyes glossed over. She didn’t even get to wake up in peace.
She has to find her.
And so she does.
The first thing El recognizes is the couch in Mike’s basement. They’re all there, watching a VHS on a big, modern looking tv set, that’s new.
Max sits in the right side corner, next to Lucas, who is feeding her popcorn and candy, one arm wrapped around her. She is holding a little rubber ball in her hand and squeezing it rhythmically. She is also wearing a strange looking boot, made of metal and plastic, it is on her right leg, fixing it in place. She looks okay; El smiles.
“ Shit, don’t go in there, don’t go fucking in there!” Dustin says, gesturing at the screen in front of them. El glances briefly, she sees two cartoon men entering a dark room, holding a flashlight.
“This is a dumb movie,” Max says, “ I can’t believe you guys like this shit,” Lucas grins down at her, and presses a kiss at the top of her head.
“It’s a classic,” Dustin replies, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“It’s for children,” Max laughs.
“ And you’re such a grown up,” Lucas says, teasing.
“Actually yeah, I am.”
“Can we please just watch the movie?” Says Mike. His voice is tense, so different from the playful tone everyone else had just a second ago.
Max and Lucas look at each other for a moment, she gives a small shake of her head, as if to signal to her boyfriend to not say anything else, they turn back to the screen.
El is happy to see they’re still all together, that for them things went back to what they were, and yet something almost like anger brews inside her.
She should be there.
El looks at Mike, he is wearing a soft looking blue sweater and looking intensely at the Tv, almost as if he were avoiding looking at anyone else in the room.
He is angry too.
Part of El thinks she should go, she saw what she came here to see and that should be enough.
It’s not enough.
It’s not enough!
What is one little indulgence in a life defined by sacrifice?
Eleven walks from her spot by the corner of the room and sits crossed legged on the floor, right in front of Mike. She watches the movie. Of course she wishes she could lean back and rest her head on his legs, or cuddle up to his chest, but for today this will have to be enough.
It is almost normal. She is getting quite invested in the movie. Max was right, it is pretty dumb, but El doesn’t mind.
“This is what I mean,” Max says, softer now, she’s holding Lucas’ hand, “ They don’t need to go back to the house, why are they going back to the house?”
“It’s funny!” Lucas replies.
“It’s stupid.”
“ You don’t have to watch it if you don’t like it.” Mike says, his voice flat and disinterested, like he’s picking a fight with Max more out of habit than anything else.
“Mike…” Will says softly. Eleven looks back and forth between, unable to participate in the discussion, she is just a quiet witness to what life is now without her.
“I’m just saying she doesn’t have to be here if she doesn’t want to,” he replies defensively.
“Lay off her, man.” Lucas says, and there’s a seriousness in his voice that El had never really heard before.
“She’s the one complaining all the time.” He snaps back.
“Jesus, I was just kidding, dude.” Max says.
“Are you guys seriously not way over fighting like this?” Will chimes in.
“He’s the one fighting, I wasn’t doing anything.” She says.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t shut the fuck up during the movie.”
“Oh, grow the fuck up, Wheeler.”
“ You grow the fuck up. I was just trying to watch a fucking movie in peace, is that too much to ask? Like really, is it too much to ask?”
“Back off, man.” Lucas says slowly, voice cold and way to calm.
“This is such a stupid conversation,” Dustin mumbles under his breath. Eleven can’t help but to agree.
“I can go if you don’t want me here, Wheeler. This place is a dump anyway .” El is glad to hear the fire in her voice. Max goes to stand up, as if on reflex Lucas goes to help her, holding his arm up for her to take; she doesn’t though, and for a second she’s unsteady on her feet, causing all the boys to whip their heads to the side. Lucas shoots up from his seat and goes to hold her by the shoulders, making sure she finds her footing before letting go.
“ Whoah, Max!” Says Dustin, wincing a little as he looks down at her feet.
“Are you okay?” Will asks.
Max nods, “ I’m good,” then she looks at Lucas, who is still standing with his arm out, in case she needs to take it. “Lucas, really. I’m fine.” They share a look, one of those secret ones only two people in love can really understand.
El feels something twist inside her. She looks at Mike, who looks away from the couple almost immediately, and she knows he felt it too. Mike swallows hard, takes a breath and looks back at Max.
“I really didn’t mean anything by what I said, okay? Can you guys just sit down so we can finish the movie?”
Max turns to look at Mike, their eyes meet for a second, tension lingering between them.
“Whatever,” Max says finally, and uses Lucas’ waiting arm for support to slide back into the couch. Mike doesn’t say anything, but he does give Max a tight little smile. She rolls her eyes, but returns it anyway.
Dustin grabs the control to rewind the tape, “Fucking finally.” He says, settling back into the backrest.
Everything is calm for a while after. They continue to watch the movie in silence, and although some remaining tension still lingers in the air, they’re mostly okay. El manages to piece together the plot from context clues and heavy exposition, at some point in the third act someone slips and falls.
It makes El laugh.
Mike gasps.
She turns to look at him, sees how his eyes shift from side to side, scanning the room. He closes them after a moment, takes in a breath and harshly runs his hands through his face.
Everyone else turns to stare at him. Dustin pauses the movie,
“Everything okay?” He says softly.
Mike nods, eyes still closed.
“Are you sure?” Will places a hand on the other’s shoulder.
“ Sometimes it feels,” Mike's voice is rough and slightly shaky, “sometimes I feel like she’s…”
Silence.
El is holding her breath.
“Yeah?” Lucas prompts.
Mike shakes his head, he looks at Dustin, “Can you play the movie?”
“We can talk about it.” Says Will.
Mike ignores him, “Play the movie.” And so Dustin does.
Something heavy settles inside Eleven. The people she loves most are haunted, haunted by what they’ve been through, by what she brought into their lives.
I haunt them.
El opens her eyes, back in her real life, she wipes the blood off her nose.
She has work tomorrow.
Three days later she sits on a small bed of moss by the waterfalls. The air is cold, though the sun is bright and the sky clear. El only brought some food and her notepad along for the hike, she stares at how light reflects on the water, notices how the rocks appear to turn purple or a shiny shade of green when the sun hits them just right.
El feels the droplets fall on her face, the constant splashing and crashing of the water is deafening and overwhelming. She always assumed that in the paradise they had imagined there would finally be quiet, but she now knows that this roaring white noise is much better.
She grew up surrounded by white walls, dark rooms. This new world is huge, the waterfalls seem to go all the way up to the sky and the land above them stretches infinitely. To ground herself, she focuses on the small things: the feeling of moss, soft in her hands, the little bugs and spiders, how plants here are so different. She notices all of these things, and yet she can’t manage to put them into words.
Nothing she can write seems to capture the intensity of what she really feels. El draws flowers on the margins of the page, sometimes she’ll remember a random song lyric and put it to paper as well, but she can’t seem to get past the first sentence.
Dear Mike, I’m okay.
Dear Mike, it’s really cold here and I like it sometimes but not always.
Dear Mike, the waterfalls are beautiful.
She ends up scraping all of her attempts. It is too dangerous to reach out, anyway; It’s just that being out here, all of that almost seems small and easy to forget.
Eventually she puts down the notepad and strips down to her underwear, methodically folding her clothes and placing them on her little patch of moss. Careful not to slip, El walks to the edge of the plunge pool, inhales deeply and jumps in.
It sends a shockwave through her system, it’s like she’s washing away something that lays underneath her skin. She’s not a great swimmer, but she’s learned to do things that are much harder. The main stream of water is harsh and powerful, but there’s some smaller ones on both sides. El stands under one of them, lets the water run through her hair, she likes how long it’s getting. At that moment, she doesn’t really feel sad, or rather doesn’t only feel sad, yet somehow tears slide down her cheeks, like they finally have permission to fall freely now that the water covers them up. It doesn’t matter that she’s alone and no one would see her cry.
Eleven stands under the waterfall and looks up at the top of the cliff. She imagines seeing a silhouette in the distance, someone who came looking for her.
She imagines Mike standing by the edge of the cliff, with a backpack and wide dorky smile. She dreams of being found. After thinking about it for a while, her fantasy turns into something darker, the image morphs into a different silhouette, of a different man that’s come to find her. She shakes her head slightly
No, El. You're not the monster.
She hears his voice, his old voice.
El knows she’s haunted too.
She doesn’t go back into the void, it’s been over a hundred days. She doesn’t dare to send a letter. Instead she pours all of her energy into the daycare and growing her garden and making the cottage into something that she likes.
The bookstore in town sells posters, and the stationary store has many different postcards with pictures of the waterfalls, she has a few decorating her fridge.
She makes sure to always have flowers by the windowsill, and she’s also started painting pots for her plants, El makes sure there’s a little color and brightness in her life.
It is day 432. They had never been apart for this long.
She fights it, fights the urge to go look because she knows that somehow he can feel her when she does. Even if for her, looking feels like relief, El knows that it hurts Mike.
She is done causing harm.
And so she doesn’t look, and time keeps passing by.
She doesn’t look on day 432 even though it’s cold and raining and she’s missing him more than usual.
She doesn’t look on days 445 and 446 even if it’s a long boring weekend with nothing to do but paint ceramic pots and think and remember.
She doesn’t look on day 450, and she’s so busy and tired at the daycare she doesn’t even think about it.
But the next day, El realizes something that stops her in her tracks and makes her stomach turn. She can’t quite remember the sound of his voice.
She knows what it sounds like, but she cannot really hear it in her head.
His words are all there: promises kept, desperate declarations of love, silly little jokes, hopes for the future. She remembers everything, but she can’t hear it.
Oblivion, it turns out, doesn’t feel liberating; it’s not the same as moving on.
Forgetting would just feel empty, and Eleven wants her life to be full.
It’s day 451 and she’s back in the void.
It’s quiet at first, only the sound of water splattering at her feet, she walks for a little while surrounded by nothingness, and then there is a tree. Then another, and water that is deep and reflects the moon. He is in Lover’s Lake.
He sits by the edge, alone, surrounded by empty beer cans and with a lit cigarette in his mouth. He looks older, but not more grown up. El gets closer, his hair is short now, probably shorter than she’s ever seen it, and combed to the side. She gets an overwhelming urge to run her hand through it. He shivers.
She sits by the lake, just a few feet away from him, just enough that she’s able to resist the urge to touch, to try to touch. As soon as he’s done with his cigarette he lights another.
Not for the first time, El wishes they had been able to come here like other teenagers did. She looks at Mike, looks at the lips that she hasn’t kissed in so long. Then she stares at the cans around them, crushed and forgotten,and imagines a world where she drank them with him. She imagines getting home to Hop stumbling and laughing like they do in the movies, she imagines Mike shushing her gently but ultimately losing it and laughing with her. Eleven imagines a world where they’re together not as ghosts but as people.
Mike leans back, resting his back on a wet looking patch of grass. She follows his lead, so she won’t lose sight of his face. Even if for her everything is dark and cold, and even if she’s invisible to him, there’s something that feels true and real and just like them in that moment. She dares to enjoy it if only for a second.
They lay in silence for a while, breathing deeply, Mike in the soft, green grass and El in the cold shallow waters of her void. For her, right now, it’s enough.
She feels his presence, shares his loneliness.
“ If you’re actually here just please say something.” His eyes are closed, his voice sounds tired. She’s so glad to get to hear it. It takes her a second to understand the words.
“Just please, I…” He takes a drag from his cigarette, “ I need to know I’m not going crazy, I mean, I am, I am going crazy but not…”
Tears start to roll down his face, he coughs, throws the cigarette to the grown. He wipes his cheeks and nose harshly with the back of his hand, but tears keep coming,
“Fuck.” He mutters, and runs his hands through his face a couple more times. Then he bangs his head against the ground.
“Mike,” She whispers, her voice broken and on the brink of crying too.
He bangs his head again, harder.
“Mike!” She feels a surge of energy moving through her body. He stills immediately.
“El?” His voice is thin and shaky, barely a whisper. He looks around, but his eyes don’t land anywhere.
“Mike, I’m sorry.”
“El? El, are you there?” He sits up.
She takes a shaky breath in, staring directly into his hopeful eyes. The only thing she’d wanted was to protect him, make sure he was safe. But was safety worth sacrificing everything else?
Mike’s hands are shaking and she thinks maybe it’s not. Life had torn them apart way too many times, and that had never brought them safety. She extends out her hand, closes her eyes to focus for a moment-
“Mike!” Someone else speaks.
They both whip their head around towards the sound. A flash of light in the distance, coming close.
“El?” Mike says again, louder.
“Mike, oh my god.” Nancy stands a few feet from them, “I found him!” She waves her flashlight up in the air a couple of times.
Nancy steps forward, looks down at her brother sitting on the ground. She holds out her hand, he lets her pull him up and struggles and stumbles a little when trying to stand. Nancy glances at the empty cans at their feet. Their eyes meet, neither says anything for a second.
“We were worried.” She’s serious, almost angry but there’s something else in her voice, understanding.
“ I know.” He nods.
“You’re in deep shit.”
“I know.”
Then, the rest of the Wheelers step in from the darkness.
“Micheal,” Mrs. Wheeler runs forward, pulling Mike into a tight hug. Eleven notices the thick, white scar across her throat and her own hand goes up to touch her neck instinctively.
“I’m sorry, mom.” And he sounds like he means it, but he also sounds far away, like his mind is someplace else.
“It’s okay, you’re okay.” She says it so softly, putting her palm on his son’s face. El feels something twist inside her.
Mrs. Wheeler pulls away only slightly, not fully breaking the embrace. She looks back at the rest of her family, a sad smile on her face.
“It’s been almost thirty hours, son.” Mr. Wheeler sounds tired. Mike apologizes again, but his father just frowns, crossing his arms.
“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.” He says, “This is the third time this happens, Micheal, your mother and I are worried.”
“Oh, you’re worried?” Mike asks dryly. Ted raises his eyebrows, unamused and seems like he’s about to respond when Nancy cuts him off.
“ Let’s just go home, okay?” She is holding Holly’s hand, who clings to her and stares at her brother with big wide eyes and a small frown across her face. Mike gives her a small reassuring smile.
“We’ll get you another appointment with Dr. Collins, alright ?” Karen says softly, Mike sighs and shakes his head.
“ Mom, that’s really not necessary, I’m…”
“It is, Micheal.” There is pain and finality in her voice. She looks at her son with tears in her eyes, but her voice doesn’t waver.
“We’re getting you the appointment and I’m…” Mike shakes his head again, faster, almost desperate.
“This time, I’m making sure that you actually take whatever he prescribes you.”
“I can’t.” He says.
“Listen to your mother, Micheal.” Ted has already turned back and started walking towards the road. Mrs. Wheeler gives her son’s hand a small squeeze before following behind her husband.
Nancy and Holly hang back, making sure their brother is walking alongside them.
“Your breath stinks,” Nancy says.
“Sorry about that.” Mike looks at the ground.
“It’s okay.” Says Holly.
“ And about, you know, everything else.”
“ We know.”
El watches silent as the Wheeler siblings walk away. She stays behind, with just the shallow water at her feet and the darkness of her void.
She goes back the next day, determined to end the pain and emptiness that distance has planted inside of them both.
She finds him sleeping, and can’t bear to wake him.
El thinks about Joyce and Hopper and the Russian doll with a message inside. She looks at the postcards on her fridge. Her collection has grown, she now has every single one that they sell. She grabs her favorite one, an illustration of the Icelandic nighttime; a purple sky and the waterfall, small in distance. El turns the postcard over; Dear Mike, the waterfalls are beautiful. She stares for a moment before placing it right back where it was, stuck on the fridge with a small refrigerator magnet.
El turns back to the kitchen counter, ready to start making herself dinner. Out of all the adult things that she’s learned, cooking is her least favorite and definitely one she’s yet to master. She used to watch a morning show back in Hawkins, where a blonde lady would explain different ways to make eggs and cakes and casseroles, at first she had tried to remember and recreat what she’d seen, but it soon became clear that she had no clue what she was doing, and most importantly El realized it just wasn’t something she was interested in.
She toasts her bread, heats up her canned soup. It’s a little bitter. A slow, soulful song plays on the radio, El doesn’t know the name, but she remembers it from before, Joyce liked it. Even if she hadn’t been able to bring anything with her, memories still find ways to permeate her new home.
El eats her dinner in front of the TV, she’s kind of over the whole soap drama now after a second secret sibling reveal, so she flips through the channels with a small tilt of her head. War footage on the news, a children’s show, a kiss scene under the rain. Eleven thinks about the idea of a happy ending often.
When this is all over, we’re leaving. Escaping to some far off land. Remember?
And she does. She looks at the little piece of life she now has and remembers the whirlwind that she left behind. El has never been greedy, she’s never wished for more than what she’s been given, taking every bit of love and kindness she’s received and treasuring it. But it really doesn’t seem fair, having to keep choosing between love and safety, between being happy and things being over.
It always seems like she has to choose between Mike and herself, but those were rules set by other people, by a world where she is dangerous and he is helpless. El looks around the small room, runs her hands through the soft throw blanket on her couch and glances at the little plaid tablecloth she’d gotten at the thrift store in town. She is happy with this life, even if it’s lonely, but deep in her bones Eleven knows this is not the ending.
I make my own rules.
For the first time in her life, El realizes that she is capable of building a world where she can have it all. So much power and so much sacrifice, and so little time to enjoy with the people she loves.
Eleven goes back into the darkness one last time, not because Mike needs her, but because she wants him.
They’re in the junkyard. Mike and Lucas sit on an old abandoned car seat, a six pack between them. El spots them from the distance.
“It’s such bullshit,” Lucas says, taking a sip out of his can. “ I always assumed we would be the type to…”
“Get out?” Mike provides.
“Or just know what we wanted to do with our lives” Lucas lets out a dry laugh.
“ Did you get any acceptance letters yet?” Mike cups his hands around his mouth to light a cigarette.
Lucas nods once, “only state school.”
“You’ll probably get more soon.”
“Sure, but Max still has physical therapy and a doctors appointments and school credits to complete, so”
“You want to be there.”
“ Other things can wait.” Lucas shrugs.
El understands then, that time has passed by and everyone is getting ready to start living life outside of Hawkins, life beyond their tragedy. She looks at Mike, who exhales out the smoke and stares into the distance, and feels something tighten within her. She had been so ready to sacrifice her own happiness if it meant he would finally be safe, and everything would be over. Now however, a dark twisted part of her hates to think about him moving on, maybe she’s not as selfless as she thought.
“Yeah, yeah, of course” Mike looks at the ground. He’s still so beautiful, his lip chapped and his hair a mess, something broken behind his eyes.
Mike crushes an empty beer can with his foot, immediately goes to grab another one from the pack.
“Do you,” he starts to say after taking a sip, “ Do you feel ready to move on?”
Lucas hesitates, picks up a little pebble and examines it for a moment before tossing it as far as he can manage.
“ Feels like there’s no other choice.”
They’re quiet for a while after that. The water beneath El’s feet ripples with every step, she hasn’t gotten too close; afraid Mike will sense her and it’ll make him feel bad. She gets closer slowly, almost on instinct, or like she is following a gravitational pull way stronger than her self control.
Lucas stares at his friend for a second and sighs, “Do you…” he starts to say.
“I’ll never move on.” Mike says, certain, almost calm, like he’s thought it over a million times and there’s simply no other logical conclusion.
Lucas nods, understanding.
“So you‘ll stay.”
“Everyone already thinks I’ve gone fucking insane” Mike shrugs.
“ You kind of have, man” Lucas laughs, “but I get it.”
Mike looks up at him, raises his eyebrows, unsure. Lucas meets his eyes.
“ I never missed a day at the hospital, went every single day for two years.”
“ Max came back,” Mike takes a big sip from his beer can, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Lucas looks away, it’s clear he doesn’t know what to say.
“ Even if El hadn’t- She could never be here, she could never be here, and she knew that.” Mike says.
He puts out his cigarette by tossing it on the ground.
He is waiting for me.
Everyone else is leaving,
Mike is waiting for me.
“Did you even apply anywhere?” Lucas asks after a beat.
“Mom basically forced me.” Mike says. Eleven had wanted that for him, a new beginning. Nothing seemed to turn out quite like she had imagined, and she does not know whether to feel frustrated or relieved.
“And?” Lucas presses.
“And I almost flunked out senior year of high school?” He frowns a little after talking, as if contemplating what he just heard himself say, “ It’s like I’ve become a whole different person.” Mike laughs.
“ I know what you mean,” Lucas agrees, “ All that time fighting and now we’re supposed to, what? Pretend it didn’t happen? Know what we want? Have a plan? It’s all bull.”
He picks up another pebble to toss, it doesn’t go as far this time.
“Total bull.”
“Aren’t you scared of being left behind?” Lucas asks then, like it hurts to even say it. Mike tilts his head, just like she used to.
“I mean, not that they would do it on purpose, but Dustin and Will already got their plans and their futures.”
“You have your future too.” Mike smiles, genuine but sad, “You’re gonna have to start saving for a ring soon.”
“Nah, she would kill me.” Lucas smiles back, “ For now at least. ” He chugs the last of his beer quickly, swallowing hard before letting out a big burp that makes El wince and Mike chuckle, shoving his friend and rolling his eyes.
“Mature.” He says, Lucas gives him a wide grin in return. They laugh, and El can’t help but smile too, even if they’re gross, stupid boys.
“ Was that your plan? Before?” Lucas asks.
“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t really get that far. I just wanted us to leave, find somewhere calm to settle for a while, but yeah I guess it was.”
El looks down at her hand, the little gold band that he’d given her so many summers before was still shimmering in her finger, still holding the promise they’d made as kids.
“ We should be heading back now, before they worry.” Lucas gives Mike a pointed look.
“You go on, tell everyone I’m here.”
Lucas shakes his head, stands up with a groan and holds his hand out for Mike to take.
“I’m fine, man. Just want to be alone.”
El thinks of Mike, forever waiting. She thinks of the little life she’s been building for herself, of the chance of maybe not having to go through it all alone.
“Not happening, dude.”
“Seriously?”
Lucas stares him down, unmoving.
El takes a step forward, lets a shaky breath out.
“Mike, come on.”
He shakes his head, closes his eyes.
“I won’t do anything stupid, alright? Promise.”
“ I really don’t think…”
“”Please.” Mike’s voice is desperate and shaky, fragile. “It’s just, sometimes I can- I can almost feel her?”
Eleven’s breath catches in her throat.
“ I know it’s- I know I sound fucking insane, okay? I do and this fucking doctor mom’s making me see keeps going on about denial and acceptance or whatever but I can’t you know? I can’t accept it, and I can’t go somewhere she wouldn’t know to look for me and I understand I’m stuck and I don’t- I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept what happened. But this isn’t that, it isn’t that.”
“What is it, then?” Lucas says soft but firm, unwavering, like he’s trying to show Mike he is willing to understand.
“It’s like- like, her energy is there? Like there’s static electricity in the air, suddenly, and I’m-I’m always thinking about her but-but sometimes it’s like this emptiness, it goes away for a bit, and she’s-she’s here and I can feel her looking and I get fucking chills and it’s…”
El lets the tears roll down her face freely, silent. She has known for a long time that there’s a force out there, bigger than any evil they have fought or any power anyone has ever had, that ties her to Mike; an invisible, unmovable force that connects her soul to his. Mike found her in the woods all of those years ago, and he’s kept finding her since; he has found her in wide deserts and has found her in crowded rooms, sharing secret looks only they could understand.
“Is it happening now?” Lucas says softly.
“Yeah.”
Lucas’s eyes shift around for a moment, he looks back at Mike and sighs.
“If I call your house in an hour and you’re not there, I’m coming back with backup.”
“Okay.”
“ I mean it.” Lucas puts his hand on Mike's shoulder and squeezes, giving him a meaningful look.
“I know.”
Lucas starts walking away.
“Lucas!” Mike calls back, the other turns.
“Thanks.”
Lucas rolls his eyes dramatically and goes.
They’re alone.
Oceans apart, and a blink away from meeting again.
Mike leans back on the beaten up car seat, runs a hand through his hair.
Eleven stands frozen in place, deep in her gut something rumbles; an urge to touch and feel and have his eyes meet hers.
She’s waited and suffered and sacrificed everything she’s ever loved. She has been forced to kill and forced to hurt others.
Eleven is tired of surviving, she wants to live. She wants her happiness.
Mike is still there, still waiting for her and refusing to forget. Her voice feels stuck inside her throat.
He pulls a crushed cigarette pack out of his pants pocket.
“Mike.” It comes out as a whisper, barely there.
He doesn’t look up.
“Mike.” Again, this time allowing the electricity to flow through her body and ripple out of her.
Mike’s head shoots up, as if hit with an electric shock. El can feel heat radiating out of her, finally, after what felt like an eternal drought, their eyes meet; It rains, it pours. Mike can see her, he is sitting right where she is, in the jetbalack darkness of the void. His lips quiver, her eyes water.
“Mike.” She says again. He blinks, runs his hands harshly through his face. She was expecting him to run to her, like he had done 453 days ago, to hold her. They both remain frozen in place.
“It’s me, I’m here.” She whispers, watery and broken.
“El.” He lets out, but remains still where he is. The only visible movement is a slight shake of his head.
“You’re not- I can’t,”
“I’m real. I’m sorry.” She steps forward one last step and falls to her knees, so they’re face to face. She reaches out for his hand, his eyes widen, she places his palm on her cheek, and holds it there.
“El.” He says again, like a prayer. Slow and careful, like he is afraid she’ll disappear, Mike places his free hand on the other side of El’s face, bringing their heads together until their foreheads kiss.
“I’m sorry.” She insists.
“You’re here.
“ I lied.”
“You lived.”
“ You lived.” She says back, Mike makes a small noise of disagreement.
“Not without you here.” Tears run down his face, slow but constant.
“ I thought it was the only way.” She says. His arms move to wrap around her neck, without pulling away. He chokes back a small sob.
“I know, I know.” She pulls him in, hugs him tight. El wants him to understand this is real, wants to reach across the world and break the distance, so that he knows she’s more than a vision.
“Are you- are you okay? Are you happy?” Asks Mike after a moment, not pulling away.
Eleven nods against Mike’s shoulder, a sad smile on her face.
“I think so, sometimes I’m happy,” and it makes him laugh through the tears.
“That 's good.”
“You’re sad.” She states. To her surprise, Mike laughs again. He pulls away only enough to meet her eyes, grabbing a small strand of hair with his fingers and examining it for a second.
“ I actually don’t think I could be any happier.” He presses his forehead against hers again.
“But you were. You were sad and I- I knew.”
“You’ve been coming.” There’s a tremor in his voice, “ to see me.”
“ I’m sorry.” She says again. El looks at his cracked lips, she’s finally close enough again to detail the small freckles on his nose, close enough to have him, have this version of Mike that is so real and so tangible and yet only a mirage and a vision inside her mind.
He looks her in the eyes, unbreakable.
“El, you have nothing to apologize for.”
“I lied to everyone. I lied to you.” She says it urgently, almost desperate.
“It 's okay.” He says softly.
“No, I knew you were hurting and I was too scared to help you. I’m so sorry, Mike.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
“ Selfish.” Her voice cracks.
“Good! You deserve to be selfish.”
She pulls him back into a hug, feels him press a small kiss against her shoulder, something inside her crumbles.
“ You said I would understand. And I didn’t, for the longest time I didn’t understand.”
“ And now?”
“ Now? Fuck, El. Now you’re here. It doesn’t matter, none of it does. You’re here, you’re really here.”
“Iceland.”
“What?”
“I’m in Iceland, there’s waterfalls.” He smiles wide and real, El has missed that.
“That’s incredible. You’re-You’re incredible.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“ I can’t wait to see them.”
“Mike, you would have to leave everyone- your family. You still can have a normal life here.” Her voice breaks again.
“ You’re my whole life.”
“Mike,”
“ No, it’s true. You said-you said you saw it. These past two years, it’s like everything has been muted, and cold and fucking senseless without you. I don’t want it, El. It’s all meaningless if you’re not here.”
“The party…”
“ They’ll understand.”
She runs a hand through his hair, and it feels just like it always had. She imagines a life where she can do that every morning, no fight, no pain, no waiting, it sounds more unreal than anything else she’s ever known.
“ Mike, I’m- it’s lonely here.”
“ It’s been lonely here, too.”
Slow and gentle, breathing softly, they let themselves be pulled together. Their lips brush, patient, understanding that now there’s no rush, no time bomb. She can taste his tears, feel his warmth on her face. Mike and El kiss knowing that they will again.
“ I love you.” He says.
Her routine remains the same; she gets up when it’s still dark outside, welcomes the children everyday, prepares the snacks. She still goes to the bakery every afternoon, and likes to look at clothes and books on the weekend. Her life hasn’t really changed, except for the constant buzz of anticipation she now takes everywhere with her.
Around another hundred days go by, though she hasn’t been so strict with keeping count. Nights have been getting unbearably long, though the skies are all the more beautiful because of it. El pulls him into the void almost every day now, to talk and kiss and figure out what the hell they’re going to do. It is good, it is southing, but it does not replace real touch and real life.
She couldn’t sleep that first night, the bedsheets felt colder than usual and the darkness more daunting. He’d promise to find a way to get to her, with no record and no one knowing. She hopes and waits and misses his touch so much she forgets to breathe, but she lives her life as well.
El was walking down her familiar path by the edge of town, a paper bag with an assortment of sweet pastries in hand. She places it down by a small dry bush, as she always does, and throws her legs around the small wooden fence that circles the blue house with the flowers. She walks confidently now, after doing this so many times, and bends down to gingerly pick the ones that have bloomed .
“ I can give you seeds, if you’d like.” A voice comes from behind El, making her freeze. She turns around slowly and meets the eyes of a small white haired woman, resting against the front door of the house.
El looks down at the flowers in her hands, but doesn’t say anything.
“ I asked around to find you,” the woman continues, “ Or well, I saw you from the kitchen window the very first time you came, but when I asked around to know who you were- well, no one seemed to believe the American girl could be my flower thief, too sweet.”
“Sorry?” El says, finally. The woman pushes herself off the wall, walking towards El.
“They’re nice, aren’t they? It’s basically a full time job to keep them in this weather, but they do make the garden look so lively.”
“ I put them in my kitchen, by my window.”
The woman smiles. El can tell by the way she speaks that she isn’t from this place either, something about that is comforting. El smiles back, hesitantly. She’s still half expecting to be told off, still waiting for it being time to run. Instead the old woman digs her hand into her front pocket, pulling out a small pack of little black seeds.
El shakes her head, “they won’t grow. I tried.”
“Well you better let me teach you, then. I can’t have you take them from my garden forever, now. Can I?”
El looks the woman in the eye, nods once.
“Okay.”
Her seeds have begun to sprout by the time he comes. She walks down the path like normal, it had been raining all morning and so she comes back home with the bottom of her pants muddy and her hair freazy.
She sees him.
He sits on a little log by her cottage door, a big backpack at his feet. Mike looks up immediately as she turns the corner.
A pause, and then they’re running-rushing to each other's arms.
A moment of quiet,
A look.
Their foreheads touch.
Mike holds El’s face with both hands, full of care and devotion.
“You’re real.” He says through tears and heavy breaths.
“Mike.”
He kisses her; they clash together- a real kiss, lips parting. They move together, breathe together. Mike can feel her touch in the back of his head, tugging his hair. El can taste him and feel his scent wash over her. He’s real and solid and standing right there. She’s alive, breathing deeply and holding him in her arms.
After an eternity they break apart slightly. Mike turns to look up at the cottage, El holds his hand and rests her head on his shoulder.
“It’s so cool,” he says in awe. She laughs, opening the door with a small nod of her head.
“ I’m still working on it.” She says, “ I hope you like it here.” She looks down at her shoes, shy for a second.
“ It’s perfect.” He walks across the small living room, notices the postcards and pictures on the wall and the flower embroidered couch cushions. Mike picks up a little bird figurine that sits on the coffee table, and smiles.
“ Promise?” she asks. Something warm spreads across her chest when she thinks about how now she gets to show him this world that is now hers, just like he onced introduced her to his own world.
“I promise.”
Later that night, she lays her head on his bare chest. He runs her fingers through her hair, caresses the side of her neck. She feels something almost like electricity, a shiver that goes all the way down her back and gathers at the pit of her stomach. El kisses him.
He whispers her name, holds her waist. He’s so close, incredibly so, in a way they never had before. He holds her hand, she lets a deep breath out when it happens. Mike kisses her forehead, drowns himself in the feeling of El, finally with him, ready to start the life they dreamed about; a far off land, somewhere beautiful.