Chapter Text
Mike’s not sure how long he stays hunched over where El’s laying on a food prep table in the back of a Surfer Boy Pizza’s kitchen. As it is, he barely notices the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights off the table’s shiny surface or the cloying smell of yeast and stale pizza. Hell, he can’t even begin to care about how he’s crying in front of Will, Jonathan and Argyle, tears cooling on his cheeks and in the corners of his eyes.
No, all Mike cares about is the prone form of his girlfriend (she still is his girlfriend, right? god he hopes so – he doesn’t think he can live without her), of the girl he loves more than anything in the universe. Her hand is clutched tight between both of his, but her skin is cool to the touch, too cool for his comfort. Her face is frozen in a look somewhere between pain and concern and the only sign that she’s even still alive is the shuddering rise and fall of her chest.
Mike’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. She has to wake up, she just has to. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if she doesn’t. And while Mike knows there was no way to stop her from putting herself in danger like this – she loves their friends back in Hawkins too much to do anything less – Mike wishes it wasn’t always her making the sacrifice, putting herself on the line like this. Because he worries – oh how he worries.
“C’mon, wake up, wake up. You have to wake up, El.” His voice is a broken whisper and the words pour out of him through a throat too tight with emotion. “I need you to wake up, El. I need you. I love you.”
He repeats the words like a mantra, words that for months had been bottled up on the tip of his tongue and his pen. He repeats them like they’re a lifeline, his lifeline and hopefully hers too. He repeats them because now that he’s told her he loves her, he can’t not tell her over and over again.
And just when Mike thinks he’s lost her for good, when the hope starts to nauseatingly sink from his chest down towards his stomach, El’s eyes snap open with a ragged gasp that spills from her lips and her shoulders arch off the table.
The others push back, but Mike all but lunges for her, weight collapsing onto the table, reaching for El as she reaches for him, the two of them collapsing into each others’ arms with sweet, painful relief.
“Mike.” His name wrenches itself from El’s lips with a sob and she turns in his embrace, wet jeans skidding against the metal beneath her with an audible stutter. “I couldn’t – Max, I-”
The words don’t come, seemingly locked deep inside El, and Mike hurries to shush her, his own voice quavering with unshed tears. “Shh, it’s ok, I got you. I’m here. I’m here.”
It’s like his words unlock something inside of her because El takes in a shuddering breath a split second before she just dissolves into deep, wracking sobs. She buries her face into his chest as her hands clutch at the fabric of his wind breaker, clutching onto him like he’s the only thing keeping her from drowning.
A lump sticks painfully in Mike’s throat and he wraps his arms even tighter around her. He presses his cheek against the top of her head, the newly shortened bristles tickling his skin (he mourns her hair, not for his sake, but for hers. he thinks she looks beautiful no matter what, but he knows how much she loved her hair, how proud she was of it, and his heart aches that much more).
Part of Mike desperately wants to know what happened. He’s scared for his friends, for his family. Are they still in danger? Is One still hunting them? Was El able to stop him at all? Whatever happened must be horrible for how El is falling apart in his arms, but Mike knows he won’t get any answers any time soon, not while El is like this, not while she’s still grieving.
Will, Jonathan, and Argyle have disappeared out to the front of the restaurant, giving Mike and El privacy, and Mike can’t help but be grateful for whoever’s idea that was. Probably Jonathan’s, a distant corner of his mind whispers. Will has a tendency to want to be right in the middle of everything and Argyle, from all Mike can tell, is persistently stoned out of his mind. But Jonathan has always been a caretaker, for as long as Mike can remember, and the courtesy is something he’s come to expect from the older teen.
The privacy means Mike doesn’t have to care that anyone might overhear the soft nothings that tumble from him, words of support and reassurance. One hand comes up to cup the back of El’s head while the other stays curled tight against her ribcage, fingers digging into the wet fabric of the flowered thermal she wears. He knows at some point he should go and try to find something to help dry her off with – god knows she has to be freezing – but he can’t bring himself to let go, not yet. Not until El is ready.
So he holds her tight as she sobs against him, determined to never let her go. Because for as long as El needs him, as long as she wants him, Mike will always be here to catch her.
Time loses all meaning as emotion pours from El in hot, crashing waves. The stress from the fight with One – did she win? is he still alive? he disappeared from inside max’s mind, but he was still alive as he dissolved into smoke – the shock of finding Lucas cradling Max’s dead body, the desperation of reaching out to Max to restart her heart, the worry over whether it worked, guilt that she couldn’t stop One in time to keep Max from getting hurt….
It’s too much and El can’t control it. She doesn’t know how much more she can lose, how much more she has to give. The only thing keeping her from falling apart completely is the firm embrace she’s wrapped up in. She’s surrounded by all things Mike. His arms are strong around her, one hand on the back of her head, the other curled tightly around the side of her ribcage. The smell of him invades her and even though it’s not exactly pleasant – too much equal parts the skunkiness of the back of Argyle’s van and unwashed teenage boy – it helps to reassure her that this is real, Mike is really here, holding her….
Loving her.
The echo of Mike’s voice – I love you. Do you hear me, El? I love you. – lives nestled inside her heart, a warm light against the cold and the pain. She holds onto it tight, letting it give her strength. It’s a beacon, a touchstone, a reminder that there is still something good she can have that’s just for her. Even when everything else is falling apart, she has this.
Mike talks to her in a low, gentle voice, whispering words of reassurance, his words brushing over the shell of her ear. The words don’t really register, but the tone of his voice, all soft and tender and filled with painful relief, helps soothe the sadness raging inside of her.
Eventually, El’s not sure how long, her tears taper off, exhaustion beginning to win out over almost everything else. She takes in a shuddering breath and tries not to cringe at how stuffy her nose is or how sticky her face feels. But she makes no move to try and extract herself from Mike’s hold. Why would she when she feels so cherished and safe?
“El? Are you ok? Do you….” Mike trails off, sounding uncertain in a way that makes El want to hug him tight. “Did you want to talk about what happened?” El can tell that there’s more Mike wants to say. There’s a tightness to his voice that tells her he’s trying to keep himself from rambling and she appreciates the care he’s taking with her.
But she doesn’t want to talk about what happened – she can’t, not yet. She needs some time to find the words, words she knows she owes Mike and the others. So El shakes her head against his chest and knows Mike will understand.
Mike nods his head against her hair. “Oh yeah, sure, that’s ok. Whenever you’re ready, if you’re ever ready, you know you can always talk to me, right? I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me, promise. And-”
Warmth explodes in El’s chest at how considerate he’s being with her, how loving. She finds herself thinking back to their argument in her bedroom, the one before everything went to shit, where she accused him of never saying that he loved her and he shot back, in one of the surest tones she’s ever heard him speak in, with “I say it.”
And it turns out that maybe they were both right. Because while Mike hadn’t said the words out loud directly to her before, everything he does for her screams with how much he loves her.
But still, he did say it and El can’t ignore it any longer.
“Mike,” she says, his name barely more than an exhale of breath. But it stops his own words in their tracks and the pause gives El the space to lift her head so she can look up at him. She tries not to think about how she looks – crying always makes her face all red and blotchy – but it’s hard not to when Mike is looking back at her with such tender concern, his brow gently furrowed as his eyes scan her face.
Still, El ignores the part of her that wants to turn away and brings up one hand from where it’s clutching his wind breaker to gently rest on his cheek, fingertips oh so softly pressing against the length of his cheekbone. She doesn’t miss the soft gasp that escapes from him and the expression on his face is somehow both hopeful and nervous. “Mike, I heard you.”
There’s no need to clarify what she heard – there can really be only one thing she’s referring to. Mike gulps, nervousness winning out, but he doesn’t look away, eyes locked firmly on hers. “I was, uh, I was hoping you did.”
El’s hand begins to tremble as she slides her palm from his cheek down to his neck, fingers weaving among the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “Tell me again?” Her lips quivers and she can’t stop it from happening. She needs to hear it again, needs it almost more than she needs air. She needs him to say it to her face when there’s nothing to distract her from soaking in the feeling of being on the receiving end of his love.
Mike freezes for just a split second, but to his credit, he recovers quickly. He ducks his head, not quite close enough to press his forehead against hers, but close enough that his face is the only thing El can see, his hair brushing against her temples as his gaze bores into hers with shivering intensity. And if he’s at all still nervous, he does a good job at hiding it.
Mike draws in a shuddering breath, sounding as overwhelmed as El feels. “I love you.”
Oh, there it is. Fireworks explode beneath El’s skin, warmth sparkling along every nerve. And if she tries hard enough, she can pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist, that all there is is her and this beautiful boy who loves her for everything she is.
El lets out a sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, relief and joy warring inside of her. The hand in his hair tightens and El closes the distance between them so that their foreheads are pressed together, her whole world boiling down to Mike. “I love you, too. So much.”
El’s not sure who moves first, or even if it matters (it doesn’t), but her head tips up while his leans down, noses brushing against each other as their lips find each others with a practiced ease that makes her heart skip a beat.
It’s a kiss that is both gentle and rich, comforting and thrilling, a kiss that makes tears burn beneath her eyelids with how sweet it is. Her other hand comes up to tangle in his hair and the sound of the strangled groan that resonates deep in his throat has her kissing him that much harder. Mike somehow holds her even closer, his arms still firmly wrapped around her, and the feel of his grip digging into her through the cotton of her shirt means everything.
It’s a kiss writ large with the love they share with each other, with all the ways both spoken and otherwise that they’ve told the other, and El will always be more grateful than she has words for that she gets to experience this and that it’s Mike she gets to share this with.
If El had it her way, she’d live in this moment, in this kiss forever – safe, cherished, loved – but that’s not how the world works. Exhaustion pulls at all her ragged edges and the chill from her damp clothes is getting too strong to ignore. So she lets the kiss come to a soft, sighing end and cherishes the slightly dopey expression on Mike’s face as they lean back to look at each other.
“You ok?” Mike asks.
El shrugs, one shoulder lifting in a lazy motion. “Yes and no,” she says. Because it’s the truth. She’s exhilarated by being on the receiving end of Mike’s love, but knows there’s a greater fight still to come. One is still out there and someday, maybe soon, she’s going to have to fight him.
Mike nods like he understands exactly what she means. And maybe he does, like maybe somehow he can read her mind. “Is there anything I can do?”
A tired smile pulls up on the corner of her lips. “Is there a towel somewhere?”
Mike lets out a low chuckle, both relieved and amused. “I’ll see what I can find. C’mon.” His arms slowly unwind from where they’re holding her and even though Mike threads one arm across her shoulders to guide her out to where the others are sitting out in the front of the pizza shop, El can’t help but shiver at the loss of his body heat surrounding her.
Mike leaves her in the care of Will and Jon while he drags Argyle off to see what they can find for her to dry off with. And as the Byers brothers fuss and hover over her, she can hear the distant sounds of Mike squabbling with Argyle, concern fighting against annoyance in his tone and it makes her heart that much lighter to know that Mike is doing his best to take care of her.
El knows she’s going to have to eventually tell people about what happened – Mike, at the very least, and maybe just enough to the others so they aren’t in the dark – but that moment is not this moment.
For now, El lets others take care of her. And though later the reality of everything that’s happened will set in with terrifying heaviness, for the moment El will simply let herself be loved.