Chapter Text
It had been nearly seventeen months since Hawkins experienced its deadliest “earthquake”.
Seventeen months since Vecna was defeated—since Nancy, Steve, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, and Robin survived what should have killed them.
Since Eddie Munson died.
Since Max Mayfield slipped into a coma.
Since the Byers—and Eleven—returned to Hawkins.
And since Hopper came home from Russia.
Eleven became a missing teenager once again.
The military claimed it was searching for her safety. In truth, they wanted her back—wanted her to restart Dr Brenner’s inhumane psychic experiments. Only this time, the project was no longer led by a scientist playing god but by someone far worse: a ruthless, military-minded woman named Dr Kay.
Hopper kept Eleven hidden in the old cabin, the same place that had once protected her before—safe, for now, from Kay’s reach.
Meanwhile, the party—along with Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Joyce, Robin, and Hopper—went on thirty-seven separate searches, chasing rumours and dead ends in their hunt for Henry Creel.
And still, nothing felt finished. Mike Wheeler was barely holding on.
The party’s Zoomer—the one who never let any of them spiral, who always told the truth even when it hurt—lay trapped in a coma.
The knight waited for her every day. He sat beside the Zoomer's hospital bed, armour long gone but loyalty intact, refusing to leave in case she woke up and needed him.
The bard was drowning in grief after Eddie Munson’s death, pushing away everyone who tried to reach him—even Steve.
And the wizard was still being pulled into Vecna’s mind long after the battle was supposed to be over.
He met his mage whenever he could...preferably when Hopper was out on the crawls with the gang. He just didn't understand their need to be held close, to breathe the same air as the other one.
It was one such night...Eleven was sick with worry ....she had recently been very scared that hopper might one day decide that he needed to sacrifice himself to protect her .the cabin was quiet in a way that didn’t feel peaceful—more like the world was holding its breath.
Hawkins slept uneasily outside, fractured and waiting, but inside el's room the lights were low and everything felt strangely still. Eleven sat on the bed, hands folded in her lap, staring at the floor like she was trying to memorize it.
Mike hovered nearby, restless, pacing once before finally stopping in front of her.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” she admitted.
He shook his head. “Me neither.”
He sat beside her, close but not touching. Not yet. They’d learned how fragile everything was—how easily it could all disappear. Outside, something creaked. The sound made Eleven flinch.
Mike noticed immediately.
He reached for her hand.
That was all it took.
Eleven’s fingers curled around his, grounding herself in the warmth of him. She leaned into his shoulder, and Mike instinctively wrapped an arm around her, holding her like the world might try to take her again at any second.
“I’m scared,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he replied, pressing his forehead gently against hers. “Me too.”
They stayed like that, breathing the same air, sharing the same fear. No speeches. No promises. Just the certainty that this—this closeness—was real.
They came closer than they were meant to.Lines got blurred and the only thing mattered was the the rhythm of their bond
Hours later when they lay down together, it was slow and careful. Eleven rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and alive. Mike’s arm stayed wrapped around her, protective without thinking about it.
If tomorrow was the end, they wanted this moment to exist.
Not because they were reckless.
But because they loved each other.
And because sometimes, in the face of monsters and a forever fear of death , all you can do is hold on to the person who makes you feel human.
Somewhere between fear and hope, between night and dawn, a future quietly began—unnoticed, unnamed, and already worth protecting.