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the box at his feet was already half full, but mike kept staring at it like it might fill itself if he waited long enough.
textbooks first. then loose papers of stories he's written over the past years. a hoodie he hasn't worn in months. everything moved at a snail's pace, dreading what awaited him if he finished packing.
there was a reality out there he couldn't face yet and being stuck here helped him stall some time.
his dorm room looked smaller than it used to. or maybe he'd just grown used to taking up less space.
the typewriter sat untouched on his desk, a thin layer of dust collecting between the keys. it's been weeks since he brought himself to sit in front of it and just write, maybe even months. he stopped counting the change between the seasons and weather a long time ago. there was no point in keeping track of it, not when everything felt like a huge blur.
his graduation came and went without much of a ceremony. it was a haze of clapping people, enthusiastic jumping, shaking hands and talks about the future. law school or grad school or lined up internships, everyone else seemed to have stepping stones built across a river they were eager to cross.
mike didn't have anything planned out, he wasn't stepping on any stones. it felt like he was drowning in the river, an undertow tugging him down.
whenever people talked about the future with him, he always answered with "yeah, maybe" over and over.
no one noticed that he never said what he wanted.
he folded another shirt, pressed it into the box limply. the sound of fabric scraping cardboard felt too loud in the quiet room, when outside all the muffled noises creaked through. there was lots of laughter, the taps of somebody running down the hall, a suitcase dragged behind.
because life keeps moving or, like they all repeated in their thousand speeches today, it was about to really start. he didn't really feel that way and apparently it didn't really matter whether he was ready to follow, ready to see how his 'life was about to start.'
the others might've not gotten there but his life had started at twelve. and it stopped, glitching like a broken vhs tape, at sixteen.
he wasn't sad. not exactly.
that was the strangest part.
the grief burned itself out long ago, leaving something heavy in its place. it felt like ashes after a destructive fire — proof that something devastating happened, scars littered everywhere, even if the flames were long gone.
sometimes he felt like that's worse.
there was a quick knock at the door, he put the shirt in his hands away before turning to open it.
"dude," his roommate, wren, said, leaning against the doorframe with ease. "you almost done packing or are you planning on living here forever?"
mike shrugged. "guess it depends." on what? the question hung unspoken.
his roommate kicked one of mike's boxes lightly with his foot and straightened afterwards, suddenly looking more animated. "hey, uh — this might be weird, but hear me out."
mike paused, tape dispenser stilled in his hand, the only sign that he was listening.
"so," he continued, "i booked this camping thing in iceland. like, months ago. was supposed to go with a friend, but he broke his leg — don't ask — and now he's out. everyone else i know already has plans, and i really don't want to waste the booking. so if you have time and would want to come along..."
mike's eyebrows creased. the words landed on him strangely.
seriously?
"it's just a week," wren added quickly. "it has a full program with hikes, campfires, waterfalls and stuff. it's very 'find yourself' energy. figured i'd ask before i let it go."
mike blinked slowly, processing the offer.
they barely knew each other. they shared a room, but nothing more than that. mike wasn't even sure if he knew anything about him beyond his name. why should he travel across the world with someone he barely even knew?
and yet...
somewhere beneath the numbness, something spoke to him. for someone who didn't have any plans —any diverting route that helped him stall long enough to ignore his impending future— this was worth thinking over.
all he's heard for months was the same question, spoken in different voices and different tones.
"and what's your plan, mike?"
he heard his mom's voice, asking what he's going to do now. she tried to keep her voice light-hearted and careful, but he could tell she was anxious.
he heard nancy's voice asking the same, softer but more pressing. lucas's voice. dustin's voice. will's voice. max's voice.
everybody asked the same question and everybody tried to mask the worry in their voices.
everyone was waiting for him to choose something. a path that doesn't end up with him being jaded and lost. what would he do now that he did everything they expected of him — that he graduated college?
what step was he supposed to take to fit into their envisioned future for him?
he looked around the room again, at the bare mattress, the stacked boxes and the picture frame on his desk.
his chest twisted painfully. he couldn't see a future here. couldn't see one anywhere, really.
he simply felt frozen in time. and no matter how much he went along with everybody's expectations, said the things they wanted to hear from him, he couldn't trick them either. they knew he wasn't as fine and sure as he always claimed.
all of this was one huge play of pretend.
he didn't really know what to do with himself. not since he lost her.
maybe this was as good a reason as any to leave. biding some time to quiet everyone's worrying questions for a while. to move, even if he wasn't sure where he was going yet.
"yeah," he heard himself say, surprised by the sound of his own voice. "okay. sure."
wren blinked in surprise, clearly not having expected him to agree, before grinning easily with a nod. "oh, cool. uh — we're leaving tomorrow. i hope that's fine? i know it's very spontaneous."
mike looked back down at the box at his feet and closed the flaps, sealing it shut with a strip of tape. "no, it's fine."
what he needed might just be spontaneity.
something different. something new.
he never heard a bigger sigh of relief than when he told his mom that he wouldn't come back to hawkins just yet but fly to iceland with his roommate for a week. "that's totally fine, honey," she said too quickly, "is it cold over there? did you pack enough sweaters?"
she chattered on for a while, filling the silence with concern disguised as enthusiasm. eventually her voice softened, the brightness fading when a long sigh left her."i just want you to live, michael."
the words hung over his head long after the call ended.
nancy came to pick him up later that day. she helped him load the taped boxes into her car and when he told her about iceland, the look on her face made him wish she hadn't come at all.
he hated seeing the pity, painted with relief in them, as if he's something fragile that might finally be doing the right thing.
he needed a desperate escape from all the sympathy and worry.
agreeing to the trip seemed to unlock something in wren, who talked more on the way to the airport than he had in the past three years combined. he told him everything from his family back in louisville, all the way to his on-and-off girlfriend (currently "off"), how he felt like he's reached a milestone without knowing what to do with it.
"it just feels like i should have more figured out by now," wren said, staring out the window. "you know?"
"yeah." mike replied quietly, surprisingly relating. "i know what you mean."
the flight itself was silent. wren fell asleep almost immediately, mike stayed awake, watching clouds drift past and tried to silence the voices in his head. he didn't want to think about anything anymore, at least for the week he stayed away.
when they finally landed after flying long hours, iceland felt unreal, straight out of a fantastical video game. a cold wind bit at his skin as a greeting, the sky above cloudy, as opposed to the sunny version he'd created in his head before arriving. it felt like a direct blow to snatch the expectations he'd unwillingly fantasized about, always turning things into something easier.
the same fantasies he'd had about waterfalls when—
no.
this was supposed to be his getaway, a chance to put a pause on his life. a chance to stop thinking about all the "what could've beens."
they met the rest of the group right outside the airport. they were around twenty people in total, all flown in from different different countries, varying between seniors who were looking for adventures all the way to clueless young adults who didn't know what else to do.
the enthusiastic outdoor guide introduced herself briefly before piling them into golf carts that carry them toward the campsite. ten minutes in and mike saw entire his life flash in front of his eyes. he gripped the seat of the cart, fingers sinking into the leather as the cart jolted violently along rocky paths.
those mountain roads were no joke.
halfway through the ride, wren nudged his shoulder and pressed a small box into his hand when he caught mike's attention.
he looked down at it, brows pinched together in confusion until he realized what he'd been given.
goddamn condoms.
his face burned instantly, shoving the box straight back to wren. "what the hell?"
"look," wren said as he whispered, grinning widely when he put the box in mike's hands again. "there's some cute girls here. you'll thank me later."
"i really don't need this," mike muttered, pushing it back again. "put that away."
"okay, okay." wren said, "thought i'd do you a favor. i know i said my girlfriend and me are broken up right now but, i don't know, and you're single."
i have a girlfriend, too, rested on the tip of mike's tongue but he swallowed those words right back down.
wren sighed, then paused, taking one from the box and flailed it around. "okay, but at least take one."
the people sitting in front of them glanced behind, mike groaned loudly, snatched it straight from his hand and shoved it in his bag. "there."
his face burned bright in embarrassment.
he stared straight ahead as the cart continued on, the landscape stretching endlessly before them. the path jolted again, and mike sucked in a sharp breath.
but after a while, the ride gave way to something beautiful.
his eyes started to wander and linger, to take everything in. wonder and fascination crept in, making the ride more bearable. he'd never seen a landscape like this before — it almost felt obscene how beautiful it was. rolling hills draped in impossibly green grass, dark stone cutting through the earth like brushstrokes, the sky above, despite being heavy and gray, looked like something pulled straight from a painting.
it was beautiful and so much more different than what he'd been used to.
the golf carts slowed eventually, the rocky path evening out as the campsite came into view.
it was tucked between dark stone and open land, a stretch of earth dotted with not-yet-pitched tents and low wooden structures. smoke curled lazily from a fire pit in the center, the scent of burning wood carried by the wind. somewhere in the distance, water roared — not close enough to see, but loud enough to hear.
a waterfall, he thought.
mike stepped off the cart on unsteady legs, his knees still buzzing from the ride. he slung his bag over his shoulder and scanned the area, taking it in slowly. if finding peace was still an option for him — if it hadn't slipped through his fingers entirely — this felt like the closest he'd been to it in a long time.
"alright, everybody," the outdoor guide called, her voice cutting cleanly through the air. what was her name again? mike had already forgotten. "let's gather around, yes — come on."
she waved them closer, ushering everyone into a loose circle near the fire pit. people shuffled in, adjusting jackets, stamping their feet against the cold ground.
"perfect," she said brightly. "this is home for the next week. and before we can get comfortable here, we should get comfortable with each other."
mike resisted the urge to groan.
"i want to be able to call everyone by their name," she continued. "so let's do a quick introduction round before i go over the schedule and safety rules, okay?"
great.
she clapped her hands together once. "i'll start. i'm anna. i'm forty-two years old, and when i'm not doing this, i spend most of my time with my daughters and my animals at the farm." she smiled easily, then turned to the person on her left. "why don't you continue? and tell us why you chose to be here."
mike stood through the introductions, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, weight shifting from one foot to the other because some talked longer than others.
john and maria, sixty and sixty-one, here because they'd retired early and decided they didn't want to sit still just yet.
cora, thirty-two, here because she was looking for something different and fun after being freshly divorced.
roman, twenty-seven, here because he'd never left his home country before and wanted to start now.
maude and lacy, eighteen, twin sisters, here because they'd promised themselves they'd do something reckless before college swallowed them whole.
sammy, twenty-three, here because going on adventures was his life motto.
then all eyes turned on him.
mike cleared his throat, suddenly acutely aware of his own presence. "uhm," he said. "i'm mike. i'm twenty-two." a pause, "and i'm here because wren booked this trip with someone else, but they ditched. so i was kind of... the last resort."
there was a beat of silence before anna laughed loudly. "you are hilarious," she said, clearly assuming he was joking. "no other reason?"
to escape my reality floated up his mind immediately.
mike swallowed it down. "no," he said. "no other reason."
anna studied him for a moment, then she smiled again. "well, then that just means i'll have to make you fall in love with iceland." she tilted her head. "or at least with this part of it. so next time, you'll come back for a reason."
the attention lingered on him a second too long. he shifted uncomfortably and nodded, eager for the focus to move on.
introductions resumed until every name had been spoken. anna clapped her hands again, energized as ever.
"thank you. now that we have that out of the way," she said, then stalled, glancing around the circle. her brow furrowed slightly. "except for valerie. she's not here yet, but she'll be joining us any minute. so," anna continued, shifting gears, "let's talk about the schedule. the tents are already laid out, but you'll be setting them up yourselves." she gestured toward the piles of canvas and poles nearby. "food will be served at set times — breakfast in the mornings, dinner in the evenings. lunches will be packed on hiking days."
she went over safety rules — staying within marked paths, always telling someone where you were going, no wandering off alone at night. mike listened absently, his gaze drifting across the campsite again.
"every night, we'll light the fire pit over there," anna said, pointing toward the ring of stones at the center. "and we'll meet right here every morning for hikes. you'll see some of the most beautiful waterfalls this country has to offer."
a few people murmured in excitement.
"i don't want to keep you waiting any longer," anna added, pointing behind them. "go ahead — build your tents. we'll have dinner later."
the circle dissolved quickly after that, people breaking off toward the scattered piles of canvas and poles. voices rose again, lighter now, mixed with laughter and the scrape of fabric against the ground.
mike grabbed the closest bundle and dragged it a few feet away, choosing a spot that was far enough away from everyone and looked as flat as it was going to get. the ground was damp beneath his shoes.
he unrolled the tent with a huff. it immediately collapsed in on itself, fabric folding wrong, corners curling stubbornly.
"okay," he muttered. "great."
he crouched down, fumbling with the poles, trying to remember vague instructions from some the one time he'd set up a tent with nancy in the backyard, when when they were children. the poles refused to cooperate, bending the wrong way, slipping from his hands.
he stabbed one end into the ground a little harder than necessary.
"come on," he hissed under his breath.
around him, other tents began to take shape. canvas lifted. poles snapped into place. someone laughed when theirs went up crooked but stayed standing anyway.
mike's didn't.
every time he thought he had it, the whole thing sagged, leaning sideways like it was mocking him.
of course this was happening. of course he couldn't even manage this.
"shit," he whispered when one of the poles slipped free again, the tent collapsing in on itself with a pathetic sound.
he heard anna's voice somewhere behind him, carried easily over the noise.
"oh, there she is."
mike barely registered it. he was too busy trying to untangle a strap that seemed determined to knot itself tighter the more he pulled.
"this is valerie," anna continued. "she helps me out. if you have any questions and can't find me, you can turn to her."
mike let out a slow breath through his nose, pinching the bridge of it for half a second before dropping his hand. he forced himself to try again, threading a pole through the sleeve with slow care.
"valerie," anna added, closer now. "why don't you start by helping him?"
his shoulders tensed, embarrassment washing over him all at once. he hated this — being singled out and watched. the idea of a stranger stepping in to rescue him from his own incompetence made his stomach twist.
he squeezed his eyes shut briefly and exhaled.
"i'm fine," he said quickly as he turned, voice already defensive. "i don't need any—"
but the words died in his throat.
his breath caught so sharply it hurt, like his lungs had forgotten what they were supposed to do. the world seemed to tilt, sound draining away until all he could hear was the violent thudding of his own heart — too loud, too fast — trying to break out of his chest.
he blinked. he blinked so many fucking times, and she was still there.
it couldn't be real. it couldn't. his mind scrambled for explanations — was it exhaustion? or shock? some cruel trick of memory? — but none of them stuck. because hallucinations didn't look at you like that. they didn't freeze mid-step. they didn't have wide eyes and parted lips like they'd been caught in the middle of a breath.
it felt like falling into a dream he hadn't known he could still see. the kind he always woke up from with his hands shaking and his pillow damp with tears he pretended not to remember in the morning.
"el?" the name slipped out of him before he could stop it, fragile and reverent and terrified all at once. his voice barely worked, barely made it out of his throat.
he didn't blink again. he was afraid if he did, she'd disappear. afraid she'd dissolve into the gray air, leave him standing there with nothing but fabric and poles and the ghost of her burned into his vision.
her hair was longer than he remembered, falling past her shoulders in dark waves, almost blending into the overcast sky behind her. her face was sharper, more defined, but it was still unmistakably her. the same eyes that used to look at him with light and love and everything in between.
those eyes were on him now.
shit, mike forgot how to breathe entirely.
it was her. she was standing a few feet away from him, breathing and blinking and real.
the grief he'd buried years ago came roaring back all at once. the funeral he never held, the tombstone he couldn't visit, the letters he never sent. nights he spent staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the exact sound of her laugh so it wouldn't fade.
she had been gone.
she had been gone.
and now she was here.
"do you know him?" anna asked, her voice cutting through the moment like a blade.
the sound made mike flinch, reality crashing back in. he realized, distantly, that people were around them. that this wasn't a private miracle. that this was happening in the open, under a sky that was never gentle towards them.
el blinked once, like she was waking herself up. something shuttered behind her eyes, panic flashing there for just a second before it vanished, replaced by something carefully blank.
she swallowed.
"no," she said, and the word hit him harder than any punch ever could. "uhm. no. he must've confused me with someone else."
mike stared at her, disbelief flooding every part of him. his mouth opened, instinct screaming at him to say her name again, to reach for her, to do something — but she shook her head, barely perceptible, just enough for him to see.
she turned slightly, tearing her eyes away from him. it felt like being torn open all over again.
"he needs a mallet," she added quickly, crouching down and grabbing one from the pile of supplies like this was normal, like her heart wasn't pounding out of her chest. her voice was steadier than her hands. "the stakes won't go in properly without one. come on, they're over here."
she turned away before he could say anything else. before he could say her name again.
he stood there for half a second too long, frozen in place, watching her walk away like his world didn't just crack open.
he couldn't make any sense of it — of this. of seeing her. of finding her like this, of all places, across the world, under the same sky. of her pretending like she didn't know him. of her not looking back.
his eyes burned, vision blurring, his chest tight in a way that felt close to collapsing. for years it felt like he lived with a hole carved straight through him. he'd mourned her.
and now she was here.
alive and walking away.
he followed her without really deciding to, his feet moving on instinct alone, staying just close enough that he could still feel her presence. she was gravity pulling him along. when she finally stopped, when there was no one else close enough to hear, something inside him snapped.
his hand wrapped around her arm and he pulled her back, gently but desperately, needing to anchor her right now.
his arms came around her in a crushing hug, all restraint gone. a broken sound tore from his chest, something between a sob and a gasp, and he pressed his face into her shoulder. "el."
she gasped at the suddenness of it, a fractured breath catching painfully in her throat — but she didn't pull away. she couldn't. instead, as if her body remembered before her mind could interfere, her arms came up and wrapped around him too. her fingers dug into his shoulders, gripping hard, like she couldn't believe he didn't vanish under her touch.
that just made it realer to him.
mike wanted the shape of her fingers carved into him permanently, the indentation an undeniable evidence that this wasn't a figment of his imagination.
"you're alive—" his voice cracked. "how did—i don't—"
nothing came out right. there were no words big enough for years of grief colliding with impossible relief. he'd always believed she was out there. he just never believed he'd find her again.
not like this. not unexpectedly, not in a place like this.
her shoulders shook beneath his hands, her chin trembling where it rested against his collarbone. she leaned into him fully for one fragile second, letting herself have him, before pulling away like it hurt too much to stay.
he pulled back just enough to look at her, hands still gripping her arms because he couldn't let go. not now.
"what are you doing here?" she asked, voice barely holding together.
"i—it doesn't matter," he said quickly, desperately. "what are you doing here? how did you end up here? how—"
her eyes fluttered shut, lashes dark against her cheeks. "you shouldn't be here."
"what?" his face twisted, disbelief all over his face. they hadn't seen each other in years. everyone thought she was dead. and his life was nothing but absolute misery since she was gone and this was what she had to say? "are you serious? i—i thought you... were gone, el. i had to teach myself how to... function again. how to wake up every day knowing i'd never see you again and this—this is what you say to me? that i shouldn't be here?"
her chin trembled violently, she shook her head. "it's dangerous," she whispered. "for you."
he let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. "yeah, right, i'm sure john and maria are so dangerous with their matching stoned kitten sweaters. i'm terrified," he shot back. then his voice broke into something raw and honest. "and even if it was dangerous, i don't care. i didn't even know you were alive and now you're standing in front of me. i don't care about anything else."
"not—" frustration and desperation tangled in her voice. "not this campsite. it's dangerous for you to be around me. for you to know i'm alive."
"okay." he said breathlessly, the same frustration and desperation bleeding through him. "i don't fucking care. fuck the danger. fuck all of it."
"mike—"
"valerie!" the sound of anna's voice made el flinch, she stepped back instantly, like his presence was something forbidden.
"be right there!" el called back, voice carefully normal.
before she could step away completely, mike gently caught her elbow. his eyes were searching hers, loaded with unanswered questions, grief, hope and a silent plea.
begging her not to go. begging her not to push him away.
she sighed, shoulders slumping as something inside her caved. she reached up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye like she was tying herself to the feel of him.
"tonight," she said softly. "i'll tell you everything. but please, you can't let them know you know me."
his eyes fluttered shut beneath her touch, his cheek nudging closer to her palm without thinking.
his voice dropped to a whisper, stripped bare of defenses. "i don't think i can pretend not to know you, el." his breath hitched. "i don't want to pretend not to know you."
her lips twitched to a sad smile. she pulled him down just enough that their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, the closeness not even nearly close enough. "please, mike," she whispered. "do it for me."
he closed his eyes. shit, he would do anything for her.
even swallow down all the questions clawing at his throat. even sit with all the confusion tearing him apart. even fight the urge to stitch her to his side just to make sure she stayed.
even pretend, for now, that he didn't know the girl he loved had come back from the dead.
"fine," he breathed. "okay, if that's what you want."
he still wasn't entirely sure he wasn't dreaming. every few minutes, his eyes betrayed him, darting back to her as he struggled with the tent poles in his hands. he'd forget what he was doing mid-action, fingers going slack, heart lurching loudly in his chest as his gaze found her again.
still there. still real.
he'd remember her words then, close to the promises they used to give each other.
tonight i'll tell you everything.
you can't let them know you know me.
he was trying. jesus, he was trying so hard.
he kept his head down, forced himself to focus, but every atom in his body was screaming at him to walk over to her. to grab her hand. to pull her into his arms again and never let go. to press his mouth to hers and steal the kisses he missed so much.
all he wanted was for tonight to finally arrive.
he was drowning in questions, in confusion that refused to settle no matter how many times he replayed the moment in his head — the way she'd looked at him, the way he found her.
how did she end up here? why didn't she reach out? not once? why let him believe she was dead for so long?
and one question lodged itself painfully, almost in a terribly insecure way, beneath all the others. the one he was most afraid to hear an answer to.
did she miss him at all?
when the campfire was lit, mike nearly groaned aloud.
of course. of course there was one more thing standing between him and her. of course there was one more delay before he could steal some time with her, until he finally received answers.
they sat in a loose circle around the fire, the crackle of burning wood filling the space between conversations. wren dropped down beside him, while el sat on the opposite side — close enough to see, far enough to touch.
"you look like you're about to tap dance," wren murmured, amusement laced in his voice.
mike blinked, suddenly aware of the frantic rhythm of his foot against the dirt. he stilled it immediately.
"funny," he muttered.
his hands were fidgeting too, he realized. twisting his fingers together until they ached. he forced them to still, curling them into fists on his lap.
he breathed out slowly, eyes lifting despite himself. he couldn't let her out of his sight. the moment he did, panic flooded in, like she might disappear the second he stopped watching her.
her eyes caught his, tentatively, just for a moment. her lips curved into the smallest smile — like she was checking if he was still real too. his heart went absolutely crazy.
then she looked away again, but he still couldn't.
the fire flared, orange light dancing across her face, catching in her hair, illuminating the familiar angles of her features. she looked older and stronger and achingly beautiful in a way that stole the air from his lungs.
"dude," wren leaned closer, nudging his arm, "i think you might have a crush on the camping helper."
mike almost laughed.
crush?
sure. if that's what you called it when someone lived in your bones. when they were carved so deeply into you that years without them felt like walking around with something missing from your chest.
that's my girl, he thought stupidly, fiercely.
his gaze snapped back to her just in time to see the guy next to her lean in. sammy — he thought that was his name. he leaned closer, much too comfortable. el turned slightly toward him, listening, her attention pulled away from mike like a thread snapping loose.
something dark and bitter twisted in his stomach. something so unlike him.
sammy smiled at her, closer than before, and said something mike couldn't hear.
mike's hands curled into fists again, nails biting into his palms. wildness surged through him, something irrational and desperate and untamed, urging him to stand up, cross the space between them, take el's hand and make it clear.
my girlfriend.
he wanted to kiss her in front of everyone and stop pretending like he didn't know her.
but then he paused, mid-thought.
did he even have that right anymore?
the thought made him shrink.
he'd been stuck, trapped in his grief for years, unable to move forward without her. but what if she hadn't been? what if she'd moved on?
what if she got over what they had? what if that was the reason she never reached out — never told him that she was alive?
the ferocity inside him burned down into something aching.
el had always been the one. the only one.
but what if he wasn't that for her anymore?
what if she found someone better, smarter and more deserving of her?
his throat tightened, everything suddenly felt too suffocating. her dismissive behavior, all of it, making a little more sense.
maybe she just didn't need him anymore.
he looked at her again — she wore a careful smile as sammy talked and subtly shifted farther away from him. her eyes flicked around the circle until they landed on mike once more. her smile faltered, concern crept into her expression.
mike tore his gaze away.
his thoughts spiraled, every possibility cutting deep through him. voices blurred together around him, laughter and conversation fading into meaningless noise. all he could feel was the tightness in his chest, the weight of loving someone he might have already lost all over again. he didn't know what to think.
he kept catching her eyes and tearing his own away, over and over.
until the fire burned low, the night grew quiet and everyone finally drifted off toward their tents.
mike lay awake inside his, staring up at the thin fabric ceiling, listening to the sounds of the campsite settle.
every second stretched unbearably long.
his heart wouldn't slow down. it beat against his ribs like it was trying to escape. he replayed her voice in his head over and over again.
tonight.
he instantly registered the sound of the zipper moving, shooting up to sit before the tent flap opened, a thin beam of light cutting through the darkness. el ducked inside, flashlight in hand, careful and quiet.
and then she was there. right in front of him.
she closed the tent behind her, the zipper sealing them into a small, private world. she lowered herself onto her knees across from him, folding into the space.
his heart fucking stuttered.
neither of them spoke, they just looked at each other.
mike knew he should say something — anything — but the words wouldn't come out. not when she was this close. not when he could finally really look at her without restraining himself. his eyes traced her face slowly, greedily, wanting to memorize it all over.
her hair was longer, falling past her shoulders in dark waves. her features were still soft, still so unmistakably her, but sharper than the last time he'd seen her, a little older. her eyes, the same ones that haunted his dreams and nightmares alike.
beautiful. so fucking beautiful.
she was real. and suddenly, painfully, he felt shy.
his gaze dropped, nerves twisting in his stomach, a question clawing its way up somewhere pathetic and vulnerable. he hated how small it made him feel. hated that after everything, he was terrified of this.
slowly, reluctantly, he looked back up at her. "am i still something to you?" he asked, voice fragile.
her breath caught sharply, she looked at him like she couldn't believe he'd ever think that. "something?" her voice cracked on the word. "mike, you are my everything."
the tension drained from his shoulders in one shaky breath, relief crashing through him so hard it almost made him dizzy. and then reality came rushing back in.
"you made us all think you died." he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. his voice trembled despite his effort to steady it. "you made me think you died."
her eyes filled instantly, guilt and remorse shining through. "i'm sorry," she said.
everything he'd buried came roaring back to the surface. the numbness cracked open, leaving him exposed and raw. his chest burned as the truth poured out of him. "i've been mourning you."
the words sounded smaller than the pain behind them.
el let out a broken, almost disbelieving sound. her eyes slowly gathering tears. "do you think it was easy for me?" she asked softly. "having to leave everyone behind, having to leave you behind?" her voice trembled but she didn't look away. "i've been mourning everyone, everything, my own life, and you. i've been mourning and missing you day and night."
the spikes inside him finally softened. of course she had. of course he'd always know that she couldn't reach out. not if it meant risking her own safety. he'd never wanted her to choose him over her safety.
the hell he'd been through, she lived through, too. but only worse.
she left behind everything she'd ever known, every person she loved. the life she could've had — just to start new.
el, oh, el. always on the run, always paying the price just to exist.
the unnamable confusion dissolved into something softer, understanding settled deep in his bones as he reached for her hands gently. he cupped them between his, squeezing because he needed the reassurance and warmth.
his voice was gentler. "how did you end up here?"
el shifted closer without realizing it. she stared at their hands for a long moment, her thumb brushing over his knuckle in small, repetitive strokes to gather courage. when she spoke, her voice was quiet. "kali helped me fake it," she said. "she created an illusion for everyone to think it was me."
"we didn't know if it would work," she continued, swallowing. "we didn't have time to test it. we just... hoped it would be enough."
mike let out a broken breath, something between a laugh and a sob. he wasn't mad or delusional. not like everyone deep down though he was. "i knew it," he murmured.
her mouth twitched faintly but her eyes stayed dark, pulled back into memory. "after that, i ran," she said. "i didn't stop. i stole clothes from a laundromat bathroom to change out of mine. i slept in abandoned places. i didn't stay anywhere long enough to feel safe."
her grip on his hands tightened.
"i was paranoid," she admitted. "everything scared me. everyone felt like they were following me. even though i knew they probably wouldn't."
mike's eyes looked at her deeply, encouraging her to go on.
"i didn't take busses at first." she went on. "or cars. i just walked until i'd gone far enough from hawkins."
she paused, blinking hard.
"then... i met people. kind people." a soft, incredulous smile tugged at her lips. "some let me sleep on their couch. some gave me food. some gave me clothes. someone even paid for a bus ticket. i didn't know where i was going. i kept moving until i ended up in norfolk."
"when i saw the ships," she said, eyes shining now, "i knew i had to get on one. i didn't care where they were going. i just knew i had to be somewhere no one would ever think to look for me."
she shook her head slowly. "i didn't have documents. i didn't have anything. i begged. for days." her shoulders lifted with a shaky breath, "until someone finally let me onto a cargo ship in secret. i gave him all the money i had left."
her gaze lifted to mike's, raw and open.
"then i was just gone... and i've been here ever since," she said softly. "i met anna at some point. she helped me. i help her with the farm and campsite. she helps me get the documents."
"documents?" mike finally asked, his voice rough. "what documents?"
"to out of here," she said. "i'm planning to leave. soon. i don't know where yet but i will."
the thought of her always running, never settling, never truly resting made him feel sick to his stomach.
the space between them filled with silence, needing to process the words.
then el squeezed his hands. "it was hard. i wanted to go back so many times. i had to give up all that i've ever known, mike. even my own name," her voice cracked. "i wanted to run back to you so often — but i couldn't. not if it meant putting you in danger." tears slipped free, tracing down her cheeks. "i missed you."
his own eyes watered, without hesitating, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into him. his face buried in her hair, breathing her in like oxygen. "i missed you, too." he said, voice wrecked. "every single fucking day. i'm so sorry you had to go through this alone."
they clung to each other, bodies pressed together in a tight and desperate hug. quiet sobs and broken whimpers slipped out between them, noises impossible to contain. her fingers wandered from his shoulder blades to his hair, slipping through his curls, tugging just enough to feel him there.
his hands slid from her shoulders to her waist, fingers digging in to feel her, to pull her closer.
her breath fanned over his neck, her hair brushed his cheek, their limbs were tangled together, and sudddenly everything made sense again.
eventually — reluctantly — he pulled back just enough to look at her.
their faces were tear-streaked when they were face to face, their breaths were uneven. a hair breadth of space between them that felt unbearable. her chest rose and fell too fast. his did the same. his hand came up, knuckles brushing her cheek before his fingers gently pushed a few strands of hair out of her face, lingering there to memorize the feel of her skin.
"i thought you died," the words left him in broken vulnerability. "i thought i lost you."
she shook her head, her thumb brushing over his cheek. "i'm here."
those two words snapped something in him.
he pulled her in, their lips meeting in a soft, tentative brush. teasingly, almost like the patient flutter of butterfly wings. almost as tentative as if it was their first kiss.
in a way, it might've been.
he kissed her softly once, the familiar press of her lips shooting warmth through his body. he pulled back, and then kissed her again. longer, a little more desperate. then he stopped, thumb brushing under her eye, wiping away tears he hadn't noticed were there before.
"you're here," he said quietly, unable to fully believe the words.
their lips met again, the soft brushes deepening more and more.
they needed tenderness but they also needed more.
the meeting of their lips turned more desperate and unrestrained, mouths moving against each other like they were trying to make up for every year, every day, they'd lost. for every night he'd gone to sleep thinking she was dead. for every morning she'd woken up missing him so badly it felt like someone stole a vital organ from her.
she shifted, rising up onto her knees to pull him closer, closing the distance between them completely. her fingers threaded through his hair more wildly, holding him there. his hands clutched on her tighter, pulling her clad to him.
he kissed her but he couldn't stop the tears. couldn't stop hers either. they salty teardrops trailing down tasted nothing short of relief.
their tongues met, slowly and tentatively, until the stokes grew more persistent. a low sound broke from mike's throat before he could stop it. he turned them carefully, guiding her down, hovering over her while never ceasing with his kisses.
their kisses grew deeper, like they were pouring everything they'd held back into them.
his grief. his years-long numbness that nothing or no one could fill. his desperate desire to be by her side.
her mourning. her years-long loneliness that nothing or no one could fill. her desperate desire to be by his side.
his hands moved, unsure where to settle. there was too much of her, too much he wanted to touch. all he knew was that he needed to feel her — he needed to feel her skin beneath his palms. he needed to feel her warmth. he needed the constant reminder and proof that she was alive and real and here with him.
her legs hooked around his waist, pulling him down until their hips pressed flush together.
they both sharply gasped at the contact, like it flipped something inside them. mike rocked his hips instinctively, and the sweet sound she made in response sunk straight into him, settling as heat on his body.
he did it again. and again. rolling his hips to meet hers, deliberately, savoring every contact and every touch.
until she was writhing beneath him, her breath breaking, fingers digging in his shoulders, clearly desperate for more.
her voice was a sweet gasp, calling out for him breathily, "mike."
he couldn't take it anymore.
they undressed clumsily, hands everywhere, clothes shoved aside without care. his mouth found her skin, kissing anything he could reach because he had to. because every inch of her felt like something he'd been denied for too long.
he kissed her temple, her cheeks, her nose, her jaw. lingered at her neck and collarbones until his lips slowly trailed lower. he kissed her breasts, remaining there purposefully. his gentle kisses and breath fanning over her skin until her back arched, tugging on his hair when his mouth found her nipple, his fingers brushing over her like he was learning her all over again.
he sucked and kissed, devoted to leave her panting and wanting more. when his tongue flicked over her nipple again and again, he kissed his way to the other one, showing it the same attention.
her hips bucked up to meet his, her chest heaving in want. "i need you," she whispered breathlessly, tugging on his hair to bring his mouth back to hers. "i need you, mike."
heat like he'd never felt before engulfed his body from the inside out, her words shooting straight between his legs. it was impossible not to react, impossible not to feel the same. feel it even more.
"i need you, mike." the same words she'd always used. the same ones she used to whisper into his mouth after training, when she'd crawl onto her bed and pull him close like she needed him to recharge her.
i need you, mike.
fuck. he needed her, too.
he needed her more.
all of her. everything.
somewhere distantly — god only knows how — he remembered the condom in his bag.
he didn't want to pull away from her, not even for a second, so one hand fumbled blindly toward the bag, fingers shaking as he searched without looking. it took longer than it should've until the foil finally grazed his fingertips.
when he pulled back just enough to tear his mouth from hers, her eyes fluttered open. they widened slightly when she noticed what he was holding, her lips pressing into a thin line as her gaze slipped away.
it took him a second to understand why.
"no— no," he quickly said, shaking his head as panic flickered across his face. "this isn't what you think." his words desperately rushed out. "my roommate —the one i came here with— he wouldn't stop trying to give me this stupid box of condoms on the way. i only took one to make him shut up. i swear. i never—" he swallowed. "i never planned on using it with anyone."
she watched him for a moment but the earnest expression on his face made her breathe out, tension easing from her shoulders. but she still couldn't meet his eyes, a question settling in her thoughts she was scared to voice out loud but knew she had to. her thumb traced the hollow of his collarbones gently. "did you date other people?"
"i couldn't." he answered, his voice raw and immediate. his chest felt tight as he asked the same. "did you?"
her eyes met his unapologetically. "i couldn't," she shook her head.
something vulnerable passed over his face then. relief, and love, and something like awe.
he'd never felt so invincible before.
his hand came up to cup her cheek again, thumb brushing softly over her skin. his eyes searched hers, wide and raw, taking her in with all that he had. "i love you."
her heart skipped a beat. she pulled him back down, the words wrapping around her like a hum. "i love you, too."
their lips met again, slower this time but fuller too. and between kisses, he managed to tear open the wrapper and put in on, never really breaking contact for long.
their foreheads pressed together as he eased into her, the closeness almost overwhelming. skin to skin. breath to breath. everything he'd missed crashing over him at once.
he was overflowing with desire, overcome with want and melted with love.
close.
they needed this proximity.
he moved gently and slowly, their lips never straying far, kisses traded between murmured breaths and soft sounds. sometimes he kissed her mouth. sometimes he kissed her cheek, her temple, her shoulder. like he still needed to touch every part of her just to be sure.
the tent filled with quiet whimpers, broken moans and the sounds of them finding each other again.
"i missed you." he spoke against her skin after kissing a spot on her neck for too long, the purple bite proof of his presence. "el," he moaned, because he could. because he wanted to. because she was there.
her hands roamed over his back, over his chest, everywhere. she tugged his head back up, kissing his jaw before finding his swollen lips again. "i missed you, too."
when he felt himself getting close, his hand slid between them, rubbing her in a way he knew would push her over the edge with him — and when she did, when she cried out and clung to him like she always used to, something inside him finally let go.
they rode it out together, shaking, breathless, lips meeting again in softer and slower kisses until he finally pulled back and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her against his chest.
they lay there tangled together, each other's scent rubbed all over each other, and impossibly happy.
"where do you think we should settle?" he asked quietly after a while, fingers twining with hers. "maybe we could try canada. it's close but also far enough."
she lifted her head, blinking at him. "what? but mike—"
he leaned in and kissed her gently, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. "now that i've found you," he said in a steady and certain voice. "i'm never letting go again. do you hear me? i'm not losing you. not again."
a smile melted on her face despite everything.
there was nothing she could do now. not when he'd found her again. out of the blue. not if he was beside again, like a miracle, after she'd made the world believe she was dead.
he would always find her. he always did.
no matter what.
she knew that.
"okay," she whispered, settling back against his chest, fitting there like she always had. "canada sounds nice."