Prologue: The Wait

January 7th

"Will the Wise begins to stagger about uncontrollably, his legs bending beneath him. He feels another presence taking root in his brain…" Mike's voice is hushed and deep, his tone getting exactly the reaction he wanted from his friends.

"Shit. What is it?" Dustin looked frantically at the rest of his party. Will returned a panicked stare.

"We're all already low on hit points, this better not be serious…" Lucas muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"A Mind Flayer has taken control of Will the Wise!" Mike suddenly raised his voice, loud enough to startle but quiet enough to avoid waking his father in the La-Z-Boy upstairs. It was already after nine O'clock, and if his mom hadn't been having dinner with her sister tonight then she would have sent his friends home an hour ago.

"Shit shit shit!" Dustin grabbed the peak of his cap and pulled it down in front of his face. "What are we going to do?" He mumbled through the hat.

"Relax." Lucas said, pulling off Dustin's cap and socking him in the arm. He snatches the dice from the center of the board. "I'll go for an uppercut".

"Ok, you need a 10 or higher…" Mike watched as the dice tumbled across the board, before finally resting on two fives. "It's a hit! The sword cuts through the soft flesh of the Mind Flayer, and blood spurts across the stone chamber" Mike had dipped his had subtly in a glass of water that was by his feet, and he flicked droplets across the table at his friends.

"Ah dude!" Lucas complains, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. "This is D&D not Sea World!" Dustin was laughing behind him, sitting far enough back to avoid getting sprayed.

"I'm creating an immersive experience" Mike said theatrically, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Is Will the Wise ok?" Lucas asks, returning them to the matters at hand.

"The young warlock collapses onto the cold floor, holding his head between his shaking hands…" Mike allowed a sense of anguish enter his voice.

"But we killed it!" Will looked round at his team mates for help.

"I…I don't think it matters" Dustin was rapidly searching the vast archive of D&D information he had acquired over the years. Only he really rivalled Mike's knowledge as the dungeon master. "Even if the Mind Flayer is dead its spell continues – I'll cast dispel magic!"

After the Mind Flayer's hold from beyond the grave was broken, Mike paused the game, to a chorus of complaints. "Sorry guys, but my Mom will be home soon, and my Dad won't sleep in the La-Z-Boy all night."

"Uh – Mike, that's exactly what he'll do." Dustin spread his arms in a 'duh' gesture, and Mike just rolled his eyes. "I'd bet my Spiderman 200 that he's still there tomorrow morning."

"Look, I don't want Will's mom and Jonathan getting worried – they expected him to call ages ago." Jonathan had taken to demanding that Will called him to get picked up in the car rather than bike home if it was after dark. He glanced at his watch automatically – the one he had lent to El for those crazy few days. He touched the clock face with his finger, remembering their conversation weeks ago. When the numbers read 3,1,5, meet us under the power lines.

"This sucks." Will muttered half-heartedly. Mike could tell he was secretly glad his family were being over-protective. Ever since he'd come back from the upside down he seemed to always be either skittish or completely quiet, sometimes it seemed like he was barely with them in the room. At that moment Mike realised the irony of the storyline he had written for them tonight – Will had been haunted by a demon even after it was dead and gone. If it wasn't so sad he could have laughed.

He looked at the D&D board in front of them. The campaign had been good so far, he thought. He was finding it harder and harder to be convincing – to make them think he still cared about this stuff. Maybe he'd been a little too enthusiastic this time, over-compensated a bit. He just didn't get find the same joy in this stuff that he used to. He wondered if the others ever felt the same, if they were all just going through the motions, together, pretending things could be like before.

Ten minutes later, Johnathan had arrived for Will, and Dustin and Lucas had headed upstairs to get their bikes and go. Mike picked up a couple of empty soda cans and snack wrappers that littered the basement, then followed up the stairs. He could hear his Mom had just got back, and was talking to Lucas in the hall.

"Sorry Mrs. Wheeler, we just lost track of time I guess."

"That's okay. Did you manage to change Michael's mind about tomorrow?" The Snow Ball. Mike paused in the doorway to avoid breaking up their conversation.

"No, we tried. I think his mind's made up."

"Such a shame…" He heard the front door close as Lucas slipped out, calling after Dustin to wait up.

He walked slowly back towards the basement. "Michael" his mother stopped him at the door. "I thought we'd talked about this – no more sleeping down there. Your bedroom is upstairs."

"I know. I'm not, I just…left some stuff down there. I'll go back up to bed, I promise." She smiled and pulled him into a hug, kissing the top of his head as he stood rigidly beneath her, waiting patiently to be released.

He slowly descended the wooden steps back downstairs. For the first two weeks after she'd disappeared, he'd slept down here every night. He looked at the blanket fort, carefully reassembled after the government men – the 'bad men' as she had called them – had destroyed it.

He lay down, curling up under a yellow blanket, and checked his watch: 9:59 pm. He reached for his supercom, and switched the channel to 7. The others were always on 6.

"Hi, El."

He spoke softly, the walkie-talkie pressed up close to his face.

"So…today." He began, piecing together what he was going to tell her. "The gym finally opened again for the first time, since, y'know…" He stared up at the sheets above him, the pale light seeping through. He thought about all the nights El had spent down here, alone and still terrified of everything. How she had looked up at him, wide-eyed and trusting, and made him feel like he was the one with superpowers.

"Everything is weirdly…normal. It's fucked. People act like nothing has happened, like nothing has changed." He couldn't hide the contempt in his voice for the other kids at school. They knew nothing.

"Jennifer Hayes asked to sit with Will at lunch" he said, smiling slightly, trying to lighten up. "He could barely speak – it was great. And Dustin fell asleep in English again. Mrs. Broadwater lost her shit."

He rolled over onto his side, facing the wall, and curled up into a ball. He could still smell her on the pillows, he thought. I mean, it was probably just in his head, but he didn't care. Some part of her was still on the sheets, some physical proof that she was real, she was here.

"The campaign went pretty well. They're about two thirds of the way through. They got through the caves of discontent pretty easily, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve. I might make Lucas fall in love with a Harpy…"

He paused, and imagined the inevitable question she would have asked next, if she'd been there. "It's like half bird, half human. The wings and legs of a bird, but the body and head of a beautiful woman. It sings a sweet song to make you fall in love with it, then it kills you…"

"Anyway. Nancy is still with Steve, for some reason. He's trying really hard to be all friendly with me." Mike sighed. "No way is that happening."

He let his finger off the talk button for a moment, and listened to the faint static. Nothing. He breathed in deeply, and pressed the button back down.

"I…I miss you El." He almost whispered the words. "Wherever you are – if you can hear me – come home. Or just give me a sign, let me know your alive. I need to know that you're okay." He felt his face start to get hot, and his eyes well up. Every time, jeez.

"I'll speak to you tomorrow, same time, ok?" He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid picturing her somewhere, in the dark, alone, unable to hear him.

"Goodnight, El. Over and out." He kept still for a second, trying to hold in a scream, or a sob, or some feeling he couldn't quite identify. Instead he just threw the walkie talkie over his shoulder and across the room, not even looking but hearing the smack as it hit the wooden floor, batteries spilling from the back and rolling aimlessly across the floorboards.

January 8th

"Michael." His mother was looking at him with that concerned face that made him feel a horrible mix of guilt and anger. "It's your last chance to change your mind honey. In a few years' time you'll regret missing out on experiences like this, trust me. I really think you should go." Her hair bobbed slightly as it spoke, but it always returned to the same perfect, carefully hair-sprayed position.

"There was no chance in hell. He had already apologised to his friends. There was just no way he was going to the Snow Ball without El.

She gently lifted a lock of jet hair from in front of his eyes. "Sweetie, I won't force you. But this weekend I want you to really try with Dr. Barnett. I know you don't want to see him, but he's a nice man, and it'll be good for you." Dr. Barnett was a shrink his mom had been begging him to see for a couple of weeks. She finally stopped asking and just booked an appointment. "If you won't talk to me about it, you should talk to him."

It hurt him how wounded she looked, just because he wasn't willing to sit and talk her through every painful feeling that came into his mind. It wouldn't help anyway. "I do talk to you mom. Besides, I'm fine."

"Michael, I'm not blind. You've been so mopey since everything that happened with Will, and you see your friends far less, and you spend so much time in that basement…" She had become annoyingly observant since that week in November, when two of her children managed to lead secret lives right under her nose.

Mike just ignored her, slumping back against the couch and reaching for the hot chocolate he'd left on the side table. She sighed, walking back into the kitchen and muttering something to his dad. He knew he looked like a charity case, sat in his old Star Trek PJs in front of the TV on the night of the big school dance.

He turned back to look at the old Western that was part-way through on the TV. A man dressed all in white had been shot outside the saloon, and blood was seeping from between his fingers as he pressed his hand up to the bullet wound. He switched it off instantly.

He indulged his imagination for a while, and he could see her standing in front of him. He saw them at the Snow Ball, her wearing the same dress they stole off his sister. He saw her eyes looking up at him expectantly, asking if she looked pretty. He always pictured her without the wig – he liked her better that way. The short hair just meant there was less to distract from her face, from those eyes.

Each time he imagined her it got a little harder. He felt niggling self-doubt. What if he was misremembering her? What if she was now a slightly different person, that existed only in his mind, and not the real Eleven? Each day he seemed to get worse at recreating her. It never even occurred to him at the time, but the fact that they never took a photo of her during that week was now agonising.

Xx

"Dude, you have to dance with her." Dustin looked at Will, following his gaze across the gymnasium, where it settled on Jennifer Hayes. "She asked you if you were going tonight. That's basically a girl's way of asking you to take them as a date. You messed that up – but if you go dance with her it might still work." He gave the smaller boy a playful nudge. "You like her, don't you?"

"Yeah, I mean I guess I do…" Will hesitated, refilling his cup with fruit punch. His hands shook a little, spilling sticky liquid over his wrists and the cuff of his shirt. Well, Jonathan's old shirt. He looked up at the room; it was basically just the basketball court but with the baskets taken down and black curtains thrown over the windows. They'd thrown up some silver stars and bad disco lights on the ceiling, but that was about the extent of it.

"Then go talk to her at least! Don't be such a pussy!" Lucas put a hand on his shoulder. "You can do this, man."

Will gulped down the punch in one go and steadied himself, starting to slowly weave his way through the handful of couples who had braved it onto the makeshift dancefloor. Most of the boys and girls were standing in groups around the edges, or were sat on the bleachers. It was the same stupid groups they were in every lunchtime.

"He knows there's no alcohol in that punch, right?" Dustin laughed, watching the seemingly tiny figure of Will make agonisingly slow progress towards her.

"Shit dude she's seen him!" Lucas nudged his friend, as Jennifer seemed to look straight at Will. There was a pause, before Will turned tail, rushing sideways off the dancefloor and out of the double doors that led back into the corridor.

Without saying anything, Lucas and Dustin started after him, almost breaking into a jog.

"Will!" They burst into the boy's bathroom. "You in here, buddy?"

They heard a hacking cough coming from one of the stalls. "You ok in there?"

"I'm…fine…" Will spluttered. "Just give me a minute, ok?"

"I think he's throwing up in there." Lucas whispered as they went back outside. "He's looked really bad since he came back from the upside down."

"You're sure this isn't just because he's nervous?" Dustin raised both eyebrows. "About Jennifer Hayes?"

"I don't know. At least he's here. Between him and Mike, I'm not sure who we should be worried about the most."

Dustin slung an arm over Lucas' shoulder. "It'll get better. They just need some time."

Xx

"El, it's me." Mike settled into the fort, holding the supercom up. His thumb rubbed the scotch tape that now held the cracked battery pack in place. "I know I'm a little early…" he looked at his watch – it was barely 8pm.

"I don't know if you remember, but tonight is the Snow Ball, the cheesy school dance we talked about."

Silence, as always, echoed back at him. He had to do this, and give himself some kind of closure. He had to at least try to pick up the pieces of his life, for his mom, and his friends.

"I've broken my last promise, El." He felt the warmth of tears lurking behind his eyes. "I told you friends don't lie. Well guess what, they do."

"They make promises they can't keep. They say things to make you feel better when they know they're too weak – too pathetic – to actually do anything." He let the tears fall freely now, sliding warm paths down his cheeks.

"I told you I'd keep you safe, bring you home. I said you'd have a real bed, real food. I said we'd go to the dance…" Mike dropped his head between his knees, trying to hold in the racking sobs that were threatening to escape.

"El, I'm not going to use the radio anymore. I…I know you can't hear me anyway, b-but if, somehow, you've been listening this whole time, I want you to know that just…just because I've stopped talking, it d-doesn't mean that I've ever stopped thinking about you." He clenched the walkie-talkie between his fingers. "I won't stop thinking about you, El. Not ever."

He pushed the antenna back into the supercom, and hauled himself up. Everything could have turned out so differently. Teary-eyed, he pulled apart the den of blankets, throwing each one across the room. He leapt up the stairs two at a time.

This all seemed so pointless. They could get him to stop trying to reach her, to stop keeping her bed intact, or to stop keeping her old yellow t-shirt around, but they couldn't make him forget about her. He pulled open the door to the kitchen.

Smothered by one of the blankets, there was a faint crackle.

"Mike…"