[A/N]: Thanks to everyone for sending such lovely messages of support! This is going to be an official story now, probably around 13 chapters. Once again, thanks for reading!
It started in history class last year.
El's teacher had been trying (and failing) to set up the overhead projector for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, the class was growing antsier by the minute; hushed whispers quickly escalated into full-on conversations, laughter, and before long, no one seemed to care that they were even in class anymore.
The teacher had not only given up on trying to hold back muttered curses of frustration, but also on fixing the projector himself. As the students chucked spitballs and paper airplanes at each other, he called the office, asking for an A.V. club student to come over and fix the "goddamn thing."
Minutes later, Mike had walked in wearing one of his dorky wool sweaters and a hall pass lanyard around his neck. "What's the problem?" He'd asked, glancing between the rowdy class and red-faced teacher in both hesitance and alarm.
"This damn projector won't turn on!" The teacher huffed in reply, "All these good-for-nothing technologies they make us use now…back in my day, there was nothing wrong with good, old-fashioned books and chalkboards!"
"Right," Mike had said in a dismissive sort of way that made El snort. He moved over to examine the projector more closely, getting out a handful of tools from his backpack.
El had watched as he worked, and though he didn't notice her, she found herself noticing everything about him. Like the way he pushed up his sleeves, the way he looked so focused, the way he tucked his pocket screwdriver behind his ear when he wasn't using it, or the way that smiled excitedly when he'd figured something out.
Her heart had done a weird flip-floppy thing in her chest, and as it beat slightly faster, it matched the rhythm of her train of thought: cute, cute, cute, cute.
For a moment, she'd wondered if she was getting sick. She certainly felt like it. Sick and crazy and ridiculous. She knew nothing about him but wanted to know everything.
"There," Mike had said once he'd finished, "You just had to adjust the Fresnel lens, nothing serious."
The teacher furrowed his brow. "The what?"
"The condenser?" Mike offered. When the teacher still looked lost, Mike continued, more slowly, "The big glass thing."
"Oh. Thanks."
"No problem."
Mike left the room, El was left reeling.
He's still wearing that same sweater today, El notices as she sneakily examines him from across the biology classroom. Even though he's seated in the front row and she's all the way in the back, she still has a pretty good angle on him. Since his back is to her, she doesn't even have to worry about him catching her.
As she watches him take notes, she half-heartedly realizes that she's kind of acting like a total weirdo. Then again, that isn't far off from her reputation around school.
El knows what other kids at school think of her. She's not an idiot — she sees the frightened glances she and Max get in when they enter school with their ripped jeans and dark eyeshadow, or the whispers that are exchanged when they're busted for something.
And yet, while every other student seems to notice her, and how different she is, to Mike, she's practically invisible.
Well, at least, she was.
Her mind goes back to last Friday, to that grungy detention room. When El and Max had entered, and El had seen them, him, she hadn't been able to stop herself from gasping, though it was only loud enough for Max to hear.
"What?" Max had hissed, glancing back at her.
"Nothing," El had muttered quickly.
"You know these dweebs?" Max moved her gaze towards the boys in their desks.
"I know Mike," El had admitted, hoping she didn't sound too nervous, "He's president of the A.V. Club."
Mortensen had turned to lecture them after that, shutting down any further questions from Max, which El was immensely grateful for. She's definitely not ready to let Max know that she has a crush on a 'dweeb' like Mike. She'd never hear the end of all the teasing.
But despite Max almost finding out about her crush, last Friday was definitely the best day ever. Mike had sat right next to her. Without her even asking. And he'd talked to her.
Just thinking about it makes El want to explode, but in a good way. It also makes her doodle hearts in the corner of her notebook as she daydreams about Mike and all the various ways he could confess that he can't stop thinking about her, either.
She's in the middle of imagining an elaborate scenario that involves a bouquet of waffles and a motorcycle ride when she abruptly realizes that everyone in the class, including the teacher, including Mike, is staring at her.
She freezes, wishing more than anything that she could disappear. Should she say anything? She can't just keep sitting here, looking like a total mouthbreather…
"Eleanor?" The teacher, Mrs. Hawthorne, asks. She's looking at El over the rim of her glasses, the way she always does when she's had it up to here with someone. "Can you answer the question?"
What question? She wasn't even listening!
El swallows, cheeks feeling hot. "I…uh…I don't know," she mumbles quietly.
"I don't know," Troy, Hawkins High's resident asshole, quietly mimics in a squeaky voice, earning a hushed round of snickers from his cronies.
El gives him a death glare, but Troy ignores her.
"That's ok," her teacher says gently, "But you need to pay attention." This only causes more snickers from Troy and his friends, and El can feel her hands start to shake.
Keep it under control. Not here, not here.
She takes a deep breath and relinquishes her grasp just as the teacher asks, "Can anyone else answer the question?"
Mike raises his hand, and El feels her heart skip a beat. "The nictitating membrane is a frog's third eyelid," He answers easily, "It helps the frog keep its eye moistened."
"Frogface," Troy not-so-subtly coughs.
Mike rolls his eyes, but El notices the red tinge of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. For the second time in the past minute, she wants to completely destroy Troy, or, at the very least, give him what he deserves (which, to be fair, is complete destruction).
"Thank you, Michael," Their professor says, throwing Troy a dirty look. "Now that we've covered the pre-lab questions, I think we oughta get started with the experiment."
Experiment? El turns her focus to the board, trying to remember what they're even studying right now.
"For the frog dissection, I'm going to assign you partners at random," Mrs. Hawthorne explains.
Oh right. They were dissecting frogs today. Remembering this makes El's stomach churn, and she starts to feel anxious. This is a class that she's been dreading ever since their teacher first mentioned it, though she'd completely forgotten that they were doing it today.
Mrs. Hawthorne starts reading out names in pairs, matching students up with their respective lab partners. El crosses her fingers under her desk, hoping, praying, she won't get Troy. He's the only thing, at least that she can think of, that's more disgusting than having to cut open a frog.
"Eleanor..."
Please not Troy, please not Troy, ANYONE but Troy...
"...You'll be working with Michael."
El freezes. Michael? As in…
Mike turns to glance back at her with a small smile, and El feels herself melt. Seriously. Her heart feels all mushy and her stomach is all flip-floppy and it takes everything within El to not grin like an idiot. Nevertheless, she's able to maintain the indifferent, stoic look that she often sports around school — the look that shields her from seeming like the total dope she feels like on the inside.
Mrs. Hawthorne finishes pairing up the rest of the class. When she tells everyone to get started, the whole class gets up in a chaotic flurry of movement. Everyone's running to either their partner, their lab table, or the supply closet in the back of the room. El is just rising to her feet — legs feeling like Jell-O — when suddenly Mike is standing right in front of her and she's trying to remember how to blink properly.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," she replies, suddenly feeling self-conscious about everything she's doing, like how she's standing. Should she put her hands in his pockets, like he's doing, or should she cross them? On her hips? WHY was worrying about this, again?
"So, I guess we're like, partners," Mike says.
"Yeah," El says, amazed at just how nonchalant she's able to sound, considering the circumstances.
Mike glances around the busy classroom. "So, I can go get the supplies, if you want, it looks pretty gnarly back there," he offers. "And you can get us a table."
El nods. "Okay."
Mike gives her another small smile, and despite her desperate attempts to remain as laid-back as possible, she finds herself smiling back.
The two part ways. As El finds them a lab table, she can't help but feel frustrated. Being closed-off from people is her form of protection. It keeps people like Troy from learning her vulnerabilities, and, she realizes as she glances down at her own hands, her strengths.
But Mike…
Mike undoes everything. Mike makes El want to smile and giggle and blush and act like a total knucklehead. She's happy with being a loner, happy with being able to trust Max and Max alone. It's safe, comfortable. Her feelings for Mike, on the other hand?
Completely terrifying.
Mike returns with a tray of goggles, gloves, forceps, pins, and a plastic container that smells an indescribable kind of terrible. The pungent odor makes El crinkle up her nose, and she looks up at Mike skeptically.
"Yeah, this thing totally reeks," Mike gripes, passing her a pair of safety goggles.
"Totally," El agrees, taking the goggles. Their fingers brush for the briefest of moments, and El feels her cheeks grow warm.
El tries not to stare as Mike slips on his safety goggles. The strap brushes against his hair and makes it floof up slightly.
Cute, cute, cute, cute.
They slip on some plastic gloves, line the tools up in a row, and remove the frog from the plastic container. El feels her stomach churn again as Mike lays the frog's stiff, frozen body out on the tray.
Mike gets out their teacher's Xeroxed lab instructions and reads them over quickly.
"Alright, so," he begins, pushing up his sleeves and getting their tools out, "It looks like we have to identify the organs and fill out the diagram on this worksheet," he turns to her, holding out the scalpel, "Do you want to do the cutting?"
El's eyes widen. She glances at the scalpel, at Mike, and shakes her head quickly. "I'll do the worksheet," she offers, pulling the paper closer to her.
"Aww, you're not scared, are you?" Mike teases. "It's just a little frog." He holds up the frog's arm and makes it wave at her.
"No!" El tries to hold back both a giggle and cry of disgust, but instead gives off a strangled sort of snorting sound that only makes Mike smile even more.
El composes herself and gives him her best-annoyed look, "It's gross."
"It's not THAT gross," Mike replies, "I mean, it's a little gross, but it's also super cool! Like, we're gonna get to see all his intestines and his liver and stuff!"
He's definitely not wrong about that.
Once Mike cuts the frog open, they can see every last veiny, slimy, nasty organ inside. El keeps her eyes trained either on Mike or their worksheet, knowing that she won't be able to last a minute if she has to keep looking at the poor frog.
Mike seems aware of this, as he doesn't tease her anymore. Instead, he takes on the tasks of cutting, examining, and prying. He seems really into it, if the way he excitedly babbles about the abnormal length of the spleen means anything. Even though it's still super gross, the way Mike explains it to her — passionately, earnestly, an excited glint on his eye — she can't help but admire his efforts to make it less scary.
He's a total nerd about the whole thing, and yet, El finds herself loving every moment of it.
When the class ends and it's time to pack up, El finds herself actually upset that it's over.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Mike asks her as they properly dispose of the frog and remove their gloves, "I mean, it smelt really weird, and I know you didn't like all the organs, or how it kinda squirted frog guts everywhere when I accidentally punctured the —"
"Mike," El cuts him off, not really wanting to relive that particular moment, "It was fine."
"Really?" Mike slides his goggles up, and now that they're resting in his scruffy hair, El notices the splay of freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.
Cute, cute, cute, cute.
El swallows and nods. "Yeah."
Mike gives her another smile as they finish cleaning up. They conclude just as the bell rings, signaling the end of class.
As their classmates file out of the room, El goes back to her desk to get her things. Mike grabs his backpack and slowly makes his way over to the doorway but doesn't leave, and it's only when El notices the glances he keeps giving her that she realizes he's stalling for her.
El holds back a smile as she makes her way towards the door, hoping Mike can't tell that every step she takes towards him makes her heart flutter all the more.
"By the way," Mike says as she approaches him and the two walk into the bustling hallway together, "How'd you solve my Rubik's cube? I've been working on it forever."
El shrugs, still a little unsure herself. "I just tried."
"Seriously? I can't believe you did it so fast! Like, you were amazing!"
Amazing? El glances up at him, eyes wide, and Mike suddenly looks alarmed.
"I mean, how fast you did it was amazing, not that you, personally, are amazing," he quickly amends, "Not that you're not amazing, though! You're pretty cool, I guess. I mean, you seem cool, I know we've never really talked before or anything, but maybe — "
"Mike!" Someone calls out.
El looks over to see Mike's friends waiting at the end of the hall, huddle by his locker. Mike looks relieved for the interruption and immediately stops babbling.
"Well, I gotta go," he instead says to El, giving her an apologetic look. "But maybe I'll see you later?"
"Yeah," El replies, trying not to sound too hopeful, and just like that, Mike is off.
"Why were you walking with HER?" El hears one of his friends — Dustin, she's pretty sure — ask before the boys submerge into the rushing crowd of Hawkins High students, out of earshot.
As Mike disappears from view, El is suddenly left wondering if that was the conclusion to their story. Was that the last time they'd ever speak to each other? The last time he'd ever acknowledge that she existed? What did 'maybe I'll see you later,' mean, anyway?
El looks down at her hands. She knows she's different, powerful, dangerous — and yet, all she feels now is a delirious sort of weakness.
She's turning into such a knucklehead. A blushing, embarrassingly love-sick knucklehead.
And yet…
She doesn't completely hate it.
El crosses her fingers and desperately hopes that she won't become invisible to him again.