A/N: Hey everyone! This chapter took me a while to write but it was totally worth it! I hope you all enjoy :)

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed this story! I really appreciate you all!

Monday

I want him to see me dance, Jane realized. This recital would be an important experience in her dancing career and she wanted to share it with him. If the mural's purpose really was to call out to her, she had to answer back. But how could she answer him if she didn't know where to find him?

An idea suddenly popped into her head.

The student directory!

She sprinted to her dorm room as fast as her (no longer tired) legs would carry her. She could search his name in the student directory and find out his contact information – his college email address, even where his dorm room was. She was sure NYU didn't intend for the directory to be used this way but, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Finally reaching her destination, she scrambled up the stairs and into her dorm room. Fueled by adrenaline, she practically threw herself down at her desk and roughly jerked open her laptop. She typed in the web address for the NYU home page and scrolled down a bit before she finally found the link to the student directory. She typed in her required student ID number to access the directory that the school had set up as a security measure.

She typed in his name into the search bar and clicked. It felt like forever before the results finally popped up.

Michael Wheeler

MWheeler

Room 51, Nelligan Hall

Well that was easy, Jane thought triumphantly. She quickly scribbled his dorm room on a scrap piece of paper.

Tomorrow. She clutched the piece of paper as though it were her lifeline. I will go see him tomorrow.

Slowly, she sank into her bed. The smile plastered on her face hadn't faded ever since...

Since she saw it…

Her heart felt swollen, still remembering the mural – an entire portrait of her?! She giggled to herself, feeling completely inspired by his bravado. He was risking discipline from the school for that stunt. All for her. Jane repeated his name, whispering it to herself like it was a secret for her ears alone.

"Mike Wheeler…" The shy artist who had blushed furiously at her naked form.

I guess he wasn't so shy after all.

Her heart was pounding with adrenaline. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. She desperately wished Mike Wheeler was in her bedroom right now, so she could thank the artist properly.

Hopefully, that would be soon.

Meanwhile, across campus, Mike was back in his own dorm room. A strange mixture of nervousness and excitement was bubbling through his body. His hands and fingers were stained and smeared with various colors and types of paint. He was shaking with anticipation.

Will she see the mural?

Will she try to find me?

Will she think I'm a creep?

Am I a creep?

He laid his head down on his pillow and stared at the ceiling, too full of energy and questions to sleep.

Tuesday

The next day, the mysterious mural was now an overnight campus legend. Hushed rumors flew about Mike Wheeler and Eleven; the students were buzzing with excitement about who they were and exactly how (and why!) the mural came to be painted on the brick wall of the dining hall. The only four students who knew for certain were studying for midterms in the library.

"How much trouble do you think Mike is going to get into for this?"

"Oh please, the school has had pranks worse than this. He'll probably just have to wash it off the wall and that will be the end of it."

"Do you think it will even wash off?"

"Not the spray paint."

"What do you think, Mike? Mike? MIKE?"

Mike looked up from his notebook, a content goofy smile on his face. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Dustin and Lucas glanced at each other, sharing the same thought. "You're such a dope," Lucas laughed. "I guess that's what happens when you become obsessed with some girl."

Mike didn't take the bait. His smile remained as his eyes turned downward to his notes. "Hmm. Okay. Thanks."

Will changed the topic. "So, who else is ready for Spring Break?"

Dustin let out an exaggerated sigh and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. "Who the hell isn't ready for Spring Break?! This midterm shit is murder! I have my Biology midterm on Thursday and it's going to suck."

"I just have to finish a Law Ethics paper," said Lucas. "Glad I don't have to study for any midterms like the rest of you losers."

"Well our Art midterm tomorrow shouldn't be that bad," said Will. "I think Mr. Moss will go pretty easy on us. Right Mike?"

The goofy smile remained. "Yup."

"Anyway, since we are all going back to Hawkins for Spring Break, I think we should all take turns driving the rental car back home."

"When are you picking it up from the rental place?" Dustin asked.

"Friday morning," confirmed Will. "How should we decide who drives first? Alphabetical order by first name?"

"Very funny man," said Lucas dryly. "How about alphabetical by last name, Byers?"

Will laughed good-naturedly. "Fine with me. Does that work for you, Mike?"

A content, dreamy sigh. "Uh-huh."

Will, Lucas, and Dustin looked at each other and laughed silently to themselves. Mike was in his own world and it was hilarious. Would he ever get over this girl?

Mike's cell phone started buzzing. He glanced at it to see who was calling him. He didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" He asked cautiously.

"Mike Wheeler, please." The voice that answered seemed cold and serious.

"This is Mike," he replied, curious of what the voice wanted.

"This is Andrew Richards, I am the Academic Dean of NYU. I'd like to see you in my office immediately."

Mike's heart sank. His three friends were looking at him nervously like he was about to grow a second head. "Yes sir, I'll be right there."

He hung up the phone and looked at his friends. "It was the Dean."

Will's eyes widened. "That's not good."

Lucas looked sympathetic. "Sorry man. Just keep your shit together."

Mike stood up from the table. "Yeah. I'll try."

Dustin tried to be helpful. "Good luck, Mike. I'm sure he'll go easy on you."

Dean Richards was a stout man with a pudgy face. His eyebrows were sternly knitted together in what looked like frustration.

"Have a seat," he said shortly, sounding incredibly displeased.

"Are you a smart student, Mr. Wheeler?"

Mike was taken aback. He didn't know how to answer that question. Was it some kind of trick? "Um, I think so, sir."

"So you know the definition of vandalism?"

Mike refused to be intimidated. "I didn't vandalize anything."

"You have defaced school property by painting the wall of the dining hall!" Dean Richards spat with a patronizing tone. "Or did you think it was a smart idea to sign your name at the bottom of your little work of art?"

Mike said nothing, crossing his arms. His glare hardened.

"This is a violation of the student code of conduct," continued the dean. "We are taking this matter very seriously, Mr. Wheeler."

Mike remained silent, glaring back at the man across from him. He couldn't say he was shocked by the dean's reaction.

"Well?" Asked the dean. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry," Mike forced himself to say, figuring it would be in his best interest to simply apologize. "I will clean it up. I'm sure it will wash off – "

"I don't think so, Mr. Wheeler," Dean Richards interrupted, pursing his lips. "It will take an extensive removal process. We have to hire professionals to get rid of that garbage."

Garbage?! Something inside Mike snapped. "She's not fucking garbage, you ignorant pig! It's a beautiful portrait of a beautiful woman. Apparently you don't know fine art when you see it."

"That's certainly not 'fine art,' Mr. Wheeler. That is no better than the tasteless graffiti on the subway. It's trash!"

Mike stood up, knocking back the chair he was sitting in with surprising force. "Fuck you, asshole! Seriously? FUCK YOU!"

The Dean's eyes narrowed. His voice grew even colder. "You are hereby suspended from NYU until further notice. In the meantime, you are banned from this campus for your extreme outburst."

Mike froze. "Suspended? What about my midterms?"

"Frankly, Mr. Wheeler, that's not my concern. I fail to see how you represent the kind of student that deserves to attend NYU. We do have a reputation to uphold after all. You are being asked to leave campus immediately."

Immediately?

Mike felt as though he had been slapped, but his eyes betrayed no hint of his internal emotion. He would stand strong against this asshole of a Dean.

"You will receive a letter in the mail with details about your suspension and a future trial to determine whether or not we will escalate this matter to expulsion from NYU and possible criminal charges. I expect you to be out of your dorm within the hour."

Mike slammed the door to the office on his way out. Rage was bubbling inside of him and his blood was pumping so fast. He headed back to the library. He had to tell the guys.

"How could that asshole do this to you during midterms?!" Dustin was incredulous.

"Yeah," Lucas agreed. "I just figured you would get community service or a fine or something. I didn't think they would take it to the extreme."

Will nodded solemnly. "It's certainly uncalled for, Mike, but I'm sure your temper didn't help the situation."

Mike flailed his arms wildly and raised his voice. "He called her garbage! He called her trash! He's a fucking – "

"MR. WHEELER," yelled the librarian. "Control yourself or we will remove you from the library!"

Mike sat down in a huff and lowered his voice. "Can you believe that?!"

"He wasn't calling her trash, man, just the portrait," corrected Lucas.

"Same thing!"

Lucas raised an eyebrow and looked at Mike skeptically.

"She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and he will not disrespect her portrait like that. No one will ever disrespect her again."

"Okay, calm down, Romeo." Dustin shushed his friend, slightly worried about his extreme obsessive behavior. "On a separate note, what are you going to do now? He said you were banned from campus and we don't leave until Friday. Where are you going to stay for three more days?"

Mike hadn't thought of that.

"I-I don't know…" he stammered. "I guess I could check into a hotel in the meantime."

Will nodded again, sympathetically. "That's probably the best option. If they found any of us hiding you in our dorm rooms, we would all get in trouble too." Always the voice of reason.

Mike stood up. "Well, I guess I'll go pack and find a hotel…"

"Do you need any help?" Dustin offered.

"Nah, I'm okay. Good luck on midterms guys. Text me later if you want to meet for dinner off campus or something."

Before she climbed the stairs, Jane double (and triple) checked the dorm address she had written down, to make sure she was definitely, absolutely, no-question going to the correct place.

Room 51, Nelligan Hall.

She clutched the piece of paper, her hand feeling clammy with sweat. Her insecurities were getting the better of her. What if he didn't want to see her? What if the mural was just a joke? What if he wasn't really the amazing, sensitive artist that she thought he was?

Nerves wracking her insides, she gathered her courage and knocked softly on the door. Her stomach churched as she waited for a response.

Several agonizing seconds passed. Her head was swimming.

She lifted her hand again and knocked, louder this time.

No response.

She pressed her ear to the door, listening for any signs of life inside the room. No snores, no computer keyboard sounds. Nothing.

He isn't here…

Jane fought her disappointment. She had taken the chance to come here and meet him face-to-face, and he wasn't even here?

But she wouldn't give up that easily. She dug through her bag until she found a pen. She tore a piece of paper from one of her notebooks, to write him a quick note. She stuck it into the hinge of the door and turned to walk back down the stairs, nodding a quick greeting to a shaggy-haired boy who was walking down the hallway.

Hopefully, Mike Wheeler would return to his room soon and he would see her note…

Mike climbed the stairs of his dorm in a daze. How the hell would he tell his parents about what happened? He buried his face in his hand. They had been so excited when he got accepted into NYU. 'It's a great school to study business,' his father had said, proud of his son for following in his lame, yuppie footsteps. Once Mike was saddled with the official business major, there was no turning back. They were going to be so disappointed…

He made his way down the hallway to his room. He really wasn't looking forward to packing up all of his shit. He had a bunch of clothes and school supplies and…wait a minute – what the hell is that on his door?

There was some kind of weird piece of paper stuck in the hinge of the door. Probably the notice of suspension the dean had promised to send. But that seemed so soon.

Before Mike could reach for the piece of paper and examine it, a shaggy-haired kid walked by him. It was James, from his art class.

"Yo Mike."

"Hey," Mike said nonchalantly. The two had been acquaintances since they had the same art class and lived in the same dorm, but they weren't exactly friends.

"Some chick was here just a few minutes ago. I passed her when I was headed to the bathroom. She left that note on your door."

Wait…what?

"Do you know who it was?"

"I kind of recognized her," James said casually. "Kind of looked like that hot naked chick from art class a few weeks ago."

No fucking way!

Mike's eyes grew wild. He grabbed James roughly by the shirt. He was desperate to know the truth. "Are you fucking with me, man?!"

"Woah, dude, no." James calmly took Mike's hands and gently pushed him away. "I'm definitely not fucking with you. She was just here, I swear. You must have just missed her."

Mike quickly picked up the note and rushed into his dorm, slamming the door and leaving a very confused James standing in the hallway.

He immediately opened the folds of the paper and started reading.

"The portrait is beautiful. I want to see you. Please come to my dance recital on Friday night. 6pm at Dablon Performing Arts Center. – Jane Brenner aka 'Eleven'."

Jane Brenner…

She found him. She wanted him. Mike was overflowing with emotion. She's a dancer. And he had every intention of going to her dance recital; nothing on this earth could stop him. Not even the threat of expulsion.

Mike realized he would throw everything away to find her, to be with her. He laughed, thinking of how 'amused' his father would be if he discovered Mike's priorities in life.

Mike could fucking care less. His heart was soaring. He looked around his dorm room, scanning the things he would need to take with him.

Fuck it. He grabbed a duffle bag and started shoving in his clothes, art supplies, and his laptop. He made sure he had his phone charger, his wallet, and the note from her. Nothing else in this room mattered.

He didn't even give the room a second look on his way out.

Wednesday

Mike was confined to his hotel room, like a bird in a cage. He hasn't had the heart to tell his parents about what happened at NYU. All they know is that he is coming back home on Friday for Spring Break. He'll tell them in due time. When he's ready.

Right now, all he wants is to see his dancer.

His dancer?

How could he be so possessive of her? He laughed manically to himself. He was obsessed and going off the deep end. His life was falling apart and coming together at the same time – a beautiful sort of destruction that was breaking down all of the bullshit and lies in his life and building up...something else. It felt oddly perfect.

Thursday

Jane felt so alive walking to her final dance rehearsal with Mrs. Marzoni. The entire campus had been talking for days about her artist.

Her artist?

It was scary how much she liked the sound of that. And how much she wanted to keep him.

She only hoped that he had gotten her letter about the recital. Would he want to see her dance? Jane clung to any scrap of hope inside of her that he would be there.

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!" Mrs. Marzoni was applauding Jane after their last rehearsal. "You have shown tremendous improvement. Your energy seems completely revitalized!"

Jane beamed, so proud of herself. She internally thanked her artist for providing the inspiration. "Thank you, Mrs. Marzoni."

"I am moving your solo to the last performance of the night. Your routine will be the perfect ending to enchant the audience!"

Jane was speechless. The last performance was usually reserved for the best dancers, like a grand finale. "The last performance? T-Thank you so much!"

Mrs. Marzoni waved her hand dismissively. "Don't thank me, dear. You've absolutely earned it!" She took Jane gently by the shoulders. "Now, I want you to get a good night's rest. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow! You'll dance beautifully."

Friday: The Recital

Mike was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Today was the day. Not only would he see her again, but he would see her dance. He would bet his left arm that she was an amazing dancer.

He shuffled through his duffle bag full of clothes. What the fuck should he wear?

His phone suddenly buzzed. Will was calling him. Oh shit! He forgot to tell the guys about the dance recital tonight and they were still planning on leaving for Hawkins!

He answered the phone. "Hey Will."

"Hey Mike, I just picked up the rental car. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes and then we can get Lucas and Dustin – "

"Yeah listen, I have something to tell you."

"What?" Asked Will, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing it's…I just…she contacted me."

"Holy shit, she contacted you? What did she say?!"

"She's having a dance recital tonight. She wants me to go."

"Wait…so then – "

"You guys just go back to Hawkins without me," Mike said. "I'll figure something else out."

Will didn't answer right away. "Mike," he began. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Will, I have to be there. I have to see her again."

Mike could picture Will nodding his head. "Yeah, I guess you do. Let me know how everything goes. Good luck!"

Jane was nervous. Extremely nervous. Her fingers fumbled in her dressing room as she was doing her hair, pinning it into a sleek bun. What if he didn't like her? What if she messed up her dance routine? What if, what if, what if…

"Jane, dear?" Mrs. Marzoni asked. "Are you ready to change into your costume?"

The costume. The one that was so expensive, she had to volunteer to let an art student paint her naked in order to help pay for it.

She took a deep breath. No more what-ifs. Jane wouldn't let him down. Ever.

"Yes. I'm ready."

Mike thought that sneaking back onto campus would be like a secret, black ops mission. It was surprisingly easy, however. He made it to the Dablon Performing Arts Center and paid the small admission fee to enter the dance recital. Students, parents, and professors all hung around in the lobby waiting for the show to start.

"Mr. Wheeler."

Shit! Someone spotted him. He wasn't supposed to be on campus. Mike spun around, his heart beating fast.

He came face to face with Mr. Moss, his old art professor.

"H-Hello, sir." Mike felt his face getting red.

"I'm glad to see you here."

Glad? Mike's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. What the fuck?

"Why, sir?"

The professor's eyes twinkled. "Because it means you don't care what they think."

Mike said nothing, even more confused than before.

Mr. Moss cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I'm on your side. Just remember that. I won't tell anyone you're here against the orders of your suspension."

"You know about that?" Mike's eyes widened.

"Of course I do. They notified all of your professors about the situation so we could plan our midterms accordingly."

Mike nodded. That made sense.

Mr. Moss lowered his voice. "You should probably hide out in the theater. It's nice and dark in there, no one will see you.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it." Before he could turn and walk into the theater, Mr. Moss stopped him.

"By the way, Mr. Wheeler, I just want you to know that I was incredibly impressed with your portrait. Your best work all semester, I'd say."

He grinned at the younger boy, who smiled back before making his way into the shadowy theater. He found a seat in the middle of the theater and waited for the dance recital to begin.

Soon, more and more people started filtering in from the lobby, blending Mike in with the rest of the crowd. The usual crowd noises could be heard – people chatting softly, phones buzzing, people shifting in their squeaky seats. Mike waited anxiously. His palms were beginning to sweat.

The theater lights dimmed even lower, signaling the start of the recital. A single spotlight suddenly illuminated the stage. A middle-aged woman was standing there.

"Welcome everyone, to the New York University Spring Dance Recital!" Several audience members clapped and whooped in response. "We are thrilled to have you here with us this evening. Our dance students have been working hard all semester and I'm excited for them to show you what they have been working on…"

Come the fuck on, get to the point! What the hell is this lady even talking about? Mike felt like he was going to explode with anticipation.

"I know you will all be impressed with our dancers. Without further ado, let's begin!" The audience clapped. The lights dimmed again. When the stage lit back up, several dancers began to flit across the stage to a classical tune Mike didn't know.

Mike squinted to make out their faces, but didn't recognize anyone. Disappointed, he slunk back into his seat and waited for the next group of dancers to make their way onto the stage. After several more rounds of squinting at unfamiliar dancers on the stage, Mike crossed his arms.

What if she never came out to dance?

What if she had already danced but I didn't recognize her?

What if she was just fucking with me?

What if I sit here forever?

The recital dragged on, slightly boring Mike since his dancer wasn't the one on stage. Yet.

"And now, it is time for our final performance of the night. You are all in for a treat this evening. Our last performance will be a solo, danced by a young woman with an amazing talent."

Mike crossed his fingers. Could it be…?

"Jane Brenner!"

YES!

Mike nearly yelled in triumph in the middle of the theater. Suddenly, his jaw hit the floor in awe.

Holy shit, there she is.

A dancer in a pink leotard and long skirt crossed the stage, moving in rhythm to the music. The song is slow, and sad. It told a story of loss and loneliness. Mike was captivated. Every movement told another piece of the puzzle, and slowly the mystery surrounding this dancer became clearer.

She had been hurt, by someone close to her, in a devastating way. Mike felt his stomach twist with rage. He would ruin the person who put her through that.

But she also conveyed an inner strength...and a sense of independence.

Jane was on stage now. She had done her dance routine so many times, she could do it in her sleep. But her body was coming alive like it never had before.

He's watching me…

He was out in audience somewhere, fueling her fire. Her spirit soared knowing her was here, for her. It didn't even scare her that she could feel his presence.

She felt electric.

Everyone else in the audience was melting away, leaving Mike alone in his thoughts. It felt like this was a private moment between them.

She's dancing just for me.

He felt a heaviness in his loins.

He wanted her, he realized. All of her. The good and the bad. He wished he could hold her and absorb all of her pain like a sponge. He would drown her in kisses and make her happy. Forever.

He didn't realize he was crying.

Her elegance, her grace…were her feet even touching the floor? Her fluid movements cut him to the core. He was drowning. He was dripping. Like a cup overflowing with liquid.

Mike couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Her performance was magnetic. He could feel himself getting up out of his seat. He was walking down the aisle, moving closer to the stage. His body was on autopilot; she was reeling him in. He was floating. Like a feather caught in the wind. Powerless.

She danced perfectly in sync with the music, moving like silk under the stage lights.

Mike was mere feet away from the stage now. He could see the delicate details of her face.

Her beautiful face…

The music was climaxing. Jane's heart was thumping in anticipation ...anticipation of what? Her skin tingled like a strange sort of electricity was in the air.

Time for the big finish.

The music stopped. She was in her finished pose. Her arm outstretched towards the ceiling, her leg extended beautifully – every inch the dancer she always wanted to become.

Perfect! A smile was spreading across her face. She had nailed it!

She heard the crowd cheer. They loved it! The spotlight on her was fading. She looked up. Before the light dimmed and the curtain closed, she saw him standing there.

Her heart lurched. Oh my god, there he is!

Before she can react, Mrs. Marzoni was excitedly pulling her off stage to line up and take her final bows with the other dancers.

"You did it, dear! You were amazing!"

The red velvet curtain closed in Mike's face, but he was not deterred. He stayed glued to the stage, wishing he could just rip down the damned curtain and whisk his dancer away…

Each group of dancers came up in the order of their performances and took their final bows in front of the audience. When it was Jane's turn, the audience exploded – wild hoots and cheers and squeals to show their appreciation for the dancer.

Mike was clapping the loudest, whooping with joy and looking up at her with admiration. He could see happy tears running down her beautiful face. She looked like she was in heaven.

And she looked down at him. Her smile grew bigger. She rushed down the stairs on the side of the stage and ran to him. She catapulted herself into his arms and he caught her, holding her (finally!) close to his chest.

"You came," she whispered.

"Of course," Mike said softly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Sooo, what did you think?! Did it live up to your expectations? I hope so! I would love to hear your opinion! Please review :)