Eleven is holding fast to my waist as I speed down Mirkwoord and back towards my house. She never let's go, her hands gripping my coat whilst her arms are stiff around my waist.

The feeling of her around me is comforting, I much prefer riding my bike when she is on the back. She makes me feel secure, her touch warm and the feeling of her arms clinging to me for safety helps me to believe that someone still relies on me.

As I ride through the streets of Hawkins, the sunset bathing everything in sight in a sort of washed out orange colour, I notice El starting to hum a tune behind me.

I can't tell what the song is, but the melody is sweet and soothing to my ears. Perhaps it's a tune of her own creation.

I flick on my headlight as I continue to ride through the darkening neighbourhood, slowing my pace so that the wind doesn't whip as violently against my face.

Eleven leans her head against my back, and I realise how tired she must be after a full day of schoolwork without even taking a break. She must really love school to not even want to have a break. I on the other hand have done absolutely nothing productive today, yet, I'm still as tired as anything.

I turn down my street and into my driveway, my garage door wide open. As I ride into my driveway, I notice the light above the garage door flicker, but I just ignore it. There's nothing coming for us.

I get off my bike, helping Eleven off, and reach up to shut the garage door. It slowly shuts and Eleven and I make our way inside. When we open the door and step into my house, El's hand in mine, my mum yells a greeting from the kitchen.

"Hi, Mike! Is Eleven with you?" She yells at the top of her lungs.

"Yes, mum," I say back, disinterested. She's probably cooking dinner.

El and I make our way downstairs into the basement, and we immediately sit down on the old cloth sofa. I sink into the material, Eleven's hand still intertwined with mine like ribbon.

Eventually, she looks up at me with a concerned expression, her eyes flooding with emotion and worry. She opens her mouth to speak, and I look at her questioningly, but she retreats back into the couch instead, sinking into the cloth as though it was water.

After a few minutes she looks at me again, even more worried than before. Something in my expression must have forced it out of her, because she sounds so troubled when she asks me, "Mike, what's the matter?"

I glance away for a second, embarrassed and upset that she's figured it out. That I'm no longer the happy person I used to be.

"Nothing," I try, hoping she'll take nothing for an answer.

"Mike," she says, her eyes pleading for an answer, "friends don't lie."

I sigh nostalgically at her response.

I decide not to lie to her, there's really no point since she always seems to know when I'm lying.

"I'm just..." I start, think of what to tell her.

Tell her the truth.

But I'm honestly ashamed to say it. I keep opening and closing my mouth, going to say something and then just cutting my own words off again.

Then, I open my mouth and I don't close it. I start talking.

"Eleven, I'm depressed."

She looks confused for a moment and then asks, "what's depressed?"

Even though she's been going to school for the past year now, I realise that Mrs Byers probably didn't feel comfortable with talking to her about mental illness, since everyone thinks she's crazy. I personally don't think she is, but mental illness is probably hard for her to talk about.

"It's like when you feel sad, or when you just feel absolutely nothing, but all the time," I explain slowly, "it feels like drowning nearly, like being numb all over. You lose interest in activities and you can become really irritable. I'm just... I'm so empty. I'm so numb. I don't know how to feel or how to act. I don't know how to control my emotions, because sometimes I might feel nothing, and then other times I might feel everything at once. It's painful."

Her expression falls as she echoes the word, "painful."

"Mike, why are you in pain?" She asks, her voice cracking with every syllable.

"The first time I ever met you... I knew I loved you. Over that week I just fell more and more in love with you. And when I hit the bottom, I fell hard.

"I was so in love with you, El. I have been ever since. But then, after that short week, you were taken from me. That broke me, El. Right in two. And I never stopped thinking about you for those whole six months. You were always on my mind. It was tearing me apart, because I knew that you were the one. I just knew it. And I still know it now.

"Then, when I heard your voice on my supercom that day, I just knew that I had to save you, so I did. I went in there and I found you, but then..." I start to feel tears welling up in my eyes, and when I glance at El, she looks so worried, so sad.

I force myself to continue, "you were taken from me again, I was helpless to save you, I was so weak. I had to spend over a week in that place because I was to weak to get you out of there myself. It was lonely, and so, so cold and dark. I couldn't bare it.

"And then, when you finally got me out, it was Dustin, Lucas and Will that secured your safety, not me. They're that ones that brought you to Hopper and got me to the hospital.

"And then it was my fault that Twelve nearly killed you. My fault! I just had to step out and get her attention, you almost died, El. If it hadn't been for your powers, you'd be dead. I'm broken, El. I'm broken and I need you to fix me."

I break down in tears all over her, right there on her lap. I can't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks like raindrops down my face. I'm sobbing hysterically into her, and she just holds me and soothes me for what feels like an eternity.

I hate myself.

I hate myself more than anything in this world, and yet, here she is, holding all of my broken pieces together whilst I sob in her arms.