"Do you think we should pull over? This is getting really bad."

Mike kept his eyes on the road. He didn't need to look over to know the expression that his oldest friend had upon his face. Nerves were simply dripping from Will's words.

To be honest, it was surprising how well Will had handled the first few hours of the drive. This type of situation was not exactly his cup of tea, after all. He'd been quiet for the first couple of hours, losing himself in a mixtape. The Magnetic Fields, The Breeders and The Smiths had created a sense of normalcy within the confines of the car as Mike had traversed the seemingly endless winter storm.

However, once the final song had given way to silence, the reality of their situation seemed to have been laid bare. Now, the center console did nothing more than flash the time: 2:14 AM.

Mike fought off a yawn and tapped his foot softly on the brake, taking a curve that he could hardly see with delicate precision. "Listen, I know this is bad, but I don't know where we'd go if we pulled off the road. We'll freeze if we just stop and park. Plus, I think we're getting close."

"Do you know where we are? Have you seen any signs?"

"We turned onto 26 a while back, so it's not far. I just don't know how long it'll take at this speed."

"Oh good, I must have missed the turn." Will yawned, stretching his arms up to release some tension, "I'm so sorry I made us late. I just felt like I needed the money. Feels stupid now."

"It's fine. We're going to get there. Just gotta keep taking it slow."

"Yeah," Will sighed, tight and disconcerted, "Maybe we should've listened to my mom and waited. Hell, that's what she thinks we're doing."

Mike's eyes slipped over to Will in surprise. "You didn't tell her we were coming tonight?"

Will scoffed, "Of course not. Come on. You know how worried she'd be if she knew we were driving in this."

"That's fair."

"Did you tell your parents?"

"Well, no," Mike admitted, "But that's just because I don't want to go home."

Will snorted in amusement. "You're that excited to see them, huh?"

Mike shrugged, "I don't know, I'm just not in the holiday spirit, I guess."

Will was quiet for a moment, but Mike could feel his eyes on him. A familiar sensation began to prickle on his skin, and Mike suspected with a flash of dread that while he really wished that he would just restart the mixtape, Will had other thoughts in mind.

"Did something happen?" Will asked, his tone direct and perceptive.

"What do you mean?" Mike mumbled, his eyes glued to the road.

"I don't know, you've been… weird. Since you got back."

Mike chuckled, but the sound fell flat, "Weird? How would you know? I've hardly seen you."

"Yeah, I know. But… You're sure everything is okay?"

Mike swallowed hard, but words began to crawl desperately up this throat despite his urge to keep them down. "I just have some things I don't really want to talk to my parents about."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Mike cringed. More words tumbled out, and these tasted bad... "like how I almost flunked the program in Italy."

Will's seat creaked as he wrenched around toward Mike, "Wait, really? Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I didn't want to talk about it?"

"Was the program bad or something?"

Mike sighed, but to his surprise, the truth flowed off his chest a little more freely than he could have anticipated. "Honestly? It was pretty terrible. Well, not exactly. I guess it wasn't terrible," his next words were deadly quiet, "More like I was terrible."

"You were terrible." Will repeated, confusion danced in his tone.

"It was basically just three months of me fighting with the language."

"Really? I thought you were good at Italian."

The laugh that cut from Mike's lips was cold. "Yeah, so, funny story. Being good at Italian in school and speaking Italian with natives are two totally different things. I learned that the hard way."

"Really?" Will said, "So, you just couldn't follow the lectures or something? There wasn't like a translator or anything? Or classmates?"

Mike shrugged. "Not really. There weren't really any language resources. It was a science program. And it was hard to uh…" he forced out the last bit, "get to know anyone in my classes."

"You didn't even meet anyone?" Will asked, his surprise escalating.

Mike's heart began to race as a shimmer of shame traced down his skin. He didn't reply.

Will fell quiet for a moment, and when he did speak again he was more muted. "Sorry for all the questions. I'm just surprised."

"It's not like I didn't meet anyone," Mike retorted dryly. "I did meet one cool person. It was just… that didn't work out either."

She flashed through his mind unbidden, in striking color, wiping away the vision of the road before him for a split second.

He shook his head and attempted to recommit his focus to his driving.

"Didn't work out?"

God, couldn't Will just let it lie?

"I just… I lost track of her."

"Oh. Her, huh?"

Yes. Her.

With her soft lips and doe eyes. With her laugh that he could almost still hear, like a shadow in his mind. With her smile that put him bizarrely, unexplainably, at ease. With that sense about her… that seemed to make him stand taller, and feel braver, almost in an instant.

Will snickered.

"What?" Mike murmured.

"Nothing. You just got really quiet really fast."

"I'm focusing on driving in this treacherous weather," Mike bit back dryly, "You know, making sure we don't get killed?"

"No, you're doing that thing where you shut up the second you get to something you don't want to talk about."

Mike shot Will a dark look, "Maybe that's because I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?" Will asked, but softer this time.

Mike's fingers tightened on the wheel. "It's a long story."

"Bad story?"

"...No," Mike found himself conceding.

It wasn't a bad story, actually. Not at all. In fact, for a full two days he'd felt like it wasn't just a good story, but the best story. He attempted to squash the thought, to bring himself back to the present moment, to everything that happened next, but a little bit of it broke through his barrier, quirking up the corner of his lip against his will. "It started as a good story."

"Yeah, I figured."

"What?"

"You're doing that thing when you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling," why did Mike keep friends that knew him so well, "Who's the girl?"

Mike huffed and accepted his fate, but the hard fought smile stayed lingering on his lips. "Fine. She was a girl I met in the airport on the way home."

"She was on your flight?"

"No. Well, kind of. She was supposed to be until it got cancelled. We uh…" Mike pushed out a breath as heat began to crawl up his neck, "God, okay, I'm warning you because this story is ridiculous. The airline accidentally booked us in the same hotel room."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah. Well, the airline didn't exactly do it." It was incredible how hot Mike's face was beginning to feel despite how cold it was in his car, "More like I accidentally booked us into the same hotel room, with my terrible Italian."

Will was incredulous, the dangerous outside world momentarily seemed to fade from his attention, "What? You just happened to have to stay the night with some random girl?"

"She wasn't some random girl," Mike retorted immediately.

"Okay," Will laughed in reply, "So you stayed the night with some non-random girl?"

"We um…" Oh, how Mike wished he could take his hands off the wheel in order to take off his now sweltering coat, "We did more than stay the night in the same room."

"What?!" Will yelped.

At that, Mike chuckled. A bit of lightness eased through him, and with it a whispering vision of being with her lapped at his memory.

His knuckles tightened upon the wheel once again.

"You waited a whole week to tell me about this," Will stated, dumbfounded.

"You've hardly been home this week. Plus, I uh…" another big sigh escaped Mike's lungs, "I didn't really want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because it didn't end well." And with the admission, the glorious bubble of memory snapped, and reality returned. "She was awesome. Just… things got crazy at the end and I think she gave me her old number by mistake."

Will sucked air through his teeth. His voice was hesitant as he continued, "Are you sure it was a mistake?"

Mike rolled his eyes, but something in his stomach roiled in an uneasy way, "I don't know. But I think so? She seemed pretty excited to give me her number. She grabbed my arm and wrote it on me when she couldn't find paper."

"Oh, that's...okay," Will replied thoughtfully, "Maybe you can find her using her name?"

"Believe me, I've tried, but," Mike bit back a now-familiar growl, "I don't know her full name."

"What?" Will gasped, "You slept with a girl without knowing her full name? You. That's completely unlike you."

"Yeah, and it was probably a bad call!" Mike retorted in a jarring burst of frustration. The smile that had crept to his lips had long since drained away. Familiar regret was beginning to pool once again, causing his chest to tighten. "Can we stop talking about this?"

"Yeah," Will said immediately, "Sorry. This really has you messed up, doesn't it?"

"I really liked her." Mike said softly. "It seemed like... something. I think. It sucks."

"Was she from Chicago?" Will asked, a hopeful lilt entering his tone, "Maybe you'll run into her?"

"No, she's from here. Indianapolis, I think."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well…" Will's hand appeared on Mike's shoulder with a friendly pat, "Maybe she'll show up when you least expect it."

"Right," Mike replied blandly. "I'm not holding my breath."

The sightline of the road cleared for the quickest of moments, offering Mike a glimpse of the familiar turn that led to Hawkins.

"We're not far off," he said, nodding forward, "I see the turn off for 13 up there."

"Oh, awesome," Will pushed out a breath of relief, and when he continued, Mike was relieved to hear a change of subject. "Well, hey. Since you're not really looking forward to going home, feel free to escape to my place anytime this week."

"Yeah, I'll definitely take you up on that," Mike said. His skin crawled with now familiar dread at the idea of one too many quiet dinners with his parents. Their eyes on him, judging, disappointed, regretful. He pushed it down. "When's Jonathan getting in?"

"He's not. Tickets from New York were too expensive."

"Oh, really? That sucks."

"Yeah, it'll be weird. Especially because this is the first year that mom's got Jim living with her."

"Oh shit, that's right," Mike said, "I forgot they got married."

"Oh, right. You missed it. It was a nice wedding, I guess. Mom's happy, so that's good."

"So it'll just be you, your mom, and Jim?"

"And Jim's daughter, I think."

Picturing Will with any kind of step sister was so odd that Mike couldn't even process it.

"She'll be there? What's she like? Will that be weird?"

"I don't know if Jane is there right now," Will replied quizzically, "She's traveling or something. She's supposedly going to be around for Christmas, though, at least at some point. She was actually supposed to crash at our place for a night when she got back, but it didn't happen for some reason. So, I don't know where she is. Jane's nice enough, though. She's always really quiet, so I'm guessing it'll be like she's not even there. Anyway, it won't be bad. I like Jim and Jane enough. It'll definitely be weird, though. Different. So really, come over anytime this week."

"Maybe I can hide at your place after Christmas."

"Sure, just drop on by. I probably won't be doing anything other than hanging out with my mom."

Mike slowed down as the turn neared, but it wasn't quite slow enough. They both gasped as the car fishtailed a bit around the corner, sliding along the slick road until Mike was able to regain control. Will's hand was digging into the dashboard, his breath short.

Conversation promptly died, and Mike, a little bit rattled, forced his attention fully back onto the road. In a renewed, and more tense, silence, he stared directly down the path toward Hawkins. Snow was obscuring the concrete below them. Thin tracks cut through the caking white, just barely helping him see where to go.

Mile by mile, though, they made their way.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the tiniest bit of a sign that said 'Hawkins' became visible in his headlights.

"Oh, thank god," Will breathed.

Will's childhood home, on the outskirts of town, was not far away, and Mike knew the final steps like the back of his hand. It was very slow going on the under-plowed residential streets. After a few crawling turns, The Byers family mailbox illuminated itself in the headlights. It was half buried beneath a plowed pile of snow. The chipped blue metal was covered in icicles, but even in the dark storm, one detail was clear. It now longer said 'Byers'. An H-O-P-P was legible before a smear of snow obscured the rest.

Mike slowed and turned his car into the long curved driveway, only to push the brake almost immediately as the car groaned beneath him.

"Yeah, I'm not going to be able to get in. The snow is too high," Mike said. He pulled back out and eased the car to the shoulder of the road, pressing into a snowbank just enough to keep him safe from any oncoming traffic. Even that move was met with protestations from his car.

"It's fine," Will said, relief coating his words as the car stopped moving, "I can hike up."

"Alright." Mike stretched his arms up, finally letting loose some of the tension that had collected between his shoulders throughout the long drive, "Have a good Christmas. I'll probably come over on the 26th."

"Thanks, you too." Will reached to the back seat to grab his bag. "Are you sure you're good to drive the rest of the way?"

"I don't have much choice, do I? There's no real place to leave my car."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Okay. Well, drive safe. And thanks for driving. Sorry again that I made us late."

"It's okay, we made it."

Will swung his bag into his lap and pushed the door open. A snowbank stopped him immediately, only allowing him a few inches to crawl out. He shimmied his way out of the sliver of space between the car and the door. White powder came to his lower shins as he stood up.

"Oh fuck it's cold!" he barked.

"Well, shut the door then!" Mike cried with a laugh. A gust of wind cut through the car, hitting him directly in the face with an icy blast.

"Okay! Bye!" Will laughed back before he slammed the door.

The storm and darkness swallowed him almost immediately, making his ascent to the house invisible to Mike.

Exhaustion lapping at his mind, Mike scanned across the bleak vision of the drifts that surrounded him, hardly visible despite the headlights. White flakes swirled through the beams of the headlights, closing him in a cocoon of wintry isolation.

A particularly heavy gust rocked the car.

It was clear now, sitting still within the heart of the desolate storm, how lucky Mike had been to make it all the way to Hawkins at all.

It was definitely not a storm that an intelligent person would drive in.

But Mike? Mike knew now: He was clearly not an intelligent person.

No, Mike was the type of person who would drive 6 hours in a storm despite obvious better judgment. He was the type of person to almost flunk out of school, simply because he was too proud to ask for help or admit that he maybe wasn't as smart as he thought he was. He was the type of person to not even ask his dream girl for her goddamned last name after spending a perfect once-in-a-lifetime night with her.

Mike wasn't just unintelligent, he realized... Mike was a full on fucking idiot.

His forehead fell to the steering wheel with a heavy groan.

It was almost unfair how quickly his sour mood returned when he no longer needed to focus on driving. The lump that he had been trying to chase away from his throat was back with a vengeance, and now there was no chance of trying to chase it away again. For, he knew what laid just one mile ahead: His childhood bed. His mother's cooking. Days upon days of disappointed stares and awkward silence. The most definite end of his parent's financial support.

How was he going to do this? The thought came to him with a fresh surge of panic. It wasn't like this week was a bandaid that needed to be ripped off. It was a cataclysmic life shift. Turning away from security and stability, toward what he… wanted.

Yet, he had no idea how to survive and do that at the same time. Fuck, he'd never even had a real job.

Maybe this was a mistake, he thought quickly. He could decide here to change the entire plan, after all. He still had time. He could just abandon the plan here and go home like normal to plan the next step with his parents, just like they expected him to do.

But her voice, yet again, stopped him in his tracks.

"You should do what you love. There's no better time to do it."

It was like he'd been waiting for someone to give him permission, and now that it was there, playing on repeat in his mind in the most beautiful tone. He couldn't look away.

Still though, Mike couldn't bring himself to press his foot on the gas pedal to go home. He craved more time.

So instead, out of options, he just… sat there. In the storm. In the dead of night. In swirls of white and howling wind. Time seemed to fuzz at the edges. Exhausted and overstretched, his thoughts wandered along the only element of this whole situation that made him feel… hopeful.

Maybe he could find her.

It sounded ridiculous. Yet, the pull within him was there all the same.

She was… close.

How close, he did not know. The mystery of her whereabouts itched at him as though she might be around any corner that he turned now that he was in Indiana. It was a tingling sensation, desperate and radiating from his chest, as though she would be in the next place that he thought to look.

Maybe he could drive down to Indianapolis after Christmas. Casually criss-cross the town. Duck into coffee shops or book stores or someplace where he could picture her spending time.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. That was a terrible idea. A desperate hopeless idea, and way more creepy than he was willing to be.

Mike pressed his eyes shut as the hopeful surge crashed upon the jagged reality of the situation. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. It was now a painful knot, collecting all of his tension in a way that was impossible to ignore.

He knew the obvious answer.

It had been over a week.

It wasn't time to go to Indianapolis.

It was time to go in the opposite direction.

It was time to forget about her.

...He almost wished that he could.

And he probably could have if it hadn't been for the feeling that had overcome him in the airport.

The need, so fresh, so visceral, that had coursed through him as she ran toward her flight. The confidence he'd felt as he ran after her, and not thinking at all, pulled her into a kiss one more time because God he would have done anything to keep kissing her forever. The glistening glow of her wide eyes, looking up into his, her voice thick and earnest as she simply said, 'Call me.'

He'd tried.

Oh God, how he'd tried.

But she was nowhere to be found.

A violent whip of wind smacked into the car, shaking it in a way that rushed him back to reality. He took a deep breath and glanced at the clock. 3:44am.

"Shit… How long have I been here?"

With a long exhalation he trained his eyes back onto the almost invisible road and shifted the car into drive. The car lurched forward with a tap of the gas. Yet almost instantly… it stopped.

He pushed harder on the gas. The car lurched. The tires squealed with protest.

"Shit!"

Mike tossed the car into reverse in order to gain some leverage. Yet still, there was hardly any movement. Back and forth and back and forth, Mike tried to free his car from its snowy prison, jerking the wheel this way and that to get out of whatever patch of snow he was stuck in, but it was no use. His car, only just barely on the shoulder of the road, was absolutely buried into the freshly fallen snow.

A tremor of helplessness shot through him with a pitiful moan. In an instant, though, he sprung into action. He threw himself over the passenger seat and fished out a tiny flashlight from his glove box. Taking a deep final breath of warm air, he turned off the car. And with a grimace of anticipation for the cold that was about to come, he opened his door and stepped out into the stormy night, his thin sneakers plunging into shin deep snow.

The cold wind cut into him almost instantly. His hands were gloveless and his hood was no match for the storm. He slammed his door and shined the flashlight upon his wheels. It was immediately clear that he had sat idle for too long. Snow had collected in drifts around his tires, blowing through the street until it stopped against the bumper and tires, creating a wedge that was strong and impenetrable.

There was no easy way of getting the car out without help. And given the fact that it was almost four AM, there was no way that was happening until morning.

Cursing under his breath, Mike wrenched his hood tight around his head and bounded around the immobilized car. The weak beam of his flashlight fell upon slight indentations that had once been Will's footsteps. The imprints were almost entirely filled with fresh snow, serving as a marker for how much precious time Mike had let pass while he sat idle in the car. One by one, he let his feet drop into Will's old footfalls toward the house. The indentations allowed for the slightest reprieve from the icy wetness that was seeping through his shoes, but not much.

He pushed his free hand into his pocket as deep as it would go and trudged up the long tree lined driveway within the weak beam of light. By the time he rounded the drive and spotted the house, with its single porch light beckoning weakly through the storm, his shoes and socks had been soaked through. His toes were burning as much as the tip of his nose, as much as the bare hand that he was using to hold the flashlight.

His teeth were beginning to chatter. His fingers were beginning to shake.

Hunched over against the wind, he ran the rest of the way, tripping in two snowbanks as he went. Finally, he made his way up the small steps of the porch and... of course… found the door locked.

Cursing under his breath, he tried to piece out what to do. The wind was ripping through the trees, causing so much noise that it was likely knocking at the windows inside the old house. It was a sound that would very likely make it impossible for his own knocks to be heard, especially this far from the bedrooms.

He tried anyway, knocking his ice cold fist against the screen door.

As he expected, nothing stirred.

Thinking fast, Mike rushed off of the porch and made his way for the kitchen door on the side of the house. That had always been the easiest way into the house, anyway. It was nothing more than an old thin wobbly door in a rickety frame, and had usually been unlocked when he'd been a kid.

By luck of the wind direction, this side of the house was not quite as buried, and Mike had a slightly easier go of it as he rounded the corner. His flashlight beam bounced from snow bank to snow back as he trudged along. He kicked the snow off of the steps as he went up to the door, making way for himself, but as soon as he laid his hand upon the cold metal of the doorknob, something was obvious: The door had been replaced. Gone was the old warped door. In its place was a standard modern door and frame.

The door didn't even jostle when he tried to push.

"Fuuuuuck..." Mike breathed with a chattering shudder. He wrenched his hand away from the door handle as the cold metal began to burn against his skin.

A thread of panic itched at the back of his mind. It was so cold, and it was going to stay that way.

He had to get inside.

It was possible he could bang on Will's window, on the other side of the house. Or -

With a gasp, Mike whipped around toward a window ten feet away. A gleam of memory sparked in his thoughts. Nancy. Crawling through Jonathan's window all those years ago. She'd joked about how they'd broken the latch so that she could come and go as she pleased.

And that potentially busted window latch was just a few yards behind him.

Judging by the new door, it was very possible that the window issue no longer existed, but… it was definitely worth a try.

Mike didn't even think as he moved in the direction of Jonathan's old room. The need to get out of the storm had overridden any of his remaining ability to create rational thoughts. All he could think about was the blistering cold of his feet, the numb sensation taking over his hands, the chattering of his teeth, the screaming wind ripping at his cheeks, and his desperate need for warmth.

Mike moved with urgency through the snow that was piling against the house. When the window to Jonathan's room finally appeared before him, his heart was beating with such frenzy that he could hardly breathe.

"Please work."

He put the tiny flashlight between his teeth. The thin beam of light splayed upon the crystalized ice on the window. His fingers stung as he laid them against the icy glass and tried to push the window up. The window was sticky with cold, but Mike successfully found a way to jimmy it back and forth, finally cracking the ice. Shavings fell on his hands as he forced it up and open.

A blessed wall of warm air rushed out to greet him from the pitch black room on the other side.

Breathing a massive sigh of relief, Mike bit down tight upon the flashlight to secure it, pushed himself up onto his shaky frozen hands, and began to lift himself into the room. His arms wobbled but he succeeded in pulling his body up to meet the window sill. The heat flamed across his face like a beacon, and with renewed energy he hoisted himself inside, rocking his hip up to clear the sill with his leg. His hand scrambled against the ink black inner wall for support as he leaned down and cleared the window sill, and began to shift his weight into the room.

His foot touched the safe security of Jonathan's bedroom floor.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet, it was cut short.

Because at that very moment a gasp, from another person, cut through the air.

Mike looked over in surprise. The weak beam of flashlight streaked across the bed, and to his horror he saw someone move. Fast.

So fast.

And, in an instant, so painful.

"Ah!"

Mike cried out in shock as a foot smashed into his ribs, kicking him so hard with shockingly precise aim. Gasping in pain, he lost his balance and tumbled the rest of the way through the window. The flashlight flew from his teeth, sending a streak of disorienting light across his vision as he crashed with messy limbs into the thin space between the wall and the bed.

All at the same time, above him, the bed creaked violently, a yelp sounded out, and with a heavy 'THUD', a body fell upon him.

Disoriented and panicked, Mike tried to right himself, but the body pressing into him recovered their wits more quickly. Before Mike had the chance to even draw a fresh breath, limbs scrambled across him and a forearm pushed into his neck, blocking his airway, making him choke. Another hand pinned his arm, small warm fingers scrabbling for grip before they pushed down on him with shocking force.

"DAD!" The voice, a girl, called at the top of her lungs.

Dad?

Shit!

The gears in Mike's mind clicked with a surge of panicked sickness.

He had just broken in on Will's stepsister.

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?" she growled, her menace terrifying.

Mike panted against her arm pressing into his neck. "M-Mike!" He managed to spit out, "I-I'm Will's friend! Mike!"

The girl… Will's stepsister… Jane?... didn't respond.

Mike sucked in a breath of hot dry air, stinging his throat against the constriction of her arm. "Will's roommate Mike!" He continued, his voice high and tight, his eyes squeezed shut, "I'm so sorry! My car - It's stuck - In the drive - I -"

"Mike…?"

His name fell from her in a soft and airy tone, so radically different from the terrifying bark she'd had just seconds before. "Don't move," she commanded.

Jane didn't have to worry. Mike never would have dared move in this situation.

Her knee pressed into the center of his stomach as she leaned over him. With catlike reflexes, she released his arm and swiped the flashlight from the floor. Before he could comprehend what was happening, the beam shone directly into his eyes. Mike winced, pressing his eyes shut against the blinding light.

"Oh my God…" she breathed. "Mike."

A different kind of shock colored her words, but Mike's frozen and frightened brain could not keep up. He could only tell that her arm left his neck almost immediately. He heaved a mercifully deep breath as his airway reopened.

She sat back on his thighs, and for a second she just stayed there in silence, breathing heavily behind the beam cutting into his eyes.

Nothing was making sense. Everything felt upside down. Yet, Mike tried to push through the confusion with scrambling words. "Yeah, I'm Mike. I'm so sorry!" he pleaded, squinting his eyes open to address her directly, a dark shadow behind the light, "This is a big misunderstanding! I didn't mean to - scare you - I - You're Will's stepsister. You're… Jane?"

"You know Will."

She did not phrase it as a question.

"Yeah!" Mike practically yelped, "I know Will. I have since I was five. I promise. We live together in Chicago. We drove home in the storm and my car got stuck but Will had already come inside and I couldn't get in and it was freezing and I - I wasn't thinking - I thought this room would be, you know, empty? Since Jonathan wasn't coming home, you know? I should've realized you might be in here. Please, I'm so sorry to scare you like this I - "

"- Mike - " she interrupted. An odd softness floated on his name, "It's okay." And with that, she slid off of him, giving him space to move.

Mike sprung up and backed away as quickly as he could to give her space. Stumbling around the bed in the dark, he darted to the other side of the room. Embarrassment began to overtake his fear. "I'm really sorry. I'll just - I'll go and sleep on the couch," - his back fell against the door - "It's um… nice to meet you, Jane - I'm - so - sorry."

He scrambled for the doorknob with numb fingers.

"Mike, wait," she said with a breathy laugh.

Mike stopped in his tracks.

Her soft laugh, so odd and so out of place, hit his ears with such a jarring familiarity.

Slowly, quizzically, he turned back to her.

Just then, with a click, light filled the room.

And in that flash, all sense fell from Mike's mind.

Delicate fingers had flipped on a lamp on the bedside table. It was so crazy to think that those same small hands had just pinned him to the ground with such dangerous force.

But that was the least of his thoughts.

For as light illuminated what had been hidden in the dark, he had to check in with himself: Had he gotten a concussion when he fell through the window? Blacked out? Entered some dreamscape? Was hypothermia setting in? Had he maybe... died?

Because there was no way that what he was seeing was real.

There was no way that the girl who had just knocked him to the floor…. Will's step sister...

...was…

"El?"

"Hi," El whispered from the other side of the bed. She simply stood there. Cheeks pink, hair messy, pajamas crumpled and oversized, arms crossed over her chest to combat the cold wind coming from the open window behind her. Shock painted her expression, and he was sure that it was a mirror of his own.

Words tumbled from his lips in a daze.

"I've been looking for you everywhere… and you were here?"

Her eyes sparked wide, "You - you've been looking - "

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Kid?! What the hell is going on?!"

Mike jumped as a fist banged through the door, shattering the silence from directly behind him.

If El's eyes had been wide before, it was nothing compared to now.

She mouthed 'shit!' with such animation that Mike's fear remounted in an instant. With a surprising limp, El rushed around the bed. A warning was clear in her eyes as she gestured wildly for Mike to hide against the wall while placing her finger to her lips to communicate that he needed to remain silent. Mike did as he was told, sliding away from the door and toward the wall with as much silence as he could muster.

El shot him a warning look before wiping every ounce of emotion from her face and easing the door open just the slightest amount.

"What?" she asked the man with the booming voice on the other side of the door. A convincing air of sleepiness had slipped into her tone.

"You alright?" the groggy man gruffed from the other side, mere inches from Mike, through the cheap hollow door.

Mike knew the voice.

He'd only met the man two or three times, yet he could picture him. Burly and intimidating, and one of the few people Mike had ever met who seemed to tower over him.

Joyce's new husband, Jim.

Jane's Dad…

...El's Dad?

"Just a bad dream," El stuttered, her voice high and shaky.

"Sounded like one hell of a bad dream."

"I - uh - rolled out of the bed and fell on the ground. Did I - " she shook her head, and Mike watched her messy ponytail swing through the air, "Did I yell or something?"

"Screamed bloody murder, kid. Thought I heard voices, too. Real bad one this time, huh?"

"Huh… Yeah. I'm okay now, though. Just. Yeah. Voices, huh? Maybe that was just the wind?"

"You sure you're alright..." He repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced.

"Mmhmm," she nodded, "Just gonna go back to bed. Sorry I woke up."

"It's okay... Alright well… good night, kid."

"Night, Dad!"

And with that, El shut the door… and immediately flipped the lock.

Looking up from the door, she put her finger back to her lips and waved Mike to follow her. In a stunned daze, he did as he was told, keeping close behind her as she limped her way through the small bedroom, past haphazardly stacked boxes, around the messy bed, and back to the open window that was blistering with gusts of cold air. She pulled it shut as quietly as she could.

Once the offending cold air was banished, she turned to Mike abruptly.

The hazel sparkle of her eyes was radiant as she regarded him in the buzzing silence. Shadow from the dim lamp brushed across her cheek, falling upon her in a way that felt so intimate that the walls seemed to close in. She was so close now, and in that moment Mike became sure - he wasn't hallucinating.

For his memory was not good enough to conjure El in this much gorgeous detail.

Nothing made sense. Yet, it was... true?

She was here.

Despite the pain that was radiating from his ribs - Despite the burning cold that was still attacking his feet - Despite his exhaustion and confusion and outright shock... Mike found himself smiling.

"You're Jane?" he finally breathed, awestruck, "You're Will's stepsister?"

El nodded slowly, her eyes locked on him so intently, "Jane is my legal name." She shook her head and blinked hard, "This is crazy."

"Yeah, hey, I-I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"Okay?" She asked quizzically.

"I just scared the shit out of you. When I, you know," he gestured awkwardly to the window, "and you're foot, it - "

"Oh," she huffed out a tight breath, blowing her hair as she did so, "Yeah, that wasn't exactly the most pleasant way to wake up. But I'm okay."

"I'm so sorry, El." Mike pleaded.

"It's okay," she said with the kindest smile, one that he clearly didn't deserve, "Are you okay?"

"What?"

Her expression turned to one of curious amusement. "Your teeth are chattering and I just kicked you to the ground. Are you okay?"

"Uh…"

In that moment, she called attention to so many sensations that his shocked senses hadn't been able to focus on. His hands were still burning, as were his toes. A throbbing pain was radiating from his ribs where she had kicked him. A corresponding pain was clear in his shoulder where he'd taken the brunt of the fall.

And, she was right - he was aware of it only now - his chattering teeth had not stopped.

He was freezing.

El scanned down his body, and before he could keep up, she stepped forward and gingerly moved him out of the way so that she could pass through the thin space between him and the bed. Perplexed, he watched as she opened the top drawer of the dresser on the side wall. She rooted around until she pulled out a thick ball of socks. She did the same in the drawer below, pulling out a pair of flannel pajama pants.

Mike looked down at himself. At his shoes, still caked in snow. At his pants, drenched with icy water halfway up his shins. At the floor, the wet marks charting his every move through the room since he had fallen in.

"Here," El whispered, placing the clothes on the edge of the bed. "These were Jonathan's so I think they'll fit you okay, yeah? You should change, you can't keep those clothes on."

"Thank you," he said slowly.

"Are you hurt?"

Mike nodded. "I think a little. Not bad, but you've uh… you've got one wicked kick there."

"I'm so sorry," she moaned immediately, yet with the lightest laugh. It tickled his ears in a way that made him once again forget he was standing in ice laden shoes.

"It's okay." He replied with an easy laugh of his own. "How's your foot?"

"I'll deal with it," she said, waving off his worry. "Give me your shoes and coat. I'll go put them somewhere they can dry while you change."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to," she replied kindly, her breath heavy, her lips still parted in a flush of surprise.

It was all so very surreal, yet he nodded in acceptance of her help. Slowly, bemusedly, he sat down on the Jonathan's bed. No, El's bed... With almost immovable fingers, he tugged off his shoes. His socks were pure wet sheets of ice, and they burned like holy hell when he stripped them off. He dropped them into his decimated shoes, feeling supremely vulnerable as El immediately swiped his shoes off of the floor.

"Coat, too."

Mike had no reason to argue. His wool coat had fared a little better, but it too was beginning to bleed into him with cold.

He looked up as he handed it to her, and almost had to remind himself again… this was El.

El.

The girl he thought he'd never see again, holding his clothes, in Jonathan Byers's old bedroom.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, stalling for a moment, her eyes scanning his face, before she finally moved and noiselessly eased her way out of the door.

And, as quickly as she'd appeared? She was gone.

Mike blinked, struggling to keep up. He scanned the room. Old posters of Jonathan's littered the walls. The wallpaper and the carpet and the furniture, it was all so anciently familiar. Yet, on top of the room's old effects, new things were clear. Boxes upon boxes were stacked in the corners. Soft loopy handwriting marked each one. In the final corner sat a familiar backpack; one he had seen on the floor of a different kind of bedroom on the other side of the planet. Beside it, draped over a half open cardboard box, was a soft maroon dress.

One that was utterly imprinted on his brain.

El might have no longer been visible, but her presence was all around him.

Mike shook his head with yet another surge of disbelief, and this time, jaw agape, he found himself laughing… until he winced.

Reaching up on instinct, he felt a growing welt under his right arm.

From El's foot…

He shook his head once again, blinking in quick succession to see if maybe he would wake up from this dream. But nothing happened. Her dress remained on the box. Her backpack looked still half packed from her trip. And her mark was now left on Mike's body...

Maybe Mike owed Will an apology, because he'd been right… El had certainly shown up when Mike had least expected it.

El worked to steady her hands as she placed a pair of impossibly wet shoes on top of the old furnace vent in the living room.

Mike's shoes.

Mike.

Mike, who had kissed her goodbye one week ago in an airport halfway across the world, never to be heard from again.

Mike, who had just fallen through her window in the middle of the night... as though she had conjured him out of thin air.

It had to be a dream.

Yet, her emotions were too thick, and much too real, for this to be anything but reality.

Plus, her foot was aching much too badly for this to be a dream.

But it was all was moving too fast! The swoop in her chest had been so intense, swinging like a pendulum from abject terror to soaring surprise, as she'd discovered the shocking truth of who had broken into her room window. She'd been shaken - and relieved - so intensely that she'd almost dropped the flashlight directly onto his face.

But truly - and maybe it had been wishful thinking - something in her had known from the second he stuttered his own name in a terrified spree.

She'd only needed the flashlight to be sure.

At first, she thought he'd planned this, but that was washed away when she'd flipped on the light. For, the stamp of shock in his own expression had been paramount. He'd stared at her as though she was a ghost, his dark pupils blown. His thick eyebrows, dusted with snow, riding as high as possible on his forehead.

His words, so rudely cut off from her father, breathy and shocked…

"I've been looking for you everywhere, and you were here?"

Standing in the dark of the living room, she finally let his words wash over her. Her smiled painted her face in a way that could have lit up the dark living room.

If this was a dream? It was perfect.

And it likely was... because this couldn't have been real, right?

Mike couldn't have just fallen through her window… in the dead of night… in Hawkins, of all places?!

This man she met in Italy could not be best friends with her new stepbrother?!

It was insane. Overblown.

Even for a dream it was ridiculous!

Nevertheless, the pain in her foot felt very real as she made her way back through the house. Slowly, she slipped into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door for light so that she could collect a rag from the counter and some ice from the dark freezer. Binding it up in a bundle with a chip clip magnet that was on the fridge, she made her way to her second stop, grabbing a glass of water.

Finally, she slipped into the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet, finding a small bottle of Aspirin. She popped one in hopes that it would take some of the swelling down in her foot, and just in case he was magically still in her room and this was all actually real, she shook an extra one into her hand.

Her heart began to beat with dizzying anticipation as she made her way back down the dark hall. Wind whipped at the house, whistling through the trees and tossing snow against the window at the end of the hall. Each footstep was awash with it, heavy hopes swirling in a growing storm. Because once she opened that door reality would become clear.

Though, in a way that made her knees weak, she knew that it was.

Hand trembling on the doorknob, she turned it slowly and stepped in the room.

And… there he was. Sitting on the edge of her bed. In fresh pajama pants and a tight forest green long sleeved thermal shirt. Looking just as shocked as her.

El worked to steady her breath as she eased the door shut, careful to ensure that the latch didn't echo through the hall.

"Hi," he said as she turned to him. The single word exposed a still light chatter from his teeth.

"Hi," she replied, her heart racing more than she knew what to do with. She hobbled forward, handing him the painkiller and glass of water. "It's Aspirin. I thought you might need it."

"Thank you," he said, taking it slowly. His cold fingers brushed her warm ones as he took the glass. She sat down gingerly on the bed beside him as he took the pill, pulling her foot over her knee to set the ice bundle upon what was starting to become a dark bruise across the top arch of her foot.

"Is it bad?" he asked trepidatiously.

El shrugged, "I don't think anything's broken. It's just… I'm used to kicking punching bags, not human bodies. You're a little bonier."

"I'm so sorry, El," Mike said, pure agony in his words, " I should've thought about it better. I knew Will's sister might be here, I was just so cold I was starting to panic and I knew I could get in this window and that Jonathan wasn't home. I just wasn't thinking," he looked at her directly then, worry lacing his brow, "I "I would never want to scare you like that."

His apology hung in the air. And it wasn't that El wanted to leave him hanging... it was just that she kind of froze. Mike was so close. Just half a whisper away. His lips were chapped from windburn. His cheeks were smarting with splotchy red, juxtaposing the ghostly cold pale of his cold skin. Ice was still flecked in his eyebrows. The streaked white was so complimentary to the depths of his shining dark eyes.

God, he was so much cuter than she'd even remembered.

"It's okay," she managed to say, "Plus, you probably have a matching mark, right?" She held up the ice, "Do you need some of this?"

Mike shook his head, "I don't think my body could take any more cold right now, I'm cold enough as it is. But yeah," he lightly touched the spot under his arm where she kicked him, wincing a bit as he did so, "You definitely left a couple marks. You're…" he looked away with a shy smile, "You're very strong."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No!" He shook his head immediately, "Not at all. I'm just saying you know how to take care of yourself. That's good. And I'm really really really sorry I made you have to demonstrate that."

El chuckled. "I told you I kickbox, remember? And my Dad's a cop, so I'm obviously trained in self defense."

Mike exhaled deeply, "Oh, I remember. And I'm definitely not going to forget now." And his eyes, still wide, became a little less shocked. A warmth was beginning to fill them, and despite how cold she felt without her blanket in a drafty room, she felt herself heat up a bit.

"You've definitely proved yourself to be a great ally if we got sent back in time, though," he added, a sense of something personal entering his expression, "Really, it'd be smart if you rethought this alliance you agreed to."

El fought back a smile, but she was powerless against it. The memory. The conversation. A week ago and a half a world away.

It struck her, hard, pulling it all together.

And finally, it clicked.

This was, somehow, reality.

Her heart shot up with a fresh set of heavy beats

"No, you're totally a worthy ally," she replied, no longer trying to fight back her smile.

"You sure about that?" he asked, his eyebrow raising.

"Yeah," she reassured him, "You know how to show up at the right place at the right time."

"What?"

Her words almost stuck in her throat, but a push of bravery kept them moving. "I'm just…" she looked away as her smile grew, "I'm just happy to see you. That's all."

Mike was silent for a moment, and the air around them grew thick. "I tried to call you, El," he said, with a new sense of urgency, "I did. but - "

"I know." She interrupted, her heart now racing without a stop in sight, "I figured it out. I gave you my old number."

"Yeah…" His reply was hesitant, but she could read his eyes. In a spin, her stomach dropped.

"It was an accident!" She yelped, before instantly remembering to lower her voice. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I did that until a couple of days ago. I wasn't trying to blow you off. I promise. I wanted to hear from you."

"Oh…" he breathed, "Good." Something released in his expression. "I thought so. I wasn't sure...but -"

"Yeah! I did. I tried to call the guy with my old number when I realized. I thought maybe you'd left your number with him, but -"

"- But he's a grade A asshole?" Mike offered, his expression immediately turning sour.

"Yes, oh my god," she nodded in a surge of agreement, "He told me you called. Or, I guess it's more like he blamed me for you calling and interrupting his life."

"Yeah that sounds about right." Mike said, rolling his eyes.

"Is that what you meant?" she asked, "When you said you'd been looking for me?"

"What?"

"Earlier," she couldn't hide the hopefulness creeping into her voice, "What you said when you realized it was me."

Mike cringed, "Oh God, that probably made me sound like a stalker." He looked away as he forced out a few non committal words. "Yeah, I might have tried to see if I could get ahold of you another way."

El didn't say anything in reply.

It all felt so awkward, and delicious, and overwhelming. Mike clearly wasn't good at hiding his feelings, because she could see everything in his expression. And in that moment it became painfully clear that El hadn't been the only one bothered by the turn of events over the past week. Her heart went out to him. And she felt… grateful. For the fact that maybe she hadn't been entirely alone in her feelings? That felt… really nice.

"How have you been?" she asked, changing the subject to try to relieve some of his discomfort.

"Oh," he replied, bouncing out of what seemed like a trance, "Good, I guess."

"Did you have bad jet lag?"

"I definitely kept weird hours for a few days, yeah. You?"

El nodded, "Same. Joyce started making me meals that I could heat up in the middle of the night since I was mostly just eating Eggos and Mac and Cheese at 3am."

Mike laughed, shaking his head once again, "It's going to take me a while to get used to the fact that you know Mrs. Byers."

"Mrs. Hopper, now," El corrected.

"Right. That's going to take some getting used to, too. I've been calling her Mrs. Byers my whole life. Maybe it's finally time I give in and start calling her Joyce."

"That's what I call her," El said with a shrug.

Mike didn't reply for a moment. He simply looked at her and blinked, biting his lip before he spoke again. "What have you been up to?" He asked, "Are you getting to know Hawkins alright? Since you're somehow in... Hawkins?" he shook his head once again.

El tried to stop her face from falling flat, but she wasn't sure if she succeeded. "I wouldn't say I've been getting to know it. More so, I've been mailing out a bunch of job applications so I can get out of this town as quickly as possible. No offense."

"Oh," he chuckled and animatedly waved her worries away with the brush of a hand, "None taken. Honestly, I'd be worried about you if you weren't trying to run from here immediately."

El laughed, "You have that much love for your hometown, huh? This is your hometown, right?"

"Yeah, I was born here, I mean, I don't hate it here," he replied, "But it's not a place to be right after college."

"Tell me about it," she said with a laugh.

Mike smiled, and in a stunning rush of sensation, El almost felt like she was back to sitting on the edge of another bed, thousands of miles away, talking so easily in the dead of night. She reveled in the sensation. One so unique... the simple effortless that she felt when talking to him.

"So, are you trying to find work back in Indianapolis, then?" He asked, pulling her back from her thoughts.

"Oh, you know, a few cities around the region," she said vaguely. The application to Chicago danced in her mind, but she didn't let that detail slip. "But yeah, that's pretty much it for me. How have you been? Since you got back?"

"I uh… I've been okay." He chuckled darkly, "I've mostly been preparing to tell my parents that I'm not going back to school."

"Oh. You're not?"

"No," he said with a bleak shake of his head, "That might be why I got stuck in the driveway. I'm kind of dreading going home."

"They're not going to take it well?"

"Probably not, no."

"Why not?"

Mike sighed, and leaned back a bit into the bed, "My parents… or at least my Dad… he has a very clear idea of how the world is supposed to work and what you're supposed to do in it. He was already pretty annoyed when I went to undergrad for something 'useless', his words not mine, and I think he thought he had me convinced to go to grad school for something he deemed useful. I just… Yeah, if Italy taught me anything it's that I'm not interested in that. So now I have to tell them."

El fought back the urge to touch his arm, "You shouldn't have to do something just because your parents want you to."

"Yeah, I know. It's not going to stop me. Telling them is just going to make for a shitty week," he breathed deeply, and El noticed that the red of his nose was beginning to even out. The chatter in his teeth was now long gone. It relieved a worry she didn't know she was holding. "So, yeah. There's that. And then I have to figure out what I'm going to do for work now while I - " he looked back to her again, hesitantly, as though the words felt odd to say, "While I write."

"That's great." She replied.

"Yeah, I'm a bit nervous about it," he admitted, "I didn't work in college so I don't really have a job resume or anything. And I definitely can't move home."

"Oh wow, that would be your first job?"

"Other than TA-ing, yeah." Mike replied, avoiding her eyes. "That probably sounds pathetic."

"No-"

"It's just - I had a full ride to school. So, my parents floated me for basic stuff so I didn't need a job," he let out a tight breath, "But they're definitely not going to continue doing that."

"You can get a job," El replied easily, "Maybe you could look at bookstores or game shops? You mentioned you had places like that that you liked in Chicago? Those places don't usually require work experience."

Mike looked up, blinking in surprise. "That's a really good idea. Thanks."

El smiled, "Yeah. It's great you're doing it, by the way. You know, if it's what you want to do."

"It is," Mike said.

"What made you decide? Not to go back to school?"

He stared at her for a moment in surprise. "You." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Me?"

"I - " he paused and took a deep breath. "What you said. At dinner. You got through to me. I think I needed someone to say that to me, and you made a really good case. So, thank you."

"Oh," El felt herself beginning to blush, "Sure."

Mike smiled softly, there was a softness in his expression that made her simply want to melt. "It's really good to see you, El," He breathed.

The air began to feel thick, and despite the storm racking against the house, everything felt warm. Just like before, she marveled at his eyes. So deep and dark and kind, holding so many stories that she so desperately wanted to know.

"Where did you look? When my number didn't work?" she asked, the question slipping from her lips before she could stop it.

Mike groaned in an obvious surge of embarrassment, "Are you trying to torture me? I only admitted that because I was in complete shock."

El giggled, "I'm sorry. I just want to know."

He shot her a pleading look before he finally gave in, "I started with the operator. Your old number was unlisted, by the way."

"My Dad's a cop, so yeah. Did you check anywhere else?"

Mike dropped his head, but he was smiling again, and the red of his cheeks was changing from cold to heat, "Yeah, but I never got far because I didn't know your full name."

"We probably should have traded those."

Mike rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Yeah, that definitely would've made things easier."

"What else did you try?"

He shot her a desperate look, "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I'm just curious!"

"I tried to call IU. In the social work department? But they wouldn't give me anything on past students."

"Oh..."

"And…" Mike full on cringed, his voice lowered with the most tortured admission, "And then I tried the Indianapolis police department."

"You called the police?!" El yelped in surprise.

"I thought your dad might work there!" He retorted.

"Not anymore! My dad is the Chief of Police here in Hawkins now."

"Wow. That is so crazy."

"Not as crazy as you calling the police for a phone number!"

He shot her a look so pitiful that she instantly took it back.

"I'm sorry, I just… I'm flattered." She looked down at her foot as an admission of her own bubbled on her lips, "If it makes you feel better, I almost considered meeting up with the guy who has my old number in exchange for your phone number."

Mike's eyes popped wide, "Wait, what?"

"I left him a message two days ago with my number, asking him to pass it onto you if he heard from you again, because I - I heard his answering machine recording? Did you hear it?"

"The one that called me a loser?" Mike said shortly, "Yeah. I heard that one."

El gritted her teeth in regret, "Sorry, I forgot about that part. But, he called me back tonight and said he'd help me if I gave him an hour of my time." The playfulness drained from her voice in an instant. "I'm pretty sure he didn't mean for polite conversation."

"What?!" Mike barked in surprise. His eyes went wide at his exclamation and he immediately lowered his voice to continue. "That asshole! You weren't going to do that, were you?"

"No, I mean I considered it for like half a second, but obviously I didn't trust him."

"Yeah, of course not. That guy is the worst. That's disgusting of him, El," Mike said soberly, "I'm so sorry."

El smiled gratefully. "It's okay. Plus, it seems like we didn't need his help, anyway."

Mike didn't reply to that. It seemed he was still stuck on the last detail. "You're okay? After he said that?"

"Yeah. I mean, I feel pretty confident that I can take care of myself, so assholes like that don't usually phase me, at least not too much."

"Still, though," he replied. "That's so wrong. I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do it," she said, but a wave of appreciation came over her nonetheless. This time, she did reach out and touch his arm. It felt easy in the moment. Natural. As natural as what she was about to say. It was so odd, the ease that was coming over her. Maybe it was the week, laying bare the true strength of her feelings, and now contracting on itself in stunning relief, dropping him right in her path. But she felt… brave. Sure. Safe. "I was more upset that the guy wouldn't help me, because I didn't know where to start after I realized I'd fucked up. I really wanted to figure out a way to find you."

Mike looked up and bit his lip to hold back a smile, "I hear calling the police is a good place to start."

El busted with an unexpected laugh, stifling herself almost immediately, but she found herself beaming, her smile so big it hurt her cheeks.

Mike met her with a smile of his own, "El?"

"Yeah?"

"What's your name? Your full name?"

"Jane Eleanor Hopper. You?"

Mike continued to hold her gaze. "Michael Theodore Wheeler."

Of course it was. The name hit her ears like she had known it all of her life.

"It's nice to meet you," she said, holding out her hand playfully.

He took it within his, "You, too," he whispered, his gaze soft and steady. He didn't let go.

The cold of his hand sparked her consciousness, and she regarded him with the utmost awareness. He was smiling, looking tired and cold and soft and so incredibly kind.

Perfect.

It felt so simple, so easy, to lean toward him as her eyes slipped shut.

She wasn't surprised at all to find his windburned lips meet hers halfway.

She had dreamed about this moment since the second she had left him at the airport, and she gave into it immediately. He let out the lightest moan upon her lips, and a sense of need entered his movements. He dropped her hand and brushed her face, giving her something cold and comforting to lean into as she kissed him deeper.

After a moment, his lips slowed. They moved softly with hers in a way that made her ache, before he pulled away ever so slightly.

"I…" his breath was heavy and overwhelmed, "I didn't think I was going to get the chance to kiss you again." His finger tenderly brushed the hair from her face as he whispered, "El, this is so crazy."

"Yeah," El agreed. She pulled herself closer into him, "hasn't this whole thing been crazy, though?"

"So crazy," he breathed a laugh, his forehead finding hers, "I like this crazy, though."

"Me too," she said, her words muffling as she pulled him back into her. He moved so carefully, holding her into him with a reverence that she couldn't deny.

It was that quality about him that was undeniable. This… caring. The way he held her. Looked at her. Spoke to her. It conjured something in her that felt so unique. She never wanted it to stop.

And somehow, through some absolutely miraculous twist of fate, she had been given a second chance at it.

She'd be damned if she was going to let this time slip through her fingers again.

Fingers finding the cloth of his shirt, El pulled Mike slowly down onto the bed.

They didn't talk for a while after that.

Never in a million years would Mike have bet on this reality. Holding El as the sun rose on Christmas Eve in Jonathan Byers's old bedroom. It felt just like Italy, one week before. There were differences, sure. They were clothed this time, and the sun was dimmer. The rays from the window dusted over her face in the softest way. Yet, the essence was the same. The bizarre sense of comfort he felt as she laid upon his shoulder. The calming scent of her hair as it brushed against his cheek.

He couldn't believe his luck.

It had been a dizzying swing. Topsy turvy turns from the worst to the best and back again. Yet this time, something about this felt… solid. Steady. As though the maddening swirl of his luck had simply stopped, leaving him here. Exactly where he wanted to be.

But there were details that had to be hashed out, even in a perfect moment.

"El?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Are you asleep?"

"Not really."

"Um... " the sun made him ask questions that he hadn't thought about through the night. "What are we going to do when everyone wakes up?"

"Hmm..." She moved against him, coming up onto her elbow to meet his eyes. She looked adorably sleepy, with puffy eyes and frizzy hair, her lips still flushed by his actions. "I'll admit, if my dad finds out you've been in my room all night you might not survive the morning."

"Really?"

"He's… very protective," she said with an eye roll.

"Is that why you didn't say anything when he checked on you last night?"

"Oh yeah," she replied adamantly, "He would've pulled a shotgun on you if he'd known what had happened."

"Shit, really?" Mike asked in surprise.

El smirked, her finger poking him lightly in the side. "I mean, you did break into his house."

"But I've met him before. A few times. He knows who I am."

"You haven't met him in this capacity, though," she said, gesturing to herself.

"Oh, got it."

"Have you told Will? About Italy?"

"Not in detail. Not your name, I don't think. But I did mention the basics."

"The basics?"

"Airline messed up. I speak terrible Italian. I hooked up with a girl in a hotel room and we lost touch, which sucked terribly."

"Mmm, yes that did suck terribly," she replied with a simple peck on his lips, "Do you think he'd be weird about this?"

"He might be? Or maybe not? Will can be surprising."

"Okay," she chewed her lip in consideration before stating her consensus, "maybe we shouldn't mention this to anyone, then."

"To anyone?" Mike replied, his throat tightening.

El seemed to pick up on his tension. "Is that okay?" she asked softly, "How do you feel about that? You know, just for now?"

It didn't feel okay. If Mike had his way he'd crawl on the house and shout from the rooftop. But, she had a point. And if it was… just for now…

"It would probably be a hell of a lot less confusing for everyone else," he nodded in agreement, "So, this is all a secret, then?"

"Yeah, I guess," El's fingers found his with such natural ease, "This is kind of fun in a way, though, you know? Sneaking around. Foreign countries. Falling through windows in the middle of the night. Sordid."

Mike cracked a smile, "Well, when you put it that way it sounds kind of awesome."

"Plus, this way you'll get out of this house alive," she said the terrifying words with a playful wink.

"I would appreciate that," Mike conceded. "Well, I should probably go sleep on the couch if we're going to make this a secret, then."

El moaned in protestation.

"You don't want me to?"

"Of course not," she admitted with a sly smile, "But you're speaking sense."

Mike's heart purred at El's forward honesty.

"Hey, Mike?" She whispered, once again lying her head lazily on his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

Her sleepy smile widened as she spoke. "Thanks for falling through my window last night."

"Thanks for being on the other side of that window last night."

"Anytime."

And then, El moved forward and pressed her smile against his. He gave into her immediately, running his hand up her back, her t-shirt getting caught between his fingers, brushing it out of the way to trace up her vertebrae. She shivered and leaned into him, her lips dropping further into his with languid ease.

It was almost impossible to pull away, but the thought of being caught in the bedroom of the daughter of the Chief of Police made him succeed in doing so. Grabbing a pillow for the couch, he finally made his way out of the bed.

"Take that blanket on the boxes over there," El said, pointing to the corner. Mike nodded and did as he was told before making a move to the door.

"Hey, Mike?"

Mike turned to find her sleepy smile directed toward him once again. She looked so beautiful in the dawn light. Her wavy hair fanned the pillow. Her cheeks were rosy and warm as she burrowed beneath the covers.

How in the world had he found himself here again?

Scratch that - How had he found himself here at all?

"Good night," she whispered.

"Good morning," he corrected playfully.

She replied with a glorious smile as her fingers peeked out from the edge of her blanket to wave him goodbye.

There was no controlling his expression. Mike simply beamed in reply.

And at that moment, he felt it...

He was slipping. Into something he didn't quite have words for. Slipping at a speed that he didn't know how to regulate. She felt undeniable, and he felt no choice but to surrender to where it was going to take him.

And surrender he would. Gladly.

One chapter left! Thanks so much for reading, friends. I hope you are all well. Let me know how you're doing and how this little reunion went for you in the comments :)

- L -