AN:

I wasn't planning on updating until this Friday but I'm getting close to finishing chapter five so I feel like it's time. Thanks for all the amazing reviews and encouragement. I appreciate those a lot... but not so much when it's just an a spam of "please update please update please update, etc". That kind of just makes me feel guilty and annoyed. Encouragement is really appreciated but I'm not a trained monkey and I won't spit out another chapter because of demands, I want to feel like what I have is ready for you guys before I post it and nothing is going to happen until I reach that point. Tell me what you like about it or how it made you feel. That shit makes me scream in the best way. I want to make you guys happy too.

Anyways, like I said, I appreciate all the encouragement 100% and it's really been helping motivate me.

Hope you like Mike's perspective.

"We let the waters rise
We drifted to survive
I needed you to stay
But I let you drift away"

Mike jolted awake.

It was dark and he rolled over, spotting the time on the alarm clock and then thrashing wildly under the blanket as he tried to sit up.

Nine forty-two. The party started at nine. He knew had been tired and stressed but seven hours? What the hell?

His flight had left LaGuardia at five thirty in the morning, so he had woken up at three to make sure he had enough time to get there and get his ticket and luggage and everything. The flight had been five and a half hours and he'd been airsick the whole time, a miserable almost six hours of drinking several cans of ginger ale and hanging his head over the barf bag. When he had slept it had been only for minutes at a time before the plane would jolt or a baby would scream and he would startle upright again. It had been hell and not even Max's optimistic face picking him at the airport had been able to rouse him. Mike wasn't sure how she could be so chipper considering it was seven in the morning her time.

She'd taken him to get some coffee and then they'd picked up Dustin. Despite his foul mood it had been good to see his old friend, and what's more Dustin was always talkative, so he could carry the brunt of the conversation, allowing Mike to sleepily push his eggs around his plate. His friend had successfully filled the small diner with chatter about his tech development firm in Chicago and the boy scout troop he'd started leading a few months prior. He'd never really let go of his fondness for compasses and had managed to find a captive audience to explain them to. Perfect.

Will's absence had been felt at the table, but Mike's roommate had flown in the day before, having found a flight with a layover in Indy in order to meet his mom for a quick lunch. Mike's flight had been the cheaper option so he'd stuck with it despite the god awful early hour. And he hadn't really wanted to stop in Indiana. There wasn't really anything there for him anymore.

Okay, well, his parents were there, of course, and Holly. Mike tried to always make it home for Christmas and visit in the spring or summer if he could get away. They were always happy to see him but never minded that he was living his own life and had things to do. The magnetic pull that had driven him back for so many years was gone and now driving through Hawkins made him a little sad more than anything.

Because she didn't want him.

Mike swiped a hand over his tired face, as if trying to wipe the jet lag off of him. This is for Lucas, he reminded himself. It's going to be fine.

With an annoyed huff he climbed out of bed and pulled off his rumpled sweatpants. He hopped into a pair of jeans and rummaged around in his suitcase for a button up. After dressing he ran his fingers through his dark hair and stumbled into the bathroom to splash water on his face and brush his teeth, hoping that this ritual would push away the fuzziness that came from ill-timed sleep. Max had dropped them off at the motel around two and he had turned down Dustin's invitation to hang out on the beach so he could pass the fuck out in his room, the jetlag and early start enough to render him totally dead to the world.

He looked at the time once again, as he finished fastening his watch to his wrist. Lucas was going to give him so much shit for being late. What kind of best man was late to the first wedding event… even if it was just drinks and small talk at a bar?

And fuck, he still had to plan the bachelor party. He needed to talk to Dustin about that one for sure. And pick up his rental car. Damn it… why had he slept all afternoon instead of doing things?

He didn't have time to think, pulling his shoes on and then grabbing the key to his room—which was attached to a miniature, red and white life preserver—he shoved it into his pocket and bolted for the door, locking it and almost running down the sidewalk towards the bar that Max had pointed out earlier. Why hadn't someone come and woken him up? Will or Dustin? He was so used to sharing a room and being able to count on someone else caring if he forgot things or overslept, but obviously that hadn't worked this time.

The fresh ocean breeze was a welcome change to the stale, processed air of the plane and his motel room. Taking a moment to collect himself, he breathed the crisp salty air down into his lungs. It was dark out now, the sound of the waves that were invisible beyond the artificial lights of the paved streets, filling the quiet with pleasant white noise. Mike was finally beginning to feel like himself again. So instead of rushing, he slowed, and tried to calm his racing heart, taking easy steps and rationalizing that if he was already this late, ten minutes wouldn't make a difference.

By the time he entered the bar, he actually had a cheerful smile on his face. That was until he was accosted by none other than the groom himself.

"Wheeler!"

Mike found himself tackled into a hug by his friend. He returned the gesture, genuinely happy to see him, despite the argument he knew was coming. Lucas leaned back and leveled with him, "Way to be late, asshole, the party's already started!" He feigned sincerity, but the effect was ruined by Lucas' infectious grinning. "We're all drunk and you're way behind."

"Well I—"

"Drink this."

There was suddenly a large glass shoved into Mike's hand, half filled with light golden liquid. Yes, a drink after the day he had would be nice. Thinking it was some sort of mixed drink, Mike tilted his head back and took a huge swig, foolishly deciding to trust his friend. He almost choked, barely managing to swallow the mouthful of burning alcohol, his throat aching and his eyes watering.

"Shit, Lucas," he coughed. Although the sound of it was drowned out by his friend's laughter. "Why didn't you tell me it was straight tequila?"

""Cause I knew you wouldn't drink it if you knew what it really was." Lucas was still grinning, highly amused. "That's your punishment for being late. Gotta finish the whole thing." He shoved the glass towards Mike again.

"This is like three shots worth!" He protested.

"Yeah, man, I told you, you're waaaaay behind."

"Fuck you," Mike groaned, taking a much smaller sip and wincing.

Lucas's eyes danced and Mike realized he hadn't seen his friend since Christmas, when he'd asked him to be best man. He looked… stupidly happy, and Mike couldn't help but feel a burst of warmth in his chest at his friend's joy. Or maybe it was just the tequila.

"So, you ready to get married in a week?"

"Hell yeah!" Lucas bobbed his head happily. "It's going to be a week-long party and then the wedding… which is gonna be an even bigger party. I mean, Max is like the best thing that ever fucking happened to me. And she's going to wear a dress. What's not to celebrate?"

"She's wearing a dress?" Mike couldn't hide his shock. "Like white and fluffy?"

"Yeah, something like that. I almost fell over when she told me, but now I'm just excited because she's going to look so good and…" He put a hand over his heart. "You might have to keep me from passing out, man."

"That's what the best man is for, right?"

They laughed and Mike felt at ease, sipping his tequila and slowly getting used to the taste enough to drink about half of it even though he would have preferred a beer, or at the very last, a mixer. But Lucas's punishment was final and he knew if he argued he would lose, so he tried to make the best of it. Everything was feeling warmer and slower and he didn't notice Dustin coming up behind him.

"Hey, Mike, nice of you to finally join us," Dustin forcefully bumped Mike's shoulder, but he was smirking playfully. "Aren't you supposed to the best man? Be on time and responsible and stuff?"

"You're not still mad, are you?" Mike groaned.

It was a joke, for the most part, but Dustin was competitive enough to be wounded that he wasn't best man. He knew Mike and Lucas had known each other longer, but he was the kind of person to get… dramatic.

"Nah, of course not," he waved it off. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because you like to be mad sometimes," Mike rolled his eyes and took another sip of his almost empty drink. "It's not like I picked it. Why aren't you yelling at Lucas?"

"Because he's the groom and I'm not gonna ruin his wedding."

There was no arguing with the flawed logic and instead of trying to, Mike finished the last of the tequila, feeling like he very much needed some water. His throat was dry and burning and suddenly everything was a little woozy and so damn warm. He had already rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and unbuttoned his collar. Why was California a hundred fucking degrees?

"Kay, whatever, I'm gonna get some water," he blustered, waving off Dustin and staggering towards the bar. "When I get back we're talking 'bout the bachelor party 'cause I need your help."

His eyes focused in on the bartender, who was smiling at a young woman who was ordering, and he headed towards the wooden counter. He had been too busy to think about anything other than getting to the party, but something about the girl's curly brown hair seemed familiar, and he blinked, trying to get the synapses in his brain to fire and carry back the necessary information for him to remember.

The girl whirled around. She was holding two glasses of water, and his mind focused on those, feeling his throat get even drier, too slow to dodge out of her way. Her feet didn't stop her in time and she bounced off of him, barely managing to keep the water from spilling. Oh, shit! He really needed to watch where he was going. Mike opened his mouth to apologize, but then her chin tilted up and he felt his stomach hit the floor.

El.

Her hair was shorter, barely brushing her shoulders, and he realized she must have cut it. No wonder he didn't recognize her. Last time he'd seen her—Last summer? Or was it the Christmas before that?—her hair had been much longer, flowing down her back in curly waves. She had told him back in high school she wanted to get it as long as possible after the years of the forced buzzcut. It had been one of her silent rebellions, against what she had been made into, and he had always admired her. What had made her want to change that?

Somehow that's what his mind decided to focus on, slowing him enough that his tongue faltered and nothing came out of his mouth except one word. The only thing he could possibly think of, the person filling his vision, his brain fuzzing over, half alcohol, half surprise.

"El?"

Her eyes were huge, obvious shock written all over her pretty face. How had he forgotten how crazy beautiful she was? It almost took his breath away, the way she glowed under the soft twinkling lights above them, cheeks flushed pink to match her soft lips, hungrily taking the sight of her in as they stared at each other. Then, suddenly, every light in the bar flickered, the familiar brown doe-eyes that so often haunted him at night, filled with something else. Anger and hurt and… hate?

Before he could spit out anything more, a greeting, or a question, or anything, there was icy water splashing into his face. Mike spluttered, taking a step back, completely taken by surprise and unsure of how to react. The cold shocked him a bit sober, and he blinked the water out of his eyes, watching as the ghost from his past dropped the empty cups, her chin trembling, and then turned and ran away.

Mike felt his feet moving, going after her automatically, a long-forgotten reflex come back to life. He'd thought about it before, what it would be like to see her again. He had figured it would be awkward, uncomfortable. But it was obvious that there was more going on. Clearly she wasn't happy with him—she'd just thrown water in his face—but he could tell she was upset about more than that.

There was more to this than just being ex-lovers and suddenly he needed answers. Even though he'd given up on what they'd had, even though he knew he couldn't allow himself to be anything to her anymore, he needed to just… do something. He'd spent two years doing nothing.

And he was drunk enough to finally admit to himself that he missed her so much his lungs hurt.

He followed her as she ran out of the bar into the dark night, towards the sound of softly roaring waves and splashing water. His feet hit sand and he stumbled, barely catching himself. The glimmer of the moon on her pale orange dress caught his eye, right at the edge of the water. She had stopped, staring out over the ocean, her eyes widening.

"El?"

She didn't react and he tentatively moved closer, going up behind her, a hand reaching out, unsure.

"Why did you follow me?"

Her voice was cold and he let the hand drop. How was he supposed to answer that when he wasn't even sure himself? Other than that he missed her, which was definitely not an option right now. His brain was still struggling to think of intelligent answers, and instead he just spewed out the closest thing to the truth.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he exhaled, slumping a bit. "And I just wanted to… see you."

She still didn't move, but her shoulders relaxed as she continued to stare out over the water, saying nothing. Mike suddenly felt agitated by her lack of reaction, and—though he didn't want to admit it—with himself. They had hardly spoken in the two years since he had left Hawkins and within the first ten minutes of seeing each other, she had thrown two cups of water in his face and stormed off. He hadn't done anything. He'd barely spoken to her, a few sentences, and this is what he got?

The anger that had filled her eyes surged within him as he watched her stare out over the water, staying silent despite his rather uncouth confession. She really didn't have anything to say to that?

The moon came out from behind a cloud, making everything brighter, and then he saw that she was trembling. His anger died and he let out a tired sigh. Neither of them seemed to be okay, but he realized something in her was hurting too and he let the irritation fade away. He didn't know why she was angry, but clearly she wanted to pretend like it he wasn't there.

It solidified what he already knew. She didn't want him. Not even a little bit.

He had found that out after she'd looked up at him and shook her head all those years ago. When she had told him the scholarship had fallen through and that she couldn't go with him, that it was too big of a risk and that she wanted him to be happy. That he needed to go and live his life and be happy without her.

"There's nothing for you here, Mike. Go. Don't wait for me," she had said, her face oddly emotionless. "I can't come with you."

"You can, we can figure it out when we get there—"

"No, Mike. It's over, okay? Your plane leaves in two hours. It's time for you to go." She had

turned away from him, facing her house, arms crossed.

"El, come on—"

He'd reached for her again and then froze, pushed back by an invisible force. She rarely used her powers, and never against him. Something in him had shriveled, his certainty of her love for him suddenly vanishing. How could she be telling him to leave?

"You have things to do. I won't be the reason you give up your dream."

"But—"

"Do you want to move to New York?" She had whirled around. "That's where your job is. And

Will too. Don't you want to move?"

"Well, yeah," he furrowed his brow. Of course he wanted to move out of Hawkins and start a job he knew he would love and hang out with his best friend. But he wanted her there too. "Of course I do."

Mike had only realized too late, that there had been a question in her eyes that day, and at the sound of his answer they filled with what he had assumed was anger. She had been annoyed with him, and that was when he realized that she was trying to get him to leave because she didn't want him there anymore. She didn't want him to stay. She didn't want him.

It had been the only logical explanation. Why else would she be giving up so easily? She was a fighter, or at least she had been, and at the time he couldn't understand why she just… stopped trying. In the end, he had to resign himself to the fact that it was because she didn't want to try. The future he'd planned for them out in New York suddenly shattered with a single, simple gesture. There had been so much he'd wanted to do, with her, and all of it had become impossible.

He had been sure it had been his fault. She was finally beginning to see that there were other options out there than him. New York City, with all of it's adventures and shining streets, wasn't what she wanted. He wasn't what she wanted. Not anymore. Some part of him had wanted to stay, but he'd already helped Will with the down payment on the apartment they were going to room in and he'd accepted the job and all of that wouldn't have mattered if she'd just… said she still wanted him.

But instead she had nodded, turned around, and walked back into her house. When she had released her mental grip, he had still been frozen, staring at the closed door, feeling his heart shatter. Part of him had wanted to to run to it and pound on it and make her go with him, make her see that it was what she wanted. Then the anger had filled him and he'd turned around and stomped away, getting in his car and driving back to his house, his temper and the hurt blinding him.

So he had left, flying far away.

And then the regret had hit.

Why hadn't he tried harder to reason with her? Missing his flight would have been stupid, but damn it all, he loved her. He had tried calling her house several times but both Hopper and Joyce told him she wasn't there and she never called back. It made the hope in his chest shrink, but he wasn't ready to give up yet.

He had his ticket to go home for Christmas. Maybe that would be enough time. Maybe he could come back and after a few months without him, she would want him again. Maybe he could talk to her and make her realize that he had waited for her back when they were kids, he would still wait for her now. And part of him had been afraid, his soul was missing part of itself, the part that she filled. Her smile and laughter, the way she smirked as she straddled him during a tickle fight, the way she kissed him when he brought her flowers.

Who would he be without her?

Those first six months had been a frantic attempt to try and not set too many roots down, just in case his move was a temporary one. Before he'd gone back to Hawkins he'd had to run down to the community college to sign up for a programming class that his company wanted him to take, some new program they were thinking about buying. It had been last minute and he'd been reluctant to commit to anything taking place after the new year, unsure if he would even return. But his responsible side had convinced him to at least get his name down and cancel later if he needed to.

The class had been pricey and he'd asked about scholarships, figuring it was worth a shot. The woman he'd talked to had been overly chatty but kind, telling him that there was only one currently available, but it was only for a full time student. It had been turned down over the summer and they hadn't reselected a candidate.

"What? Who turns down a full ride scholarship?" He'd snorted.

"Some girl out in bumpkin country. Indiana… some tiny town I'd never heard of… Hastings? Holland?"

Mike had felt himself break out into a cold sweat. "Hawkins?"

"Yeah, that's the one! I mean, I know we're just a community college, but I figure a free ride is a free ride, and in New York City of all places." The woman had shrugged. "Anyways, I don't think I can help you, sweetie, but if you want to check for grants, I have a list of them—a book really—that you could look at if you wanted…"

He had turned her down, stumbling out of her office and feeling… lightheaded. He knew exactly who the girl in Hawkins, Indiana was. The one who had applied for the scholarship around the time he'd graduated from MIT. The one who had lied to him and told him she hadn't gotten it, that there was no point in her going with him.

Why had she lied?

He'd laid in bed all night, agonizing over it. The delusion he'd been trying to live in crumbled and he realized that she truly didn't want him. Why else would she have turned down her dream? The thing she'd been wanting, to learn to be a librarian. She had turned it down so that she wouldn't have to be with him. She had given it up. To stay away from him.

She didn't love him anymore.

That had been the worst night of his life, where the piece of his heart he'd been saving for her, to offer back to her upon his return, finally shattered. He had nothing left to give, nothing she would want, and he'd stared at the water stain on the ceiling of his room and spiraled down to the blackest despair he'd ever felt.

He'd lost her once, for three hundred and fifty-three days. Three hundred and fifty-three days of uncertain hell, where he tried to convince himself she was alive and out there and listening, his hope enough to get him through. But his hope was gone. She didn't love him. She wasn't listening for him anymore.

The next morning he'd thrown his tear-soaked pillowcase into the washing machine with the rest of the clothes he was getting ready to pack to head home. The visit had been torture, everything reminding him of what he used to have. When she'd shown up at his house with a plate of cookies, it was like a knife to the heart. She was fine. She was so fine that she even brought his family cookies. He'd been thoroughly confused, treating her politely because… what the hell else was he supposed to do? It was better than foolishly confessing his undying love and alienating her further. There had been a hope that they could maybe still be friends, but he wouldn't try and hold her back by burdening her with his love.

He had finally, truly, let her go. Even though it tore him apart.

After that they drifted back into the realm of strangers, occasionally saying hello if he ran into her on one of his trips home. He tried to move on, for her sake. He had talked to new people, went on a few dates, tried to distract himself from the scar that covered his heart, that still throbbed when he let himself think of her. In a way he had convinced himself that he was over her… he didn't see her, he let himself get busy, he let himself try and forget, and in a way he had.

But he had kept the keychain she'd bought him, the one with their prom picture in it, throwing it into a desk drawer and occasionally stumbling across while hunting for batteries or a pen. He didn't look at it that much… but he kept it there, unable to throw it away, figuring he would keep a piece to look back on someday if she decided they couldn't even be friends. If he had been honest with himself, he would have known the real reason.

The reason that was now callously smacking him in the face as he stood there on the moonlit beach with her. It was because he still loved her, even though he tried not to. And now she was just three feet away from him, trembling with an anger that he didn't really think was fair.

"El," he tried again, forcing patience into his tone. "I'm sorry… I don't know—"

"Max was right," she cut him off, her voice not filled with the anger that he'd expected, but defeat.

He paused, caught off guard. "Right about what?"

"The ocean. It's… so... big."

She was wearing sandals and stepped into the wet sand, looking down as the cool water lapped over her feet. Large bodies of water normally scared her—too much like the Bath—but something about the ocean was comforting, the salty breeze warm as the black water made its way up her calves. It was like she was trying to ignore him in hopes he would go away and she could pretend that everything was okay again. He wouldn't let her.

"Woah, El, wait. It's not safe at night," he worried, walking after her.

His hand was on her shoulder, gently pulling her back, and she let him, the touch making her shiver, goosebumps raising all over. A pulse of electricity zapped up his arm and he swallowed, feeling strangely lightheaded. It was the first time they'd touched since… he had moved to New York.

She whirled around, smacking his hand off of her, and then she took off running again, her instinct causing her to flee from what was making her feel unsure. From him. Again he followed her, letting out a groan at her choice to run, but catching up to her quickly, and staying a few respectively distanced steps behind her.

"Why are you following me?!" she yelled, annoyed.

Mike felt his own temper spike. "Because it's dark, and you're drunk, and there's no way I'm letting you walk out here by yourself."

"I've killed people." It was a grumble.

"Not when you're drunk."

"You're just as drunk as me."

"But I'm a guy and for some reason that means I can protect you."

She huffed her annoyance, her run having turned into a fast walk. His long legs made it easy for him to keep up and she spotted their motel up the beach, turning to walk back towards solid ground, her gait much steadier on the sidewalk than the sand.

"Why do you care?" she spat over her shoulder at him. "You shouldn't."

Mike balked at that. "And why shouldn't I?"

She stomped along the sidewalk to her room. Mike followed, waiting for his answer. They ended up in front of her door, and he watched curiously, as she reached to her shoulder, as if she was reaching for strap of a purse that wasn't there. Then she froze.

"No!" she groaned, covering her face with her hands. She furiously started fishing her hands into the pockets of her dress. "No, no, no. I forgot—"

"What do you mean, no?" argued Mike impatiently. Of course he cared about her. Why was that so hard to believe?

A furious stare was her only reply, and she moved quickly around him, heading back in the direction of the bar. No, they weren't done here. He needed her to answer the damn question before his head exploded, his hand reaching out for her again as she took a few steps away.

"No. We're not doing this," she ignored his questions. "Not now."

"Then when? At the fucking wedding?" He bristled, his irritation finally surfacing. "You need to tell me—"

"I don't need to do anything," she hissed, trying to take a step away.

His hand caught hers, pulling her to a stop, though she refused to turn to face him. He stared at the back of her head, fighting the urge to reach out and stroke the chocolate curls that floated against the nape of her neck. Were they still as soft as he remembered?

He shook himself out of it, her hand trembling in his, letting out a heavy sigh as he took in the predicament. His fingers released her and she let her arm drop back to her side, limp and tepid. At least she wasn't running away again.

"El, why shouldn't I care?" he pressed, taking a step closer. "Why do you keep saying that?"

Everything seemed to explode.

"Because you left me!" She turned to him, meeting his eyes, her face flushed with hurt and anger. "You left me so don't pretend like you care now!"

"But I—"

"No! I c-can't—" She cut him off with a shaky breath. "Don't pretend, Mike." Her voice cracked and he realized it was the first time she'd said his name. "Don't pretend like you care, okay? I can't… I can't do that. Just don't."

There were tears in his eyes and he didn't understand what she was saying. How could she think that? Was that why she had pushed him away?

"I'm not pretending, El. I do care about you, god, do you think I don't?" He shook his head, his still-wet hair spraying droplets of water everywhere. "I never stopped caring about you. Even though you stopped… wanting me." He would have never admitted any of it to her, but he was just drunk enough that the truth he'd been running from spilled from his lips like a broken faucet.

"What?" Her brow creased in confusion.

The tension and anger that had been there before seemed to deflate, replaced with a heavy silence, as they stared at each other. His revelation weighed down on them, her mouth gaping open as her eyebrows puckered together.

"I know we haven't… talked in a while," he blurted quickly, desperate to fill the huge void between them. "But I still care about you. I'm always going to care about you. I loved you too much to just… stop caring."

"No, I mean—" She had to take a deep breath, his words seemed to be breaking her down. "You think I stopped wanting you?"

"You said no. You said you didn't want to come with me. I wasn't enough for you," he shrugged, not trying to make her feel bad but being honest. "It's okay, El. I get it. You wanted different things and I wasn't part of that. I'm not mad—"

"I want you, Mike."

It was a simple sentence but suddenly his heart tripped madly in his chest and he stared at her unblinkingly. He was speechless for several painful seconds, staring at her with eyes that widened to an almost comical degree, finally managing to choke out a totally intelligent response.

"What?" He was sure he had misheard her. That he was drunk and crazy and hearing what he wanted to hear. "I mean… what?!"

"I… I never stopped wanting you, Mike. I didn't want you to leave." She looked like she was in pain, her hands nervously gripping the skirt of her dress. "I just couldn't go with you."

They stared at each other, both seeming to be at a loss and trying to handle the flurry of emotions and sudden revelations in their drunken state. He wanted to grab her and kiss her and hold her close. To touch her and taste her and feel all of the things he'd been missing. She had told him she still wanted him, and his body was reminding him just how badly he still wanted her. He wanted her so bad he was shaking.

And she was standing in front of him, looking ethereal under the moonlight, telling him she wanted him too. She was beautiful and nervous, staring up at him, teeth pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as she waited for his reply. His eyes followed the movement, the way her tongue traced over the indention she'd put there, fixated on the perfect pink petal of her lip.

His drunken brain could only focus on one thing and then his hands were cupping her cheeks and pulling her towards him. Her arms were on his chest and she was staring up at him, the same want in her eyes, burning just for him. Despite the trembling, his thumb found the curve of her lip and then she lunged up to meet him, their bodies colliding.

Their lips met and she knocked him back against the door of her room, her hands tangling up into his hair as she frantically kissed him, uncertain and needy. She parted her lips, letting him in, and he gathered her in his arms, trying to pull her even closer.

"Fuck, El," he breathed against her lips.

Mike was out of his mind. They continued to kiss desperately as he pulled his key out of his pocket, and shuffled them towards his room, which he realized was right next door to hers. Fucking amazing. He had her pressed against the door, needing to be closer as he fumbled around with the key in the lock. Finally having to break apart, in order to unlock the door. He continued to fumble the key, as she pressed hot, open mouthed kisses along his neck, making it almost impossible to concentrate. The door finally opened, and they stumbled into the room together. He tripped over a lamp, catching it and turning it on, and when he turned around she was watching him with hazy eyes, her fingers clutching the edge of her dress. In a single fluid movement, she pulled it up and over her head, letting it fall to the ground.

Mike felt his mouth drop open, then shut it, suddenly realizing what was happening, his responsible common sense breaking through the drunken haze.

"Wait…" The words came slowly. "We shouldn't—"

"Mike." She said his name again but softer, breathy even, and he shivered. "It's okay."

"No, I shouldn't—"

"Mike, please."

How could he say no? There wasn't a single speck of resolve in his body that could keep him from refusing her and he let his gaze wander down to her body. Her underwear didn't match at all, her bra was nude and her panties were green with palm trees on them and he blinked, thinking it was cute as fuck but not entirely sure what he was allowed to be feeling.

"Um—"

"You still want me," she said it as a statement, but he heard the question in her voice.

"Of course," he whispered thickly. "Always."

She threw herself at him and he staggered, the alcohol in his veins making him even clumsier than usual, barely managing to angle it so they fell onto the bed instead of the floor. He grunted as she landed on top of him but then she was kissing him, his face, cheeks, nose, eyes, everything and his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer. Their lips met and he was sure he was dreaming, positive that at any second he would wake up in his bed back New York with only the stain on the ceiling to keep him company.

Her teeth clamped onto his lip and he groaned as she tugged it and then let go, feeling a fire explode into his veins. This was no dream. She was really here, on top of him and kissing him in her underwear, and he grabbed her face and pulled her down to kiss her fiercely. His tongue found hers and he traced her lips, teasing, feeling her whimper and press herself against him harder.

She pulled back long enough to push his shirt up, over his stomach and then chest, her small hands soft as they felt every inch of him. He let her take it off of him, groaning as she kissed down his neck to his chest, her teeth nipping at his skin, going lower until her hands were unbuttoning his shorts and ripping those down his legs too. She seemed more than willing to please him, her hands reaching for the elastic waistband of his boxers, but he wanted to feel her lips against his lips, quickly pulling her back up before she could get too far.

They fit perfectly, their clothes-covered centers pressing together, a whimper leaving El's throat as she kissed him, unable to keep her hips from wiggling against him. Giving in, he grabbed her waist and thrusted his hips, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut as the thin layers of their underwear allowed him to feel her. She felt so good, just like he had remembered, and she grinded herself down harder, throwing her head back.

There were no words, just moans and whimpers as they gave in to each other. It was two years of pent-up emotions, lust and desire, anger and hurt, relief and longing. His hands wandered and he looked up at her, that possessive urge to claim and dominate filling him.

He flipped them, her back hitting the mattress as he came down on top of her, his hands finding the soft skin on her sides and stroking, feeling her shift beneath him, her legs wrapping around his hips. Her arms wrapped up under his, pulling his bare chest against her almost naked one and he moaned, unable to help himself. It was every dream he'd had since they had split, reuniting and touching and kissing and feeling.

Whatever they were—or weren't—he didn't care. In this moment she was his and he kissed her again, getting onto his elbows, his weight pinning her down to the bed. Her thighs were silk against his hips and he grunted and rutted against her again before giving up and just kissing her, tasting lime and tequila on her tongue, the thirst he'd felt earlier replaced with his thirst for her. A thirst she seemed to share as she ran her fingers through his hair and shoved him harder against her.

They were sloppy, chin and mouths wet, but they didn't care, lost in the euphoria of being together again. Of being allowed to want each other again. Of feeling each other, every breath and heartbeat, and not feeling broken at the thought.

There no words, only hot caresses and hotter kisses. He kissed her jaw, down to her neck, finding that spot that was ticklish and feeling her squirm, a giggle escaping her throat and vibrating against his lips. The farther he went the more staggered her breathing became, and he was down between her breasts, the bra the only thing between him and pure bliss.

"Mike," she whimpered, an unspoken plea.

His hands reached, wanting her, craving her, but he stopped.

"I… we can't," he grit out, moving his hands down to the safety of her waist.

"Why not?" she pouted, her pink lips against his ear, her hot breath sending shivers down his spine. His hands gripped harder at her waist, trying to resist the urge that told him to let go and rip her underwear right off of her body. Fuck.

He tried to shake some sense back into his mind, all the while his hands began to trail up again. "I'm drunk. You're drunk," he tried to reason, but his words came out hoarse and tight. Christ, he wasn't even convincing himself. She was all he could see and taste and feel, her existence a sensational overload he was struggling to overcome. Instead of trying to reason with him, she kissed him again, their teeth clacking as she gave him permission to devour her whole.

He groaned into her mouth, his hips moving as he started to give in, feeling the dampness between her legs as he hopelessly ground himself against her. So close, just a thin layer away from the most blissful thing he'd ever experienced in his life, an experience he had craved the past two years. One he'd never been able to recreate.

A hazy memory flashed into his mind, of quiet gasping and tangled hair, and he suddenly flinched back. He'd been drunk then too, most of that recollection blurry and vague, bits and pieces and pure regret. No. He wouldn't do that again.

He was drunk. She was drunk. And that wasn't really right, though she'd made it clear she didn't care. His biggest concern was that there was a chance he would wake up in the morning and not be able to remember any of this. If it was what she really wanted, he was more than willing to make her feel good, to give in and feel her gasp and tremble, to hear her cry out his name. But not yet, not like this when he was fuzzy and clumsy and there was a possibility he would forget. He wanted to have all of her and he wanted to remember every goddamn, scream-filled second.

"Not yet," he pushed himself back up to her lips. "Not right now."

"Mike," she whined. "I want you. Please?"

"No," he was firm but then softened and kissed her temple, pulling back to look in her eyes, whispering his own plea. "Not like this."

He kissed her again, more gently, and then crawled off of her, flopping over onto his side. She rolled over to face him and he cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking her lip. She was visibly disappointed and he felt bad but he just couldn't go through with it. Not right now. Not until she was sure what she wanted and he knew it wasn't just a drunken urge. He couldn't handle being a regret.

"Stay," he begged. "Stay here tonight, please, El."

The irony was lost, of him being the one to ask her to stay, but they were too muddled to really think about it. Instead of being upset she nodded, allowing the compromise. Her arms wrapped around his chest and their legs tangled easily, falling into the familiar form of cuddling her body automatically knew. It had been years but neither had forgotten and his arm snaked around her lower back, his other hand stroking her cheek. Closing her eyes, she pressed her face against his neck, feeling soft kisses on her head and sighing, content and safe, letting the word leave her lips.

"Yes."

AN:

I posted earlier than I should have so the next one might take a bit longer but it's coming. It's going to to be even spicier than this chapter so if you're just here for smut (though I hope the story is worth getting invested in), trust me, this story is... not overly ridiculous or anything but I don't think you'll be disappointed. Patience is a virtue but I'm a pushover and I hate waiting for stories too so I'm trying to be fair.

Again, huge note of thanks to eliza dollittle. I'll never stop being grateful for you and how much you motivate and help me. This story wouldn't be what it is without you.

Tell me how you feel. I'll see you all in a week or two.

~Wyn