They're eating lunch on Tuesday when Max decides she'd like to voice what's on her mind.
"The Wizard of Oz isn't even that great," She gripes as she eyes a nearby cardboard tree with disdain.
Will gives her an indignant look. "It's one of the most famous musicals of all time!"
"Yeah, but it's boring," Max shrugs.
"You're just upset that the theater kids are taking over next week," Lucas comments.
"Well, yeah, obviously I'm mad about that!" Max huffs. She hates (and loves) that Lucas is able to read her so easily. "This is our spot! Where else are we going to eat lunch?" She motions around to their surroundings as she speaks, gesturing to the scattered props and set pieces left behind by the theater crew.
After Max got her lunch, she was the first of the band members to arrive at their spot. Consequently, she was the one that ran into the head of the theater company, who'd crossly reminded Max that starting next week, no one would be allowed in here unless they were a part of the musical.
This happens every year and it never gets less annoying.
"Where do you usually eat lunch when this happens?" El asks. Since it's Tater-Tots Tuesday, she's currently busying herself with stacking as many tater-tots on top of each other as she can (her current record is 4).
"The cafeteria," Will grimaces.
El crinkles her nose. "Oh."
Mike, seated beside El and evidently engrossed in El's tater-tower feat, nods somewhat distractedly. "Yeah, it sucks."
"I thought about trying out for the musical," Dustin chimes in, "Like, once."
"Yeah, because Stacy was in it," Lucas snorts. His voice raises to girlish tone as he says Stacy's name, causing the rest of the group (albeit Dustin) to snort with laughter.
"That's not why!" Dustin insists defensively, "I thought it might be fun!"
"You should do it," El says, giving him a smile, "If you want to."
Dustin always feels so caught off guard when El starts talking to him. Mainly because he'd only recently stopped thinking so many jerky thoughts about El Yoko-Onoing the band when she and Mike never even liked each other. He kinda worries that whenever he talks to her, all those negative thoughts will just tumble out of his head and fall right out into the open.
"Well, thanks," Dustin mumbles, "But like, auditions are way over."
"Next year, then!" El suggests.
Dustin gives her a reluctant smile. "Maybe. I'll think about it."
El seems satisfied with this answer and nods. "Good!"
"Speaking of music," Lucas cuts in, "I was thinking that we could start practicing some new songs at band practice today. I was looking through some albums and I found some cool songs we could try out."
"Shouldn't we try to perfect the songs we're already doing though?" Mike frowns, "There's still a lot of songs we're pretty rough on."
Lucas hesitates. "I mean, yeah, but I thought that trying something new might give us a break, since we've been struggling and everything."
"I don't think we need a break," Mike shrugs, "We're only going to get better if we keep practicing."
Lucas starts grinding his teeth together, trying to remain outwardly nonchalant.
Max can tell he's seething, but she also knows that fighting with Mike would be useless.
The bell rings, ending both the lunch period and the discussion. The band grab their lunch trays and head back to the cafeteria to drop them off.
As they walk down the hallway together, Lucas and Max in the front of the group, Mike and El in the back, Max leans in close to Lucas' ear.
"We can practice your new songs at my place," she quietly offers.
"Thanks," Lucas mutters, "But it won't be the same."
Max frowns. "Do you want me to talk to him?"
They've reached the cafeteria at this point. As Lucas takes his tray and dumps his cold leftover tater tots into the trash, he shakes his head. "Forget it, it's no big deal."
"What's no big deal?" Dustin asks as he moves to stand beside Lucas and empty his own tray.
"You," Max snarks dryly.
Dustin gives her a sarcastic smile as he flips her off. "You're hilarious, Maxine."
Max's eyes flash with a fiery anger. "Call me Maxine one more time and I swear to god, Dustin, I'll take your drumsticks and shove them right up—"
"Hey, guys?" Will interrupts, standing behind everyone else.
Lucas glances over at him. "Yeah?"
Will points behind himself. "Where are Mike and El?"
The rest of the band look over Will's shoulder to where Mike and El should be.
"I dunno," Dustin shrugs, "I guess they went to class already."
They didn't.
El and Mike had been following the others as they'd walked down the hallway, but the second their friends entered the cafeteria, Mike grabbed his and El's lunch trays, tossed them into the nearest trash can, grabbed El by the hand, and pulled her into a nearby supply closet.
El's shocked, but not exactly upset or anything.
"Mike!" She giggles as Mike shuts the door behind them, "What are you doing?"
Mike pulls her into his arms and nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. "I couldn't take it anymore."
El bites down on her lower lip as Mike begins to scatter gentle kisses across her neck. "Me neither."
Sitting next to each other, unable to interact for fear of everyone knowing, was unbearable. El just wanted to hold his hand, or give him a hug, or cuddle him, but she couldn't do any of that. It was the literal worst thing ever.
"I miss you," Mike murmurs, nipping at her skin.
El knows what he means, but she still decides to tease him anyway. "We've been together all day!"
"Yeah, but we couldn't do stuff like this," Mike counters, and with that, he raises his head and proceeds to kiss her in a desperate, hungry sort of way that leaves El feeling weak in the knees.
El whimpers as she clutches onto him for support. They stumble backward, her back presses against a wall of shelves, her foot lands in an empty bucket, and Mike knocks a broom over, but none of it matters because she's finally kissing him again.
They can hear the chatter and footsteps of other students walking past the door, and though part of Mike is worried they'll get caught, another part of him loves how excitingly dangerous the situation is.
We could get caught at any moment, he thinks as El wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He's still not completely sure whether the thought is thrilling or terrifying.
He holds El securely to keep her from falling, relishing every second they get to spend together. Since they hardly get any opportunities to do this, he's gotta make it count.
Much too soon, the warning bell rings and El pulls away, stopping their kiss with an embarrassingly wet sound.
"Class starts in three minutes," She says breathlessly, cheeks flushed and lips slightly swollen.
"Cool," Mike shrugs, leaning back in.
"Mike!" El smiles, pulling her head back, "We need to go to class!"
Mike pouts. "I know, but I wanna be with you. We got class, then it's right to band practice, and then we have to act like we don't even care about each other."
El's smile falters. "I know," she mumbles.
"It's harder than I thought it'd be," Mike frowns.
El gives him a hesitant look. "Maybe we should tell our friends. Then we wouldn't have to hide."
"No way!" Mike adamantly insists, "They'd be total assholes about it. Plus, I promised Dustin we weren't dating, so he'd be majorly ticked off if he found out I lied."
El nods in a resigning sort of agreement. Silence falls over the pair as they brood over their current predicament, both feeling frustrated.
Then El gets an idea.
"We should go on a secret date!" She suggests hopefully, "Just you and me!"
Mike gives her a curious look. "Where? And when?"
"Anywhere," El shrugs, "On Thursday."
"What about guitar lessons?"
El leans in and begins to nibble on Mike's earlobe, just because she can. "Forget them."
Mike flushes red as El moves her lips to his jawline. He finds himself completely lost in that totally-willing-to-jump-off-a-cliff-if-El-asked-him-to feeling.
"Please?" El pleads between kisses.
"Okay!" Mike replies dopily.
El pulls away to smile excitedly at him. Her happiness draws Mike in like a magnet. He starts leaning in again, his eyes are falling closed, his heart is racing in his chest, and —
The final bell is ringing.
El gives an alarmed squeak as she untangles herself from Mike's embrace. "Class is starting!"
"Well, since we're already gonna be late, we might as well just miss the whole thing," Mike suggests with a grin.
El rolls her eyes and nudges him as she pats her clothing down. "You're so dumb."
Mike steps closer to her and nuzzles his face into her hair. The smell of roses fills his nose and he kind of loves it. "You like it, though," he mumbles, voice muffled.
El bites down on her lower lip. "I do," she admits.
For a moment, Mike actually thinks he's won her over. El turns her head to look at him with big doe-eyes and a soft smile, but before Mike can even process what's happening, she's kissing him on the cheek and dashing out of the supply closet.
"See you Thursday!" She smilingly whispers over her shoulder as she runs off.
Mike's a little upset, but not exactly shocked or anything. Still reeling from their kisses, he beams after El as she hurries off. Though as he reluctantly heads to his own class, he can't help but worry about the logistics of this date. Sure, messing around in supply closets is one thing, but going out in public together seems risky. What if someone sees them? What if one of their FRIENDS sees them?
Mike tries to push these worries aside as best as he can. During band practice after school, he assures himself that there's no way their friends could know what's going on. He barely even glances in El's direction. He doesn't even call her out for messing up a lyric during one of the songs.
Rationally, he knows that there's no way their friends would just assume they're secretly dating, especially since Mike's making a point to avoid talking about El to them. Nevertheless, as he sits across from El in a booth at Benny's Burgers on Thursday night, those worries are still running through his head. He finds himself glancing at the doorway often, scanning the area for a red and blue baseball cap or a huge white van outside in the parking lot.
El is blissfully unaware of all of this. Instead, her focus is solely devoted to devouring the plate of chili cheese fries before her.
"Mikey!" She exclaims, "You should try one of these!"
Mike's head quickly snaps in her direction. "What?"
El motions to her plate. "The fries!"
Mike glances down. "Oh, yeah. Sure." Without saying anything further, he turns his attention back to the window. He drums his leg as he fidgets in his seat. Did they HAVE to get a booth by the front windows? He should have asked for someplace else...someplace in another country, probably...
El glances at Mike and then at his food. His chocolate milkshake and burger have hardly been touched. He's barely even looking at her.
El clears her throat as authoritatively as she can, causing Mike to finally look away from the window.
"Yeah?" He asks, looking puzzled.
El hesitates. "I feel like...like you don't want to be here."
"What do you mean?"
"You keep looking out there," El explains, pointing toward the parking lot, "And you've barely eaten anything."
Mike sighs, looking somewhat embarrassed. "I'm sorry, El. I do wanna be here, it's just..."
El eyes him worriedly. "Just—?"
"Sometimes all this sneaking around is fun, but other times I'm kinda freaked out about it. Like, what if our friends come in?" Mike continues anxiously, "I mean, they like to eat here, too."
El, having already thought of this, waves the notion aside. "We'll tell them we got hungry after guitar lessons."
"Do you think that'd work?"
"I don't know Mike," El replies, voice suddenly flat, "They're your friends."
She doesn't mean to snap at him — in fact, she hadn't even been consciously aware of her own frustration. But as Mike continues to worry and obsess over what their friends would think of them dating, she finds herself increasingly annoyed. Maybe it's because it serves as a constant reminder that Dustin and Lucas don't trust her, which is totally stupid. She's trying to amend that by being nice to them, but if the way Mike's still freaking out means anything, it's probably not going great.
"They're our friends," Mike insists.
"Well, I don't want to talk about them," El frowns, "I don't care what they think of me."
Mike eyes her remorsefully. She makes it sound so easy — just not caring about the opinions of others. Mike wishes he could so effortlessly say 'screw it' to whatever his friends thought, but the over-analytical side of him won't stop stressing about the repercussions of doing so.
"I'm sorry," he finally mumbles, "I know you don't like lying to them."
"I like you," El counters, giving him a serious look.
Mike blushes as he shyly replies, "I like you too."
"And I hate having to act like I don't like you," El continues, "It's fun to sneak around, but I don't want it to be like this forever."
"It won't be forever!" Mike declares adamantly.
"Then how long?"
Mike pauses. "I guess...until the other guys stop being such idiots."
El looks relieved by this. She sits up a little straighter and smiles a little wider. "Fine," she sighs, giving in again.
Mike smiles back at her. "Thank you."
It should be illegal for someone to be as cute as Mike is. As he turns to her with an adorable little smile, El feels her frustrations melt away like the cheese on her fries. Speaking of which—
"You have to try one of these," El reiterates, holding out a fry to him, "They're so good."
Mike glances around to make sure the coast is clear before leaning closer and opening his mouth. "Give me a bite."
El holds back a giggle as she leans across the booth and feeds the fry to him. The majority of the chili doesn't go in and winds up falling on his chin instead.
"Shit," Mike blushes as El bursts into giggles.
"You're a mess," she teases as Mike searches the table for an extra napkin.
"Tell me about it," Mike jokes back.
Ultimately, he can't find an extra napkin. He makes a move to get up from the table, but that's when El leans across the booth, grabs him by the shirt collar, and kisses his jaw.
Mike's eyes fly wide open as El kisses away the mess. He anxiously glances around the restaurant, but the only other person that notices them is an elderly woman seated a few tables away. The woman gives them a dirty look but Mike could honestly care less. This feels amazing and it doesn't look like their friends are anywhere nearby, after all.
El pulls away with a coy smile. "There," she says simply.
"YouWannaHeadBackToTheCar?" Mike asks in a breath.
At least she finally got his attention. El holds back a laugh as she continues to look at him innocently. "What?"
Mike blushes but speaks again, unable to hide the hopeful yearn to his voice. "We could go back to the car."
"You've barely touched your food," El chides, still playing innocent, "Why would you want to go back to the car?"
Mike's entire face is beet red now. "You know," he mumbles, glancing down shyly.
"Know what?"
"Are you seriously gonna make me say it?"
El only smiles mischievously in response.
Though Mike gives an exasperated sigh, he's smiling as he blushingly states, "I wanna make out with you."
He's pretty sure the old lady hears this, because she throws them another scowling glance, but whatever. As he and El get up from the table, hastily pay for their food, and hurry out of the restaurant hand-in-hand, their giddy, conspiratorial laughter echoing throughout the quiet parking lot, Mike finds himself worrying about nothing at all.
Unfortunately, the period of not-worrying-about-anything only lasts about 24 hours, give or take a few.
Mike's Friday night shift at Radio Shack goes smoothly enough, Bob even lets it slip that Mike could be up for a promotion in the next few weeks.
And then Mike goes home.
You'd think that after walking into so many of his parents' arguments that Mike would be used to it by now, but the shock never wears off.
He can hear it coming from the kitchen, so he wordlessly hurries upstairs, not wanting to deal with them tonight.
He peeks into Holly's room only to discover that it's empty. He's pretty sure that he heard her talking about a sleepover she was going to over breakfast this morning, so that must be it.
Thank god, Mike bitterly thinks as he heads to his own room, she doesn't need to be here for this.
He shuts his bedroom door with a little more force than he intended. A vain part of him hopes that the slamming door will make his parents snap out of it.
It doesn't.
Instead, it plays out like it always does. Mike puts on a pair of headphones and cranks up his Walkman to full-blast, trying to drown out the rest of the world. His parents bicker until they've exhausted themselves. His dad's heavy footsteps make the stairs creak as he retires to his bedroom. His mom stays downstairs.
Mike should have gone to sleep, but he makes the mistake of heading downstairs. It's like there's this morbid, insufferable curiosity pulling him along, guiding him toward the aftermath of the argument. He wants to know what happened, even though he knows it won't be anything surprising.
The house is quiet as he draws closer to the kitchen. He can hear his mom talking on the phone — it sounds like the call is to one of his aunts.
What he hears makes him wish he'd stayed in his room. With each frustrated declaration Mrs. Wheeler makes, Mike feels a bit of his mental foot-holding start to crumble away. He feels dizzy and terrified and completely, utterly lost.
He's pretty sure his mom doesn't know he was listening, but he doesn't stick around to tell her. Mike fumbles back outside to his car and gets behind the wheel. He's not sure where he's planning on going, but he knows he's just got to go somewhere that's not here.
He allows himself to be moved along again, following instinct as he drives down the dark streets of Hawkins. It's well after sundown and the porch lights on the neighboring houses have been turned off, leaving only the street lamps and the isolated glow of Mike's headlights as a source of light. There's a crackle of thunder off in the distance and before long, big fat raindrops begin to splatter across his windshield.
He can feel his eyes start to burn but he doesn't stop driving. He keeps going, mindlessly turning down street corners, hopefully not running too many stop-signs, until—
El's house.
When he pulls up, the lights are all off and the driveway is empty. The rain is falling in full force now; it comes down harshly as it pounds against the roof of his car. His windshield wipers are at the fastest setting and still struggling to keep up.
Mike doesn't know what he's doing here. From how dark the house is, it's questionable whether or not anyone's home.
He needs to see her. The thought presents itself to him simply and unashamedly, and it's what pushes Mike to park his car along the street and hurry up to El's front step.
He rings the doorbell twice. As he stands in front of the door, getting drenched, he raises his hands to hold himself, trying to keep warm.
Please be home, please be home.
His teeth are starting to chatter and his mop of hair is wilting to a slicked mess. Just as he's starting to consider walking back to his car, the front door swings open and there she is.
She's wearing a simple camisole and a pair of flannel pajama pants that look a little weathered around the hem. Her hair is a tousled mess and it looks like she literally just rolled out of bed.
"Mike?" She asks, sounding both confused and concerned.
Mike opens his mouth to reply, but his voice cracks. Shit, why does he still feel like crying? He can't, not in front of her, not in front of anyone.
El watches as he shakes his head wordlessly for a moment. His eyes are red and his body is shivering like crazy.
"I'm sorry," Mike finally says, voice thin and wavering, "There was shit going on at home and I didn't know where else to go and—"
El pulls him inside without a word. She closes the door behind them, reducing the roar of the storm to a muffled hum. The house is dark and quiet. Mike assumes that her dad must not be home, he's pretty sure the Chief of Police would be curious about a random guy wandering into his house after hours.
"My dad's on the night shift," El says, as if she read his mind, "He'll be home in the morning."
Mike swallows as he glances at her. "It must be pretty scary for you, being alone all night here."
El blinks at him. He's dripping water into a big puddle that's pooling on the foyer floor. He's still shaking from the cold, still wearing his Radio Shack uniform — for Christ's sake, and he's still worrying about her?
He really can be an idiot sometimes. Too much of the time. All the time, actually.
El feels her eyes begin to sting as she smiles at him. "You're so dumb," she says, not unkindly.
Mike offers her a small smile, but she can tell his heart isn't in it. He's still shaking and El's starting to realize that it might be from more than the cold.
"C'mon," she whispers, grabbing him by the hand.
Mike nods in response and allows himself to be led down the hallway and into El's bedroom.
The room is covered with a soft blush wallpaper that matches the quilt she has on her bed. The walls are decorated with a few band posters and random postcards. She has a big window that overlooks the backyard and the ongoing thunderstorm. In the corner is the guitar he gave her, alongside a folder El labeled sheet music with a couple heart doodles. There's a single lamp lit on the nightstand, casting the dark bedroom with a warm glow. As Mike takes this scene in, he realizes her room smells like her too.
El shuts her bedroom door behind them and locks it. She turns to look up at him with worried eyes and a tentative gaze.
Mike takes a seat on the edge of her bed, still holding himself. He's safe now, he's with El, he got what he wanted.
So, why does he still feel like shit?
El carefully moves to stand before him. Every move she makes is so delicate, so cautious, that Mike briefly worries that she's scared of him.
Probably scared for him, actually.
The thought raises more questions than it answers. Should she be scared for him? Was he really that screwed up? Was his life really that shitty?
"Mike," El begins quietly, "What happened?"
And suddenly, it's like the floodgates burst open. All these questions and burdens and worries Mike's been carrying with him come tumbling out in one rushed, rambling mess.
"M-my parents were arguing again tonight. Holly's gone which is good b-but I'm just so sick of hearing them fighting all the time and they don't even seem to care that I'm th-there or that I can hear them and when I-I went downstairs after they finished I could hear my m-mom talking on the phone and sh-she sounded so upset. She said that sometimes she thinks about getting a d-divorce but she can't b-because she wants her kids to have a normal family but we don't even have that — we're not normal and they're always fighting and everything and it s-sucks so bad but I also don't want our family to b-break up! I don't want to get a new dad or move away or anything — I just w-want everything to be n-normal again!"
His voice cracks pathetically on the last word, and that's when he knows he's going to cry.
"Sh-shit," he wavers, and that's when he falls apart.
El feels her body grow tense as she helplessly watches Mike cry. He buries his face in his hands as sobs wrack his body.
She's not prepared for this. She's never had to deal with anyone crying in front of her like this. Her dad definitely wasn't a big crier, at least not in front of her. When her mom had left, her dad had never shed a tear in front of El. She suspected he might have when he was alone, but when he was with her it was nothing but stony, hardened silence.
El wants to do something to help Mike, but her muscles are rigid and her feet suddenly feel as if they're nailed to the floor. As she stands locked in place, she wracks her mind frantically, desperate to find a way to get him to stop crying.
Stop, stop, stop — you need to make him stop.
But then...
She considers something else. Maybe, just maybe, trying to get Mike to stop crying shouldn't be her main goal. El knows that he spends so much time pushing his emotions aside, caring for his sister, and worrying about what his friends want. He spends so much time dealing with everyone else's shit that he barely takes any time for himself. Perhaps the best thing El can do for him is to just let him cry it all out — to sit back and let him rid himself of all these burdens he's had to carry alone.
And so, instead of trying to quiet him, El instead crawls onto the bed, kneels behind him, wraps her arms around him from behind, and envelopes him in the best hug she can offer. Her torso quickly becomes damp but she doesn't stop, nor does she try to get him too, either.
As Mike continues to cry, El can feel his body shaking in ragged, harsh movements. Since he's sitting and she's kneeling, she's able to rest her chin on his shoulder and bury her face in his neck.
"I'm here," she mumbles into his skin, hoping the words will work as they did before. The words do seem to help, at least a little. Mike's breath hitches and his cries seem to decrease in volume.
El raises her hands and begins to massage his shoulders, kneading her fingers into him with a tender reverence. As she works, she occasionally pauses to kiss Mike's shoulder, nape, or neck. The kisses aren't like the ones they shared in the diner or in the supply closet — they're soft, comforting, and chastely affectionate.
Time passes and eventually Mike's cries decrease to a few hiccuping breaths and snotty-sounding sniffles. Even after he settles down, El continues to massage his shoulders, determined to make him feel completely comforted.
Neither of them speak for a long while, both listening to the continual wail of the storm outside.
Mike ultimately decides to break the silence. "I-I'm sorry," He hiccups, rubbing his eyes.
"For what?" El frowns.
"C-crying," Mike answers, "I know guys aren't s-supposed to."
El gives him an incredulous look. "Who told you that?"
"M-my dad."
"I hate your dad," El says flatly.
Her bluntness takes Mike by surprise — so much so that he nearly chokes. He turns to glance over his shoulder at her but there's not a hint of amusement in her eyes. El's gaze is narrowed as she frowns at nothing in particular, gripping his shoulders tightly.
"Don't be mad," Mike murmurs hoarsely, raising his hand to brush against her cheek.
"I'm mad," El grouses. She's furious, actually. Mike doesn't deserve this. It's not fair that someone as wonderful as him should have to come home to such a terrible situation, and El finds herself needing someone to pin the blame on. "I want you to be happy."
"I am happy," Mike assures her, "Right now, anyway."
El eyes him warily, so Mike offers her the best smile he can muster. It's not very convincing and he's sure that El can see right through it, but it's better than nothing.
El looks him over for several moments before she finally relents. Her grip on him loosens as she pulls away and gets off the bed. "We should get you out of these wet clothes," she murmurs, standing before him, "You're going to get sick."
"I'm fine," Mike insists, but El is already moving forward to loosen his tie.
"You don't have to lie to me," El gently chastises as she slips off his tie and moves to his shirt buttons.
"Sorry," Mike mumbles, truly meaning it.
El continues to work without another word. She peels off his shirt and gently lays it out on the floor. She comes back and motions for him to stand up, so he does. Her fingers move toward his belt and though Mike blushes furiously, El doesn't make any salacious moves. Her actions are deftly comforting; as she works, Mike can hear her softly humming a tune — he realizes moments later that it's Blackbird.
He thinks about telling her that he loves her, but he also wonders whether standing soaking wet and not entirely dressed would really be the best time and place for such an important confession.
After El's stripped him down to his boxers, she lays out the rest of his clothes beside his shirt. "Hopefully, they'll be dry by morning," She remarks.
Mike blinks at her. "Morning?"
El nods and moves back toward the bed. She climbs under the covers and pats the empty space beside her, motioning for him to join her.
Mike hesitantly moves after her. As he climbs under the covers beside her, El turns to her nightstand and shuts the lamp off. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness; once they do, he sees that El's lying in her side, facing him.
"Hi," he murmurs, offering her another small smile.
"Hi," El murmurs back. She slides closer and wraps her arms around his torso, snuggling him like a giant teddy bear. Mike responds by wrapping his arms around her waist, keeping her close.
They stay close together, a tangled heap of intertwined limbs, gentle touches, and fluttering heartbeats. Even though they're all alone in her bedroom and everything, just like with El's earlier kisses, there's no sexual tension bubbling under the surface. They're both just seeking comfort in the best way that they can. Mike finds himself wishing that he could spend every night with her like this (though hopefully without all the crying and stuff).
After a bit, El pulls her head back to look at him lovingly. "Are you feeling any better?"
Mike nods. "Thanks," He whispers as he holds her gaze, "For everything."
El nods back. His eyes are still red from crying, and when El leans in to kiss his cheeks, she can taste the salty residue his tears left on his skin. The bitterness doesn't deter her though. As she continues to scatter tiny kisses across his cheeks and nose, she follows his freckles like a guide, using them to create paths for her to move along.
Mike gently nudges her with his nose, El pauses to look at him, and then they're moving in to exchange slow, lazy kisses. It's all effortlessly natural, at this point. Their mouths move together in an easy, practiced motion, lips gradually parting to deepen the kiss.
God, I love her, Mike dazedly thinks again as El hums against him. Should he tell her this though? What if it's too soon for her? Mike doesn't wanna freak her out, and he definitely doesn't want to lose her.
He decides to hold off for now. There's something so blissfully perfect about this moment and Mike doesn't want to ruin it in any way.
Eventually, their kiss breaks so that they can stop to catch their breath. Mike rests his forehead against hers as they both try to steady their breathing.
El's got that glint in her eye, the one that Mike now knows means she's got something mischievous on her mind.
"What?" He smiles, nuzzling their noses together.
"If you're still feeling sad, we could go get slushies," El offers, only half-joking.
"The weather's too bad," Mike smiles wryly. "Besides, my taste buds are still recovering from last time."
"They seem fine to me," El teases before leaning in to give him another brief French kiss.
Mike blushes as she pulls back again. "They're not," he jokes, "They'll never get over your gross drink choices."
El smiles back at him. "Like you don't like eating something weird."
Mike pauses to think for a moment. "I guess...I like putting syrup on my eggs. My sister Nancy thinks it's disgusting, but whatever."
El's eyes light up. "I do that too!"
Mike's eyes widen. "You do?"
El nods. "My dad also thinks it's gross, but I don't care."
Okay, so Mike definitely loves her.
"You're amazing," he murmurs, curling his fingers in her hair and pulling her in for another kiss.
El giggles into his mouth. She mumbles something about how much of a dummy he is, but the jab is easily muffled by Mike's eager kisses.
"Sometimes," El confesses after Mike pulls back again, "I like putting Milk Duds on my popcorn."
"Do you eat anything normally?" Mike teases, to which El elbows him.
"It's good!" She defends.
"I'm sure it is," Mike nods, voice dry with sarcasm.
"Shut up," El smiles.
"Make me," Mike shoots back.
"I will," El smiles, leaning in for another kiss.
She does.
When Mike wakes up the next morning, the rain has stopped. The sun is streaming through El's bedroom window. Mike can hear El's soft snores alongside the gentle drip of water falling from the roof gutter outside. There are some birds chirping in the distance and the whole scene feels like something out of a Hallmark card.
He's spooning her from behind, his face buried in her messy hair. His bare legs are interlocked with hers and as he shuffles them idly, the worn flannel of her pajama pants brushes against him. Everything is soft and warm and just...perfect.
He doesn't want to wake her, so he continues to snuggle her contently, wanting to savor every last second of this blissful moment.
He gets to savor approximately 10 more seconds. Then there's a loud knock on El's bedroom door that causes both Mike and El to jolt straight up in bed.
"El?" A gruff voice calls out.
El's eyes are wide with terror. "Y-yeah?"
"I'm making breakfast," the voice, presumedly of her father, replies, "What do you want?"
El glances at Mike, their alarmed expressions nearly identical.
Do you think he knows? Mike mouths.
I don't know! El mouths back frantically.
"El?"
"Waffles!" El quickly calls back.
"Alright, then." Her father leaves, his heavy footsteps thudding down the rest of the hallway. When they hear the kitchen radio turn on, El turns to look at Mike.
"You have to go!" El hisses, "If he finds out I let a boy spend the night, he'll kill me!"
"But we didn't even do anything!" Mike hisses back.
"He won't care!" El persists.
Mike, remembering that her dad probably owns a gun and a pair of handcuffs, doesn't protest any further. He hastily scrambles out of El's bed and grabs his clothes off of the floor.
"You can go out the window," El whispers as Mike redresses, "I'll go into the kitchen and distract him so he doesn't see you leaving."
"Good idea," Mike nods, buttoning up his shirt. His shirt isn't tucked in, the buttons are uneven, and his tie hangs in a limp, pathetic knot, but he's technically decent.
Despite the dire situation they're in, El can't help but smile at his haphazard appearance. "You look ridiculous," she whispers lightly.
"You like it," Mike grins, stepping closer to her.
"I love it," El grins back.
Mike closes the gap between them and gives her one last passionate kiss goodbye. El can feel her resolve weakening as she melts in his arms. She has to force herself to pull away and push him toward her bedroom window.
"Go!" She whispers, blushing happily.
"Bye!" Mike whispers back. He unlocks her bedroom window and climbs out, feet landing on the damp grass with a quiet thud. The morning air is cool and crisp as he glances around the empty backyard. He can hear El shut the window behind him but he doesn't stop to look. Instead, he quickly runs around the side of the house, heart pounding in his chest.
He just has to make it to his car. Once he's there he can drive off and her dad won't even know and everything will be fine.
He rounds the front of the house, nearly slipping on a muddy patch of grass. He can see the Hawkins police cruiser parked in the driveway, which nearly gives him a mini heart-attack—
—But it's nowhere near as bad as the heart attack he gets when he sees the Hawkins Chief of Police leaning against Mike's car, directly facing him, contemplatively drinking a cup of coffee.
Shit, shit, shit, SHIT.
Mike freezes in place, blinking at the man like a deer in the headlights. Even though El's father isn't in uniform (rather, a flannel shirt and jeans), he's no less intimidating. He's tall, muscular, and looks like he could definitely crush Mike just by like, looking at him.
Mike continues to stare at him.
Her dad stares back.
Just as Mike's considering digging a grave for himself in El's front lawn, her dad finally speaks.
"Morning, kid," he calls over, raising his coffee mug to Mike.
Mike swallows. "Morning," he replies weakly.
Her dad takes another sip of his coffee, not breaking eye contact.
The silence is deafening. Mike doesn't think he can stand it for a moment longer, so he anxiously blurts out, "This isn't what it looks like!"
"Oh?" Her dad replies, quirking an eyebrow, "What's it look like to you?"
Mike stammers helplessly. He glances down at his unkempt hair and clothes. He's pretty sure El gave him a hickey while she was 'shutting him up' last night, and Mike just prays to every deity he can think of that her dad can't see it from where he's standing. "That we...you know...we were..."
Her dad looks at him with a feigned interest.
Is he seriously going to make Mike say it?
Like father, like daughter, a deliriously desperate part of Mike thinks.
Mike opens his mouth to say it, but he's pretty sure if he had to say 'it looks like we slept together,' he'd die of humiliation. "It looks bad," Mike says instead, still feeling pretty humiliated, "But I swear, nothing happened! I needed a place to spend the night and—"
Her dad holds up a hand to cut him off. "I got it," he says simply, though Mike's still worried that he has the wrong idea.
There's another beat of silence before her dad motions to Mike with his cup again. "Mike, right?"
Mike nods. "Yes, sir."
"You don't need to 'sir' me, kid," her dad snorts, "Just 'Hopper' is fine."
Mike nods again. "Yes, si—Hopper."
There's a flash of something across Hopper's face — it almost looks like a smile, but Mike tells himself he's probably just seeing things. He's 99% sure Hopper's still gonna kill him.
Hopper finishes off his coffee and clears his throat. The simple sound causes Mike to flinch, earning another snort from Hopper.
"Fix your shirt, kid," Hopper instructs, "And come inside."
Mike nods hastily. As he fixes the buttons on his shirt, Hopper stops leaning against Mike's car and leads the way back into the house.
El's waiting in the living room when they enter. "Dad!" She exclaims anxiously, "There you are! I was looking all over the house for you and—"
When Mike steps out from behind Hopper, El stops mid-sentence.
Hopper smiles at El challengingly, saying nothing. El blinks at him for a moment before continuing, much more hesitantly, "Mike! What a surprise!"
"It's not that much of a surprise," Hopper smirks. He moves past El and heads into the kitchen.
Mike and El exchange startled looks before following after him.
"I'm sorry," Mike hisses, "He was waiting outside."
"It's okay!" El whispers back, offering a reassuring smile.
Hopper's busy at work in the kitchen when they join him. His back is to them and his sleeves are rolled up as he pours some batter onto a waffle iron. The radio is still playing; El recognizes it as the country station Hopper not-so-secretly likes.
"Sit down," he instructs, not looking at them.
There's an island in the center of the kitchen. Mike and El take their seats at the stools before it, both feeling rattled.
They sit and watch as Hopper busies himself making breakfast. The kitchen fills with the sounds and smells of frying bacon and brewing coffee.
El has no clue what her dad is doing. He's not yelling at them, which is nice and all, but this cryptic silence is somehow even worse. She doesn't know what to expect, nor how to prepare herself.
"How did you know?" El finally asks.
Hopper glances over his shoulder to smile at her. He almost looks like he's going to laugh. "I'm not stupid, kid. He's been driving you to school every morning — I know what his car looks like."
Mike smiles sheepishly. "Sorry."
"We didn't do anything!" El bursts, "He just slept in my room!"
"I believe you," Hopper assures her.
El and Mike blink at him, dumbfounded. "You do?!" They both reply.
"I do," Hopper contends. After checking on the food, he turns to face both of them, arms folded across his chest. "So, you gonna tell me what's going on?"
Mike and El glance at each other again. El nods, wordlessly assuring Mike that he can trust him.
And so Mike tells him everything. He leaves out all the supply-closet/backseat-of-his-car details, but he gives Hopper a brief summary of everything that's happened between them — how they met, the guitar lessons, lying to their friends, how El's been comforting him through his parents' fighting, and why he came over last night.
By the time he finishes, Mike's thoroughly winded. His mouth also feels quite dry from talking so much, though that problem is fixed once Hopper passes him a cup of coffee.
As Mike gulps down the coffee, El wrings her fingers together. "That's it," she states nervously.
Hopper studies them both for what feels like hours, even though it's probably only a few moments. Both Mike and El shift in their seats uncomfortably, neither daring to glance at the other.
"You guys don't have to lie, you know," Hopper finally says, "Not to me and not to your friends. If they really cared about you, they wouldn't try to split you up."
If only it was that simple. Mike has to stop himself from snorting dismissively. Instead, he keeps his gaze trained on the coffee in front of him. The mug has a Chicago PD emblem on it and a small chip along the rim.
"We're not going to lie forever," El points out, "We'll tell them soon."
Hopper gives her a doubtful look. "And when is soon?"
El shrugs. "Soon."
Hopper continues to eye El warily, but El only smiles wider.
Hopper turns to look at Mike. "Good luck with this one," he says dryly, jabbing his finger toward El.
Mike's unable to stop himself from snorting this time, though it's not dismissive. Rather, it's followed by an enthusiastic round of laughter that even Hopper joins in on.
"Hey!" El exclaims indignantly, glaring at both of them.
As Hopper's laughs die down, he stretches his arm across the counter island to ruffle her hair. "I'm kidding."
"Sure," El huffs with a pout.
The sizzle of the cooking bacon starts to crackle and pop with an increased intensity, so Hopper turns away from them again to tend to the food.
Mike turns to glance at El with relief. That went better than I thought, his expression reads. El smiles in reply and nods.
"Listen," Hopper continues, getting a pair of plates out of the cupboard, "I can't force you guys to do anything, but I just don't think that lying to your friends is a good idea."
El fidgets with a strand of her hair, absentmindedly twirling it around her finger. "Okay."
"But you two are old enough to make that decision on your own," Hopper continues, "So, that's that."
A part of Mike knows that Hopper is right, but he can't bring himself to admit it yet. "Okay," he replies, echoing El.
Hopper prepares two plates of food. He turns back to them and hands them over, nodding when they offer two polite 'thank you's.'
As Mike glances down at his plate loaded with waffles, bacon, and eggs, he feels warm and content in a way he never expected to be. There's something so domestic and calming about having Saturday-morning breakfast with El's dad. It's something he definitely would struggle to get at home with his own dad.
It's almost as if Hopper can read his thoughts, considering what he says next. "And kid," Hopper says firmly, looking directly at Mike, "If you ever need a place to spend the night or just get away from home for awhile, you're welcome here."
Mike keeps his gaze trained on his plate, suddenly feeling bashful for some lame reason. "Thanks," he mumbles.
"Just call me next time, "Hopper continues, throwing El a warning look, "And keep the door open."
"We will!" El and Mike nod gratefully.
"Good."
With that settled, Hopper turns back to the cupboard to retrieve a bottle of syrup for them. He passes it across the kitchen island to El, who accepts it gratefully.
El grabs the bottle of syrup and proceeds to drizzle it all over her plate — eggs, bacon, waffles, and all. Once she's done, she passes the bottle to Mike, who does the same.
"You guys are gross," Hopper chides, crinkling his nose at their syrup-drenched plates.
"It's good!" Mike and El insist.
"Stop doing that," Hopper grumbles.
"Doing what?" Mike and El ask.
"Talking at the same time. It's weird."
"Sorry," Mike and El reply together. Hopper groans with an exaggerated amount of disdain, but Mike and El only exchange gleeful smiles.
All of them huddled around the kitchen island eating breakfast is quite the unusual scene — Hopper out of uniform, El in her pajamas, and Mike in his rumpled Radio Shack uniform. But as El takes it all in, she realizes that there's something about this that feels effortlessly natural. Like Mike should be here all the time. Like he belongs with her. Like maybe El more than likes him. Like maybe she just might lo—
"You want more syrup, El?" Mike asks, interrupting her thoughts.
El feels her cheeks flush with warmth as she nods.
Mike passes the bottle back to her. Their fingertips brush and though El's touched him a million times before, the realizations hovering in the back of her mind cause the simple action to leave goosebumps on her skin.
Love, she thinks, as if she's mentally trying the word on for size.
It seems to fit.
It's Sunday night and they're approximately 10 minutes late.
Technically, it's El's fault this time. When Mike parked his car in the movie theater parking lot, he'd turned to her, given her literally the cutest smile ever, and said, "So, you ready to watch your first scary movie?"
El opened her mouth to reply, but then she became aware of just how cute he looked right then, and how the movie theater parking lot was located in the back of the building, and how it was nighttime, so they had a fair amount of privacy.
She leaned in, one thing led to another, and now they're doing what they always do when they're alone together lately.
She's straddling him, despite the confines of the cramped front seat. Mike's got one hand curled into the back of her shirt. The other is holding the back of her head, keeping her close. It's a pretty tight squeeze being trapped between Mike and the steering wheel, but they're making it work. Besides, when he's kissing her like he is right now, El could care less about the steering wheel that's digging into her spine.
She kinda cares that technically their friends are waiting for them, though. The thought of them standing around in the theater lobby, waiting for Mike and El to show up kinda kills the mood a bit.
"We should probably go inside," El says between kisses.
"Probably," Mike replies before leaning in again.
Unable to stop herself, El meets his mouth halfway. She curls her fingers in his hair as their kiss deepens, lavishing the effortless softness of his wavy curls.
Then she makes the mistake of opening her eyes.
Her gaze flits over to a parking space several feet away, where Max's unmistakable white van is parked. She remembers again that Max is inside the theater, waiting for them. Lucas is probably with her. Considering Mike and El are currently 15 minutes late, everyone else is probably already there, too.
El pouts as she forces herself to pull away from Mike. One of them has to be responsible, after all.
Mike gives a disappointed little whine and tries to move back in. El stops him by placing a hand over his mouth.
"We need to go!" El reminds him, "It's going to look weird if we're both late."
"You started it!" Mike mumbles into her hand.
El kisses his nose. "I know, I'm sorry."
Mike continues to sulk as he gives her a glassy-eyed puppy-dog pout. It's so adorable it's honestly a little unfair, and as El continues to look at him, she finds her resolve weakening.
She's wearing the aviator sunglasses she bought at the mall on top of her head, so she decides to slip them off and place them on Mike. She slides them into place, perfectly masking the major heart-eyes he's got going on.
"There," El giggles as she looks at him.
Mike grins back at her. "What are these?"
"Glasses."
"Wow, really?" Mike replies dryly.
"You should wear them," El says hopefully, running her fingers through his hair again, "They make you look bitchin'."
Mike blushes modestly. "They do?"
"Yes!" El giggles, "Like a rock star."
Mike seems pleased with this. He smiles proudly for a moment before he begins to lean back in, and if it wasn't for the fact that El can still see Max's van, she totally would have kissed him back.
Instead, she crawls off of his lap and back into the passenger's seat where her bag is. "Let's go!" She instructs, ignoring his renewed whines of protest.
It takes a few more pleads on El's part, but Mike finally gets out of the car and follows her into the theater.
Their friends are indeed waiting when Mike and El walk into the lobby together. As the pair walks up to the group, they're greeted with varying levels of enthusiasm.
"You guys are here!" Will says cheerily.
"What took you so long?" Dustin asks skeptically.
"I had to drop Holly off at her friends' house before getting El," Mike lies, "Sorry."
Lucas folds his arms over his chest as he eyes Mike warily. "Why are you wearing sunglasses inside at night? You look like a douche bag."
"No, I don't!" Mike replies crossly.
"You do," Max snorts. The glasses look oddly familiar to her, but she supposes that's just because they look like every pair of sunglasses ever.
Mike huffs and pushes the aviators up and into his hair. The action causes some strands of hair to slick back while others curl forward, and holy shit, it's so hard for El to not totally check him out right now. She has to force herself to stare down at the red-carpeted floor like it's the most interesting thing she's ever seen.
Max eyes the pair of them carefully. They're both standing a good foot or two apart, which seems a little weird. At the bowling alley, they were so close whenever they were walking or sitting together. Plus, El's not noticeably drooling over him like she always is. Instead, she seems to be making a point of ignoring him.
Something's clearly off.
"So," El continues, looking up at their group, "What's the name of the movie we're going to see?"
"The Silver Bullet!" Dustin replies eagerly, "It's about werewolves and murder and stuff!"
El feels her stomach start to churn, but she does her best to keep a brave face. "Cool," she replies casually.
"We got the tickets already, so we just need snacks," Lucas informs them. "Let's hurry up, the movie's gonna start soon."
Everyone else nods in agreement. As the boys follow Lucas over to the concessions counter, Max grabs El by the sleeve and pulls her off to the side, several feet away from the others.
"Max?" El asks confusedly, "What's going on?"
Max hesitates. "I just, uh, wanted to make sure everything's okay."
"What do you mean?" El frowns.
"You and Mike are acting a little weird," Max explains. When El only looks more startled, Max decides to elaborate further. "You guys seem really quiet, I guess. Did you like, get in a fight or something?"
El blinks at her for a moment before her face relaxes into a smile. "No!" She exclaims with a light laugh, "We didn't argue!"
"You sure?" Max asks skeptically.
El nods.
"Okay...well, if something's ever wrong, you know you can tell me, right? I know Mike can be a little —"
"He's fine!" El cuts in, "We both are."
"Okay, okay!" Max relents, "Sorry I asked, I guess."
"You guys need to get over here!" Dustin calls out suddenly, "We need your snack order!"
El and Max nod in his direction before turning back to each other.
"Thanks for looking out for me," El quickly says.
Max feels herself relax at that. "Of course, El. We girls gotta look out for each other, right?"
El smiles. "Right."
The girls exchange a quick hug before going to join the boys at the concession counter.
"I'll just have some licorice," Max says as she sidles up to Lucas.
The boy working the counter appears to be their age — Max's pretty sure she's seen him around school before. As he punches in Max's order, he turns to look at Will. "Alright, next?"
Will blushes furiously. "I'd like some popcorn," he mumbles shyly, glancing at his feet.
Jeez, and Max thought that Wheeler was the one who suffered from heart-eyes-itis in their group. Clearly, it's contagious.
Max holds back a giggle but doesn't say anything. Not until later, anyway.
"What about you?" The boy asks, turning to look at Mike.
Mike scans the menu that's hanging on the wall behind the employee's head. "Uhhh...I'll take one large popcorn andddddd…a box of Milk Duds."
El, standing beside Max, fails to muffle her gasp. Her cheeks are bright pink as she affords one glance in Mike's direction, but one glance is all. Seconds later, she's right back to looking at everything but him.
Max's brow furrows in confusion. Literally why do all of her friends have to be so weird?
"What about you?" The boy asks, glancing at El.
"I'm fine!" El manages to squeak back.
"You can have some of mine," Mike offers casually.
El nods, blushing harder.
As Lucas and Dustin already ordered before Max and El arrived, the employee proceeds to ring up their order. The band members all hand over the appropriate amount of cash and begin to wait for their snacks to be retrieved.
As the boy turns away from them, Max leans over to Will. "You should ask for his number," she whispers, only half-joking.
Will turns to look at her, eyes wide and face flushed. "What?"
"You're totally drooling," Max smiles.
Will looks back at her worriedly. "I am? Do you think he noticed?"
"He'd have to be an idiot if he didn't."
"Great," Will frowns.
"No, that's a good thing!" Max insists, making sure to keep her voice low, "How else are you gonna find out whether he's into you or not?"
"He probably isn't," Will pouts.
"And he'd have to be an idiot if he wasn't," Max reiterates, smiling warmly at Will.
Will gives her a grateful smile in return. At that same moment, the boy returns with their snacks.
"Here you go," he says, sliding them across the counter with a pleasant smile.
"Thank you!" Will replies, still blushing like crazy.
The band members grab their snacks and head to the theater The Silver Bullet is playing in. There are some other patrons scattered throughout the seats, but not an overwhelming amount.
"I guess watching horror movies isn't a popular Sunday night activity," Mike remarks under his breath.
"No shit," Lucas replies dryly, "We should all probably be in church or something."
The group gets a bit of a laugh at that as they take their seats. Will sit down first, followed by Dustin, Mike, El, Max, and Lucas.
As they all settle down, Mike opens the box of Milk Duds and empties them into his popcorn bucket.
"What the hell?" Dustin whispers in alarm.
"It's good!" El whispers back.
"Can I try some?"
El nods.
Dustin retrieves a handful of popcorn from Mike's bucket.
"Dude! Get your own!" Mike frowns.
Dustin shushes him before taking a bite. "Yeah, it's good," he decides a moment later.
El smiles proudly before sitting back in her seat.
The lights dim as the projector whirs to life behind them. As the movie begins to play, Mike casually lets his left hand hang off the armrest. El glances at him shyly before allowing her right hand to do the same. Their fingers brush against each other in the dark and they both fail to hold back contented smiles.
The movie isn't even that scary, and yet El still finds herself on the edge of her seat throughout it. When things get too intense or graphic, she hurriedly turns her attention to the popcorn bucket. She never knew herself to be a nervous eater, but you were supposed to learn new things every day, right?
Mike can tell she's on edge. It's killing him to just have to sit here while she's obviously upset. She keeps flinching and frowning and she's consumed nearly all the popcorn by now.
Mike glances at the others before leaning in close to her. "You wanna step out for a minute?" He whispers into her ear.
El hesitates, but nods.
Max watches as Mike pulls away and El whispers, "Thanks, Mikey."
Mikey? Max frowns. What the hell was that about? That had to be the lamest nickname ever.
Mike grabs his bucket, rises to his feet, and turns to the others. "We're going to get more popcorn," He whispers.
"Then go!" Dustin frowns, "Your ass is blocking the screen!"
El and Mike squeeze past everyone and exit the theater.
"Do you think they're okay?" Max whispers.
"Who knows?" Lucas replies disinterestedly, "Aren't they just getting popcorn?"
"I think so," Max replies.
"Then don't worry about it," Lucas says, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze.
Max smiles as their fingers intertwine. "Okay."
"SHHH!" Dustin hisses, "I can't hear what's happening!"
Max flips him off with her free hand before returning her attention to the movie. She tries not to worry like Lucas suggested, but as more time passes and Mike and El still haven't returned, she starts to get worried.
It's been at least 20 minutes by now. How long does it take to get popcorn anyway? Certainly not this long, especially since the theater is kind of dead tonight.
What if El's really upset over the movie? Or like, totally freaking out? What if she needs help?
Unable to sit around a moment longer, Max decides she needs to do something. "I'm going to go check on them," she whispers to Lucas.
Lucas shrugs. "Okay."
Max kisses his cheek briefly before rising out of her seat and exiting the theater.
The hallway that connects the various viewing rooms is quiet when Max steps out. The space is lit with a few sconce lamps that hang on the walls, though they don't really offer much light. The walls and floors are a ruby red that, while classy, suddenly remind Max of an evil lair she saw in a movie once.
Don't be so dramatic, Mayfield, Max chides herself.
Max makes her way down the dark corridor, headed in the direction of the lobby. Her footsteps are muffled by the plush carpeting. She passes a few of the other theater rooms along the way; the sounds of their movies filter into the hallway in a muffled, bass-resonating hum.
It's quiet.
Which makes it really easy to hear the loud thud that comes from the dark end of the hallway behind her.
Max pivots quickly, nerves spiking. She's not a scaredy-cat or anything, but the movie has left her a little rattled. Plus, walking around a quiet, empty movie theater all alone is pretty spooky. Nevertheless, Max braces herself as she heads back the way she came, slowly making her way toward the opposite end of the hallway.
The end of the hallway doesn't have any lights, so it's hard to see what's going on at first, but as Max's eyes adjust, she can see exactly what's going on.
The loud thud was just the sound of Mike pressing El's back against the wall. She's still pressed against it as she clutches onto him tightly, standing on tip-toe to meet his level easier. Mike's got his hands on her hips as he presses himself closer to her. The popcorn bucket, still empty, has fallen to the floor and probably been forgotten entirely.
From what Max can see, they're not making out — more like trying to eat each other's faces off. It's kinda gross, actually.
Max is both shocked and not shocked at all. "Oh my god," She finally says, eyebrows raised and jaw slightly ajar.
Mike and El jump apart at once, moving so fast it practically looks like they were electrocuted. They turn to look at Max in shock, eyes wide and gasping breathlessly.
"M-max!" El exclaims.
"El?" Max smirks, raising an eyebrow.
Mike and El exchange terrified glances before turning back to Max.
"We were just talking!" Mike quickly explains.
"Really? In what language?" Max continues to smirk, "French?"
As Max proceeds to laugh at her own joke, Mike and El's faces flush bright red.
"God, it all makes sense now!" Max exclaims as her laughs die down, "Like, why you two have been acting like such total wastoids. It's because you thought you could actually be sneaky!"
"We were!" Mike frowns defensively, crossing his arms. The sunglasses are buried in his hair at an off-kilter angle, which really isn't helping his case.
"Really? So when did this even start?"
"Last Thursday," El admits.
"So...you guys made it like, 8 days without getting caught," Max scoffs, "So sneaky."
"Well, whatever!" Mike huffs, "You can't tell anyone!"
Max eyes him. "And why not?"
El rolls her eyes. "Because the boys don't like me, and—"
"—they'll start freaking out about Yoko Ono!" Mike finishes for her.
"So what if they do?" Max counters.
"I don't want to them to be all annoying about it!" Mike protests.
Max groans and rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. "All of you guys are being so stupid."
"Well," Mike huffs, "We wouldn't have to be if Lucas wasn't so—"
"So what?" Max frowns, giving Mike a warning look.
Mike stops abruptly. "Nothing," he mutters with a surly frown.
A moment of uncomfortable silence passes between the three of them. Off in the distance, Max can hear the sounds of a cheesy-sounding scream coming from one of the movies.
"Just, please don't tell them," El sighs, "We want to tell them when we're ready to."
Max eyes her carefully. El looks so worried, and even Max has to admit she doesn't know how Dustin and Lucas wound take this news.
"Fine," Max finally huffs, "I won't tell them. But they're going to be mad when they find out you were lying to them."
"They won't be mad and they won't find out!" Mike claims with an unusual amount of confidence.
Max shrugs before heading back into the theater. Mike and El get a new bucket of popcorn and a new box of Milk Duds before joining the others. None of the three expect that Mike's confident claim would later prove to be wrong in every sense, nor that it would prove to be wrong so soon.
Like, Tuesday's-band-practice soon.
[A/N]: Sorry for the slow update! April is my last month of school for the semester, so I've been busy. Now that I'm headed into summer break, updates should come quicker!
MANY MANY thanks to Ely, who single-handedly came up with the entire idea for the Hopper/Mike meeting. It was hilarious and I'm forever indebted to her for it. If you like Strings Attached, you'll LOVE everything she writes. Even if you just love anything, go give her the credit and attention she deserves.
Tumblr: mad-maxxy
AO3: EvieSmallwood