Work Text:
1983 — Mike (12) / El (15)
Mike first sees her in the hallway mirror on a Tuesday after school, on his way to the bathroom
Nancy and her friend are studying at the dining room table, textbooks spread out. Her hair is longer than his sister’s, a curtain of soft, dark curls. She tucks it behind her ear while her head is down, reading.
He pauses where he can see them, trying not to be obvious. He walks past them to grab a snack, then backtracks to check the thermostat, only to loop back and grab something—anything—from the living room. A book. A toy. Any reason.
On his third pass, he hears Nancy snap across the room, “Mike. Go away.” She doesn’t even look up from her homework.
He quickly whips around to pretend to check the thermostat behind him. Again. “I’m just checking the temperature!”
“You’ve checked it twice,” Nancy replies flatly.
“Yeah, well, it’s cold.”
“It’s September.”
Before he can retort, he freezes when he sees her look up from her textbook. She has the prettiest eyes.
Nancy sighs in exasperation before reluctantly introducing him.
“El, this is my little brother, Mike,” she mutters. El’s lips curve in a smile. Mike bristles at the emphasis on little—but her smile feels like a prize, so he swallows the sting. “Please try not to encourage him.”
When Mike continues to stand there staring, Nancy sighs.
“I’m sorry he’s so weird,” she says, glaring at her brother.
“Oh, no, he’s fine,” El replies good-naturedly.
Mike feels triumphant for all of two whole seconds before Nancy adds, “That’s just because he hasn’t started talking to you yet. Give it time.”
He glares at his sister, but the sound of El’s laugh steals the irritation right out of him. It’s the softest sound he’s ever heard
And that was it. The moment.
He didn’t have the language for it then.
He just knew he hoped she’d come back because he had decided in his twelve-year-old heart that he would do literally anything to make her laugh again.
Even if he was the butt of the joke.
1984 — Mike (13) / El (16)
He learns her favorite colors—purple and yellow—by accident, overhearing her tell Nancy one afternoon. He files it away like classified information.
It comes in handy on Valentine’s Day. Technically the day after Valentine’s Day, but he didn’t see her on the actual day, so he’s counting it.
There’s a field south of Hawkins where wildflowers grow in those exact colors.
He feels stupid biking out there after school, cutting a small bundle for her and tying them together with a piece of string he “borrowed” from Nancy’s room.
He waits until he hears El saying goodbye to Nancy that evening before making his move. As she heads for the door, he hurries after her, calling her name.
She turns, surprised—but smiling at him like she’s glad he’s there.
When he hands her the bouquet, he does it nervously, eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder because he can’t quite meet hers. He hopes she doesn’t notice the dirt under his nails.
“They’re your favorite colors,” he says by way of explanation, shrugging awkwardly.
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “How did you know?”
Mike shrugs again and mumbles, “Nancy.” He hadn’t thought about how he would explain knowing. Heat floods his face.
She touches the petals like they’re fragile and smiles softly at him.
“Thank you, Mike. You’re so thoughtful.”
Before he can even process what’s happening, she leans in and wraps one arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a quick side hug. She smells like strawberries—sweet and bright. He wants to lean closer, to stay there a second longer, but somehow he manages not to embarrass himself.
Afterward, he thinks about that hug for weeks.
For her birthday in June, Mike makes her a mixtape—something he’ll never admit took him hours.
He sits hunched over the cassette deck, finger hovering over the record button, waiting for the right songs to come on the radio. He misses one because the DJ talks too long, curses under his breath, and waits impatiently for it to play again.
He times the pauses carefully, terrified she’ll hear the click of the button and know how hard he tried.
He writes the song list carefully:
Time After Time
Every Breath You Take
Take On Me
Crazy for You
He doesn’t fully understand the lyrics of some of them. He just knows they make him think of her. And maybe—when she listens—she’ll start to think of him too.
When he gives it to her, El is so excited it makes him blush. This time, when she hugs him in thanks, both arms wrap around him.
She laughs into his shoulder. “You’re spoiling me.”
Weeks later, he notices she keeps the tape in her Walkman. He catches a glimpse of it once when she visits—the cassette labeled in his careful handwriting.
He goes to his room afterward and stares at the ceiling for a full twenty minutes, trying—and failing—not to grin.
The Wheeler basement is thick with summer heat, the door cracked open but offering no relief. The air smells faintly like soda and old carpet.
Mike is bent over his D&D binder, pretending to rewrite campaign notes while Dustin and Lucas argue about something across the table. He’s not rewriting anything.
He’s doodling El’s name in the margins.
Lucas is the first to see it. He leans over mid-argument to emphasize a point—and pauses.
He squints at the page.
“Does that say El?”
Mike slams the binder shut.
“No,” he lies, crossing his arms defensively.
Lucas leans back in his chair, smirking. “That definitely said El. Nancy’s friend? Eleanor Ives?”
Will looks up from his sketchbook, eyes flickering between them.
Dustin lunges forward and snatches the binder before Mike can react—an act of betrayal Mike will not soon forget.
“Hey—!” Mike dives after him, but Dustin flips it open triumphantly.
And there it is. In pencil and undeniable.
El.
And, even worse, the little mage he’d drawn beside her name. Mike closes his eyes, letting his head fall back in despair.
The basement erupts.
“Oh my god,” Lucas cackles. “You’re in love with your sister’s friend.”
“I am not in love,” Mike snaps, lunging for the binder again.
“You do realize you don’t have a chance, right?” Dustin says, stating it like fact.
Will squints at the page. “Wait—is that who you made that mixtape for? The one you spent all day working on instead of coming over to play Atari?”
“She likes music,” Mike mutters defensively. “She said I have good taste.”
“Yeah,” Lucas shoots back, “because she’s humoring you. You’re twelve and adorable.”
“I’m thirteen,” Mike corrects sharply.
“That doesn’t help your case,” Dustin cuts in.
Will watches him carefully. “She’s… a lot older.”
“Not that much older. Only three years,” Mike says immediately.
“Three years is huge,” Dustin argues. “That’s like—like—”
“Like high school and middle school,” Lucas finishes.
Mike crosses his arms. “So?”
“So she’s basically an adult,” Dustin says dramatically. “She probably likes guys with cars.”
“I’ll have a car.”
“In, like, five years!”
Mike exhales through his nose. “It’s not like… I think we’re getting ogether tomorrow. But, I just, I don’t know. I don’t mind waiting for the day she won’t see me as Nancy’s kid brother.”
That makes them pause.
Lucas narrows his eyes. “You’re serious.”
Mike shrugs, cheeks burning. He knows they’re probably red. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because she’s way out of your league,” Dustin says bluntly.
The words hang in the air.
For a second, Mike hesitates.
Then he straightens.
“No, she’s not.”
“Yes, she is,” Lucas insists. “She’s smart and pretty and—”
“And what?” Mike challenges.
“And she’s not going to date a sophomore when she’s, like, in college.”
Mike’s jaw tightens. “Probably not,” he admits, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “Can we get back to the campaign now?”
Lucas just shakes his head. “You’re delusional.”
“Maybe,” Mike says, picking up his pencil and looking back down at his binder. “But one day, I won’t be thirteen.”
The room quiets.
Dustin squints at him. “And you think she’s just going to… wait?”
“I don’t expect her to wait,” Mike says, surprisingly calm. “I just think… when I’m older, she’ll see.”
“See what?”
“That I’m not just Nancy’s annoying kid brother.”
Lucas snorts. “You are Nancy’s annoying kid brother.”
“For now.”
There’s something different in his voice when he says it.
Not childish.
Certain.
The basement goes quiet again—not teasing now, just absorbing that.
“You’re going to get your heart broken,” Lucas says quietly.
Mike ignores him, flipping back to his campaign notes.
Inside, though, he isn’t embarrassed.
He’s isn’t doubtful.
He can already picture it—
Him older. Taller. Different.
Her looking at him and finally seeing him.
His friends can laugh. It doesn’t matter.
Because one day—one day—he won’t be the kid in the basement anymore.
1985 — Mike (14) / El (17)
He doesn’t expect her to say yes. He’s short a player for the campaign he planned, and Will being sick has already thrown everything off.
Nancy refuses immediately, but El watches him curiously as he explains the campaign. She really listens to him.
“I’ve never played,” she admits.
“I’ll teach you,” he says instantly.
Lucas’s jaw drops when she actually pulls up a chair and joins them.
Her character sheet is messy at first. She asks questions, leaning in too close to the board, her hair brushing his shoulder.
He can barely focus on narrating.
When she rolls high for a spell attack, she beams. “Did I do it?”
“You did,” he says, grinning. “You saved the party!”
She pumps her fist like a kid, and they all laugh.
After Dustin and Lucas leave, she lingers at the door.
“That was fun,” she says. “I always wondered what you were all screaming about down there.”
Mike laughs. “You could play again. With us. Sometime.”
He realizes, suddenly, that he’s the same height as her now. He can look her in the eye without tilting his head up.
El just smiles. “Yeah, maybe.”
As she steps onto the porch, she glances back at him.
That glance lingers in Mike’s mind long after he goes to bed. He doesn’t know why it matters so much that she stayed and played. It just does.
1986 — Mike (15) / El (18)
He plans it for months.
He shovels his neighbors’ walkways all winter. Mows their lawns in the summer. Helps his dad clean out the garage.
Every dollar goes into a small envelope taped inside his desk drawer.
By Nancy and El’s graduation, he has enough.
After the ceremony, the Wheelers host a backyard BBQ—part graduation party, part excuse to celebrate everyone.
He pulls her aside near the fence and watches her face as she opens the small box, the gold ring with its red stone catching the light.
El’s breath catches.
“Mike.” Her voice changes—softer now, not teasing. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” he says, swallowing. “It’s not like—like a weird thing. I mean, it’s not—it’s just…”
He exhales sharply and starts over.
“It’s a graduation gift.”
He doesn’t say it out loud, but he knows she doesn’t have much support at home. His parents bought Nancy a car for graduating. El would be lucky to get a ‘congratulations.’ He can’t stand that.
She looks up at him, head tilted back, eyes wide.
He’s taller than her now. His voice is deeper. His hands bigger, though still a little awkward and too thin. He doesn’t look like a kid anymore. Not really.
“It’s too expensive,” El says again, trying to hand the box back.
“No, El, I want you to have it. I worked for it.” There’s pride in his voice.
This matters to him.
She knows it.
She hesitates for a long time before finally sliding it onto her index finger, giving in. A soft smile spreads across her face.
The ruby glints in the late-afternoon light.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. “Thank you, Mike.”
He memorizes the way it looks against her skin.
That night, Nancy corners him in the kitchen.
“You need to calm down.”
He scoffs at her, insulted. “What are you talking about you?”
“You bought her a ring.”
“It’s a graduation gift, Nancy.”
Nancy narrows her eyes. “You’re not subtle.”
He doesn’t deny it, just rolls his eyes at her..
Summer 1986
The minute El turns eighteen, her mom leaves town with her boyfriend. She tells El the rent is paid through June. After that, she’ll have to figure it out.
Mike can tell she’s pretending to be fine.
She’s not.
He overhears her crying in Nancy’s room one night, muffled through the wall.
He sits on the other side of it, back against his bedframe, feeling guilty for listening—but even worse knowing she’s hurting and he can’t fix it.
The next morning, he brings her favorite waffles without being asked.
“Thought you might be hungry.”
She smiles at him like he’s a lifeline.
His parents—mostly his mom—insist El stay with them that summer before she leaves for college. Mike immediately offers her his room, but Nancy is adamant El stay with her. It’s “their last summer together before they leave for different schools.”
Before long, they fall into a rhythm as if El has always lived there.
When Nancy isn’t home claiming most of El’s attention, and El isn’t working her part-time shifts at Benny’s, the three of them—Mike, Holly, and El—have movie nights. Sometimes she falls asleep halfway through, her head tipping onto his shoulder.
They borrow his parents’ station wagon and go on late-night drives. She sticks her hand out the window, letting the wind thread through her fingers as she drives. She looks happiest when they’re screaming along to songs on the radio.
One night, they sit on the hood of the car watching lightning bugs flicker in the dark.
“Are you excited for college?” he asks.
He isn’t.
She’s going to California—hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles away. He doesn’t know when, or if, she’ll ever come back to Hawkins. Especially now.
“Yeah,” she says. “I am. But I’m also a little scared. I don’t like change. And I’ll be so far from home.”
She looks at him when she says it.
“You’ll be okay,” he tells her quietly. “You’ll make friends. You’ll ace your classes.”
“I know.” She smiles faintly. “It’s just nerve-wracking to move somewhere you don’t know anyone. I’m going to miss you all so much.”
Something stings in the back of his throat. He swallows it down.
That summer feels endless.
Until it isn’t.
When she leaves, she hugs him tighter than she ever has before, rising onto her tiptoes.
“You’re going to do big things,” she tells him lightly.
He almost wishes he could ask her to stay, but of course he doesn’t. That would be stupid.
So instead, he just watches her go.
That fall, the house feels different without her in it.
1991 — Mike (20) / El (23)
El moves back to Hawkins because rent is cheaper. Because California only worked with four roommates and constant noise. Because she misses all four seasons.
Because she misses being known—being greeted by name instead of just being another person on the street.
Because adulthood is lonelier than she expected.
Mike is home from college for the summer when they run into each other at the grocery store.
It’s accidental, mundane.
They talk between aisles, smiling like they haven’t missed years. He has to leave—Holly’s waiting in the car—but they agree to “catch up.”
They meet at Benny’s Diner the next night.
When she walks in, he stands.
He always used to stand when she entered a room.
She never noticed before.
She notices now.
He’s taller—if that’s possible. Broader. His confidence no longer sharp but settled. His voice has lost the last trace of boyhood. He doesn’t hover. He doesn’t fidget.
He holds her gaze.
They talk for hours. Work. School. Nancy and her job at the Boston Post. Old memories that feel closer than they should.
At one point she teases, “You used to follow me around like a puppy.”
“I still would,” he replies unwaveringly.
She blinks. “You’re serious.”
“I’ve always been serious about you.”
Something flips in her stomach. She tries to ignore it. This is Nancy’s little brother.
She studies him—his dark curls, his steady gaze, the way he doesn’t look away when she does.
“You’ve dated other girls.”
“I did,” he says. “They just were never you.”
That lands harder than she expects.
She twists the ruby ring—the same one he gave her all those years ago—around her finger.
“You still have it,” he says quietly, surprised, eyes dropping to her hands.
“Of course. I never take it off.”
Silence stretches. She feels it then.
Not nostalgia, not fondness.
Something warmer.
Something adult.
“El,” he starts, licking his lips nervously.
The waitress appears with the check, breaking the moment. He insists on paying, even if he’s the broke college student now.
Outside, in the parking lot, he follows her to her car and gently touches her arm.
“El,” he starts again.
She turns around.
“Seeing you again… after all these years. I’ve realized I’ve liked you longer than I’ve liked anyone. Anything.”
Her breath catches, and she looks down, unable to meet his eyes. “You still have a crush on me,” she asks softly, “after all these years?”
He steps closer—not crowding her, just close enough that she feels his warmth.
“I never stopped.”
“Mike… you can’t have built a life around a crush. ”
“I didn’t,” he says firmly, “But you were always part of the blueprint.”
She looks up at him.
“I didn’t freeze in time, El. I didn’t sit around waiting. I lived my life. I changed, I grew. I dated. I messed up. But every time something felt important… I found myself wondering what you’d think. Not because I was stuck. Just because you were always… my north.”
Something in her softens.
“Maybe that’s why I always knew how to find my way back here.”
The words settle between them.
She realizes something quietly staggering—
He has loved her longer than most relationships ever last.
“Mike,” she whispers, closing the distance, resting a hand against his chest.
“Yeah?” His voice sounds deeper now and the way he says it makes heat crawl up her spine.
This isn’t a boyhood crush anymore.
It survived distance. Time. Growing up.
She isn’t looking at the kid who used to follow her around the house.
She’s looking at a man who has loved her, steadily, for eight years.
“You’re dangerous,” she laughs nervously. She feels as if they are on the precipice of something.
“Only for you.”
He steps closer.
“Tell me to stop.”
She doesn’t. The air shifts.
He doesn’t rush, just waits patiently.
“You still look at me like I hung the moon,” she murmurs.
“You are my moon,” he replies simply.
And when he leans down and finally kisses her—
It feels earned.
All those summers. All those years. Every flower, every mixtape, every game night and porch conversation leading to this.
For a split second, as his mouth meets hers, something almost dizzying rushes through him—
He can’t quite believe this is real. That he is finally kissing El.
The kiss is slow, deliberate. Indulgent.
He moves like he’s spent his whole life being careful—and is only now allowing himself to stop.
She kisses him back without hesitation because she’s finally ready to admit—
It feels like the inevitable ending to a story that started in 1983, across a dining room table.
He had always been there; she just hadn’t known what she was looking at yet.
When he pulls away, for one suspended heartbeat, Mike feels twelve again—standing in the doorway, pretending not to stare at the girl who had rearranged his universe.
Except this time, as her hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, she’s looking at him like he’s the one who hung the stars.
And he realizes—
He isn’t waiting anymore.
The day he imagined in a humid basement at thirteen — the one his friends had laughed at — has finally arrived.