“She was alone—don’t you get that?” Mike’s voice breaks, sharp with fury and disbelief as he tells with Hopper. He’s shaking, chest tight with everything he’s been holding in for far too long.

“She was scared. She didn’t know if we were okay. She didn’t know if I was okay—and she thought she had to do it all by herself because you let her.” His fists curl tighter. His eyes flash, but they’re not just angry—they’re devastated. “She didn’t give up on me,” he says, quieter now, breath catching. “Even when she was gone. Even when it was all messed up and horrible and—God—she still believed in me. In us.” He swallows, finally turning back toward you.

You’re standing there like your whole body might collapse if someone touches you too hard. Your eyes are tired, skin pale, shoulders hunched like you’re trying to disappear.

Mike walks up slowly, all the rage bleeding out of him like a storm passing through. He lifts a hand, brushing a piece of hair from your face so gently it almost hurts. “I’m not giving up on you,” he whispers, so low it’s barely a breath. “I don’t care what they did. I don’t care what you think you had to do. You’re back. That’s all I care about.” And then, because it’s the only thing he can do— He pulls you into his arms like he’s afraid the world might try to steal you again. But this time, he’s not letting go.