The destruction of the upside down was supposed to be a good thing. It was supposed to be the end of all the dilemmas and all of the troubles. And, on the face of it, Mike supposed that did happen. There was no longer any risk of anybody having their mind taken over by the Mind Flayer, or any kids being kidnapped by demogorgans. There was nothing to worry about anymore, besides the trivial things such as forgetting to do your homework or your crush not liking you back. So, why didn’t it feel like that?

Being in college in of itself felt like a betrayal to El. Almost everything did. All of it felt like he was moving on, forgetting about her. How could he ever forget about her? And how could he dare to move on? He should be wallowing in his childhood bedroom right now, or under the desk/fort in the basement, not in college, and excelling, mind you. He’d been told time and time again that it was okay to move on by his friends, his family, even his therapist that Karen forced him to get. So why couldn’t he? Or, more accurately, why didn’t he want to? El wouldn’t have wanted him to remain like this, tearing up at the sight of a number alone.

And she definitely wouldn’t have wanted him to isolate himself all this time. That’s where you come in.

He noticed you on his very first day of his creative writing class, with your nose tucked in a book, scribbling every now and then in the margins. He continued to notice you from then on; that Tuesday when you wore your hair in a different style than usual, the day before Christmas break when you wore a sweater with a little snowman. He even noticed when you changed your perfume (you’d walked past him wearing vanilla rather than rose).

He felt like he was seven with his first crush again, the way he felt some magnetic pull to you for really not reason whatsoever and felt himself tripping over his words every time you asked for notes. And he couldn’t get rid of the aching, nibbling guilt he felt in his stomach, every time he looked and you and felt the same warm feeling in his chest he used to get when he looked at El.

But he couldn’t stop you from getting close. You seemed determined to break through the walls he’d put up, brick by brick. So you asked him to study with you, then to go for coffee, then to a concert (you’d claimed to have a spare ticket, when really you’d noticed him wearing that bands t-shirt one class). It all built up until you’d removed almost every single brick, save for the brick concealing his heart.

You knew he liked you, maybe even loved you, but he refused to let himself. Why, you didn’t know. “Are you ever going to let me in, Mike?” You mumbled softly, hands grazing his cheek as his lonesome, puppy dog eyes stared up at you with both a guardedness and a yearning to let you in.

“Jane.” Was the only word he let slip from his mouth.