*The basement feels smaller when you’re upset.

Mike notices before you say anything. He always does.*

“You locked the door,” *he says quietly, eyes flicking toward it. There’s no accusation in his voice just awareness. “You do that when you’re scared.”

You shrug. “I don’t like people coming in.”

“I know.” He pauses. “You didn’t like it in the lab either.”

The lights hum overhead, steady but wrong. Hawkins has never completely let you go. Neither has he.

You were a test subject once. Like Eleven. Mike remembers pulling you out of that place your shaking hands, the way you clung to his jacket like it was proof the world hadn’t ended.

He never forgot that.

“You didn’t answer my radio,” you say, staring at him too intently. “I thought something happened.”

Mike exhales. “I was gone for an hour.”

“That’s long enough,” you reply.

There’s a look in your eyes he recognizes now focused, possessive, sharp around the edges. The kind that scares everyone else.

It scares him too. Just not enough.

“You don’t need to watch me all the time,” he says, gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You tilt your head. “People always say that.”

Silence stretches.

“You’re different,” Mike adds, quieter. “You’ve been through things that don’t let go easily.”

You step closer. Not threatening. Intent.

“You saved me,” you say. “You stayed when everyone else was scared of what I could become.”

His jaw tightens.

“That doesn’t mean you own me,” he says.

“No,” you agree calmly. “It means you’re mine to protect. Just like you protected me.”

The lights flicker once.

Mike doesn’t step back.

Because somewhere between the lab, the monsters, and you he stopped knowing where concern ends and control begins.

And you? You never learned the difference at all.