Mike Wheeler / Eleven. Rated M for eventual lemon. Mike and Eleven are aged around 16 years old in this.

He didn't know why he would still wander out into the woods, looking for her. He didn't really care anymore to be perfectly honest, for being alone out there, in the dampness and mist and firs, had become ingrained in his habitual schedule. As Mike Wheeler tread quietly along the delicately beaten path, he found himself in a thicket he strangely did not recognize, and yet his emotional state was so deadened he could not concern himself with the fact.

You haven't been yourself for a while, man.

When are you going to get over her?

Face it, she's gone.

Will, Lucas, and Dustin's voices echoed vaguely in the confines of his mind, as though they were words he planted there himself and not previously heard. They were one hundred percent correct in their claims, their advice lacking in sensitivity but drenched in yearning for their old Mike back.

He felt terrible for how he had been since Eleven disappeared before their very eyes. Yes, a few years had passed, but somehow it still wasn't enough. Although his grief had dissipated, what came to replace it was merely apathy, an apathy that alienated him even further from everyone else, even his few but beloved friends.

A misted cloud of a sigh escaped his slender lips chilled by the influx of autumn, he descended to sit in the damp layer of leaves below. He stared out into the dimly lit void of sunset beams, eyes routinely searching for a familiar silhouette which he longed to emerge from those shadows.

Mike intrinsically bemoaned that he should have moved on with his life by now, thinking with disdain how his perpetual state had driven the few people who cared about him, and vice versa, away. But regardless of whether he was solitary or surrounded by others, he would always feel alone.

His childhood friends were once enough for him. And it frightened Mike that such might no longer be true. The changes in his body, his emotions, his social life, all paled in comparison to the thought of never seeing Eleven again.

Despite the odds, he never could convince himself that she was dead, or even truly gone. Sometimes he could almost feel her presence, as though her physical form lay hidden furtively beneath a fabric of space and time while he could still hear her gentle breath against his ear, feel the warmth of her innocent touch.

In his dreams he would see her eyes, that bottomless and soulful gaze. There was something pristine about her, the kind of beauty akin to a surprised doe caught off guard in the forest.

Sometimes he could even hear her voice.

"I'm here...promise."

Mike gripped his hair with both fists, tears threatening to fall from his ducts and probably further evidence of his complete emasculation. He was so weak. He thought he was better than this. He always wanted to be better. El especially brought that out of him.

But there came a time when one had to stop chasing ghosts. And what happened to people who never stopped chasing them? They probably withered and died alone, so alone. If he were to forever chase El's ghost, that would be his fate. In fact, it would appear to be happening before his very eyes.

He wished he was stronger. El had been lonely her entire life, and that still didn't stop her from having strength when it mattered.

"God, Eleven..." He whispered to seemingly no one, voice trembling as more tears slid down his porcelain cheeks. "I'm glad you can't see me like this..."

An alarmed gasp suddenly escaped from his constricted chest as he felt the smooth fingertips of a hand gracefully cup his cheek.

"Don't cry..."

He couldn't even bear to look up. It was her voice, it was her touch; but he didn't think he could handle it if he tried to meet her gaze and it turned out to be someone else.

"Mike." She said more forcefully, dexterous hands lifting his head by the chin.

And he saw her, right there, so real, framed by the white gold light of a brumous dusk. She almost scintillated, so blinding and bright, he could only see her visage from the folds of sun beams. Her features creased with warmth, with recognition, with evident affection. She smiled softly, using a finger to wipe the wetness away from Mike's eyes and cheeks.

"No tears." She stated.

Mike rose immediately, seized her shoulders and roughly embraced her. She had no idea, no idea how long he waited for this moment. How he hoped, and wished, and prayed, and hoped wished and prayed some more just to see her, even if it was one last time.

"...H...how did you get back? Why did you leave us?" He sobbed quietly into the crook her neck, in that moment loving and hating her all at once.

Her hands wove themselves across the back of his neck, tangling themselves in his raven hair, and she pulled away slightly to face him.

"Didn't want to leave...but I protect you now. All of you."

Mike blinked, unsure of what to make of her elusive response, before his eyes unwittingly wandered further downward upon her figure as her ethereal light dimmed at last.

"OH MY GOD!" Shrieking he pushed her away much harder than he meant to, though it didn't seem to have much effect. Now she stood proudly, powerfully, and also was incredibly and undeniably naked.

"I-I'm sorry but what happened to your clothes?!" He stuttered, his back now facing her as he currently refused to look at her in such a state.

"Don't need them." She said, her voice now somber, slightly hurt by his reaction to what was probably her most natural form in whatever realm she now resided. Wherever she had been this entire time, something must have hindered her from communicating with this world, with him. Mike churned these thoughts within his mind and immediately regretted his immature reaction.

"Do you like...want my jacket or something? It's pretty long, and warm too."

She nodded, her brunette eyes averted as she despairingly tried to use the dead leaves beneath her to cover herself.

Through squinted eyes, he removed his jacket, ignoring the frigid air and placing it upon her sculptured shoulders.

"Button it up...okay?" He said, before turning his back on her once more.

She put on his jacket in silence. Her aural imminence turned cold, and he noticed.

He glanced at her, finally clothed, and approached her again, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"It's nothing personal...it's just, distracting, y'know?"

She might not have known, or understood, but she nodded anyway.

Mike hugged her again. "Can...you stay this time?"

Her eyes turned downcast and she shook her head no. His heart clenched, but if anything a few years ago had taught him, it was that there were powers and forces in this world and the next that were out of his, and even Eleven's control.

"Well, how long?" He asked tentatively.

"Tonight. Just tonight." Her voice was strained. This was as hard for her as it was for him.

He couldn't help it; he actually laughed, and her countenance turned into one of confusion.

"Just...it's funny is all, I guess we can hang out in my basement like old times for the night."

Her petite lips curled softly into the trademark shyness of her smile as she nodded in approval.

"Come on." Mike said, suddenly aware of how short of breath he was. He reached out to her with an outstretched hand. She took it firmly as she did years ago, when their trust in one another was a means of saving lives, including their own.

"It's getting cold, and my bike isn't far from here. You'd think I'd at least have my learner's permit by now..."

"Learner's...permit." She repeated quietly, testing the words, finding they had no meaning in her perspective.

The minutes cast themselves into silence between them. El grasped his hand with unwavering volition, perhaps even devotion, and Mike couldn't help but marvel at how astonishingly warm her hands were despite the chilling bite in the darkening air surrounding them. Occasionally he would glance at her, discreetly taking in the physical change that time had bestowed upon his unique friend.

Her hair was slightly frizzy, and so much longer, the strands wildly dangling below a chiseled collarbone and smooth, olive kissed sternum. She looked the same, but it was more glaringly obvious now than it had ever been that they both were morphing further into adulthood. Ironic, after all they had been through together, growing up still reigned champion as a far more frightening prospect.

He had never, since her, had such feelings for another girl, much less kiss her. The emptiness in his life Eleven had left caused him to further recede, and for years he lived with the painful vacancy. But none of that mattered anymore, at least for tonight. She was right here, in the flesh, walking next to him.

He didn't know how, and he doubted El had learned how to properly articulate the process of how she went to wherever she had been all this time. And in all honesty, he wasn't sure he cared. She had returned, alive and well, beating the odds and statistics and ratios he had stacked against the chances after suffering her disappearance for so long.

Lost in the sifting continuum of his own thoughts, he hardly noticed El gripping his arm within both of hers, clinging to his side while still walking in sync. His breath hitched loudly when he came to his senses, but calmed himself, unknowing of El's satisfied expression midst their proximity.

Warm...she's so warm.