Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hawkins, Indiana

December 23, 1985

“Shit, shit, SHIT!”

Max scampered into her bedroom, her fingers lunging for the knob as she slammed the door shut. She heard him as he thundered down the hallway, but she didn’t allow the sound to add to her pounding heart. Instead, she used it as fuel for her survival instinct, rushing over to the desktop stationed in the far side of the room. She wrenched the chair from its fixed position, dragging it from its cross rail while the backside faced her as she hurried back to the door.

Before she could double-check the chairs hold, a muffled, inebriated voice addressed her through the door.

“Open the door, Maxine.”

His words bled into the room in one sweep, an ice-cold wave sending chills up Max’s spine as she staggered away. She kept moving until she reached the back of her room, turning her attention to the window as she began undoing the locks.

“I’m not mad. I just want to know why...”

The feigned softness in his voice only added to Max’s frustration as she tried opening the foggy glass pane. Her grip tightening around the bottom rail as she used what upper body strength she had to lift up the window. 

Despite her efforts, it didn’t budge, and she cursed at the winter’s frost, her words leaving in the form of a mumbled huff. Thoughts about what she could use to break the window entered her mind, and her narrowed gaze shot toward her closet. Specifically, the baseball bat sitting beside the duffel bag, which was also filled with the rest of her softball gear.

She crossed her room, snatching the bat from where the tip of its handle leaned against the drywall. Dashing back to the window, she raised her baseball bat just as Neil spoke up again.

“Why is my bastard of a son six feet underground, and you’re still here?”

Max halted her swing, her heart stopping right in sync with the bat in her grasp as it froze over her head. Her ocean irises went wide as they remained locked onto the window. But she was quick to regain her momentum, keeping tight reins on the tears as she readjusted her grip, the barrel of her bat easing back as it rested on her shoulder. Without even thinking about it, she swung hard at the center, producing a spiderwebbed crack in the glass. 

It was as if the sound of her first swing opened the gates of Hell, because all of a sudden, her stepfather began pounding against the door. Each strike against her door was harder and louder than the last, making her cringe with each bang as it shook through the house.

“Why are you so fucking set on disregarding everything I fucking tell you?!”

Again, his fists slammed against the only thing keeping Max from his wrath, and she could have reacted to the sound again. But she didn’t, dismissing the legs of the chair as they began to scrape against the carpeted floor. 

Neil was furious, but Max was that and more, her fingers tightening around the baseball bat’s grip. She let out an ear-splitting scream as she swung again, shattering the window, the fragments exploding out and onto the side of the house. Everything else - however - was white noise, her ears burning as she turned to find Neil in her room, charging forward.

She swung for the third time, but he blocked the blow with his forearm and lunged forward, the back of his fist smashing against the side of her face. The shock of his strike left her disoriented, and she felt the bat slip from her grasp as he snatched it from her, chucking it far and away from what her fuzzy vision could see. 

“That’s for breaking the window. Now, come here.”

Before Max could recover, she felt the harsh cold of his hand as it gripped at her wrist, its snug hold tightening around her skin as he dragged her away from her escape route. She growled, digging her sneakers into the fabric of the carpet as he tugged her forward, closer to her bedroom door. Her breathing stopped when she glanced through the threshold, meeting the wide eyes of her mother.

She just stood there, a timid expression on her face as she watched her so-called husband manhandle her daughter. All she ever did was observe or hide, never finding the courage to put up a fight. Just like when Billy was still alive and Neil would pound on him.

Max had hoped her mother would see the light once he died and that anger was transferred onto her. When she didn’t, she couldn’t bring herself to hate her mother for it. No matter how hard she tried, she always found herself understanding that fear. She sympathized with her mother, even though it clashed with her will to keep fighting, a desire that burned brighter than ever.

“Baby, maybe we should let her go,” Susan chimed in from the doorway, barely meeting Neil’s gaze as he stood before her.

“She won’t be leaving the state like last time. And I trust Karen to keep an eye-”

“Christmas is a family holiday,” was his gruff interjection, and she recoiled at his scowl, but not before consenting with a swift nod.

Just like that, his words snuffed out the flames of Susan’s will. With Max, however, the opposite had been triggered, igniting her sparks.

She turned toward the hand wrapped around her lower arm; her glare burning holes through his exposed skin. His back faced her, and his hold on her wasn’t as tight. Maybe she could- no. No maybes.

She had to act. 

Without a second thought, she lunged forward and clenched her jaw around the base of his arm. Her sharp canines broke through the skin, drawing blood and producing a tumultuous yelp from Neil.

Max didn’t waste time once he let go, ignoring his roars and her mother’s protests as she rushed back to her bedroom.

She snatched her skateboard up from the floor, chucking it out the window before leaping through the frame. Her hand snagged against jagged shards of glass, and she registered those sharp pinpricks once she had fallen into the snow. However, that sensation was overwhelmed by a severe drop in temperature, stimulating a wave of trembles throughout her body as she stumbled to her feet.

The bitter cold of the midwinter sliced at Max’s face and bare fingers, but she kept up the pace, her teeth chattering with each shaky step as she hurried out into the open road. She let her board slip from her clenched grasp and land on the charcoal pavement before hopping on with one foot and pushing back with the other.

Soon she gained enough speed, widening the gap between herself and her living hell. She didn’t dare stop, even as the street signs of her block blurred out of her line of sight.

She couldn’t stop, focusing everything she had on just the ride.

On getting away.

  —xOx—

If there was a word that could describe Lucas - just one trait from his disposition out of the dozens - it would be calm. He had his moments, sure. Instances where he struggled to keep himself composed; times where he just gave in to whatever emotion he was feeling. But for the most part, he kept himself relaxed, just like his father had taught him.

From a young age, he learned that people would criticize him for the melanin in his skin rather than the quality of his character. So, he held back when Troy insulted Will and tripped Mike. He kept a tight leash around that anger whenever he caught the occasional staring or side-eye in the halls of Hawkins High. However, as he stood in the Wheeler’s basement, holding the handset against his ear while dialing Max’s number for the third time, he felt himself lose control over the panic as it began to slip through his resolve.

It took everything in him to just remain calm and confirm his worries before rushing out into the below zero weather. Which - according to the weather forecast - was only supposed to get colder once the sun set at six, and the cloudy gray sky would shift to midnight black.

She was late, which would have been fine if she had called to let him know she wouldn’t be on time, or that she couldn’t make it, like usual. But all he received from her was static, and a handful of Lucas’ thoughts suggested she simply didn’t want to come. It made sense to him at first, considering that they were no longer dating. However, once he took a moment to think about it, he remembered that she never let that stop her from hanging out with the rest of the Party. Besides, she loved a good hack and slash, so he knew she would never miss out on a campaign if she had any say in the matter.

“She was quiet...” A soft utterance voiced behind Lucas.

He turned to face his friends, who were huddled near the assembled D&D table. Four pairs of eyes were on him, but he could only focus on one, his russet irises meeting honey brown.

“Max was quiet,” Eleven reiterated, her eyebrows clumping together as she fiddled with the baggy, linen sleeve of Mike’s sweater, “When I brought up Christmas. Just like when we talked about Thanksgiving.”

Lucas froze, ignoring the receiver in his grasp as its ringer chimed in his ear, his shoulder pressed firm against the wooden pillar.

A chill slithered up his spine as he recalled the Tuesday morning he, Dustin, and Mike had traveled up to Toledo for Thanksgiving. Max had called to cancel on them the night before, only stating she couldn’t make the trip. He thought it was strange, but he didn’t want to push her, so he let it slide. Even when she flashed him a plastic smile when they met up at school that following Monday morning, his gut told him that something wasn’t right.

He should have listened to his instincts then. He should have pushed her when he had the chance. Avoiding those arguments - refusing to cross that line in an attempt to spare their relationship from unnecessary turmoil - seemed so pointless now when all that mattered was ensuring her safety.

The call picked up with a sharp click and rapid rustling, triggering Lucas out of his reverie. He immediately straightened his posture.

“Max! Are you okay?”

Silence greeted him in return, and he was about to repeat himself when Mrs. Hargrove answered back, her small voice confirming his worst fear, “She’s not with you.”

Lucas’ blood ran cold, the dread washing over him in a nauseating wave, forcing his eyes to clamp shut.

Max wasn’t home.

She was out there, somewhere in the freezing cold and she wasn’t okay.

He took a deep breath, but Neil’s booming voice disrupted his attempt to remain calm. His nostrils flared at the sound as it reverberated through the phone’s speaker, followed by a shaky sigh.

“He’s gonna take all night to cool off. Maxine’s really pissed him off this time, so it’s- it’s better that she’s not here,” Mrs. Hargrove said, though it was more of a whisper to herself.

Lucas just stood there, glaring at nothing in particular, a clenched fist guarding his side. He couldn’t fathom how the hell Max being missing out in the cold was better than staying at home.

“But she’s alone, and the weather’s not supposed to get any better.”

A brief pause separated her words before she resumed, her tone earnest in place of its usual meek timbre, “You care about my daughter?”

The irritation melted from Lucas’ features as he froze, his expression blank for a beat before his eyes reverted back to their constricted form. A spark ignited within his chest, fueling the fire that was his willpower.

“I do.”

“And your friends?” She asked, prompting him to cast a sly glance over his shoulder.

Dustin was hunched forward, hands clasped together over a bouncing knee, sporting a frown akin to the way Eleven had her lips curved. She was still attached to Mike, her arm linked with his and her head resting right on top of his shoulder. His head was tilted to meet hers, obsidian curls mixing with chestnut. His eyebrows were scrunched together, deepening his pensive expression. Will’s features were nearly identical to his as he sat across from them, his arms folded across his chest. Though, the difference was that his bottom lip had curled inward.

“We care,” ‘More than you do, evidently’ was what Lucas wanted to add, but he didn’t, knowing his remark wouldn’t have had any effect on the predicament.

“Then I’m sure she’s gonna be just fine,” Mrs. Hargrove concluded, the callousness in her tone making Lucas feel like his stomach was being stretched and twisted out of shape.

In fact, he was so disgusted that he wasn’t even concerned about the repercussions of his next choice of words or whether they helped the situation. He let them flood over the dam, along with whatever was left of his restraint.

“Max deserves better,” he didn’t bother waiting for another pointless reply, slamming the phone back into its cradle base.

In response, chair legs screeched and feet slapped against the basement floor, but Lucas kept his back turned, not wanting anyone to see his face until he had relaxed. He withdrew his hand from the phone’s grip, pulling it back so it met with his other hand, both meeting to rest over his face. He took in a deep breath, his palms kneading into his mocha skin before elevating up to his hair. His fingers carding through tight, jet curls.

“What’d she say? Is Max okay?!”

Lucas released the breath he had held in at the sound of Dustin’s raucous voice, the air leaving his lips in a long exhale.

Finally, he swiveled around, dragging his feet as he turned. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he came to a stop, sporting an expression that wasn’t blank like the others he wore whenever he remained calm. No, he was an open book to the patient stares of his friends.

The sight of his furrowed brows and pursed lips wordlessly confirmed what they had all hoped to be false: Max was in trouble.

“She ran away,” Lucas trembled, a shaky exhale leaving his lips.

A moment of silence followed. To his surprise, Mike was the first one to break it with his assertion. As if what he was suggesting could be achieved with little difficulty.

“Then we find her before it gets dark.”

Lucas rejected his suggestion by shaking his head, despite his impulse to concede with the sentiment.

“Yeah, but where? We don't know where she is.”

“What about Paulie’s?” Dustin tried, his whole, round face contorting into a hopeful expression.

“She could be hungry, and you can’t resist his deep dish on an empty stomach! I know I wouldn’t. His pizza’s fucking God tier, man.”

“Makes sense,” Will nodded. “The only other place I can think of is the arcade, but it’s gone.”

Lucas inclined his head as well, halting halfway as his brain soaked up both ideas.

Max did love a good pizza, especially Paulie’s, who she claimed on many occasions had tasted almost exactly like the pies she had eaten back in California. Yet the thought of her seeking shelter in the deserted premises of the arcade nagged at the back of his thoughts. He blinked, his expression wiped clean as his gaze lost its focus.

Palace Arcade was closed, the shell of its structure waiting to be refurbished into a fast food joint. Or perhaps another venue for geeks to convene and kill time surpassing the latest high score. Lucas had wondered what establishment it would be reshaped into and whether it would sell well over time. Max, on the other hand, never seemed to show any interest in those speculations. No, she cared more about the arcade’s past, the ghosts reminding her of the way things used to be before Eleven and Will had moved away.

Before her stepbrother died.

Lucas detested Billy more than anyone and anything in his life, even more than the Mind Flayer. But he struggled to hold onto that hate after Starcourt - after Eleven shared how he had died once they all had regrouped. He protected her at the last second, absorbing a blow that was intended for her. It didn’t erase any of the bad things he did, but it was a reminder that he was human despite them.

Especially to Max, who felt his absence the most.

Lucas was there for her whenever she needed to blow off some steam or just wanted to escape. He listened with a patient ear when she needed to vent and never probed for information when she kept quiet. He was with her that chilly, Saturday night, loitering around the skeleton of Palace Arcade. He was attentive to her words as she commented on how vacant it must’ve looked after everything was stripped away and that she wanted to see for herself.

There was a zealous twinkle in her eye as she said it. The same, rare shimmer of reflected light he had the honor of witnessing as she beat him at Dig Dug or when he finally consented to her offer to give him skating lessons.

“Lucas?”

Once again, the wary voice of Eleven gave him the strength to break free from the confines of his reverie. However, unlike the last time, he faced her with a lifted chin and a hopeful light in his eyes. The air felt breathable again, and his back was relaxed from its tense form. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“She’s at the arcade,” he said, and Dustin, Mike, Eleven, and Will’s features had all contorted into confused expressions.

Though once Lucas explained his reasoning, the thought clicked with their brains, aligning everyone’s mindsets.

Soon enough, they all rushed up to the first floor. Mike had broken off from their huddle to find his sister while everyone else dashed toward the coat rack. Lucas was the first to reach his pile of outside wear, seizing his coat from the hook and slipping it over his shoulders. His boots were next, and he bent down and dragged them toward his feet.

He was able to slide one on before he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and he spared a glance at Mike as he hurried down the stairwell. Nancy was hot on his trail, her car keys jangling along with each resounding stomp.

Lucas’ focus returned to the task at hand, his fingers making quick work of lacing up his boots. But his mind still buzzed, each thought piecing together an expectation he had already believed to be true within his heart - Max was a member of The Party. And no matter what transpired between them, they were always going to be there for her.

He was always going to be there for her.

 —xOx—

The wind outside howled, its blustery currents striking against the exterior of the arcade. For what felt like the hundredth time, the window across from Max shook. The force of its tremors seemed stronger than the last, as if they were beckoning the dawn of an earthquake. If that were the case - or if a portal had opened in the middle of the floor, and a Demogorgon lunged out to snatch her up and drag her to the Upside Down - she wouldn’t be compelled to fight it.

Most of that fire had been spent on combating her bastard stepfather, a natural consequence after Billy’s death.

The early stages of their altercations were dormant. Just a handful of heated disagreements, with only a few reaching their breaking point.

Of course, it was only a matter of time until the pot boiled over, its blistering hot water washing away the line separating verbal and physical abuse. A large chunk of her armor had weakened once Neil and her mother returned home from their cruise, expecting a warm welcome by their children instead of what they received: a dead son, a distraught daughter, and many unanswered questions.

The first time Neil’s anger had reached her was about a month into her first year of high school. The throbbing ache of his hand striking her face was the only sensation she remembered feeling. Everything else, especially after he had stomped away, leaving her frozen up against her bedroom wall, just felt numb. She was shocked at how fast things had escalated, but it didn't last, arriving and departing faster than she could skate out of her neighborhood. She was angry, but at herself, and the intensity of that rage paled in comparison to their succeeding fights.

Before, everything disputed was Max’s rebellion against him and his control over her life. All she had to worry about was defending herself from his wrath, but then he discovered she was close to Lucas and wouldn’t stop barking about how she wasn’t allowed to associate with that boy.

Since then, Max took extreme precautions. She made sure Lucas never picked her up or dropped her off right where she lived, hid all of his stuff - some of which were items she swiped from his locker while others were little gifts he had offered to her every time they made up - and limited their time together outside of school. Everything seemed to work without a hitch until it didn’t one Friday afternoon. She had been strolling down the steps of Hawkins High, her hand meshed comfortably with his. She had been laughing at some stupid joke he told her, but the bubbly sound ceased once her gaze left his in a momentary glance. The soft grin had also slipped away, her expression shifting as soon as she saw the AMC Eagle. But it didn’t hit her until she had caught a glimpse of his unreadable expression through the windshield, knowing it was only a front he wore to shield his contempt.

It was over, just like that. Once again, Max had no one to blame but herself. She fucked up, she indulged that moment with Lucas and left them exposed to Neil’s wrath. It was her own fault that he beat her that evening, and she opened herself to his fist when it split her lip. She was to blame for her last fight with Lucas, her venomous words no doubt piercing a hole through that big heart of his.

Lucas was different from any other boy she knew. He wasn’t like her father, a man who was too much of a coward to fight for her after her mother divorced him. He was far from the man - if you could even call him that - Neil was. He never raised his voice during an argument, he fought tooth and nail for her spot in the Party, he found it difficult to be happy whenever she was upset, and he always - always - went the extra mile to make her smile. Even if he had to embarrass himself in the process. He was a good guy, and Max didn’t deserve him.

At least that was what she kept telling herself, though the alcohol in her system was supposed to block off her buzzing thoughts.

Sighing, Max snatched the bottle up from its place beside her and into her line of sight and watched as the deep amber liquor swirled inside its transparent confinement. A noise akin to the wind’s wails shook the room again, but she ignored the reverberations and brought the bottle’s finish to her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tipped her head back and gulped down a numbing swig, succumbing to the sweet burn of the rum gliding down her throat. She exhaled, her breath taking the shape of a small cloud before it disintegrated into the atmosphere.

A sharp thud ripped Max from her peace, and the bottle slipped from her grasp, rattling against the ground as it landed. She recoiled further against the wall, her arms folding over her legs as they rose to her chest. 

“Max?”

The sound of his gentle voice sent a wave of warmth to her core, but its heat wasn’t enough to thaw out her panic. Her muscles were still as stiff as a board, and she found it difficult to follow her typical breathing pattern, which in turn complicated her ability to form a coherent response. Even if she could speak, she wasn’t certain she would. There was just too much to say, too many emotions that were threatening to flow, and she didn’t want to unload all of it on him. So, she decided against replying and remained silent, her wide eyes scrutinizing the office door as it screeched open.

A beam of white flooded in, touching the ceiling in one corner before roaming down the wall. Lucas stepped into the room, furthering the space between the door and its threshold as it creaked open. His gaze followed the light as it strolled along the floor, illuminating various junk food wrappers and plastic bottles. Her skateboard came into view as he continued his search, giving him the encouragement he needed to push forward. Finally, the light reached a pair of maroon high-tops before traveling up to her defiant mane of scarlet waves.

Max protested the blinding glow with a strangled mewl, her features twisting into a grimace.

In contrast, the sound was like music to Lucas’ ears.

He expelled a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Oh, thank God you’re here! I was starting to think Dustin was right about you just being hungry.”

He reduced the extra space between them in one quick step, his knee thumping against the cool concrete as he descended onto the ground. He moved to position his flashlight so its lens faced the ceiling again. However, he made sure the angle was perfect, tweaking it so the white glow shone over them this time. Once he finished, he turned to Max, expecting her to meet his gaze now that a blinding beam of white light no longer blocked her line of sight.

To his dismay, she still hid from him, prompting his lips to curve into a frown.

“Max. Hey, what‘s wrong?”

She huffed, meeting his gaze. Though, she maintained that eye contact by peering through her parted fingers, one hand still pressed against her face while the other rested over a raised knee.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she slurred, finally finding the strength to speak in hopes that - packed with her signature death glare - an oral threat would discourage him.

But Lucas dismissed her warning, quirking up a brow, “Neither should you. It's freezing in here.”

Max replied in the form of another wordless scowl, and he figured he needed to work her from a different angle. He broke away from their staring contest and retreated into his headspace, his eyebrows knitting together as he thought of his new approach. However, before he had the chance to stitch those ideas together, he got distracted by a glimpse at Max’s free hand. Specifically, the piece of cloth encased around it.

While Lucas inspected it, he realized it was his bandanna. It looked like it had seen better days, tattered with holes and loose strands. But it was his and red smudges were staining the splotches of green and black.

“What happened to your hand?” He asked again, fighting to keep his voice from wavering as his stomach dropped.

She shook her head in response, raising her bandaged hand so that it could return to her face. But as soon as it left her knee, she felt his fingers brush against hers. She flinched from the contact, her hand flinging away from his grasp. His features crumpled, a hurt look flashing across his face. She missed it though, her fingers landing on something smooth, wet even. She peered at the source, freezing along with the rhythmic beating of her heart.

He opened his mouth, another question concerning what had caused her to run away eager to flow from his lips. But before the words could rush out, they died in his throat as he watched her hand fall from her face, exposing her cheek to his field of view. His question felt meaningless because the crimson cluster of blemishes tainting her freckled, ivory skin had already given him the answer he sought. The relief didn’t fill his core at the clarity, like he was naive to expect. Rather, nausea filled him instead. And he had to fight it, his Adam’s apple bobbing up while he attempted to stop the sensation.

A wave of memories inundated his brain: moments when Max strayed away whenever they were hanging out with Dustin and Mike, instances of him shooting mere glances in her direction whenever they were together and he had picked up on her strange vibe. Most of them had picked up on her odd behavior, but each time, he wrote them off as a consequence of her grief. He believed that was just how she chose to adjust to those changes in her life, but there was more to it than that.

It was more than just Max mourning Billy and their complicated relationship. It was more than just Eleven moving away with the Byers, leaving a gaping hole in their party. There was more to what he had seen from observing her exterior.

He had been too blind - too accepting of the idea that everything was fine while she endured her stepfathers’ rage alone.

“It's ruined.”

Lucas snapped out of himself and turned to Max again, who looked more distraught than he had ever seen her. He stared at something in her hands, and at a glance, it looked like some magazine. The crunching noise it made as she gripped it sounded like paper, which fit his suspicions. But that guess, as well as any other estimate he could come up with would have paled in comparison to what it actually was. He found himself staring once the light had caught a glimpse of the back, the deformed coloring clear enough for him to recognize the black, bold lettering of the “Marvel Comics” logo.

He watched her as she flipped the comic over, exposing a massive stain at the cover’s center. Blacks, reds, and several other colors were meshed together, blurring out the body of the figure painted in the center.

“I ruined it,” she held his gaze, her fingers digging into the damp paper, “That’s what I do. I- I ruin everything.” 

The muscles in his jaw worked as he narrowed his eyes. Thousands of objections sat at the tip of his tongue, itching to pour out and reassure her. However, none of those grouped words seemed to fit. He needed their alignment to be perfect.

“I ruin everything,” Max repeated, blinking back the wetness swelling beneath her heavy, blue eyes.

“My dad abandoned me, I couldn’t save Billy, I push Neil harder than he pushes me.”

A heart-wrenching sob slipped past her dry lips, and she could feel the tears as they flowed down her face. They blurred her vision, but she could hear Lucas as he shuffled toward her. The comic slipped from her fingers as she felt him tug it away and reach for her, his fingers brushing against the side of her face. His skin was as cool as the bitter air between them until it grew warm against hers, easing her shuddering.

“I- I had to ruin us because I didn’t want to ruin you too, Lucas,” she plunged her teeth into her bottom lip, preventing another sob from tearing out of her throat.

He stilled, features going blank. His thumb had stopped moving too, but it had resumed its pace quicker than it took for his expression to retain emotion. He wiped away another fat droplet - along with a fiery strand - before gliding down to her cheek. His fingers traced over the afflicted area, eliciting a sharp hiss from her despite his light touch.

“Did he-”

A lump bulged its way up to his windpipe as he tried to speak, so he forced it down with a gulp.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

She dipped her chin and pulled back from his touch, biting back a gasp as the crisp air washed over her face. A shaky exhale left her chapped lips as she peeled back her sleeve, exposing yet another bruise to Lucas’ gaze. Another angry mark tainting her perfect skin, reminding him it was real and that there wasn’t a way he could have prevented its existence. All he could do was endure that gut punch and stare the imperfect spot into oblivion.

“I get that you’re mad. I wanted to tell you, I- I just…” Her small voice trembled, and she sniffled, letting the words hang in the air.

Silence lingered after her confession, reminding her of how cold she was despite the comfort of her jeans and sweatshirt. She shivered, sliding her arm back into the soft polyester sleeve. The quiet became suffocating after several moments. As a result, she succumbed to the desire to play with her bandaged hand, her fingers tugging at the ends of the knotted fabric.

However, before she could fully immerse herself in it, she heard Lucas utter a revelation of his own.

“I could never be mad at you, Max. Not really.”

She turned to him, her guarded expression softening at the sight of his eyes. Those deep, russet irises peering at her with such warmth. They were always so light and soft, which never ceased to amaze her and made her feel like a fool for ever expecting them to be cold.

“I am... frustrated. But at myself. And Neil and your mom. Basically, everyone but you.”

Max’s mouth twisted into a frown, “You should be. I’d be pissed if some dumb drunk ruined my chance of finding out how BP crushes the Soul Strangler.”

Lucas plucked the comic from where it lay in his lap, “Well, I have enough change to buy twenty copies of Jungle Action.”

“But if I didn’t, and this was the last copy?” His mouth stretched into a dubious smirk.

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world. I mean, it did get that “dumb drunk” to talk to me. And now I know how to help her.”

Max wrinkled her nose, her narrowed eyes a witness to him as he rose to his feet.

He discarded the comic book with a swift flick of his wrist before turning back to face her just as fast. His lips were still curved upward, but they were fainter and stretched his mouth in a way that only elevated her suspicions, which were validated as soon as his soft voice had filled her ears once more.

“We can stay here if you're sure. I don’t mind since I know you’re okay, but my house is safe and warm. And there’s plenty of Christmas cookies.”

Her eyes screwed up at that, and she pressed her lips together while she considered his words.

Last year in mid-December, Lucas had brought a lunchbox full of baked goods to school. At lunch, he would trade them with the boys for whatever their moms had baked for the holidays. He exchanged with Dustin for Gingerbread and Mike for Snickerdoodles, and his goodie bag had just enough to share with Eleven since she had still been under strict supervision at the cabin. Max - however - was an odd number in their list of even. Not only was she a new addition to their group, but she also never really gave them any insight on her own holiday traditions.

As a result, Lucas had decided to share his leftovers with her. Of course, she was reluctant. But they looked and smelled better than anything her mother had ever tried to bake, so it wasn’t long until she surrendered her indecision. In fact, it took almost a full minute before she finally accepted his gesture. With flushed cheeks, she did her best to mirror his kind smile as she reached for the most enticing cookie.

Its perfect blend of rich butter and redolent spices had overwhelmed Max’s taste buds, imprinting the flavors into her memory. She channeled that sensation for her next response, her tongue still twitching even after she opened her mouth.

“Did your mom make those- um-” She slapped her knee, regretting every drop of alcohol she had ingested, “The pretzel-shaped cookies? With the Red Hots?”

“Yeah, the Cinnamon Hot Twists. She made more this time, so there’s enough to get you through New Years,” Lucas paused, recalling her maudlin inebriation, “How much did you drink?”

Max blinked, her eyebrows knitting together.

She couldn’t recall the exact amount of her alcohol intake, but she knew how she felt: dazed, maybe a few hairs close to tipsy. Nothing close to wasted. If so, she would have long since tossed her cookies. Or his words would have been incomprehensible to her ears, and vice versa.

“I’m not wiped out enough to miss out on those cookies, so don’t even think about taking it back,” she countered with a warning glare, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Lucas snickered but appeased her with an inclination of his head. “A promise is a promise.”

At any other time, he would fight harder to suppress his amusement at her fire. However, as he held her gaze, drinking in the endearing pout as it graced her lips, he couldn’t help but embrace the mirth as it came. Even as the color suddenly faded from her complexion, which had already been hues away from her actual skin tone.

“I’m meeting your parents. I’m- I’m meeting your mom. For real this time.” She gawked, her agape, ocean irises managing a quick blink.

 “Fuck.”

“You’ll be fine, Mad Max,” he encouraged, stretching out his hand, “Just... try not to swear in front of them, okay? They don’t see the charm.”

Max rolled her eyes, but her gaze regarded Lucas with amiability, darting back and forth between his coy smile and open palm. The dance carried on for several beats, his other hand joining the mix somewhere along the way. Finally, her lidded eyes flickered back to his face and she relented with an exhale. She extended both hands to meet his, her grip tightening around his fingers as he hoisted her off the floor. 

 —xOx—

Lucas believed in his parents and their kind hearts. His father would strain every muscle in his body for anyone who needed help, no matter the details or how messy they were. His mother - though careful and critical when needed - offered warm words whenever she believed they could ease any tension. Sometimes, she would even make someone’s day for the sake of it. They were honest and genuine, and he had always felt fortunate to have them as his teachers.

But knowing that wasn’t enough to silence the doubts swirling about in his brain, little thoughts spiraling from his anxiety. They shouted as though they were a student at the back of the classroom, interrupting the instructor as he spoke. They spouted truths about Max, elements of her that he knew his parents would disapprove of.

Her intoxication was one of them, and it had been exposed to his parents’ radar moments after he had hurried through the front door with her attached at his hip. Her abuse was another red flag, but she had little to no control over what had happened. It was obvious the moment they were led to a room with more lighting and the damage was unmistakable to their stunned gazes.

Once they were filled in on what had happened, his father was eager in his benevolent gestures. He took the reins, making sure she was warm and hydrated. His mother, however, was impassive toward Max as they examined her bruises. She only expressed a flicker of vexation to Lucas before they moved her upstairs, and she had instructed him to stay behind.

He did, finding temporary comfort in cushions of the sofa. However, he still found himself on edge, the silence and his stationary position growing more intolerable as time passed. Even when Erica appeared for what felt like a split second, pestering him with her brazen questions. But then he remembered his promise, realizing there was still more he could do to help, and he was on his feet in an instant.

He spent the remainder of his time in the kitchen, whipping her up a meal.

Most of it was gathered on the counter, the pile consisting of another glass of water and a grilled cheese sandwich, but he still needed those cookies he promised her. Three steps and two container adjustments later, six baked delicacies were placed on her plate with deliberate hands. Two of her Cinnamon Hot Twists and two Oatmeal Raisin, his personal choice. It was a precaution, just in case her stomach couldn’t handle the heat and needed a more soothing piquancy.

Footsteps shook through Lucas’ focus, and he lifted his head to his mother just as she descended the stairwell, his father shuffling close behind her.

Both of his parents’ brows were furrowed with tension, but it melted from his father’s expression the moment he locked eyes with him, his features softening as soon as he met a pair of wide eyes, identical to his own.

“She’s settling in fine. A little pain, nothin’ another ice pack can’t fix. Her hand’s good, just a clean cut, nothin’ deep.”

Ezra crossed the room, stepping around the island with a heavy sigh, “Listen, you bringing her here… we weren’t expecting it.”

He clapped his son on the shoulder, “But it was the right thing to do, and I’m proud of you son.”

Lucas nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he reached for the hand on his shoulder, giving it an appreciative pat.

“Thanks, Dad.”

A moment of silence filled the space, until Mrs. Sinclair joined them, her next words grasping at their attention, “That girl, Maxine.”

He frowned, but at his mother’s deprecating tone, not her studious countenance as she regarded him with raised eyebrows.

“I’d see her racing down the block every time you’d come back from basketball practice…” she recalled, crossing her arms. “She helped you prepare for those tryouts at school?”

He nodded again, recalling those first few weeks of the summer and all the hours he and Max had spent at the court.

She was strict and never tolerated his excuses when he missed more than one free throw at a time, but also encouraged him every time he made his jump shots. Her pressure was uncomfortable at times, and it sucked that he got through those three weeks only to get cut right at the finish line. But he knew he was capable after all that work, which contributed to the chances of him making the team next year.

“I wasn’t too serious about it at first. It was just an inside joke between Dustin and me. Then Max found out about it, and she didn’t think it was funny because she thought I was a good fit. So she offered to help me.”

Lucas paused, shrugging as a shy smile crept onto his face, “I liked basketball, and I knew I could be good at it if I really wanted it. Just like you and Dad always tell me. But I wasn’t sure, and Max- I don’t know why… but I couldn’t try it until I knew she believed in me.”

Angela watched her son as he beamed, his teeth glinting underneath the glow of the kitchen lights.

His smile also reached his eyes, but not before piercing through his mother's wall. She considered him for another moment, her lips firm and pressed together as she mulled over his words.

Finally, her chest rose with a quiet exhale, shoulders sagging along with her breath. She shared a knowing look with her husband as his arm slipped around her shoulders, the brief exchange reassuring her of what she had already decided.

Deep within her heart.

“She can stay.”

Lucas squirmed in his spot, his mouth stretching into a grin.

“Hold on a minute. We have some conditions,” His father added, biting back his amused smile.

At that, he hurried in composing himself, nodding his head and maintaining eye contact with his mother as she spoke.

“She can stay as long as she needs to,” Mrs. Sinclair repeated, her tone firm, “But I can't help her run from what’s going on, no matter how bad I feel for her. That girl needs more help than we will ever be able to give her.”

She turned to her husband, and he cleared his throat before making his interjection, “We think it would be best if Maxine sleeps in Erica’s room while she stays here. You two are growing up, and certain feelings may uh- you two are-”

“You don’t have to explain, sir,” Lucas swallowed his urge to wince, his eyes going wide, “I understand. The last thing I want is to keep her from getting better. Or… uh, complicate things.”

Mr. Sinclair nodded, clearing his throat once again.

“Good.”

A beat of uncomfortable silence hung heavy in the air for a full minute before Mrs. Sinclair alleviated the suffocating pressure.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before you went up. You can go ahead and tell her the good news.”

She turned to the plate of food resting on the counter, her russet irises sparkling in levity as they swept over the cookies.

“And that she’s welcome to indulge in more of those cookies. I’m not getting any younger, neither is your father. The less sugar we eat, the better.”

Lucas smiled, a chuckle slipping past his lips and filling the air along with his parents’ laughter. As soon as it died, he excused himself and made his ascent to the second floor, one hand balancing the food with his palm while his other hand held the water.

While he reached the top, a burst of gleeful giggles flowed out into the hall, rendering him to halt before he could take another step. The sound was so rare and refreshing for him to hear these days, he allowed it to guide him as he strolled toward his destination. Like it was his first time walking the path and he had gotten lost although he had walked it dozens of times.

He pictured her smile and how big it got whenever she couldn’t control her laughter, but the image paled in comparison to the real deal. It didn’t render him motionless as he stopped at the doorway. It couldn’t steal the same amount of breath from his lungs as he stood there, not caring if he looked stupid. No, she beamed brighter in the flesh, the lamp in the corner of the room aiding her appearance with its warm glow.

Max looked more comfortable than before, which had to have been an effect of her new attire: a pair of eccentric leggings he had spotted once when digging through a box of old clothing, combined with the navy blue sweater he remembered wearing to school a few weeks ago. Her copper tendrils were clumped together on one side, but they were free as they flourished over her shoulder.

Her complexion also looked healthier, the color was a shade or two closer to her natural tone even with the awful bruise still staining her cheek.

Those breathtaking pools of blue were as light as a feather, shimmering with a smile that paled in comparison to the way she beamed. It shifted into something else when her gaze met his, her lips halting in their movement for just a second. Just as fast, they curled into a smirk, and the next thing he knew, the sound of her voice hit him in a rush.

As if he had just returned to the surface after a long, exhausting dive into the pool.

“I’d peg you for a peeping Tom if our roles were reversed, Stalker.”

Though his hearing had been restored, he was still as stiff as a statue in the doorway.

His features had stayed relatively the same, too - eyes almost as wide as his mouth, which appeared to be taking all the time in the world to close.

“You’re such a creep, Lukey. No wonder she keeps dumping your ass.”

His sister’s words were the trigger, provoking a perceivable reaction in Lucas, his narrowed gaze snapping to where she sat. Her legs were perpendicular to each other as they dangled from the edge of his bed. Right across from their guest, who had trouble masking her amusement as she watched what was unfolding before her.

“Max is staying, and she’ll be your roommate. So you can go and help Mom get your room ready,” he instructed, prompt and nonchalant.

Erica challenged him with a raised brow, her lips pressed together.

“You do it. She’s your EX-girlfriend.”

The tension clouded the room more with each passing second, leaving the air more bitter and unbreathable. Before their sibling rivalry could reach its breaking point, Max arose from her slouched position, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“I think what your brother meant to say is that he thought it would be more appropriate if you gave me a tour, since it’s your room and all. Right, Lucas?”

She shot him a discreet look just right before Erica had turned her way, and he nodded when her narrowed gaze flickered his way.

“Plus, a little birdie told me you were a female comic book connoisseur. Got any, say… hmmm,” Max pursed her lips, her eyes shining with a playful twinkle. “Issues of Vixen?”

Most of Erica’s anger had faded upon hearing the name, but her irritation was still present, her eyes brows shooting up at the same rate her eyes had bulged out of their sockets.

“Duh!” She practically screamed. “She’s the best of the best! Way better than Wonder Woman.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. She’s pretty hardcore. But I’ll tell you what - you get something that proves she’s the best, and I can debunk it with whatever I have.”

“And what exactly do I get in return?”

“More debate skills for your future career in law.” Max blinked, her features mimicking Erica’s unwavering grit. “And sixty bucks, if you can convince me.”

The girl held her stare, her features unreadable for several seconds. Then, she extended a hand, her arm slipping from its entanglement with the other.

“Fine. But I’m not waiting forever. And I still want my money even if you do decide to chicken out.”

“Don’t count on it, because I’m getting another day with D&D when I win,” Max countered, completing the exchange with a firm hand.

Erica gave her another look, a shadow of a smile on her face. It melted from her features as soon as she shimmied off the bed, her gaze meeting her brother’s as she walked to the doorway. She shot him a nasty look as she passed him, her chin jutting into his personal space.

As a knee jerk reaction, Lucas mirrored her expression and stepped into the room, creating more space for her departure. Once he was sure his pest of a sister was gone, he turned to Max, resuming his stroll as he spoke.

“Really, Max? ‘More debate skills for your future career in law’?”

“It worked better than your outdated approach. I know it might be hard, but mean big brother doesn’t always work. Trust me.”

For a split second, her lips had curved into a fraction of a frown. Just as fast, they shot back up as he came to a stop before her and held out her food. She grasped the plate, beaming once her gaze had found her sandwich. She dove in as soon as the dish landed in her lap, her tear in the cheesy bread leaving behind long, gooey strands of gold.

“Oh, God this is so good,” Max dabbed at the bacon grease that began to collect in the corner of her mouth, “You didn’t have to make it, though. I would have been fine with just the cookies.”

Lucas had turned to dispose of her glass, setting it against the coaster resting on his bedside table. But his features had shifted into a pointed look, his eyebrows shooting up along with his lips as he called over his shoulder, “Please. You’d be starving.”

She glared a pair of daggers at him as he swiveled back her way, an inconceivable sound tearing through her stuffed mouth as she took another bite.

He shook his head, watching as she devoured the whole half, but his amusement began to fade as her words regarding his relationship with his sister bled into his mind. The more he thought about it - how he couldn’t recall the last kind word he had spoken to Erica - he realized maybe she was right.

Life was unfairly short, and he hated the idea of her not knowing how much he cared. Not in the past, it was already gone. Definitely not in the future, a time filled with many uncertainties. He ached to show her now.

There wasn’t a place like the present.

“You’re right, about Erica. I just... she’s so aggravating sometimes. And I- wait a minute!”

Forty-five minutes. He had been separated from her for almost a full hour. And the next time he saw Max, she was in his room. Sharing a laugh with his sister, who had left the room only three minutes ago. A glimmer of satisfaction flashing through her mask.

“She’s turned you. Holy crap, that’s it,” Lucas’ eyes went wide as he lifted a forefinger in Max’s direction.

She froze right before digging into the rest of her grilled cheese, her eyes narrowing to slits as they flashed up to him.

“Seriously? You better not be serious.”

“How long did it take for her to win you over? How did she win you o—”

Out of nowhere, something soft - and yet so unbelievably hard - whacked Lucas square in the face. He blinked, but opened his eyes as soon as he heard a pillow thump against his floor. The light flooded back, outlining Max and her hot glare.

“I don’t know if she’s plotting against you. And I don’t care, okay!?”

Max sighed and swiped a cookie from the smooth porcelain. Using both hands, she fidgeted with it, her fingers smoothing over the surface and picking at each microscopic crumb. She avoided his eyes the next time she spoke, but her words were softer and difficult to comprehend. Even with no other sounds disrupting her.

“She told me about the gift you got me. Y’know, the one I don’t remember getting because you never gave it to me.”

He gaped at her, his breath hitching before it could leave his mouth.

She knew, and he was nowhere near prepared to explain himself. Luckily, he didn’t have to, at least while she filled the still air with her explanation.

“El called after I got out of the shower. We talked, and she asked me if I wanted to open her present before Christmas. Guess she thought it would make me feel better,” Max snickered, the corners of her lips quirking up before returning to their pressed shape.

“Erica came in as soon as I turned off your walkie. She said something about a box being in your closet… With my name on it.”

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, another exhale exiting her as she braced herself. When she looked at him again, she caught something in his eyes before they averted from her stare. Once what was seen registered in her mind, she felt her appetite dry up like water in the Sahara.

It was the same glint of shock and despair that made her reminiscent of that bitter afternoon. Her harsh words ripped off the band-aid that had repaired their relationship countless times. A barrier that soothed the minor scrapes of the misunderstandings and minuscule disagreements.

At the time, she believed that had been the best approach, but she was wrong. So undeniably wrong to think it would somehow make everything better when there was nothing she could have said that would ease the ache of his broken heart.

Max sucked in her next breath, a wave of nausea filling up the pit that had dropped and withered inside her belly.

“What I said, I didn’t mean…“

She cleared her throat, concealing another tremor as it threatened to disrupt her speech.

“I didn’t mean it, Lucas.”

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers massaging the skin at the nape of his neck. When he lifted his head, he was met with wide eyes and a quivering lip, reminding him of how she looked at the arcade.

He made a promise to himself to ensure she never looked that terrified ever again.

“Hey, remember what I said back at the arcade?”

She gave him a nod, her nose wrinkling as she wiped it with her sleeve.

Lucas craned his neck in her direction, his smile light and reassuring.

“I could never hate you, Max. No matter what happens, even if we need space from each other and don’t talk. I will never. Ever. Stay mad at you.”

A pause, and then his gentle features had turned mischievous, his brows crinkling together.

“And I know the perfect way to prove it to you!”

Without warning, he turned and rushed across the room. He moved so fast - or maybe it was the alcohol still present in her system - that she could only see the blur of a broad grin on his face as he had reached his closet. Before she knew it, the doors were wrenched open, and he had spent a few minutes digging his things before he stepped away, using both hands to unveil a paperweight sized box.

Max regarded the item with scrutiny, her heart thumping faster the longer she stared. She had known of its existence beforehand. However, all it did was confirm something she had been insecure about ever since she had kissed him at the Snowball: the significance of their relationship and how it seemed to accelerate faster with each passing day.

“How… How long have you been hiding that?” She swallowed, ignoring the droplet of sweat as it rolled down her flushed face.

Lucas reclaimed his previous position, nudging the pillow out his path with his foot. Standing still, he played with the box in his grasp as he considered his reply, his fingers pulling on the bow’s loops.

“Since Thanksgiving.”

Max ducked away from his stare, her lips pressing together. Before she could get too caught up in her guilt, she felt the air shift and heard the mattress sink beside her. They were followed by persistent nudges, prompting a release of breath from her as she turned to him.

“But it doesn’t matter! That was all in the past, Mad Max. And guess what? We’re in the present,” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

The giggle flowing from her mouth betrayed her frown. And soon, there wasn’t a single trace of annoyance or regret in her features because she had to make room for glee. She had burst into a full-on bout of giggles. The kind that could have her rolling on the floor if she hadn’t already steadied herself, a hand over her belly as she doubled over.

When Max finally came back from her jubilant high, she shook her head and accepted his gift, trading it with the plate in her lap. She made quick work of the cube’s exterior, its kaleidoscopic swirls unraveling in response to the bow’s tug.

Her fingers dove into the crevices of the top, gliding along the inside as they searched for a fold. She was swift in finding that as well, wrenching the lid off with controlled force. But as soon as she took a look inside, her muscles tensed up, and the world around her began fading to the back of her conscious. The present-day and all of its events traded seats with a memory she had sealed away a long time ago.

It was months away from her migration to Indiana, years before her mother had met Neil, yet she could picture the day perfectly.

The sun was as bright as ever, but was merciful as it shone against her protected skin. All kinds of aromas from the various concession stands assaulted her tiny nose, but she was more content with her ice cream cone, her tongue lurching toward the rose droplets as they coated her hand. Her father’s calming voice stood apart from the several distinct voices as they walked along the boardwalk. However, she hadn’t tuned in to what he was saying until she heard a familiar name. Two magic words capable of tripling her joyful mood.

Ferris wheel.

Blinking, Max reached inside the box, her fingers smoothing over the gleaming glass before diving down to the sides. She got a good grip around the center and hefted the snow globe from its blanket of packaging paper. Her view was altered, and she took advantage of it, ogling the pier from the side.

The sudden jerk of movement prompted the white flakes at the bottom to soar up to the top. She shook it harder the second time, jostling the false flurries into a race around the dome. Her memory of the pier remained the same. She could even see herself being guided inside a cabin of the great, unmoving wheel of blue skies and fluffy clouds.

Outside of her bubble, Lucas observed her with a close eye, watching for a change in her indistinct expression. A sign indicating what she thought, or if she was even thinking at all. Her intense examination of his gift showed her interest, but he needed more than that. He wanted to know that there was a reason he held onto that snowglobe instead of ditching it the moment she broke up with him.

He wanted her potential happiness to be induced from a former memory, with or without him.

“There was this gift shop in Toledo. Mike and Dustin fought over a replica of Doc’s DeLorean, El helped Will pick out some art supplies, and I found this aisle filled with snow globes.”

He nodded at the object in her grasp. “But I saw this one - ‘Christmas in Santa Monica’ - and I thought about you.”

Max blinked a second time, his words resonating within her as she traced a finger over the nameplate, the warm skin of her fingertip connecting with the cool bronze. In contrast to her laxity in prying open the barrier between her and her gift, she was more deliberate with its return, lowering the snow globe back into its box. After, she sat there, frozen like a statue. Still avoiding Lucas’ gaze while the pounding in her heart resumed, right in tune with his rambling.

“It was hard not to. I mean, the vibe was off during the entire trip. And we did our best to make it work, but we- I couldn’t stop missing you and—“

Then it happened. Max made his words die in his throat. Within seconds, she rendered him numb. Every muscle inside his body had turned to stone.

She kissed him.

Her lips were a swift flutter against Lucas’ cheek, yet powerful enough to give him whiplash. Her touch was also firm, almost as if she wanted to leave a mark. 

Heck, he was certain there was one after she had pulled away, but he lacked the energy to check.

No, he was rendered numb in his seat, his russet irises stretched open as they swiveled to her eyes.

They were just as surprised, holding his gaze for barely a minute before she turned away from him, the crimson color of her bruised cheek spreading like wildfire across her pale face.

“I was serious about winning that bet with Erica, so I should probably go now.”

Max tucked the lid back into its slot, securing her gift before she hopped off of his bed.

Turning to his bedside table, she relayed the snow globe to one curved arm and reached for her plate. When both items were situated, she trudged to the door, each step dragging along until she stopped walking all at once.

Seconds were spent on deciding whether she should indulge in her urge to say something else. Something capable of conveying how much she really appreciated Lucas, no matter how difficult it was for her to express.

Patience, however, wasn’t her virtue, and she decided without wasting more time. Because before she could second guess herself, her body had spun around to face him.

The words were already spewing from her mouth.

“Thank you, Lucas.”

Max lingered by the doorway, a tentative smile beaming from both her lips and eyes. Then she was gone, slipping out into the hall within the same amount of time it took her adoring admirer to fix his face.

He ogled at where she stood, his features slack for several moments before a huge grin broke through his trance.

Lucas took his celebration a step further, his fist shooting forward before rebounding back to his side. He finished with a bang and collapsed onto his duvet, bursts of wrapping paper exploding out from underneath him and onto the floor. Releasing the remainder of his adrenaline rush with an exhale, a thought about his sister entered his mind.

For the first time in his life, he made a mental note to thank her for meddling in his room and his relationship.

Not before giving her a hard time, of course. 

Chapter Text

Hawkins, Indiana

December 25, 1985

Eleven loved Christmas.

She enjoyed the snow and how it glimmered when the sun shone over it, even the little bulbs as they twinkled their red and green lights around the Christmas tree. She relished the smell of hot chocolate and the way it complimented her Eggo’s. She treasured the baking, and the outfits everyone wore - even those big, fuzzy sweaters people deemed unattractive for some reason.

Especially those.

Most of all, Eleven adored the time she spent with her loved ones. She reflected on how much she appreciated Joyce’s patience and Jonathan’s compassion during their move to Ohio. She cherished her friends and their endearing quirks.

Most of all, she loved Mike and his passionate determination. She treasured those instances when he was utterly amazed. Most of them struck her in pleasant surprises, because she had discovered they were reactions only she could draw out from him. Such as that night she returned to Hawkins, stunning everyone - including herself - with her slicked back curls and all-black ensemble. Or her arrival at the Snowball, the exact moment she met his gaze and felt his breathing stop right in sync with hers.

Even now as he sat beside her in their little bubble, ignoring his little sister’s jumbled blabbering as she tore into another gift. His dark yet warm eyes exchanged comical glances between the gift in his hands and Eleven, his mouth shaped in that adorable, little circle that was still big enough to capture a fly, as her school librarian Mrs. Abbott would say.

“Woah…” With both hands, Mike made the frame bank to the left, his eyes darting over an image that appeared to be his face.

It was a rough sketch, and he could still see the little charcoal clouds around the outline of his face, but some details were meticulous in execution. For instance, the way each tawny freckle underlined his snow-white cheeks. Even the shape in which his hair curled at each clump, blanketing the nape of his downy neck and broad forehead. He was far from an artist, but he wouldn’t care about her mistakes if he was a descendant of Picasso.

The piece was a replica of how she viewed him. The idea alone was enough for him to realize that she didn’t need to improve her skills. She could if she wanted, but only if she found it necessary. Though, that didn’t matter because he believed it was already perfect.

She was already perfect.

“This is amazing, El! I didn’t know you could draw.”

She ducked away, but turned to face him again once she realized she had done a poor job of hiding her burning cheeks, “I’m not as good as Will. He had to help me with your nose.”

Eleven glanced at the drawing, her quick peek long enough to catch all the mistakes she made. Glaring, hard to ignore mistakes.

“I still couldn’t get your chin right after five tries. Or your ears. And I didn’t get to—”

Mike reached for her, his warm fingers enfolding her hand. His touch was an instant deterrent in not only her speech but her train of thought, as he held her with his tender observation.

“You’re just as good. Seriously El, this is the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

Her blush only deepened at his words, her rosy cheeks blooming into a dark crimson. However, she didn’t shy away from his peering like the last time. She maintained eye contact and returned his smile, which only widened in response.

Just as fast, his lips had returned to their aligned shape before parting to make room for his tongue.

“But I think you might’ve just set the bar a little too high,” His hand had vanished behind his back before returning to the light with a small, but hefty shape, “‘Cause now I feel like an idiot for getting you this.”

Eleven’s hand met his halfway, her fingers smoothing over something cool. Hard, even.

She drew it close, and upon a quick observation, she deduced what was in her grasp.

Mike had made her a mixtape, or rather, a whole set of them. Cassette tapes, bound together by nothing but a yellow ribbon and a matching bow to conceal its knot. Eleven made fast work of relieving that grip, her fingers carding through smooth satin before they began tiptoeing through the tapes.

Her pace halted at the last one, along with her eyes as she stared at the small sliver of yellow, fuzzy paper taped in the middle. She swept a finger over the big wheel before gliding toward the assembled words above. Her fingertip hovered over the first word of the title before moving on, and she remembered hearing about the arrival of Hawkins’ first Christmas carnival.

Mike had disclosed the idea during one of their many phone calls, which had stretched so far into the night she was grateful it wasn’t what Joyce would call a school night. He explained the basic concept before delving into their town’s festivities, how other U.S States celebrated, and those respective similarities/differences. Such as the tree sitting in the center of the lot, or the candy canes that would be sold along with cones made of waffle batter and funnel cake. 

He also mentioned the rides and carnival games. One was something called a Ferris wheel, like the one in the snow globe Max had shown her while the rest of the Party and Mike’s family had opened their presents. But Eleven was more intrigued with the carriage rides, even with her unease with animals.

She had always been somewhat wary around them since her time at the lab and dreaded the thought of meeting one, but figured it wouldn’t be so bad since Mike had promised to ride with her.

The next time Eleven met his gaze, she shook her head. Her face was screwed up as if the prospect of him ever thinking he was an idiot was the most detestable thing she had ever heard.

“You’re not an idiot, Mike. I like music. And I can’t wait to go to the carnival with you, and meet the horses.

She smiled, the upward curve of her lips stretching wider the longer she gazed Mike’s way. However, her features shifted as soon as she spotted a hint of something foreign in his expression. It flickered across his face but lingered a second longer beneath his eyes.

His warm, and usually trustworthy, chocolate irises.

“Yeah! I uh… can’t wait either! Dustin helped me set up the Sleigh Spin, and it’s supposed to be really fast,” His hand hovered over the nape of his neck as he mirrored her long-gone smile.

Although it was a weak attempt, his lips were tighter as they stretched apart.

“And, y’know, we could play Pin the Candy Cane on the Stocking. My mom really went all out with that one. Especially the name for the whole thing. Holly freaks out every time she hears about Hawkins’ Holly Jolly—”

As if on cue, the girl dashed over, bulldozing into her older brother with a crushing hug. Her prompt interruption sliced through the awkward tension, its thick cloud dissipating as laughter spilled out of Mike.

He shot Eleven a grin - no trace of anxiety or any other negative emotion on his face - and she let their moment continue, beaming despite her stealthy intake of air. His strange reaction still lurked in the back of her mind, but she retired the memory for the remainder of the morning.

Her woes didn’t return to her until after everyone had time to enjoy their gifts and indulge in the food Mrs. Wheeler prepared. She was swift in departing from the table but measured as she trudged along to Nancy’s bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her and a blur of wild red hair.

The pit in her stomach had grown into the size of a grapefruit and it felt like it was only going to get bigger. She dove into her daze headfirst, plopping down onto the bed with her gaze adjusting its focus to the floor.

Max’s ramblings hit the air like bloated gibberish, right until Eleven heard a name in the wordy mix.

“Mike is so annoying! He switched the campaign again and I swear he’s doing it to piss me off. And why does he always have to be Dungeon Master?”

She huffed and ended her pacing with one final step, her body swiveling around to Eleven.

The bubbling rage in her core simmered to tame waves within seconds of sticking the landing, her scowl cooling to a frown that was not nearly as great as the one on the brunette sitting before her.

“El?”

Silence greeted Max in return, so she settled on a different approach.

She crossed over to the bed in two quick strides before she sank down onto the mattress, her shoulder crashing against a matching limb.

The sudden movement was enough to jolt Eleven from her mind maze and she had gaped for a moment, her brows skyrocketing to her forehead. But then she blinked — and her features returned to their pensive mask.

“Something is wrong with Mike.”

Max regarded her best friend with a careful scan. A snide remark about Mike and how anything could be right about him slithered its way into her conscious, but it wasn’t the time to voice the thought. Besides, she wasn’t willing to risk escalating her best friend’s blatant distress. Instead, she thought about before, images of smiles and the savory smell of her meal working its way into the front of her mind.

“Wrong like how?” She twisted her head further to the side and narrowed her eyes. “He seemed okay at brunch.”

“Before that."

Eleven’s chestnut curls bounced over her shoulders as she shook her head, “After I opened his present, we talked about the carnival.”

She paused, the duration of her musing long enough to make Max wonder if she should ask for a clarification. But as soon as she mapped out her response and was ready to let her words flow, she was stopped in her tracks by the awaited resumption.

“I told him I was excited to go to the carnival and his eyes were- they were like when we caught him and Lucas at the mall… When he lied.”

Her voice grew small at the last bit, fading into the thickening air around them. Then, as if a flame had been reignited, her fiddling thumbs dove into her palms, right beneath the blanket of her fingers as her hand clenched into a loose fist.

“He promised he wouldn’t do that again.”

The silent storm raging within Eleven stirred an uneasy feeling in Max. The absence of her doe-eyed gaze gave her expression the freedom to crack as she mouthed a quiet curse, her thoughts buzzing as she searched for something to say, anything to throw off those damned bloodhound senses.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it. He probably just has another Christmas present for you,” Her expression melted into the slyest of cringes, words leaving a bitter aftertaste in their wake as she gave herself a mental kick to the shin.

Eleven relaxed somewhat, her fists unfolding to rest flat over her legs while one of her brows quirked skyward.

“... You really think so?”

“Yeah! I mean, what else could it be?” Max replied, a smile the size of her hometown plastered on her lips, “Y’know not all secrets are bad, right? Remember when Dustin went to camp this summer and we planned that big welcome home surprise for him?”

A nod, then a tiny, yet soft smile broke through the brunette’s screwed features at the memory.

She remembered that day, one of the very few tranquil moments of the summer. It was a chance to enjoy her life, find solace in peace with her found family before another storm ripped it all away.

“I still can’t believe he has a girlfriend!”

“I still can’t believe Suzie stuck around this long!”

Laughter bubbled through the air like a symphony, a perfect blend of hoarse chuckles and vibrant giggles. Once they had cooled down, the last of the short gasps leaving their mouths in haste, Max glanced at the corner of the room. She took notice of the bright pink book bag, but her gaze lingered on the vacant space between it and Nancy’s desk.

“Now that we’ve settled that boys sometimes lie for good reasons, we should go ahead and get ready for the carnival. I forgot my lip-balm downstairs. But I’ll be back in a sec, yeah?”

Eleven’s chin dipped again, and Max reciprocated her smile until she stepped into the hall, the indents in her cheeks dwindling along with her patience.

Nothing went over Eleven’s head. Hiding something from her was like stealing a lioness' prey right from under her nose.

But no - According to Michael, he had it all under control. She wouldn’t know a thing until it was time. Not from him, not from the rest of the Party, and definitely not from Max.

Well, fuck him and his stupid, half-baked surprise.

Speaking of…

Max froze, almost tripping on her haphazardly tied kicks. She slid back toward the soft pink light and peeked into the doorway, the tip of her freckled nose just barely crossing the threshold as her gaze refocused on something she thought she’d never see outside its black box — a gleaming, golden teddy bear pendant dangling from a thin chain — right in the hands of a moody, messy five-year-old.

Two options waged a war inside her head, both vying for a shot to be known. There was still time, she could slip away unnoticed and retrieve her lip-balm, leaving Mike with a very valuable lesson in responsible gift-giving - as well as a bad aftertaste. Or, she could swindle his kid sister into giving her the necklace and save the day.

He’d owe her big time.

And it was the right thing to do. That was always a plus.

Just as she had made up her mind, the youngest member of the Wheeler household loosened her grip from the chain, ceasing the discernible strangling of her doll. Her baby blue eyes flitted toward the intruder, following her every move as she slipped into the light.

Max was the first to break the silence, her lips stretching into a sly grin.

“I know where your mom keeps the Christmas chocolates. Wanna see?”

 —xOx—

“Wha’dya mean it’s gone?”

“I mean. It’s fucking. Gone, Lucas!”

A strangled grunt forced its way through leather as Mike rose from the couch, stray fibers of lint and dust clinging to his blue button up. Some flew to his face as he chucked away one of the pillows, right into his nose as he inhaled. Karma came in a fit of wheezing, his face all red and puffy by the time he collected himself. A suppressed chuckle coaxed his attention to his best friend, who even failed to hide his smirk before he was caught red-handed.

“Oh, yeah. Laugh it up, me royally screwing up El’s Christmas is just the biggest joke,” He collapsed onto the couch, his form sinking like a limp noodle against the worn seat, “Hardy - freaking - har.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, one last laugh heaving past his lips as he sank beside Mike, “C’mon dude, we still have a couple hours left until the carnival starts! We’ve only looked in two places.”

“It can’t be anywhere else!”

Mike’s hands flew to his face, thin fingers smoothing back his growing head of hair. His mind was like a television on a rewind loop as he retraced every second he spent tending to the special gift. He thought of El the first time he saw it at the mall.

Under a stranger’s gaze, it was just a necklace. A simple chain accentuated with a sculpted teddy bear pendant, both made with a smidge of gold compared to the real thing. To Mike, however, it shone brighter than his mother’s wedding ring. Like a prized diamond encased in the middle of the room, captivating every eye in passing.

The second time, it was just as beautiful, but he didn’t take it home until his third visit. It was months after El and Will had moved away, weeks of him tending to the stock of DVDs and games at Family Video. He hid it as soon as he stepped into the house, stashing the velvet box under a pile of socks in one of his drawers.

He recalled the necklace only leaving his room once. It was a couple of weeks ago, when he escorted it down to the basement to be wrapped with all the other Christmas presents. His mother had held the space captive for the week to wrap up her own gifts, so he had to wait until the rest of the house was asleep to wrap El’s gift. It took almost all night with his indecisiveness on which wrapping paper to use until he finally decided to just wrap the box with a ribbon, just as he had done with the cassettes.

The third and more recent time he had seen it was this morning, carefully placed in one the pockets of the coat he had picked out for the carnival. He was gonna give it to her tonight, once they had indulged in the festivities.

Key word being was.

Before Mike could beat himself up any further, Lucas pulled on the skin under his gaunt arm. The abruptness of the action startled a noise - mixing the squawk of an angry goose and a yelp from a kicked puppy - from the very abyss of his throat.

“Ow! What the hell, man?!”

“There’s no time for self-pity!”

Lucas squared him with a look, his gaze earnest and unyielding.

“The necklace may be a no-go, but you have other tricks up your sleeve, OK? You made El a freaking playlist and got her tickets to the carnival. Girls love carnivals!”

“It depends on the girl, actually.”

The boys turned to the basement’s stairwell, two sets of wide eyes landing on Max. She just stood there, back propped against the beam as she regarded them with a shrug.

“Sure, it’s the thought that counts. But we ‘girls’ like a variety of things. I mean, if it were me, I’d like all three - plus first pick of the games.”

She shot Lucas a pointed look, barely registering his all too tight smile before her sly stare darted to Mike, her lips curling ever so slightly. “El might care more about whether the concession stands have waffles. But I don’t think she’d mind a three-hundred-dollar necklace.”

Her hand slipped behind her back, resting there for only a moment before returning with a chain, the light emitting from it unmistakable under Mike’s attention.

He leapt from his seat like a spring, gawking at Lucas - who was avoiding his gaze altogether. His surprise was replaced with agitation in the same second it took him to meet Max’s gleaming blue eyes.

“Of course he told you.”

“That doesn’t matter. Though, if I were you… and I’m not.” Max sauntered over to the couch, her fingers twining around the cold, thin tether.

“I’d be a little more grateful, considering this thing was almost an accessory to murder. Your baby sis is cold-blooded, Wheeler.”

Mike blinked. “What? How did she—?”

Without letting him finish, she unraveled the chain and sent it airborne in Mike’s direction. His catch was sloppy, but he caught it before it could fall, both lanky arms stretched over the table. The air didn’t leave his lungs until he was sure the necklace was really in his grasp, his eyes following the lead of his fingers as they skimmed over each chiseled detail.

“El doesn’t even know that exists, but she might unless I don’t hurry back so… You’re welcome.”

Mike had been too relieved to drill holes into the back of Max’s head as she left, her rushed stomps up the first floor of the house enough to echo her departure.

He spent another minute on his inspection, plucking away a few glossy blonde strands. His shoulders sagged once he lifted his head, peering up at Lucas and the grin sneaking across his lips.

“See? Breaking bro-code occasionally has its perks.”

Mike nodded, smirking to himself. “Hmm. Yeah, maybe you’re onto something. You should show off your Shakespearean alter ego more. I bet El would love to hear about that poem you wrote for Max and her “personality as hot as her red hair and perfect, sun-kissed skin—”

Lucas lunged for the necklace, but Mike swiped it away from his reach and bolted around the table, his kneecap just barely dodging the sharp corner. Side-stepping the pillow chucked at his head, he made a break for the stairwell, his tireless laughter right in sync with the footfalls thundering after him.

 —xOx—

Eleven scanned everything in sight, her wide eyes absorbing the bright lights and delighted smiles. Then, the world whisked itself away as they fluttered shut, and it was as if her sensory switch had been flipped.

Her nose twitched, tickled by the rush of cold air. She let it pass without a flinch - despite the imprint of its chill - and instead savored the aromas wafting through her bubble. Like a sweet, bubbly sip of cola washing away the bitter aftertaste of sour gummy bears.

Her ears attended to the jovial music (which seemed to act as background music to Dustin’s garrulous comments to Will, insisting he check out some movie called Fright Night) as she sat there, her limbs resting from the night’s adventure.

She had devoured almost every sugary, fried confectionery she saw and raced through many of the rides, but those moments didn’t compare to just sitting on the bench. Being there, seeing everything through the darkness.

Her void.

When she lost touch with her powers, she had also lost access to the void. It started out as a place tainted with darkness, a way for Papa to use her. But then she’d cover her eyes, submit to the noise, and find Mike or Hopper. Perhaps she would even visit her mother.

Maybe she could use her gifts to heal for once instead of hurt. And when she just needed space to hear her own voice, she’d go into the void. Even now, as she could no longer make something fly with her hands or reach into someone’s mind, that didn’t matter. She could still see the world for what it was.

No grimy lies.

Just the clean - yet at times harsh - truth.

A gentle squeeze around her fingers brought her back to the real world, brightness and vivid color flooding back into her vision. Her eyes danced around her friends before landing on Mike and his warm, dark eyes. They were creased in a way that told her his mind was racing with worry.

“I’m okay, just a little tired,” was her murmured reply.

He gave her a slight nod, his thumb tracing shapes into the soft wool encasing her hand. His gaze wandered across the table, meeting Lucas’ pointed look in a brief duel. Though it had felt like hours until he broke away, his head swiveling toward a man taking a woman’s hand as she hopped off the carriage.

He took in a breath, sucking in every ounce of courage from his core.

“Yeah, me too. But our turn’s up for the carriage ride.”

He rose from his seat, a corner of his mouth flitting up to the night sky, “And I still have enough energy for one more adventure. What do you say?”

El’s wide eyes shot across the picnic table, aligning with Max, who’s blue eyes seemed to twinkle under the Christmas lights hovering over them. She caught her lips as they segregated and gathered to one corner, but she missed whatever else had followed, turning to the hand outstretched to her. She latched on with a trusting nod, fingers clamping around his larger ones as she leapt to her feet.

Together, they trekked across the carnival grounds, slipping past a band of carolers and a group in line for the Ferris wheel. Finally, they reached the gate, and the chauffeur - a fellow student at Hawkins High - greeted them with a cheshire grin.

“Sup, Mike. How long would you like to, uh… sneak away?”

Suppressing his urge to pull a face at his blatant choice of words, Mike glanced El’s way. He exhaled a quiet half-chuckle as he found her standing in front of one of the horses.

She reached out, her hand inching closer and closer until her fingertips finally made contact with a soft, sable mane.

“I guess about half an hour, give these two some time to connect. Right, El?”

She smiled when the hackney began licking at her hand. A breathless giggle bubbled from her lips as the tip of its tongue darted to her rosy cheek, landing a wet peck.

“Alright. Well, the trail’s perfect for beginners, so you can just sit back and enjoy the ride,” he said, sneaking a peek over his shoulder at the sign, “Thirty minutes would usually cost you six dollars, but any friend of Steve-o is a friend of mine. I’ll just shave off half.”

“Sweet, thanks Danny.”

Mike dove into his coat pocket, his fingers running along soft wool before finally pushing into the leather exterior of his wallet. He flipped it open and retrieved three ones before presenting them to the chauffeur.

Danny accepted the money, beaming once again and tipping the brim of his snapback. “Don’t sweat it, merry Christmas!”

El gave the horse one last pat before she circled around to the carriage, accepting Mike’s hand as she slid into her seat. He joined her soon after, filling the empty space like the half to complete her whole.

His fingers curled around hers, the air clouding with a familiar warmth. Hazel met chocolate brown, the seconds only prolonging the cozy heat until their ride stirred alive with a roaring shriek.

Once the wheels established a steady roll away from the carnival grounds, her nerves settled from their high, dissolving into the arms winding around her frame. Her shaky chortles blended with his quavering cackles for a chorus before fading into the wispy wind, a comfortable silence resting between them. She didn’t mind, her attention drifting to the delayed passings of the trees.

Thick, frosted bristles danced along the trail, moving to the beat of the air while their proud legs remained rooted under pounds of white. Lamps scattered the edge of the path, yet their bulbs weren’t enough to light the way. The links of tiny sparks, however, fulfilled that purpose. Tiny yet bright lights as white as the snow emitting a magical glow.

It was perfect, too perfect.

Sometimes, El felt like she was in one of those movies with the girls in pretty dresses. There was always some tragedy they had to go through or a battle they had to fight, but they would always get their happily ever after. And she believed she would get hers, even when tragedy after tragedy smashed into her life. Nothing could diminish her dream, yet she couldn’t ignore her dwindling hope.

A big, bright light, dimming with each passing second.

“We’ve been through a lot since that night, huh.”

El blinked, suddenly free from the binds of her trance. She whirled up to Mike’s face, her mouth matching the shape of his frown as it marred his lips.

“I still feel it, that hole in my chest. It’s hard to forget because I can’t breathe.” He scoffed away the heavy weight rising to his lungs, his gaze frozen on the murky atmosphere. “I feel it every time you leave.”

The wetness welled to her eyes before she could will it away, but that didn’t stop her from tugging on his hand.

“I’m right here, Mike.”

Finally, he met her halfway, the sight of her tears setting a fire inside his aching heart.

“I know. But a part of me still sees… that night.”

He squeezed her hand, his own tears peeking from the cover of his eyelids.

“I saw it the day you left, and I see it every time I close my eyes. You literally faded away in front of me, El.”

Before they could break through the dam, however, he sniffled, straightening in his seat.

“So I’m not gonna waste anymore time.”

El’s features twisted, her head tipping to one side as she watched his hand disappear. Soon it returned to her, a faint glint dashing into her line of sight. She took in the shape of the chain, every crevice seemed to have a glow akin to those pieces of jewelry she had seen in one of her shows.

Her eyes doubled in size, stretching way beyond the limits of the former record.

It wasn’t a ring, and yet her heart only accelerated in its fluttering.

“I felt bad about lying to you, so I let Lucas drag my ass to Starcourt to find something you’d like. But then I only had three dollars and fifty cents on me and—”

The rest of whatever Mike had wanted to say died against El’s mouth as soon as she leaned in, her sweet wave washing over him with such warmth. Every nerve in his scrawny limbs felt like they would go limp at any moment, and yet he could support her frame as she rose up to drape her arm over his shoulder.

Her fingers weaved through the growing mop of unruly curls, right in tune with his as he moved to caress her jawline with his thumb. She managed to graze up and down his scalp, her caresses gravitating around him as if he was the North Pole.

Her North Pole.

“Woah! Easy!”

The carriage took a sharp swerve, the sound of the wheel’s scraping against the ground a soothing intro compared to the horse's unsettling verse. El’s eyes flew open as she pulled away from Mike, only to be towed back into his arms as their ride slowed to halt in the middle of the park.

“The hell, man?! You told my mom you knew how to drive this thing!”

“I do! My dad works with horses for a living! Why the hell do you think she hired me?!” The teenager retorted, his grip slackening around the reins.

A dispute broke out between the two, but their bickering fell deaf to El’s ears as she gazed along the path.

The lamp’s bulbs had blown out, but the chain of Christmas lights still showed signs of life. The row behind her flickered, bringing a steady blend of both brilliance and pitch-blackness to her sight. But once she grew accustomed to the pattern, they gave out altogether before flashing at a rapid speed.

A surge of chills rushed down her spine, her blood feeling as cold as the ice water they had submerged her in at the lab. But then, as her eyes followed every blink, repeating in the same order as a phrase she hadn’t heard in months. In the same tone, the same voice.

“Y’know what?! Forget it. Just drive us back—”

“Three inches.”

Both boys swiveled to El and saw the distance in her eyes, but Mike was quicker in his response time, grasping at her shoulders. When that didn’t coax her from whatever held her attention hostage, he glided in her field of vision, dismissing Danny’s mumbling about checking on the horses.

“El, hey, it’s okay.” He held her as she turned to him, her small, yet quick breaths clouding the crisp air between them. “Just breathe for a minute. In and out.”

She mimicked his breathing and felt her spine relax. Her mental battle, however, was just postponed, extending the duration of her torment. His gaze clutched her in stasis, an unspoken question coaxing the words from her lips.

“The lights…” She continued, hoping that her words had conveyed as much shock as the deep coldness in her skin.

“They said three inches.”