Chapter Text
It starts with a dress, a month after classes begin.
A month since he left Hawkins. A month since he broke up with El. A month since he basically ruined his own life because, seriously, what the hell had he been thinking?
Mike isn’t even trying to look at her profile. (He’s lying to himself).
He tells himself he only opened Instagram because Lucas sent him a reel. Then her story bubble is right there at the top, and before he can stop himself, he’s tapped it.
It's a mirror selfie.
El.
She’s smiling softly at her reflection, wearing a short black dress she never would’ve had the confidence to wear when they were together.
She looks… happy and confident. She looks beautiful. The kind of beauty that makes something unpleasant twist in his chest.
He stares at the selfie, his thumb on the screen so it doesn’t disappear for another ten seconds before opening their messages.
Mike: Seriously?
Three dots appear almost immediately.
El: hi mike
He can practically hear her saying it in that soft, gentle voice of hers, completely calm, like she has absolutely no idea why he’s worked up.
It somehow irritates him even more.
Mike: Do you seriously need to post that
El : post what?
Mike: Don’t play dumb
Mike: That dress
A minute passes and then a picture arrives. It’s a screenshot of her own story with a giant red circle around the dress.
El : this one?
He pinches the bridge of his nose. She’s impossible.
Mike: You know exactly what i mean
El : i do ☺️
El : i just don’t understand why you’re upset
He types out a message, then deletes. Types again.
I’m still in love with you isn’t exactly an answer he can give her anymore.
Mike: Because every guy on instagram is looking at you
Another pause.
El : okay
Mike: Okay?????
El : yes
El : i can’t control where people look, mike
El : i can only control what i wear
El : and i liked my dress. i felt pretty in it. 🙂
The smiley face she ends it with makes Mike toss his phone onto the bed.
She was such a brat but he knows he did this to himself.
A week later, Max tags El in her story.
She’s smiling at the camera from across a restaurant table, one hand wrapped around a colorful drink. She’s wearing a simple white blouse tucked into high-waisted blue jeans, a few delicate necklaces catching the light against her collarbone.
Nothing flashy. It’s not even revealing. She’s just so… pretty. Her brown hair frames her face and her eyes appear hazel in the sunlight. Then Mike notices a guy standing just behind her, leaning into the edge of the frame.
Close enough that something in Mike’s stomach immediately knots and before he can stop himself, he’s texting her.
Mike: El, who is that?
El : who?
Mike: The guy
Mike: Behind you in Max’s post
He watches the three dots anxiously.
El : you mean the waiter? ☺️
Mike immediately opens the picture again.
He pinches the screen, zooming in. The guy has a nametag, an apron. And a stack of menus tucked beneath one arm.
“…oh.”
His ears burn.
Mike: From the angle it looked like he was standing really close
El: he was just asking if i wanted dessert
Mike: And?
El: i said yes
His heart drops. Then another message arrives.
El: cheesecake
He stares at the screen for a second before snorting out a laugh.
She’s unbelievable.
The next week, he’s in the library trying—and failing—to study while she’s at some rooftop restaurant.
He knows because he has her post notifications turned on. Probably not his smartest decision.
She’s wearing a long, sleeveless purple dress, soft and flowy, with just the slightest hint of cleavage. Elegant enough that Mike almost convinces himself it’s fine. Until she turns sideways in the second picture, and the slit climbs halfway up her thigh, revealing the long line of her leg.
His phone is in his hand before he’s even consciously decided to pick it up.
Mike: EL
El: yes?
Mike: That dress.
El: thank you ☺️
Mike: That wasn’t a compliment.
El: i know
Mike: You're enjoying this, aren’t you?
El: dressing up? yes.
Mike: …
Mike: Aren't you cold?
She responds with a laughing emoji. Then—
El: no, mike. it’s only october
Mike: In Indianapolis! And it barely covers you.
El: it covers all the important parts 😊
He groans loudly enough to earn a few curious glances from the people studying nearby.
She was absolutely doing this on purpose. She’d figured out exactly how to get under his skin, and, judging by the smiley face, she was having the time of her life.
Mike wakes up one Saturday morning to a string of notifications. El was tagged in photos from the night before. Against his better judgment, he opens them.
It’s a whole album from her night out. Someone he doesn’t recognize has tagged everyone at a downtown dance bar.
In the first, she’s wearing a fitted black top with a burgundy skirt and heels that make her look taller than he remembers, one hand wrapped around Max’s arm as she laughs at something just outside the frame. The second is blurrier. Max has both hands in the air, and El’s laughing so hard her eyes are squeezed shut, the two of them caught mid-spin on the dance floor. In another, a girl he doesn’t know is next to El and they’re singing into imaginary microphones, heads thrown back, completely oblivious to the camera. The last is just El smiling at whoever’s taking the picture, cheeks pink from dancing, a few loose strands of hair framing her face.
Mike stares at the screen for a long moment, his heart beating fast.
He lasts exactly six minutes.
Mike: Do you own any normal clothes anymore 😑
El : yes, ofc mike
A photo immediately follows, a selfie taken above her laying in bed, her face cut off. She’s in gray sweatpants, and his old oversized Hawkins High hoodie.
His hoodie.
Something in his chest quietly unclenches.
El: these are my pajamas
A smile slips onto his face before he can stop it, thinking of her sleeping surrounded by him.
Mike: You know that’s not what i meant
El : i know
Another long pause. Then—
El: how was your week?
Just like that, she changes the topic. Mike stares at the message, feeling the tension slowly drain from his shoulders.
She never gets angry at him, or tells him to stop texting. She could ignore him or block him but she never does. She just lets him work through whatever ridiculous spiral he’s gotten himself into, then quietly pulls him back to earth.
Before he knows it, they’ve been texting for an hour about their respective weeks. Their classes, his upcoming exam he’s convinced he’s going to fail. El’s new friend Sarah and the psychology class she’s unexpectedly loving.
Nothing important.
Everything important.
And for a little while, it almost feels like nothing between them has changed. When the chat finally quiets, Mike scrolls back up. Past the jokes. Past the stories. All the way to the very first message.
“Do you own any normal clothes anymore”
Mike shakes his head at himself. He hadn’t really cared about what she wore. He cared that everyone else got to see the version of El he’d once been lucky enough to call his.
He missed talking to her. He missed hearing about her day. He missed being a part of it.
The pictures were just the excuse for him to reach out to her. His thumb hovers over the keyboard.
I miss you so much.
He types it. Reads it. Deletes it immediately.
Instead—
Mike: goodnight, el
She replies almost immediately.
El: goodnight mike 😴
El: don’t stay up too late. you’re grumpy when you don’t get enough sleep.
He smiles at the screen long after she’s gone offline.
Still yearning and still hopelessly in love.
And already dreading whatever she’d post tomorrow.