summary: billy wants to prove that he can get the new girl, but rather than using her, he falls for her
disclaimer:me writing this is not me excusing his abusive, impulsive and racist behavior.
an:i know a lot of you guys like me writing marvel, which won’t stop, feel free to request it, but I also want to write for other shows so.. feel free to leave requests for shows too! also I can make this a series if you want me to? i don’t like the ending of this, but i didn’t want to make them kiss bc i felt like it was unrealistic, sooo just shoot me an ask if you want more parts
Part One of series of vignettes based on a Stranger Things super powers AU — thanks to everyone who was so enthusiastic about this! Huge thanks to @eddikaspbrak who talked this one particular scene out with me several months ago and sparked this idea. You’re a genius AJ.
Mike walked backwards through the snow, dragging his boots across the empty parking lot, stopping under the bright glare of a lamp post to wait for El, following him through the darkness with a wide grin on her face.
These were the best times. Nights, when El was allowed out of the house, when the entire world was still and silent and theirs.
“Are you cold?” Mike asked as El, her step light, caught up to him, nestling against him for warmth. His breath fogged in the winter air and El shook her head. She looked up at him and in that moment, if Mike had been able to read minds, he would have known how El’s heart was fluttering, her thoughts racing.
She watched as the snowflakes, plump and delicate, swirled around Mike’s head, landing for the briefest of moments amidst his unruly hair before melting away forever. Their ephemerality was beautiful, tragic; so unlike Mike, who had so quickly become a constant in her life. It was a sight—and a thought—that took her breath away.
Before Mike there had been no snow. No sunshine either. But she had escaped from that life of sterile white walls and cold, hard stares and she had found a home with cozy blankets and the warmth of Mike’s dark eyes. She had run away from the time and the place in which she was Eleven. And she had, quickly and excitedly, grown into El.
It had been an accident, really. Running into Mike and his friend, Lucas, that night in the woods. They had bickered for a long while in the rain about what to do with her. And she, shivering with cold, had listened and hoped they’d save her.
“Are you lost?” Mike asked, taking a tentative step forward. Lucas watched, eyes weary. Uncertain, Eleven shook her head, then nodded. It was a complicated question. She was lost in the sense that she did not know where she was, but she knew it was better than where she had come from and so could she be truly lost? She had little time to contemplate a less confusing response before Mike stepped forward again, more boldly this time, and held out his hand.
Eleven bit her lip, hesitant, before her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out and brushed against his. He was so warm. It was hardly possible in this deluge, yet she could feel heat radiating off his skin and fought the urge to move closer to him.
“I’m Mike,” he smiled at her, eyes bright and soft and caring, “This is Lucas. You can come home with us.”
Home was, Eleven quickly learned, wonderful. A large house on the outskirts of Hawkins. A place where she had quickly learned that there were others like her—several others, all looked after by a gruff but lovable and incredibly strong man named Jim. Jim was—
“El?” Mike’s voice drew her from her memories, her brow furrowing when she realized he was nodding at the space behind her. “We’ve got company.”
Without another word, Mike’s bare hand wrapped around her patterned mitten and he swiftly led her out of the light, the shadow of the now-closed diner consuming them.
A car, dark blue and a little reckless in its speed, screeched to a halt between two parking spots. Mike and El exchanged a quick glance and watched, eyes narrowed, as a middle-aged man stepped out of the driver’s side. A young boy, about their age, quietly and quickly got out from the passenger’s side, avoiding looking at the man.