The Long Game━ (l. sinclair)

the spared group

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Eleven stepped into the living room, nose dripping red and a stern glare on her face. Her eyes scoped the room, which had gone silent, but still felt so loud, so full.

He had expected to feel his heart break a little when she met eyes with Mike. Eleven's face softened, and so did Mike, and nothing he had assumed to feel could possibly have matched the utter dread that filled his heart as he witnessed this reunion.

Corey knew what love felt like, and he could see it plain as day on Mike Wheeler's face when he stepped out from behind Hopper and let the stupid candle holder fall to the floor, deflating in some kind of heartfelt relief. Eleven stared at him, and he stared at her, and everything fell back into place.

"Eleven?"

And they just looked at each other, and it was so simple.

Corey felt his eyes sting and he had to look away, because he knew that it would never be that simple for him as long as he was the way he was — and it would most definitely never be that simple for him when it came to Mike Wheeler.

Suddenly, someone was forcing their hand into Corey's, interlocking their fingers. Corey's first instinct was to punch the perpetrator, but he quickly turned to see that it was Sam who was holding his hand, and suddenly all the anger was draining out of him like a calming wave. How was she doing that? He stared at Sam, then realized Sam's eyes were more than just gentle; they were knowing.

Oh. Well, shit.

Corey cleared his throat and looked away, pointedly not looking where Mike and Eleven may or may not be making out at this point. He didn't want to know. Sam was squeezing his hand, calming him down, and while he felt better, he still didn't want to know.

"I never gave up on you — I called you every night. Every night for—"

"353 days," El shook her head, wiping her tears away. "I heard."

"Wh-Why didn't you tell me that you were there?" Mike frowned, and Corey could hear hurt confusion laced in his voice. "That you were okay?"

"Because I wouldn't let her."

And Corey had fucking never been more grateful for Jim Hopper in his life. Corey could finally breathe again, could finally look at the interaction happening before him. He was able to let go of Sam's hand and nervously flex his own fingers as if he were her. No one was happy anymore, as Hopper had sucked all the love out of the room, which made Corey happy, thank you very much. If he had to be miserable, then he hoped everyone else was, too.

Thank the heavens for Hopper, right?

"Is that...?" Max trailed off.

Sam nodded. Breathlessly, she finished, "Eleven."

Hopper walked up to Eleven, and Corey was very confused when he asked, "The hell is this? Where you been?" Then, he realized he had been too elated at Mike's drop in mood to put together what Hopper actually said. Because I wouldn't let her. Had he been secretly harboring Eleven?

"Where have you been?" Eleven shot back, glaring at Hopper for a second but allowing herself to be pulled into his firm embrace nonetheless.

"You've been hiding her," Mike said, staring at the man in disgust as Hopper pulled away from Eleven and Mike shoved him pathetically. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"