/ "and i have to speculate that god himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay" /
Michelle "Mickey" Hopper has a lot of problems. An alcoholic father ignoring the loss of his youngest daughter, her sister, Sarah...
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...Wednesday, October 31, 1984... love burns - black rebel motorcycle club
Mickey pulled Steve's BMW into the driveway of his house that night with the heaviness of exhaustion already weighing on her shoulders. She put the vehicle in park and turned to the boy in the passenger seat. "Okay, have fun getting up to your room undetected, dummy. I should be getting home."
Mickey started to climb out of the car, but Steve lightly grabbed her hand. "Wait, wait. You're skating the rest of the way home?"
"Duh. My board's in the back."
"Yeah, but... it's dark. And it's Halloween. You don't know what's out there."
"I can handle myself," Mickey said with a small smile.
"Well, yeah, but I mean, you've spent the night here how many times?"
She sighed. "Countless."
"Exactly. Let me sneak you in. You can call your dad from my room, tell him you're spending the night at the Wheelers, and just crash here like old times."
Mickey bit her lip and looked around. It had gotten dark outside and the lampposts would only continue through half the journey back to the cabin. Hopper and Eleven had likely already had their night of fun and ended up passed out on the couch with a bowl of candy between them. She smiled fondly at the image. "Climb in the same way as always?"
Steve perked up at her agreement. "I'll meet you at the bathroom window."
While Steve snuck up the stairs of his house, carefully avoiding waking his parents, Mickey climbed up the spindly tree outside of the Harringtons' upstairs bathroom. This was much easier when she was thirteen and fourteen, but she still made it work. Up at the top, Steve opened the window for her and pulled her into the tiny bathroom.
Again, they found this was much easier when both of them were smaller. While he pulled her in by the arms, her last leg slipped through and sent her flying towards the floor, taking the boy in front of her down with her. Steve groaned beneath Mickey as she tried to hold back her laughter.
"Not funny, asshole," he muttered, though he was fighting a smile of his own.
"Oh, no. The fall left a dent in your hair," she said sarcastically, pushing back a fallen strand.
He sat up, leaving her straddling his lap on the tile floor as he grabbed both of her wrists to keep her from messing with his precious hair. "You are so dead," he laughed as she half-heartedly fought against his hold.
Their laughter died down and Mickey was forced to face the reality of their predicament. Steve let go of her wrists and his hands slowly dropped down, conveniently resting just atop her thighs. He looked up at her unsuredly and watched as Mickey's breath hitched, her eyes raising to his.
